#like what i was forced to endure was so calculated and so cruel and has forever damaged my relationships but i can work with this | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

maximotts · 2 years

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Idk if this is how u send requests but soft!daddy Jane banner edging a needy r 👀

a/n: ahaha... aha HA this was a long time coming obviously!! And it's not even super long so I don't even have any excuse uh.. enjoy daddy Jane

warnings: 18+ only, minors DNI; smut; edging (r receiving); daddy kink; couch sex; softish!top Jane; I think that's it...?

words: 2K

kinktober event. || kinktober masterlist. || main masterlist.

Sitting in Jane’s lap was supposed to be the most comfortable place in the world, and it was, always. She never failed to make you feel safe and secure every moment she was around. There was never any question of how much she’d protect you; she’d give you the world if you wanted it. And so, whenever she asked, you gave her the same.

“Did you want me to stop, sweetheart?”

“No! Don’t stop, but-” Your stomach was clenched impossibly tight, had been for what felt like days with how your abdomen struggled to stay taught. Jane wanted you to sit on her lap, innocent enough; she loved being as close as possible to you in the evenings, especially cold nights such as this, so you thought nothing of it. But eventually, midway through some movie you’d never heard of before, Jane’s hands slipped down your shorts. They didn’t leave much to the imagination, really, thin and lightweight and completely impractical for the slight chill that ran through the air. Jane had a habit of being touchy, holding and caressing you any time the two of you sat close, and you didn’t mind. It made you feel wanted, so that even without conversation, she still had you on her mind.

Initially you just sighed happily, the warmth of her hands setting your goosebumped skin alight. But now she’d spent the better part of an hour teasing you, threatening to pull aside your panties with promising slips under the garment and deft hands going around where you wanted them. You’d waited the whole time for when she’d actually touch you, but she never did. “But what? What is it?” Her question was so casual it made your brows furrow, irritated with how much pleasure she got from driving you wild.

Your hips tried to buck into her hand, but she pulled back, leaving you to whine into the air. “Jane, don’t—” But she just shushed your protests, calming you by nudging the last obtrusive layer out of the way. Her fingers met your bare cunt and once again you rose into her; this time she let you. “Touch me?”

“I am touching you.” When you chanced a glance up, you found her gaze wasn’t on you at all. She was still intently watching the television. You wanted to be mad, to demand she focus on you instead, but then she was circling your clit and your train of thought was gone forever. Her free hand guided your legs further apart, allowing her free access at will. A particularly perfect stroke forced a whine past your lips and Jane, cruel as she was being, moved away. “Hush, this is my favorite part.”

You nodded, biting your lip to keep quiet, but then thin fingers were dragging their away along the length of your sex, gathering the wetness they’d caused. Right as you were about to break your vow of silence, they finally pressed against your entrance, plunging two fingers deep amidst the sound of a strangled moan. The stretch burned; you whined and wiggled, your tight walls struggling to adjust when Jane was already moving, sliding in and out as if you weren’t just barely keeping up as it was. “P-Please..” Pain was already dissolving into pleasure, the slow drag of her digits each time she pulled out blinding you from any lingering discomfort.

She’d teased so much already, forcing you to endure this film, all the while working you up impossibly slowly for her own amusement. You figured she just wanted to take her time with you; it was rare you got a whole evening to yourselves without any work or fatigue and naturally, you enjoyed the attention. Jane always had a way with you, perfectly calculated touches each time she approached you. There was never a time she didn’t know exactly what you needed— it was whether or not she was going to give it to you that you had to worry about. Tonight it looked like she was firmly set on denying you anything that may throw you over the edge. She was fucking into you methodically, just enough to pull you to that delicious edge, but never hitting that one spot that you both knew would send you flying in an instant.

“You’re doing so well for me, baby. Sitting so pretty while I watch this.” Approval ran thick through Jane’s words, but you could only answer her with a pleading groan. Strained as you were, you loved to make her happy. Jane could force you to run through the muddy woods at night with the promise of her proud smile once you’d finished. You’d endure anything for her; she knew this, as did you. So, as much as you wanted to reach your hand between your legs and rub yourself to your own high, you wouldn’t. She’d let you, of course, but it wouldn’t be nearly as satisfying as what she did to you and there was no chance of Jane indulging you if you disobeyed.

That didn’t mean it was easy though. Every push of her fingers threatened to be your undoing, fists gripping Jane’s thighs for any bit of leverage. “Jane.. I need more.” Jane mumbled incoherently, kissing your cheek sweetly before finally looking down at you. God, you wanted to keep her eyes on you; there was nothing better than having her focus set squarely on you, like nothing could ever possibly tear her away.

She smiled something mischievous, her eyes betraying her trickery. “Oh?” Her hand picked up its pace suddenly, spearing you on the fingers that had you so blissfully split open. You felt like you were going to jelly, body molding against her slightly reclined one even further than you already were. “You asked me to touch you and I did. Now you want more? So greedy.” It felt so good, fingers and toes curling as your end neared. Your eyes screwed shut and you could just barely see the stars behind your lids when she ripped away, leaving you empty and dissatisfied. Jane watched every muscle in your body go rigid, just for a second, ready for the orgasm it wanted; the control you allowed her to wield over you, the trust you gave her to take care of you… she was a woman obsessed.

“Please daddy? Fuck me?” You arched into the hand now just resting atop you, pouting when it didn’t move. Following the motion of your hips with no pressure whatsoever, she moved along the length of you like one would tap against a desk and you groaned feeling yourself grow wetter with the torment. “I’ll be quiet.”

“Hmm…” Jane tightened her arm about your waist, pulling you higher up her own body just to reach you better. From this angle she could fuck you deeper, hold you closer, all with the perfect view of what she was doing to you. It wasn’t hard to bring you to the edge again, twisting and turning in her arms fruitlessly. She slowed again, but didn’t pull out this time, keeping her fingers buried where you were clenching weakly around you while your panting breaths echoed throughout the living room. Anyone could’ve been able to tell you were struggling to stay quiet; she wouldn’t be surprised if she had to patch up your surely bloody lip later. “Be a good girl and let daddy play while I finish this up.”

She was clearly talking about the movie; by your estimate you had about 20 minutes to go, but her comment wasn’t a question. The choice to comply was yours, but why would you ever deny her? Jane was moving before you nodded your head, resting it in the crook of her neck and hoping the smell of her could ground you long enough to last. She was relentless, manipulating you expertly over and over, each time stopping just in time to keep you away from what was now a much needed orgasm. “I-I can’t… I need to cum…”

The blonde sighed, her eyes snapping to yours with a disappointed frown twisting her lips. “You’re just asking for everything tonight, aren’t you?” A firm but gentle hand found your head, petting your hair to soothe you as if it would do anything to quell the burning ache consuming your entire being. Wounded eyes stared back up at her, begging for her approval— you tried so hard for her, it was always hard not to give in. “We’ll see.”

A string of expletives left your mouth as she went in again; you’d lost count of how many times it’d been now. Every bit of your focus went into holding back, the tightness in your abdomen felt like it was threatening to swallow you from the inside out, borderline cramping. “Please, please.. just once?” Jane didn’t respond to you past a hum, pretending to consider your bargain. If your arms would work, maybe you would’ve grabbed her chin and forced her to look at you; you needed her attention just as much as you needed your release.

“Not yet.” The simple response came with a curl of her fingers and it was a miracle you didn’t come apart right there. She alone could reach that spot that made you feel like you were soaring above the clouds. Try as you might, you were growing weak. You held back as many as you could on your own and if she kept going, you knew you wouldn’t be able to stop it. “Isn’t this what you wanted, baby? Why are you whining?”

You hadn’t even realized you were making noise still until she called you out on it, a dark chuckle erupting from her chest. Jane gave you exactly what you wanted, true, but she made it agonizing. Your shorts and panties were ruined, surely soaking through to Jane’s own pants, and the lewd sounds of sex nearly overpowered the movie’s low volume; maybe you’d have even a hint of embarrassment with your dishelved state if your head wasn’t so foggy. If she denied you again for forgetting to be quiet, you’d rage. Tears fell from your eyes as you fought against your own body, the base of Jane’s palm now angled to rub against your painfully swollen clit; you couldn’t, you wanted to, but you couldn’t— “I’m s-sorry, I need to cum.. please, daddy… I can’t…!”

Jane tugged on your hair, just hard enough to make you look at her, blown pupils taking in the smug satisfaction your girlfriend had plastered all over her face. “Cum for me, sweetheart.” Whether you were able to wait for her or you broke in the same second she gave you permission, you didn’t know, but it didn’t matter. Wave after wave of pleasure hit you, overwhelming every sense you had, back arching impossibly hard away from the woman holding you securely. She fucked you lazily through your orgasm, only stopping when your hand weakly batted hers away, her touches turning painful. “You did so well, my darling girl, I’m so proud.”

Nodding was all you could manage, even that proving a struggle as your entire body screamed to stay still. “That was unnecessarily mean..” you chuckled, turning over with her help to snuggle into her. Jane laughed along with you, kissing every part of your face she could reach.

At some point, she must’ve dragged the blanket resting over the back of the couch, shielding your quickly chilling body from the air. “You haven’t even seen me mean yet. I let you cum this time.”

#jane banner x reader #jane banner fic #jane banner x f!reader #jane banner smut #jane banner #jane banner wind river #wind river fic #maximotts kinktober #kinktober #motts writes

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radioactivepeasant · 3 years

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Fic Prompts: Star Wars Wednesday

(This is an excerpt from my unfinished but fully outlined Reign of Vader fic, in which Darth Vader assassinates Palpatine and then finds out that unfortunately this means he actually has to rule. After Luke is captured by the Empire, Vader reveals both his heritage and a desire to fix things in the galaxy. Luke is wary, but it's not like he has anywhere to go)

Darth Vader was not a man of infinite patience, and the Ruling Council was growing ever nearer to discovering the limits of his tolerance.

"Day-to-day procedures are a delicate matter, Majesty," Greejatus was saying, "It would be an unprecedented disaster to force change upon all offices all at once. May I recommend a gradual shift as your reign takes root?"

"Yes yes," Sate Pesage agreed. His eyes glittered out of his gaunt face with ambition. "This proposal to outlaw slavery, for instance-"

"-Is non-negotiable," Vader interrupted. "It was an idiot's decision to legalize it in the first place. My empire will have no need of slave labor."

"Of course!" Pesage bowed. He was beginning to sweat under that ridiculous hat of his. "We are eager to begin this journey into the future your reign promises, Majesty. But the galaxy is vast. Perhaps it is best to...phase the law in slowly? It takes time to bring new ordinances all the way to the Outer Rim."

Vader had heard quite enough for one day.

"Enough. The decree goes into effect tonight."

He stood, and all five members of the Council jumped a little.

"You have until then to review the revised legal codes I have provided for you."

[[MORE]]

With a sardonic lilt to his voice, he added, "The rule of the Grand Vizier through the Moffs has ended, gentlemen. If you do not feel that you are adequately prepared for the task ahead, I will accept your resignation and begin the process of finding your successor."

He waved a hand. "In the next week, we begin hearings for the Alderaanian Massacre. You are dismissed."

There was a certain satisfaction in watching Palpatine's five advisers bowing and trembling on their way out. After decades of putting up with their snide comments and inane commands, it was nice to see the shoe on the other foot for a change.

Of course, they hadn't covered much. Just an overview of what the Imperial Ruling Council actually did. Once Vader mentioned that he intended to sell his secondary residence in the district and distribute the funds as reparations, the meeting had devolved into excuses and protests for the next two hours. Luckily, he was far too stubborn to pay any attention to their complaints.

While he had no strong feelings about most of his actions in the last nineteen years, neither hatred nor regret, he was willing to acknowledge that not all of his targets had been legitimate in a military sense. For Padme's sake, he would make amends if possible.

Naturally, it was uncomfortable to try putting a price on life. But the sale of that ridiculous "castle" Palpatine insisted on him staying in would provide a good starting place.

It took about fifteen minutes of calculating, but ultimately Vader decided there was more than enough in Palpatine's personal accounts to cover about 17,000 wrongful death settlements, with additional funds in the cases of recurring medical bills.

Arranging reparations for Alderaan would take more work. Vader quickly decided he was going to delegate that to the department of finances.

(They...did have a department of finances, didn't they? Surely Sidious hadn't done his own bookkeeping.)

With that settled, Vader's itinerary consisted primarily of a meeting with the Hands to make sure they knew their boundaries. After that, a remote consultation with a newly-renowned surgeon living in one of the lower districts. It would, unfortunately, take up the majority of the day. But for now, at least, he had two hours to himself.

The emperor closed his eyes and stretched out with his senses. It took several seconds before he was able to pinpoint his son's location. Luke's presence was dimmed, slightly. Muffled.

The reason for this became apparent the moment Vader found him.

Inside the library, on the lower level, Luke was sprawled across one of the ridiculous armchairs the nobles had favored. A book lay open on his chest, rising and falling gently. A small stack of texts encompassing everything from speeder repair to adventure novels sat on the floor, just next to where one of Luke's hands dangled off the edge of the arm rest. Clearly, he had been in the library for several hours before falling asleep.

Sleep had softened the boy's features, painting him in a far more vulnerable light. The fear and caution of the previous night had been wiped away, leaving someone who seemed far too young, and far too small. How could he be twenty? How could Padme's baby already be twenty?

It was tempting to leave him there. To let him sleep. But the chair was not the most supportive frame, nor was the library the most secure chamber of the palace. Reluctantly, Vader bent to touch Luke's cheek.

"Luke," he said quietly, "This is hardly an appropriate place to sleep."

Luke's eyelids fluttered, but he did not fully awaken at once. Carefully, ever so carefully, Vader took hold of Luke's shoulders and guided him back into an upright position.

"Your spine will thank me later," he said.

Luke shifted, then opened his eyes with a groan. He didn’t seem to register Vader’s presence at first. One arm stretched up over his head, and the other came up to rub at his eyes.

“What time is it?” he yawned.

“Nearly noon,” answered Vader. The meeting with the Council had taken far longer than he would’ve liked. “Are you hungry?”

With a garbled sound, Luke waved a hand from side to side. “Don’t know yet?” he said in a still sleep-slurred voice.

After a few more seconds, he finally noticed just who had woken him. Instinctively, he straightened his spine, and looked a little bit nervous.

“Oh,” he said, very quietly. “H-hello, Father.”

“Hello, son.” Vader sounded amused. “Was your choice of reading that dull?”

After a moment, Luke nodded. He made a face. "I know there's supposed to be a famous musical made from this or something. But a whole chapter on how the sewer system of Ryloth's capital city works doesn't seem like good song material."

He jumped when Vader laughed. It was a warm, rich sound, utterly at odds with his austere appearance.

"Poor boy!" He gently took the book from his son. "That was required reading for our literature studies when I was a boy. I loathed it. Very few of my peers sought it out voluntarily."

"I guess I can see why," Luke admitted. "But it seemed like it was going to be a good story."

"Then you are better served finding an abridged copy, I think," Vader chuckled. "Come. You should eat something."

Luke pushed himself up out of the chair. “Do I...need to put the books back?”

Vader leaned back on his heels. He looked at the books, then at the shelves. “I...will leave that to your best judgement. I do not know where you got them from.”

It was such a normal sounding conversation! Why?!

Why did you have to be like...like this?! Luke fought a surprising burst of frustration. I have no idea how to talk to you!

Serious and formal one moment, then laughing the next? Vader? Laughing?! It was as if the man he’d met on Cymoon and the man idly examining his stack of books were two completely different people.

Luke set the books on the console with the Holonet terminal eventually. Vader had suggested that he learn the cataloguing system of the room at a later time. At least that seemed to mean that he would be allowed to go back to the library again. Luke thought about his conversation with Artoo. Perhaps his father was trying to be kind to him. Whether that kindness would extend to anyone else was a different matter.

“I thought you were still meeting with dignitaries or something,” Luke said.

He trailed along behind Vader up an ornate staircase with his hands in his pockets. He was still uncomfortable walking too closely to the man. For all that he acknowledged that the new emperor was, indeed, his father, he was still a force to be reckoned with.

Luke took a moment to internally groan at his unintended pun. Han would probably have elbowed him in the ribs for saying something like that. Chewie would think it was hilarious.

Luke’s attempt to stay safely out of range failed quite suddenly. Vader deliberately slowed his steps so that Luke couldn’t hang back without being extremely obvious about it. He didn’t want to offend the emperor, so he tried to ignore his fight or flight instincts shaking his insides and kept pace with his father.

“I have several more meetings to endure today,” Vader said casually. “But the most onerous of those has been dealt with.”

This was not quite true. The Ruling Council was too full of Palpatine loyalists. Just intimidating them into compliance would only work for so long. They had connections, and they had money, and that could prove to be a headache if not dealt with sooner. Vader needed to replace at least three of them.

He had almost considered appointing Luke as Vizier in Amedda’s place, but had quickly thought better of it. Such a position would almost guarantee that Luke would never have time to fly again. Cutting a Skywalker off from the stars for good seemed too cruel.

His son had not had the childhood he could have had if his mother had lived. If Palpatine had died much sooner. Let him enjoy his youth while he could.

But the problem of finding a Ruling Council that Vader could trust would still be waiting.

“The stupid hat club, right?” Luke asked.

He was unsettled by Vader’s proximity. Vader could sense that. He understood: the armor had been made to terrify. Perhaps one day he would have the option of seeing his son with his own eyes, but for now the boy would have to acclimate himself to the sight.

It was not often that Vader found himself cursing the cold, impersonal nature of his mask. He would have liked to smile at his son.

“Yes. The...stupid hat club.” He settled for letting his amusement be clearly heard in his voice. “That is not an inaccurate description. They run the day-to-day matters of ruling an Empire. But as they were all close to the former ruler, I find that I’d rather not trust them in matters of delegating governance.”

Luke grimaced. “That doesn’t sound like a good idea,” he agreed.

#star wars #star wars wednesday #fic prompts #writing prompts #Reign of Vader #luke skywalker #darth vader #ooc vader because Palpatine is dead and he's trying to decide what that means for his personality #luke is very uncomfortable but seeing Vader and Artoo arguing over upgrades helps #palpatine did not give vader any indication that ruling an empire meant actually working #he's operating on the bits and pieces he remembers from Padme's work and hating every minute of it #guess how long the empire is going to last when it turns out the emperor hates being in charge of that much minutiae #dad vader #he's actually making an effort

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queerthoughts-gaybrainrot · 2 years

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“It has to be me, of course.”

Zoya’s eyes narrowed. “Of course. A man known for selfless acts. You do nothing without first calculating your own gain. Why would you start now?”

“Because I’m the only one who can.”

“Is it my imagination,” asked Nikolai, “or do you sound smug about that?”

“I am immortal,” said the Darkling with a shrug. “You possess a barescrap of my power. Zoya is only just learning how to master hers. I am the linchpin. I am the lodestone. I move the tide.”

“You did cause all of this,” Nikolai said. “Remember?”

“Is this meant to be your redemption then?” Genya asked. “Your great sacrifice?”

Few things. First; Darkling you dramatic bitch. Second; Nikolai you gay bitch. Third; Genya, you bitch. Like, is this really necessary? The man had his worst punishment given to him already, came back, and now is ready to spend eternity being tortured in a new, even worse way.

Aleksander did not live his entire life. He went from being a child hunter by everyone in the world, not being able to touch or trust anyone because of who he is, isolated by his mother, to serving idiot kings who cared not for his cause, who only saw him as a tool and a weapon that needs to be blunt and sharp at the same time. Humiliated but loyal at all times. He went from just surviving to committing his eternal life to make the world a safer place for Grisha, to make a haven for them, to protect his people. There was no peaceful life with a lover and children for him, ever. No friends surrounding him and helping him through his worst moments. No simple joys in his life beyond those he got to experience while hiding, running, fighting or working.

She and the Darkling hadn’t exchanged a single word or glance until now.

“No forgiveness for me, little Genya?”

Zoya whirled on him. “Show her respect or I will gut you where you stand.”

“No, Zoya,” Genya said. “He and I are due for a chat. I forgive you for these scars.” He couldn’t hide his surprise, and she laughed. “You didn’t expect that, did you? I don’t regret them. I found my way to who I was meant to be through the pain I endured. I’m stronger for it.”

Zoya is threatening to kill the only person who can fix the universe, cool. Genya forgives for being punished for desertion and treason, cool. Why should Sasha respect her, tbh, she did nothing to earn it in his eyes, only lost it.

“But the rest I can’t forgive,” Genya said. “You gave me to the queen’s household because you needed a spy. You knew the old king’s gaze would turn to me. You knew what I would endure.” She shut her eye, remembering. “You told me I was your soldier, that all of my suffering would be worth some future glory. It wasn’t.”

Now that’s just bullshit. He could not predict that the king would be evil, stupid and bold enough to assault a grisha. He could not predict that Genya would be hurt this way, Sasha is not a goddamn fortuneteller.

“The cost—”

“Do not speak of costs.” Her voice rang through the clearing, her red hair burning like autumn fire. The patch she wore was emblazoned with Alina’s symbol. It shone like a star. “If the cost was so necessary, then you should have been the one to pay it. I was a child and you offered me up as a sacrifice for your centuries-old war.”

Did she just tell him he should be the one being raped by the king? I-

It’s nowhere in canon, but I can only assume in all his life Aleksander was forced to sacrifice himself in more ways than one, if not to one of the kings, then someone else. Let’s remember he spent century or even more in times were just a bed to sleep in was something he was unsure to have. Not to mention he was nowhere near as powerful or influential, and Baghra wasn’t by his side every day. She left him (even as a child) for days, all alone, and until age 13 he couldn’t even use the Cut to protect himself.

Also it’s just cruel to say to someone they should be the one to experience sexual assault.

She laughed, a sad, small sound. “And the worst part is that no one remembers. When people speak of your crimes, they talk of the slaughter of Novokribirsk, your murder of the Grisha who were once under your care. What I lived through stayed hidden. I thought it was my shame to bear. Now I know it’s yours. You were father and friend and mentor. You were supposed to protect me.”

“I had a nation to protect, Genya.”

“A nation is its people,” Zoya said. “Genya, me, my aunt.”

The Darkling raised a brow. “When you are queen, you may find such calculations more difficult to make.”

First; is Aleksander’s crime here not killing the king for hurting Genya, then? Would she prefer he commit treason and doom every Grisha in the country, by letting Vasily take the throne and order a genocide on all Grishas? Would she prefer if he murder both the king and Vasily, to protect her? He couldn’t exactly do anything to the King in this regard, not without risking safety of everyone in the Second Army.

Second; It is impossible to rule a nation and focus on the safety and well-being of every single person in it. Not when you oversee tens of people at once, lead campaigns, win wars, and deal with constant problem of persecution all over the country and the borders.

“There will be no redemption for you,” Genya said. “The woman I am can forgive you for the punishment you dealt me. But for the sake of the child I was, there is no penance you can perform, no apology you can speak that will make me open my heart to you.”

“I don’t remember asking you to.”

Who is Genya to speak of redemption for him? Her actions led to the war as much as Baghra’s, Alina’s, and Aleksander’s. She’s naive to think there are not sacrifices and casualties in war. That one person can literally protect every single person in their command, especially when they serve the one who hurts someone in their command. It’s not like Darkling could publicly accuse the King of sexual assault, nothing would happen, no one would enforce the law on the man who rules the country.

Genya and Zoya are so naive and stubborn in their empty hatred it hurts.

#row #rule of wolves #reading row #darkling #starless saint #black heretic #aleksander morozova #the darkling #anti Genya safin #anti Zoya Nazyalensky #tagging as anti bcs here I hate how LB wrote them #they act like 15 year olds #with a tantrum #not like someone who will lead a country

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prettyinpymtech · 3 years

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For My Heart Finds You

Part 1

Poe Dameron x fem!Reader (Regency AU)

Summary: Impressed by your cousin’s prosperous engagement, your parents arrange for you to stay with your aunt with the hope that she may find a proper suitor for your hand. Your arrival is met with spitefulness, however, and you are forced to endure her cruel words alone. But an invitation from Leia Organa soon changes your prospects and offers encounters with many kindly acquaintances, including a handsome young man named Poe Dameron.

A/N: I’m so excited to share this one with all of you! Poe is not featured in this chapter, but this gives some insight into Leia’s role in their meeting. I hope you enjoy it!

Perfection, much to your aunt’s credit, continuously emanated from within the small confines of her mansion. Every bend of the surrounding expanse followed such an ambition-from the perfectly trimmed hedges below the windows to the rows of flowers in the garden. No existence could deter such an appearance.

Well, except for your own presence.

Your seemingly rebellious nature was hardly the result of pure spite, though the accusation had been brought before you on more than one occasion. What was often mistaken for disobedience was no more than an attempt to define your own happiness, rather than surrender it for the sake of visiting guests.

Such an assessment had been frowned upon, however, and it had not left a very commendable impression among your hosts. You suspected that your aunt would have sent you away without a moment’s hesitation if it had not been for the praise of her friends as they applauded her efforts. Every last person in town had failed to recognize her family’s vanity and you were ashamed to admit that you had also been misled by her pretense.

It was an arrangement that had commenced as an earnest affair. The sudden engagement of your cousin had impressed your parents and they had written to your aunt with the hope that she could achieve the same triumph for your regard. It was her pride that had compelled her to accept your company in her household and you had believed in her deceitful reception.

But, as you continued your stay, you soon found that she was far too cruel and calculating-and her daughters were no different. Martha, the eldest of the two, placed her pride on her recent engagement to Ben Solo, a cold man that only seemed to find interest in his wealth. Madeline had yet to find a husband to match her sister’s, but she still took great pride in her mother’s stature.

You tried to avoid their scornful gazes as often as possible, and found comfort within the narrow walls of your uncle’s library. Your aunt had found very little use for the room after his passing, but the room offered an escape that no other corner could provide, particularly when your aunt brought home a rather boorish parade of guests to rid her of her charge.

All of your meals were enjoyed in the library with little interruptions and that had lasted until a month after your initial appearance.

You had busied yourself with a book in one hand and a cup of tea in another early one morning when an excited chatter compelled you to wander into the drawing room. Ben Solo sat in a chair not too far from his wife, while your aunt and Madeline conversed with an older woman. You did not recognize her, but you recognized something warm and familiar in her gaze as she turned to greet you.

“Marie, you have not introduced me to your guest.”

Your aunt hurried to meet you with an exaggerated smile. “Forgive me, Leia. This is Y/N, my niece. I have been trusted with her care until I am fortunate to find a proper suitor to marry her.”

Struggling not to grimace at her overstated attempts, you caught Leia chuckling to herself almost as if she could read your thoughts, though whether that was a result of understanding or sheer coincidence, you could not say. But her gaze held no malice and you felt a sense of warmth in her presence as she beckoned you to take a seat next to her.

“And where do you hail from, child?” she asked.

“My family owns a small cottage near the lakes of Naboo.”

“Is that so? A lovely place, though I must admit it has been some time since I last visited. Tell me, are the summers still as enchanting as I remember them?”

“Oh, yes, quite so. Our gardens had only started to blossom before I arrived here and I am sure they are even lovelier now.”

You felt a small twinge of longing as you spoke of your home and you tried to hide the tears that threatened to emerge. Taking notice of your gloom, Leia reached out and placed her hand on top of yours.

“I am sorry you have had to miss such a beautiful sight.”

She continued to provide a sincere affection as the discussion was changed to an entirely different subject. You learned that Leia was Ben’s mother, but you would not have guessed such a fact if it had not been for her revelation. She did not carry herself with the unfriendly manner that her son so often possessed and instead spoke of fantastic adventures and friends.

In a matter of hours she had reluctantly agreed to Ben’s insistence to leave before dark. She bid a courteous farewell to Marie and her daughters, but a look of excitement appeared in her eyes as she stopped in front of you.

“Our gardens are not quite as wonderful as yours, but they certainly offer a pleasant resemblance. You must come and see them!”

Her request surprised you. “Do you really mean it?”

“Of course! It has been too long since I last welcomed guests in D’Qar and I would love to show you the place! The preparations should not take too long. Please tell me you will come!”

“Oh, Leia!” interrupted your aunt. “Nothing would bring us more joy than to visit your home!”

Leia turned to your aunt and smiled, but you noticed the surprise in her features as if she had forgotten of your aunt’s presence altogether.

“Oh, well, I suppose I could find room for the rest of you.” Returning her gaze to you, she added, “I will await your arrival. Perhaps I shall even arrange a dinner to celebrate such an occasion. Kes has finally returned to D’Qar and I have been informed that his son will soon be joining him for the summer. I am sure they would be delighted to meet you.”

A gasp of surprise escaped your aunt at the mention of Leia’s friends. “I had no idea Poe planned to return home.”

“Indeed, he has! I have no idea how long he intends to stay, but Kes has hopes that he may find someone that will convince him to delay his leave.”

She gazed in your direction as she voiced her friend’s expectations, but you had no time to ponder her meaning as she was escorted to her carriage. Ben soon followed her outside, leaving Marie to revel in the excited chatter of her daughters.

“This is wonderful news, girls! Just think, Madeline, in a matter of days we could very much find you engaged to Poe Dameron!”

“I must prepare at once!” cried Madeline. “Surely, he will not find me appealing in this terrible garment!”

“You’re quite right. We shall leave for town at once to find you something much more suitable.”

Their excitement amused you, but you failed to understand such fuss.

“Poe Dameron,” you muttered, “I’m afraid I have not heard of him. What is he like?”

Your aunt scoffed. “The Damerons are a noble family and quite prosperous in their fortunes. It does not surprise me that you are not familiar with the name. After all, why should he have crossed paths with someone so pitiable?”

Martha and Madeline giggled at her remark, but you ignored their spitefulness. Retreating to the comfort of the library, you held to Leia’s kindness and allowed, for just a brief moment, a chance to fantasize of all the splendid opportunities her invitation could present for the coming days.

#poe dameron x reader #poe dameron imagine #poe dameron #star wars imagine

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ssaltbending · 3 years

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Ok, guys, hear me out: Zuko is a Capricorn, Katara is a Cancer —and here’s why (it would be so poetic).

Part 1: Zuko

TW: explicit mentions of child abuse.

I know this statement might seem weird and out of place, but in the last couple weeks I’ve been digging a lot into astrology and, in order not to forget my roots, I thoroughly felt the need to combine both of my most recent obsessions in one post, given that this headcanon hasn’t been able to leave my mind ever since I came up with it: if we applied astrology to the Avatar world, I’m sure Cancer and Capricorn would be Katara and Zuko’s signs, respectively. And I don’t say this in a superficial way, just by looking at zodiac memes and associating Katara with the crybabies Cancers are portrayed as or saying Zuko is a Capricorn buzzkill as people who know astrology on a surface level would assume they are —those are some of the most common stereotypes about the signs. No, I’m saying that they embody those signs on an archetypal leve: in the way their stories, especially Zuko’s, resemble the myths that originate the zodiac signs and their respective traits.

Therefore, without further ado, let me explain.

The Capricorn archetype: the sins of the father...

As any casual astrology enthusiast may probably know, the sign of Capricorn is connected to qualities such as perseverance, integrity, resilience and ambition, typically treated as the CEO or boss of the zodiac. However, the sign itself has a richer and much more complex story as we look at the deities it is associated with as well as the planet that rules it: Saturn, linked to the Roman god of the same name and the greek gods Cronus, Zeus, Hestia and Pan. Some astrologers choose Cronus as Capricorn’s patron god and others prefer his children, but that can be explained very easily.

The myth goes like this: Cronus, a giant and father of what we would know as some of the main greek gods (Hestia, Demeter, Hades, Poseidon, Hera and Zeus), was actually the son of Uranos, who he subverted thanks to the advice of his mother Gaia to use an agricultural tool to kill him. But as time went by and Cronus had started having children with his partner, Rhea, the fear of his descendants becoming stronger than him and doing the same thing he had done to his father took over him, which led to his decision of swallowing them all whole. He started with Hestia all the way back to Zeus, whom he couldn’t swallow right after he was born, unlike his other children, because this time Rhea had hid him in the island of Crete to protect him from his father. To deceive him, Rhea then covered a rock in cloth to make it resemble a baby for Cronus to eat it, thinking that it was a newborn Zeus.

Time passed and Zeus grew stronger until he was ready to confront his father and save his siblings from his womb, and when he finally did it, he managed to force Cronus into disgorge them one by one, in the reverse order they had been swallowed —which left Hestia as the last sibling to be disgorged.

After that, Zeus was left with a prophecy, where he would also be possibly overthrown by a son of his. And after Métis, the woman he was told would bear said child, gave birth he swallowed the newborn whole just like Cronus had done with his brothers and sisters. The child in question, however, started giving him headaches as it grew older and bigger inside of him and would become the goddess we know as Athena. What Zeus did with her was the repetition of a cycle perpetuated by his forefathers, a cycle of abuse and trauma that seems inescapable. What this part of the duality of the Capricorn archetype shows one of the ways in which those ideas of tradition and legacy can be carried on (a very negative one, to be honest), but that’s not the only way they can manifest, which gives the archetype this… almost cinematic quality, in my opinion. (And if we take this into account, I might headcanon Azula as a Capricorn rising due not only to the archetypal coincidences but the overall mastermind outlook she has and how much of a natural, domineering and calculating leader she is, but that’s besides the point.)

Now, let’s talk about the other side of the archetype, which gives it this incredible dual quality: Hestia’s path. Unlike her brother Zeus, Hestia was the one who not only had been devoured by her father, but she had spent the most time inside him as well. This is often associated with the emotional isolation many Capricorns experience in their youth, the lack of warmth and love by one of their parents, along with the desire not to become the abusive parent they were exposed to. Hestia is the other side of the story, the unspoken leader of the Olympians, the one who broke the toxic cycle running in her family for generations, vowing to become an eternal virgin and protector of the earth. Besides, Hestia means “hearth”: the inner fire, the one that is never allowed to go out.

(art by @elisebrave)

That is the soul of the Capricorn archetype: the crossroads of destiny, the moment when the child decides whether to become like their parents, or forge their own path like Hestia did. Do you guys see what I see now? Are the similarities clear enough?

As my dear friend @persephobeee points out in her Capricorn essay (a crucial source for this one): “The Capricorn archetype is a cycle of stuck parents putting stress on their children at such a young age so then their kid ends up making money in retaliation, but then treat their kids the same as well due to the lack of warmth and freedom they had in their own childhood. The intense pressure put onto them as a child [then] leads to isolation and depression. It’s a cycle. ‘I don’t want to be my parent, but also… how they have ruined me’. The chain can continue with Zeus (projecting sorrows and nightmares onto their own children) or it could break with Hestia (the path of love, light and protection).”

This is why Capricorn’s planetary ruler, Saturn, is also associated with ideas found in this myth: restriction, limitation, order, boundaries, leadership, responsibility… pretty much dad vibes, to be honest. Do you guys see what I see or do I have to dig deeper?

“But isn’t zuko a firebender?? Why would he be an earth sign??”, you may ask.

The way that I might be making headcanons about the Gaang’s western zodiac signs isn’t gonna be based on which element they bend, because that would be quite reductive and restrictive for me as an astrology junkie, but their similarities to each sign’s archetype and overall characteristics. And yes, I do see Zuko as an earth sun, but that wouldn’t be his only sign, there is also the moon and the rising sign, which also have an important impact on the individual. In my opinion, Zuko’s personality embodies the qualities of fire signs as well: competitiveness, drive, passion, impulsiveness and loyalty. But to me those qualities are better shown in his character through his moon sign: an Aries moon, to be specific. See those anger outbursts? The “I don’t need any [fucking] calming tea!!”? The “you never think these things through”? Aries moon behavior, right there. But I’m not going to focus on moon signs right now. Let’s get back to the behavior I am the most well-versed at: Capricorn behavior.

So, the sign of Capricorn is also a cardinal sign, a leader, since they are the ones that begin each season. In the Northern Hemisphere, Capricorn season starts right on the winter solstice, and the opposite happens in the South. However, since all the astrology lore comes from the North thanks to the Greeks, Babylonians and more, the seasonal connections are related to the seasons there. As a consequence, Capricorn is the cardinal sign that brings the coldest, darkest season of the year: winter. And incorporating that into Zuko’s character would be incredibly fitting, in my opinion, because of some stuff I’ve read here on Tumblr saying that making him being born during the coldest time of the year would make it a terrible omen for a firebender, worse in this case due to him being born into the royal family, symbols of the power and “supremacy” of the Fire Nation. The fact that he would be born in winter, if we follow this reasoning, would have made him seem as a disappointment to his father ever since birth.

… or maybe I’m just cruel, guys.

Moreover, I think Zuko embodies many of the Capricorn qualities in the way he carries himself (because no, not all Capricorns are confident managers with the world in our hands) and how hard he has to work to earn everything he gets. A key part of what this sign represents is “the path of hardships the goat has to overcome in order to reach the top of the mountain”, which along with the myth I have described before, could easily be applied to Zuko. It describes values of endurance, hard work, discipline and drive in order to achieve your goals, something that can be seen in Zuko all throughout the series, but changes its focus as the seasons go by. Besides, uhm… have you guys seen “The Day of Black Sun, Part 2”? That is literally the positive outcome of the Capricorn myth made into animation: the confrontation between an abusive father figure and his abused child who has decided to part ways with him in order to become a better person.

On another note, I think it is important to highlight how the Capricorn in Zuko could be seen based on how the rest of the Gaang treats him as well when he changes sides and he’s accepted into the group. How?, you may be wondering: as a father figure, but in a positive way. In many scenes it can be noticed how he naturally takes a position of leadership within the group as well as he takes care of the younger members such as Aang and Toph but, especially in Aang’s case, tries to ground them and teach them. As examples, take the following: Zuko reminding Aang that soon he will have to face the fact that he might have to kill Ozai, him trying to get everyone to train when the comet is about to arrive; how when Aang gets lost, it is him the one people look to in order to lead the group, etc.

Another thing that is well-known in Capricorns is our resilience and perseverance and, honestly: do I even need to explain that? When it comes to the guy who would get his ass beaten again and again and again for one season straight in order to get what he wanted which would also give him the approval of his father, what he craved most? It screams earth sign behavior to me, but with a heavy saturnian influence due to Zuko’s background which, to me, can be quite an interesting reflection of the Saturn/Cronus myth with his children. Said tenacity could also be exacerbated by the willpower and energy brought by the possibility of him having a fire moon, I don’t know, think about it. I stick to that headcanon.

That perseverance can also be seen when it comes to Zuko’s firebending, given how much he’s always trying to improve his skills. Although it could be argued that in reality he’s doing so due to the expectations put on him to be a proficient bender just like his sister in order to be accepted by his father, and his constant training to the point of exhaustion is just a manifestation of that toxic behavior. I am sorry to tell you, but that’s textbook Capricorn behavior, associated with the symbolism of the hardworking goat in general: working the hardest in order to get what you want is always on-brand when it comes to important Capricorn placements, and in my opinion Zuko is no exception.

Final thoughts.

Anyway, what I think would be most relevant is what I mentioned before about the Capricorn archetype and how it could tie in nicely to Zuko’s character arc with him as a representation of Hestia, who could grow out of the abuse she experienced and got a chance not to make her father’s mistakes and break that horrendous cycle she had been a victim of. I would go into this more deeply, but I think it has been enough for now. However, I’ll be back soon with a part two, talking about my water queen Katara. What do you think about this headcanon? Do you agree? If not, why?

Thanks for coming to my weird-ass TedTalk at 1am. I needed to vent and I haven’t been able to put the computer down since 9pm, I literally only stopped to eat, lol.

See you soon,

a Capricorn sun.

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translations-by-aiimee · 3 years

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Mistakenly Saving the Villain - Chapter 6

Original Title: 论救错反派的下场

Genres: Drama, Romance, Xianxia, Yaoi

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter Index

Chapter 6 - The Truth Behind the Scenes

Yue Wuhuan thought that his eyes would be gouged out by Xianzun soon, and he was shaking from fear.

After Song Qingshi checked him over, he was puzzled: "Are you cold?"

Yue Wuhuan shook his head stiffly.

"If your eyes are not uncomfortable, we can treat them later." Song Qingshi judged the injuries according to its severity. He returned to the table and took off his gloves, picked up the spirit bead, and walked back over. "I found a white powdery medicine around the edges of your nails. After a preliminary inspection, I determined that it contained Deer Spring Grass and Confusion Scented Flowers, which have a strong aphrodisiac effect. In addition, I also found plant ingredients in the incense on your clothes and feather skirt attracts cats. This is the reason why the demon tiger attacked you at the banquet."

He found out. . .

Yue Wuhuan thought in despair.

This was the loophole that he had found when searching for the edge of the Acacia Seal's control. Slaves can't kill themselves, slaves must obey their master's every command. But it was also the master that was happy to see the slave perform an unbearable performance, and was also happy to see the slave played with until death.

All he was able to get were aphrodisiacs that he extracted from psychedelic ingredients. He refined it greatly to make it more likely for animals to lose their sanity.

Therefore, he calculated the time and wrapped the medicine in wax pills to delay the onset of the drugs in the demon tiger's body, and then prepared the smell on his body to attract the monsters. After the atmosphere on the court reached its peak, the demon tiger rushed out under the stimulation of the drugs. He was definitely going to be chosen as its prey. He pretended to be absent after taking the aphrodisiac and took the initiative to step forward. The guests thought it was a show arranged by Jin FeiRen and applauded.

Jin FeiRen was far too proud to do anything and had already found a new favourite anyways. He would never interfere with the entertainment of his guests. Even a little hesitation could mean the demon tiger would completely lose control and tear the guests to pieces.

Yue Wuhuan carried out this plan with the determination to die, and never thought that the truth revealed because he survived.

In Golden Phoenix Manor, if a slave was found to show signs of disobedience, he would be severely punished. What's more, what he did was calculated something behind his master's back, which was absolutely against the rules. . . But what about this?

Yue Wuhuan’s flustered heart gradually calmed down and he recalled that when he first became a slave, because he was unwilling to yield and his wood-type spiritual root was suitable for a speedy recovery, he suffered all the humiliation that the world could inflict under the control of Acacia Seal. He was forced to endure all kinds of unbearable postures, forced to admit that he was more lecherous than the most lecherous flower girl in the brothel; because the beasts thought that he never reacted sufficiently during sex, they used countless kinds of drugs to transform him into having a very sensitive physique until even the friction of ordinary cloth will make him extremely uncomfortable.

Every time he thought that he reached the limit of this hell, he would always see that hell went so much deeper. Finally, after realizing that his despair and resistance would only make those people happier, he gave up these meaningless struggles as well of the idea of getting rid of the Acacia Seal.

His body was so dirty that he just wanted to destroy it. . .

God knows that when the demon tiger rushed forward to tear his body apart, he didn't feel any pain, only utter bliss.

Whether it's plucking out his eyes or cutting off his limbs to make him into medicine, whether it's being thrown into a brothel and toyed with by thousands of people, or thrown to a beast for fun. There wouldn't be any punishment in this world that would make him feel pain.

Yue Wuhuan narrowed his smile and stopped pretending. He looked at the spirit bead coldly and provoked disrespectfully, "Now that you know, what are you going to do?"

Song Qingshi declared with certainty: "Someone wanted to harm you!"

Yue Wuhuan failed in his provocation, and almost missed a breath, thinking that he had misheard: "What?"

Song Qingshi felt that his reasoning was sound. Although he didn't read novels very much, his senior sisters said that the protagonists were good people since the bad guys acting as the protagonist couldn't pass domestic publication censorship. The system's introduction mentioned that the protagonist suffered a miserable fate. These injuries now must also be related to the original plot.

Based on the social news he had read, 80% of the people in Golden Phoenix Manor were jealous of the protagonist's beauty and favour, and want to destroy him. They must have used medicine on his body and nails! So after careful consideration, Song 'Holmes' Qingshi concluded: "I suspect that it must have been the person who dressed you that day. I will find the murderer later and give you justice."

"No." Yue Wuhuan felt that the corners of his mouth were twitching. He didn't believe that the great Xianzun could be so stupid, but the other party seemed to be very serious about making him believe that he was stupid. He didn't know what expression to put on. Finally, he answered stiffly, "There's no need. . ."

When Song Qingshi saw this kindness, he was more sure about his guess of the protagonist. He put the spirit bead into Yue Wuhuan's hands: "This thing belongs to you, so you can put it away."

Yue Wuhuan realized that the spirit bead had not been marked with new spiritual thoughts, and he was dumbfounded.

"I studied this stuff," Song Qingshi explained, "The Acacia Seal involves a spell which is decently complicated. Medicine King's Valley has no way to solve the curse. I have asked the valley servant to go to the Night Rain Pavillion to offer a reward. The master of Night Rain Pavillion said that, although the method of explaining spells is not expensive, it's rare, and it will take some time to hear back."

Yue Wuhuan was stunned for a long time after listening, and asked in a quiet voice: "What price do I need to pay?"

Song Qingshi had been helped by many people, and no one has ever asked him for something in return. He has also helped many people and has never asked for repayment.

In his eyes, the Acacia Seal is a sin against basic human rights. It was the source of the protagonist's suffering is, like the shackles on the feet of a bird. After saving the bird, it is a matter of course to untie the shackles, and it was not worth mentioning.

So he replied casually: "You can focus on recovering and just get well with peace of mind."

The valley servant came to report that the medicine boiling in the yard was almost ready.

Song Qingshi hurriedly went out to check, lest the effect of the medicine would not achieve its desired effect.

Yue Wuhuan looked in disbelief at the spirit bead in his hand, and his noisy thoughts became more confused.

In the world he knew, things that don’t cost anything were the most expensive. . .

Medicine Master Xianzun was even more well-known in the cultivation world for being cold-blooded and cruel. He never knew the meaning of the word 'mercy'. What did he want from him? His body? His life? Or what about his soul? Yue Wuhuan thought for a long time, and couldn't help but chuckle. He tightly grasped the spirit bead in his hand, determined to make a desperate move. If it meant he could get rid of the shackles, he would do anything, even if he had to sell his soul to the devil. . .

When Yue Wuhuan saw Song Qingshi bringing the medicine in, he pondered for a moment about Song Qingshi's impression of him and what he wanted from him. His expression quickly switched to a well-behaved and weak look. He carefully raised his eyes and glanced at him secretly, showing just the right amount of gratitude, leaving himself at the mercy of Song Qingshi's treatment.

This patient was super obedient! He did whatever the doctor told him to do. No matter how disgusting the medicine tasted, he would drink it in one sip. No matter how painful or irritating the needle was, he wouldn't make a sound! He would also thank the doctor in a gentle voice. Song Qingshi took care of him with a sense of accomplishment. He hoped all the patients in the world could be as well behaved as him.

The physical regenerative skills of the wood spirit root were amazing, and the wound on the shoulder of Wuhuan would scab over in five days.

After Song Qingshi checked him over, he was allowed to get out of bed. He was ordered to spend more time in the sun and Song Qingshi proceeded to prepare for the next treatment.

The Medicine Master, whether it was the original body or the current Song Qingshi, does not care much about what he wore. Therefore, the Medicine Master rarely had shark silk or ice silk. The hospital gowns prepared by the valley servants were made of ordinary cotton, which was comfortable for ordinary people, but Yue Wuhuan felt uncomfortable with the friction of the fabric, so he dared not stray too far from the palace. He only took a few steps then stopped.

At night, Song Qingshi noticed that he was walking strangely, so he went to check on him. He didn't expect the slight touch to his collarbone. He hadn't gone down yet and he was still making a fool of himself.

Yue Wuhuan looked at Song Qingshi's stunned expression and those clear eyes that held no evil intentions. The shame that hadn't appeared for a long time came out. He couldn't help avoiding those gentle hands and curled up into the dark corner.

The contrast between purity and sex, clean and dirty, brought out the unbearable reality.

Yue Wuhuan repeated the truths he learned a long time ago in his heart over and over again.

Even if the Acacia Seal was lifted, he couldn't erase the past. . .

Song Qingshi pulled his hand back in embarrassment. He looked at the person hiding in the dark, opening his mouth, not knowing what to say.

Yue Wuhuan quickly realized that what he did was wrong. The other party had long known that he was not a clean person, and it would only be more embarrassing to try and cover it up. He quickly collected himself, and his figure slowly unfolded from the dark depths.

When he smiled and raised his eyes to look at Song Qingshi, there was a thick lust in his eyes. He licked his lips, put his hand on his belt, and said the shameful words that he was used to: "It's so hot, Xianzun wants to see look at this slave's body?"

Rather than letting someone discover he was embarrassed by his body, he would rather take the initiative to show the embarrassment. No matter what kind of contempt and humiliation he endured, as long as he convinced himself that he was a shameless bastard, his heart wouldn't be sad.

Song Qingshi woke up to what was happening before he started to strip off his clothes. He rapidly lowered all the curtains to block the spring scenery in the room.

Yue Wuhuan's ambiguous voice stopped abruptly.

Song Qingshi calmly said: "It's too late, the patient needs to rest."

Yue Wuhuan sat blankly on the bed, watching the faint figure outside the bed's canopy putting out the luminous beads, and then lighting the incense burner. The faint medicinal scent mixed with the smell of agarwood swept over, letting his feverish body gradually cool down. He slowly lay down, curling up again in the lonely darkness.

He suddenly realized that no one would be ravishing him tonight. There was no need to speak disgusting words, let alone force himself to flatter. There was no messy smell in the air, only the unspeakable clean air, which made his always vigilant mind begin to grow dizzy. His eyelids could not stay open, and he dragged into his dreamland.

There was no hell in this dream, only the fragrance of the magnolia tree outside his childhood bedroom window. . .

His body gradually relaxed and he immersed himself in this sweet dream that he hadn't experience for such a long time.

. . .

Song Qingshi stood silently outside the door for a long time, lost in his thought.

Once he was sure that Peaceful Soul Fragrance had played its role, he went back in. Holding the luminous beads, he gently opened the curtain, sat on the side of the bed, and looked at the various problems hidden in this scarred body again with his spiritual thoughts.

After a while, he withdrew his thoughts and quietly looked at Yue Wuhuan’s face. His eyes were clenched shut, and the completely relaxed youth's charming attitude had faded away. He was like a sleeping wild cat with his claws sheathed. Letting his vigilance fade away, as if forgetting the pain he had suffered and showing his true colours.

Freedom, pride, stubbornness. . .

His life should never have been what it was now.

Song Qingshi gently pulled the blanket around him. He brushed his tousled long hair carefully behind his ears, and promised in a low voice:

"I will heal you."

#mistakenly saving the villain #mistakenly saving the villain translation #english translation #chinese bl #chinese novel #yaoi novel #song qingshi #yue wuhuan

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bloody-bee-tea · 4 years

Text

Just listen for once

For my first commission exocara requested some major feelings for Jiang Cheng, who falls into a magical coma and has to endure some heart-to-hearts with his loved ones. It’s over 5.5k so you can also read it here on AO3.

Jiang Cheng knows his day will take a turn for the worse when instead of being greeted by his disciples with an estimated arrival time for Lan Xichen they simply hand him a letter.

‘I’ll be late,’ it says. ‘Don’t know if I can make it at all today,’ it goes on, and Jiang Cheng crumbles it in his hand.

He would really prefer if Lan Xichen just came out and say that he doesn’t want to spend his day in Lotus Pier instead of these vague excuses, but he guesses he can’t have everything.

Jiang Cheng should count himself lucky that Lan Xichen spares him enough time to strike up a rather somewhat regular correspondence. It’s probably more than Jiang Cheng deserves.

He mentally calculates what day it is today, and he realizes it must be close to Jin Guangyao’s birthday. Of course Lan Xichen wouldn’t find the time for him then, Jiang Cheng thinks bitterly and throws the letter into the fire.

He always knew that Lan Xichen is still hung up on Jin Guangyao, no matter that he was a vile bastard, and since the Lan’s only love once, Jiang Cheng doesn’t see Lan Xichen getting over that any time soon.

Jiang Cheng works his jaw, mentally berating himself for being so goddamn stupid as to fall in love with Lan Xichen and even flirting with him when he really should remember that there is no place for him in Lan Xichen’s heart. The burnt letter is just another reminder of that.

He really needs to get it together.

So Jiang Cheng goes to breakfast, pretending that nothing at all happened and that he can’t see his disciples sharing looks among themselves.

Of course they know that Lan Xichen was supposed to drop by today. He had them prepare some special food for Lan Xichen and even dust off the guest bedroom all in the hopes that Lan Xichen might enjoy his time at Lotus Pier enough to decide to stay.

And of course his hasty decision comes back to bite him in the ass, because now every single one of his disciples knows that he was stood up.

How pathetic he must seem in their eyes.

Jiang Cheng decides not to dwell too much on it, but it’s hard when he can feel the glances and hear the whispers behind his back.

He really has a bunch of gossiping disciples and it’s time he took them to work. Let’s see if they still have enough breath left to gossip and talk behind his back after he is through with them.

The first batch of disciples begs for mercy not even an hour into training.

“How are you so weak,” Jiang Cheng hisses when more and more pleas for a break reach him and while most of his disciples have the good grace to force themselves into a position that at least resembles a fighting stance, his second in command doesn’t join them.

“How are you so cruel today?” Chen Xun shoots back, still panting heavily and Jiang Cheng can feel something twist in his gut, especially when some disciples nod in agreement.

“Oh, I see,” Jiang Cheng presses out and Chen Xun frowns at his tone. “So this is what you think,” he goes on, and really, he shouldn’t even be surprised.

He knows he’s too harsh on his people, not even only today but simply in general, and sooner or later their resentment will be too much to keep in check, meaning two possible outcomes. Either they will get rid of him permanently though he doesn’t really think anyone would quite dare to take him on personally, or they will simply walk away to find a better Sect.

Jiang Cheng is kind of surprised it hasn’t happened yet, if he’s being honest, but so far his people have prevailed against his foul moods.

They are all attempting the impossible much better than he ever could and the knowledge eats him alive on his bad days. And today is certainly not a good day.

“Sect Leader,” Cheng Xun starts, but Jiang Cheng has heard enough already.

He knows what they really think of him. He doesn’t need them to spell it out even more.

“Don’t bother,” he tells them and turns around abruptly. “You’re dismissed.”

There’s a beat of silence behind him, before he hears his disciples rushing off. They are running away like the old disciples used to run away from his mother and that thought stings more than Jiang Cheng would like to admit.

“Just perfect,” Jiang Cheng mutters and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Sect Leader, are you alright?” Chen Xun suddenly asks and Jiang Cheng startles at his voice.

He thought his right hand men left as well.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” he snaps out but he doesn’t turn around to look at Chen Xun.

“Because you’re not yourself today,” Chen Xun says and Jiang Cheng scoffs at the notion that he can be something other than cruel.

“Make sure they don’t slack off,” Jiang Cheng orders him, his back still to him, but he hears Chen Xun falling into the appropriate bow, even though it takes him longer than it usually does.

Maybe he’s finally getting fed up with Jiang Cheng’s attitude as well.

Jiang Cheng tries not to dwell on it for too long, and instead marches over to his study to tackle the paperwork that accumulated during the morning.

He will never understand how it only takes a few hours for all these letters to appear and he understands the need for half of them even less.

If the harvest isn’t good this year, that’s hardly his fault. He doesn’t control the weather after all.

Still, Jiang Cheng answers in the most polite way he can muster today, only to scrap half the letters again when he realizes they come off as overly sarcastic and biting. Thinking of a more polite way to phrase things leave him with a headache, though, so he eventually pushes all of them away.

He’s going to deal with them tomorrow. The harvest is already bad. One day more or less won’t make a difference.

When Jiang Cheng steps out of his office again, he realizes that he must have skipped lunch, because the sun indicates it’s already late afternoon.

Maybe that’s where his headache comes from as well.

Jiang Cheng wonders why Chen Xun didn’t come bother him during lunchtime, but then he remembers how training went this morning and Jiang Cheng thinks he can count himself lucky if Chen Xun didn’t quit on the spot.

Before Jiang Cheng can take off to find out if he still has a right hand man, Jin Ling comes storming up to him.

Jiang Cheng fights the instinctual urge to smile when he sees his nephew, but then he sees the scowl on his face and the determination in his shoulders and of course Jin Ling is here for a fight. This is just how this day is going, after all.

“Jiujiu,” Jin Ling greets him, but he’s barely meeting his eyes and Jiang Cheng knows no matter what comes next, he can never steel himself against it.

“What?” he roughly asks and Jin Ling holds his chin high when he answers.

“I’m going on a night hunt with Wei Wuxian tonight,” Jin Ling states and Jiang Cheng knows what’s coming next. “I don’t need you to follow me around all the damn time.”

Jiang Cheng isn’t sure his voice will hold, so he simply nods. Of course Jin Ling is tired of being supervised on every night hunt.

It had to happen sooner or later. He’s an adult and Sect Leader now, after all, but what really grates on Jiang Cheng is that Wei Wuxian is allowed to come.

“If you don’t need me to follow you around any longer, then you should do it without supervision. Now you’re just relaying on Wei Wuxian,” Jiang Cheng snaps out, too hurt that Jin Ling would prefer him on a night hunt.

“At least he let’s me do my own stuff and doesn’t threaten to break my legs every few seconds,” Jin Ling shoots back and Jiang Cheng works his jaw.

“If you wouldn’t make stupid decisions I wouldn’t have to threaten you,” Jiang Cheng presses out, and Jin Ling levels him with a look.

“At least Uncle Wei let’s me make stupid decisions. He says it’s a good learning experience.”

Oh, Jiang Cheng didn’t know hearing Jin Ling refer to Wei Wuxian in that way would hurt so much but he really should have seen it coming.

Of course Jin Ling would rather spend time with Wei Wuxian, who is fun and carefree, and probably teaches all the interesting—and dangerous—things. Unlike Jiang Cheng who is strict and mean and doesn’t know how to tell Jin Ling that he’s proud of him. Who doesn’t know how to show emotions, period.

“I see,” Jiang Cheng whispers and then levels Jin Ling with a hard look. “Don’t come crying to me when you get hurt,” he bites out and he can tell that the stubborn clench to Jin Ling’s jaw is entirely his own influence.

He really should have taught Jin Ling more than just how to be angry and prideful.

“No worries,” Jin Ling shoots back and marches right back off to where he came from.

Probably to go on a dangerous night hunt without Jiang Cheng to watch his back.

Jiang Cheng starts to feel restless as soon as Jin Ling is out of his sight. Wei Wuxian would never deliberately let any harm come to Jin Ling, but he loves being cocky and he’s always too sure of himself and Jiang Cheng can see a million possibilities how that can lead to Jin Ling being hurt.

“Are we following him, Sect Leader?” Chen Xun asks suddenly from behind Jiang Cheng and he doesn’t seem at all surprised when Jiang Cheng nods.

“Of course we are,” he decides, because he might trust that Wei Wuxian doesn’t mean any harm, but Jiang Cheng trusts no one but himself with Jin Ling’s safety.

“A hunting party is ready,” Chen Xun gives back and before Jiang Cheng can cut whatever number he gathered into half he adds “I only ordered four people to go with us.”

Chen Xun has always been too good for Jiang Cheng.

“Let’s go then,” Jiang Cheng says and marches off to follow Jin Ling.

When he sees who Chen Xun gathered, Jiang Cheng briefly stiffens, because those are disciples he yelled at this morning and most of them seem uncomfortable in his presence.

Well, Jiang Cheng doesn’t need them to be comfortable around him, he reminds himself. He just needs them to keep Jin Ling save. That’s all he’s asking of them, after all.

“We keep out of sight and only interfere when Jin Ling is in danger,” he instructs them without looking at any of them directly, but he sees them nod from the corner of his eyes.

He doesn’t order them to follow him on their swords, his disciples are better trained than to need verbal orders, and they all keep quiet when they rise into the air after him.

Jiang Cheng can still feel their looks on his back, but he pushes it out of his mind. He doesn’t have time to cater to their no doubt hurt egos. He has Jin Ling to protect today.

They find Jin Ling rather quickly, though there’s no sight of Wei Wuxian anywhere. Jiang Cheng guesses he’s keeping out of sight too well for even them to see him, and he just hopes that Wei Wuxian is not so far away as to lose track of Jin Ling.

Jiang Cheng is going to skin Wei Wuxian alive if he gets Jin Ling hurt for a stupid lesson.

Jin Ling seems to be hunting a mid-level spirit, and Jiang Cheng just hopes the boy did his homework on this, because even from this far behind Jin Ling he can tell that the spirit is brimming with magical energy.

“Spread out,” he orders his people, who obey him with minimal hesitation, though he can still feel their concerned looks.

They probably think him too emotional for following Jin Ling like this, but Jiang Cheng shoves the hurt feeling that wells up in him at that far down. He doesn’t have time to deal with this now. He has a nephew to keep safe.

It doesn’t take long for them to realize that Jin Ling did not do his homework properly because he starts to swear almost as soon as the spirit starts throwing curses at him.

And he’s not quick enough to dodge, either, Jiang Cheng realizes with horror when the spirit dances around Jin Ling, throwing one curse after another.

He reacts on instinct, Wei Wuxian being around and keeping hidden be damned, and he reaches Jin Ling just in time to push him out of the way of a sparkling black curse.

It hits him right in the chest, but before Jiang Cheng can figure out just how bad that will be for him, a vicious corpse comes out of the woods, no doubts being summoned by the magical energy from the spirit.

Jiang Cheng manages to get Sandu unsheathed but before he can assume a good stance, the corpse crashes into him, forcing Sandu to bite deep into Jiang Cheng’s shoulder. Jiang Cheng yells when pain radiates through his body, but he pushes himself forward, trying to make the corpse stumble back and Sandu comes out of his shoulder with a wet sound.

The pain must have activated the curse he was hit with earlier, because the last thing Jiang Cheng remembers is Jin Ling screaming out for him in fear, and then everything goes black.

~*~*~

Jiang Cheng wakes up to a painful throbbing in his shoulder. He tries to groan, but no sound comes out of his throat and when he tries to open his eyes to chase the darkness away, nothing happens.

To say that it makes him panic is an understatement.

Jiang Cheng tries to calm himself down, tries to take a few deep breaths, and it’s only then that he realizes that his body didn’t even react to his panic.

His heart is not beating any quicker than it did before and his breath isn’t coming faster either.

It’s enough to make him panic even more, not that his body would reflect that in any way.

Jiang Cheng finds that he can’t move a single muscle and he doesn’t even try to fight the urge to scream, because nothing is happening anyway.

It seems he is trapped inside his body.

Jiang Cheng tries to strain his ears, tries to find out if at least that sense did not fail him and to his immense relief he hears the soft murmur of water.

So he must be back in Lotus Pier.

It takes Jiang Cheng only a short moment to remember what happened, to remember how Jin Ling almost got run over by that ferocious corpse and how Jiang Cheng didn’t even think about his own safety.

He guesses that is where the pain in his shoulder is coming from. If only he could open his eyes and turn his head to check the severity of the wound.

Jiang Cheng startles badly—not that his body would show it—when he hears someone enter his room.

Jiang Cheng wonders who possesses the audacity to simply walk into his personal quarters—and he really hopes he is in his own room instead of the infirmary, because then he has to kill someone as soon as he regains control over his body—but when he hears the voice Jiang Cheng isn’t even surprised.

Of course Wei Wuxian would dare.

“And how long do you say he’s been like this?” he asks and Jiang Cheng wants to scream because if he accompanied Jin Ling on his night hunt like he promised, Wei Wuxian would know exactly since when Jiang Cheng has been like this.

“Last night,” Jin Ling gives back and his voice sound choked up in a way that makes the immediate need to threaten whoever made him cry rise in Jiang Cheng.

“He got hit by a spell?” Wei Wuxian inquires next and Jiang Cheng wants to shake him so badly he aches with the need.

“A curse more likely,” Jin Ling softly says and Jiang Cheng’s mind goes blank when he feels Jin Ling’s fingers softly card through his hair. “He hasn’t moved a single bit since he was hit, but his vital functions are all good. His core is still working as well, going by how fast his wound is healing.”

“How did he get this wound?” Wei Wuxian asks and Jiang Cheng wants so badly to grit his teeth when Wei Wuxian picks up his arm and gently moves it around.

It hurts, but less than Jiang Cheng expected it to. His core must really be working overtime to heal the injury.

“There was a ferocious corpse,” Jin Ling whispers, and Jiang Cheng can feel how his fingers shake in his hair. “I didn’t see it, and jiu-jiu took the hit.”

“Where were the disciples you took with you?” Wei Wuxian wants to know, voice much closer now so Jiang Cheng suspects he’s leaning over him to get a better look at the wound.

“I didn’t take any,” Jin Ling admits and Jiang Cheng can practically feel the surprise radiate off Wei Wuxian.

“Why not?”

Jiang Cheng wants to scream and yell at him that Wei Wuxian was supposed to keep their nephew save, but no matter how hard he tries, no sound comes out of his mouth.

“Because I told him I was going with you,” Jin Ling says and if Jiang Cheng was able to move, he would have frozen at that.

“But you didn’t,” Wei Wuxian says, his confusion clear in his voice and Jiang Cheng hears how Jin Ling shakes his head.

“No, I didn’t,” he chokes out and Jiang Cheng aches to brush the tears away that are no doubt rolling down Jin Ling’s face. “I lied to him, because I wanted to prove that I can go on night hunts on my own, that I don’t need his constant supervision.”

“Jin Ling,” Wei Wuxian breathes out and Jiang Cheng doesn’t want to hear this, doesn’t want to know how Jin Ling would rather put himself into mortal danger than to let Jiang Cheng help.

“I just want him to be proud of me,” Jin Ling goes on, and despite his inability to move, Jiang Cheng can almost feel his breath freeze up in his lungs as his heart constricts painfully. “I wanted to show him that I can handle a night hunt on my own.”

“Jin Ling, he is always proud of you,” Wei Wuxian says and Jiang Cheng can’t believe he’s even thinking this but Wei Wuxian is definitely right.

There hasn’t been a moment since Jin Ling came into Jiang Cheng’s life that he hasn’t been proud of him.

“And night hunts are not about doing them on your own. You don’t see Jiang Cheng going on night hunts by himself, do you? You always take at least one person who has your back,” Wei Wuxian explains and despite how uncomfortable Jiang Cheng is with this whole situation, he’s glad Wei Wuxian is the one to explain it to Jin Ling.

Jiang Cheng is sure he would have never found the right words.

“So the next time you go on a night hunt, just remember to at least take someone, okay?”

“Okay,” Jin Ling agrees and starts to card his fingers through Jiang Cheng’s hair again. “I won’t go off on my own anymore.”

“Good,” Wei Wuxian softly says and then stands up, going by the rustling of his clothes. “I’m going to talk to the healer for a bit, will you stay by his side?”

“Yes,” Jin Ling immediately agrees and Jiang Cheng would prefer it if he left, because after that emotional display he might need an hour—or even better, a whole day—to himself, but since Jiang Cheng can’t snap that out at Jin Ling, he stays right where he is.

Jiang Cheng hopes that Jin Ling will be tired of talking now, hopes that he’ll just sit quietly at his bedside, but when Jin Ling takes Jiang Cheng’s hand into his, he knows he won’t get that lucky.

“I’m really sorry, jiu-jiu,” Jin Ling whispers and presses Jiang Cheng’s hand against his chest. “I didn’t mean for you to get hurt.”

Jiang Cheng feels the intense need to roll his eyes, because of course Jin Ling didn’t mean for that to happen, but he is still paralyzed.

And still, too Jiang Cheng’s acute horror, Jin Ling doesn’t seem to be done talking.

“I love you, jiu-jiu. I just wanted to prove that I’m able and that you can be proud of me.”

Jiang Cheng is uncomfortable down to his bones, but there is nothing he can do to make Jin Ling stop talking and so he just has to keep listening to what Jin Ling is saying.

“I always want to make you proud. And I know that you are, mostly, at least I think you are, but I wanted to show you that you can live your life again now and that I don’t need constant supervision. I just want to see you happy, too, you know.”

Gods, Jiang Cheng knows he would be furiously blushing if only he could move a damn muscle and he wants to tell Jin Ling that caring for him and having him in his life has made him happier than he ever hoped to be.

Jiang Cheng wants to cuff Jin Ling over the head and pull him close to tell him exactly that and reassure him that Jiang Cheng doesn’t even regret a second with Jin Ling, but before he can make his body move out of pure stubbornness and sheer determination, Wei Wuxian comes back.

“Aww, are you having a heart-to-heart?” he immediately teases Jin Ling, who—going by the sounds of it—is furiously scrubbing a hand over his face.

“Shut up,” Jin Ling snaps and Jiang Cheng would laugh if he could, because that is so much like Jin Ling.

“Alright, no teasing, I get it,” Wei Wuxian immediately says and then thankfully gets serious.

“It’s a low-level curse and Jiang Cheng’s core will take care of it, once it’s done with healing his shoulder. There’s no need to worry.”

“You promise?” Jin Ling asks and his voice sounds so small and scared Jiang Cheng wants to hit Wei Wuxian.

It’s an irrational urge, but it’s better than admitting he wants to do nothing more than hug Jin Ling at that moment.

“I promise,” Wei Wuxian solemnly says and Jiang Cheng can practically imagine his stupid face as he says it, too. “Now go get some rest, I won’t leave him alone,” Wei Wuxian tells Jin Ling and Jin Ling is anything but happy with that, going by the long silence that follows before he moves away from Jiang Cheng, putting his hand carefully back onto the bed.

“Don’t leave him alone,” Jin Ling whispers right before he goes and Wei Wuxian shouts an affirmative after him.

“So it’s just you and me now, shidi,” Wei Wuxian says and Jiang Cheng wonders if he wishes for it hard enough, if he imagines it vividly enough, he’ll be able to catapult himself out of the next window.

No such luck of course.

“I know we’re not on the best of terms, and I’m really sorry for that, but I’d like to change that eventually, you know,” Wei Wuxian starts and Jiang Cheng bitingly wonders when the hell Wei Wuxian got this sentimental.

“I know you didn’t get any dogs, even after I died, and today I got into Lotus Pier without problem even though most of your disciples saw me, so I guess there is no ‘keep him out at all costs’ order,” Wei Wuxian goes on and Jiang Cheng internally groans because he knew, he just knew he should have made that order.

“I guess there is still hope in mending our relationship,” Wei Wuxian whispers and Jiang Cheng gets all choked up when he realizes he has rarely heard Wei Wuxian be this quiet and contemplating. “I would love that,” Wei Wuxian admits and Jiang Cheng would have jerked if he could when Wei Wuxian takes his hand. “I miss you, shidi,” Wei Wuxian confesses and Jiang Cheng wants to rage at him to stop, but of course no sound leaves his mouth.

It might be better anyway, because Jiang Cheng isn’t sure just what exactly would have come out of his mouth. Either a ‘It’s all too late, best stay as polite strangers’ or a ‘I miss you, please come home, at least once in a while’.

Jiang Cheng is not sure he could have lived through the mortification of uttering the last one out loud.

Wei Wuxian doesn’t mimic Jin Ling by carding his fingers through his hair, for which Jiang Cheng is grateful, but instead he puts his hand on his chest, right over his heart and somehow that almost feels worse. More intimate somehow.

Jiang Cheng knows that if he could move he would be snapping at Wei Wuxian to get his hand off him right this instant or he’s going to break it clean in two, but now that he’s being forced to endure this contact, he has to admit that it does feel kind of nice.

Before Jiang Cheng can freak out too much about that admission, the door opens again.

“Wei-gongzi,” Chen Xun says and Jiang Cheng curses his bad luck.

Can’t he catch a break? He doesn’t need to hear how happy his people are for a short reprieve of his temper and harsh orders.

He damn well knows that all by himself.

“Chen Xun,” Wei Wuxian greets him and gets up. “I guess you want some time with him alone, too?” Wei Wuxian asks and there’s the by now so familiar mischief in his voice.

“If it wouldn’t be too much of a bother,” Chen Xun replies, no doubt bowing, all prim and proper, like he’s bound to do and Wei Wuxian laughs, bright and loud.

“Of course not,” he says and pats Jiang Cheng on the chest. “I’ll be here when you wake up, but don’t make it too long, I’m missing my husband,” he mutters and Jiang Cheng wants to snarl at him.

Still, no luck though.

There’s a brief silence again when Wei Wuxian leaves and Chen Xun takes his place at Jiang Cheng’s bedside and it gives him time to prepare for what Chen Xun will have to say to him.

“Sect Leader,” Chen Xun starts and then tries again. “Jiang Cheng. You must wake up soon, we all miss you,” he says and Jiang Cheng feels like channelling his inner Lan Qiren and yelling ‘No lying in Lotus Pier’ at him. “There’s no one around to pester us about our forms or pretend to be annoyed when we don’t get something on the first try. Especially the young ones miss you and it’s only been a day. Don’t leave them waiting too long,” Chen Xun says and Jiang Cheng is having a complete breakdown over the thought that his people might actually like him.

“The Sect is running smoothly, so you don’t have to worry about that, you did train me very well after all, but it’s only half as fun when I can’t banter with you,” Chen Xun admits and Jiang Cheng is floored to find that his second in command actually understood his teasing.

Jiang Cheng often gets misunderstood, mostly because he doesn’t know how to make his voice sound like he’s only teasing, but knowing that Chen Xun has known all along makes a very warm feeling rise up in him.

There’s a new knock at the door, right on time to save Jiang Cheng from being swallowed by that feeling whole, and Jiang Cheng feels Chen Xun lean closer over him.

“Actually, I’m mostly here to inform you that you have a guest,” Chen Xun whispers and then honest to god fixes Jiang Cheng’s hair.

Jiang Cheng has half a mind firing him from his position simply for that, but when Lan Xichen’s voice says “Can I come in?” he loses that train of thought.

Lan Xichen shouldn’t be here. He said he didn’t have time. He should not be here.

“Yes,” Chen Xun says, and Jiang Cheng wants to yell an enthusiastic ‘No’ at that, but his body is still failing him.

Chen Xun leaves without parting words, and soon enough Lan Xichen takes his place at Jiang Cheng’s side.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t make it yesterday,” Lan Xichen starts with, and Jiang Cheng wants to scoff and tell him that it doesn’t matter, it’s not like he explicitly promised Jiang Cheng to come by, but he’s still unable to do anything.

“I was—,” Lan Xichen starts and then has to clear his throat before he can continue. “I was actually waiting for a gift to be finished. I—had a jade token made for you,” Lan Xichen lowly says and Jiang Cheng’s mind blanks when something cold and smooth is being put into his hand.

“I had it carved into a Lotus flower,” Lan Xichen admits and moves Jiang Cheng’s fingers over the carving.

It already feels beautiful and Jiang Cheng can’t wait to see it.

“I wanted this to be the first courting gift,” Lan Xichen confesses and Jiang Cheng swears his heart stops. “But I almost hesitated too long and nearly lost the possibility to court you at all.”

‘Weren’t you in love with Jin Guangyao?’ Jiang Cheng wants to ask, because he remembers that Lan’s are true romantics, that there is one fated person for them and then that’s it.

Lan Xichen’s words can’t be true.

“I gave Meng Yao a generic one, you know,” Lan Xichen whispers and his voice shakes.

Jiang Cheng wants to reach out and cup his face, tell him it’s okay, that there’s no need to explain, but he’s forced to only listen.

“I never wanted to give him my forehead ribbon,” Lan Xichen goes on. “But I want you to have it, to hold it, and to never let it go, and I almost lost the chance to say all of that to you. I’m sorry I have been a coward.”

Jiang Cheng wants to shake him and tell him that they were both cowards, because Jiang Cheng didn’t make a move either, but he has to content himself with the feeling of Lan Xichen’s hand over his for now.

“I’m in love with you, Wanyin,” Lan Xichen whispers and now Jiang Cheng is glad that he can’t move a muscle.

Otherwise he would have furiously blushed and probably pretended he didn’t hear. There’s no chance of doing that now.

“And I need you to wake up so I can say it again and again.”

Jiang Cheng wants to tell him not to worry, that he will definitely wake up to hear it again but mostly just so that he can say it back to Lan Xichen but Lan Xichen is already getting up again.

“Keep the token,” Lan Xichen whispers and has the audacity to press a kiss to Jiang Cheng’s forehead.

How is Jiang Cheng supposed to deal with that?

“Let it guide you home,” Lan Xichen mumbles, his lips brushing Jiang Cheng’s skin and a shudder runs down Jiang Cheng’s whole body.

He guesses it’s a good sign, despite the need to hide his face and sink into the floor.

Jiang Cheng hopes that Wei Wuxian was right with his guess and the curse gets lifted soon because Jiang Cheng has to yell at a handful of people about unnecessary displays of emotion when he can’t do anything about it and he’s honestly almost looking forward to it.

Sadly enough, there is no one around to see the small smile on his face, right before he drifts off to sleep.

~*~*~

Jiang Cheng wakes up to warm, golden sunlight in his room. He takes a moment to relish in the fact that he can actually see it, before he remembers the token Lan Xichen put into his hand yesterday and to his absolute delight he finds that he can raise his arm.

The token is just as beautiful as Jiang Cheng imagined it to be.

There’s a rustling sound to his left and when Jiang Cheng turns his head—because he can now, finally—he finds Jin Ling asleep at his side, head pillowed on the arm he has free. The other one is clutching at Jiang Cheng’s robes and Jiang Cheng can feel how his face goes soft at the sight.

When Jiang Cheng lets his eyes roam through the room, he finds Lan Xichen leaning against a wall, clearly asleep as well and before Jiang Cheng has any chance to process that, the door opens to let Wei Wuxian and Chen Xun in.

They are bickering over something—probably about how to best embarrass Jiang Cheng and themselves further—when Wei Wuxian notices that he’s awake.

“Jiang Cheng,” he shouts, only to be immediately elbowed into the gut by Chen Xun, who glares at Wei Wuxian and then meaningfully looks at the still sleeping Jin Ling and Lan Xichen.

“You’re awake,” Wei Wuxian says much quieter and Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes, because that much should be obvious.

He’s just about to take a deep breath to yell at all of them, when he notices how relieved Wei Wuxian seems, how Chen Xun’s stance melts the tiniest bit, how Lan Xichen still has Liebing in his hands and how Jin Ling unconsciously clutches his clothes harder and the breath he was just about to take catches in his throat.

Maybe Jiang Cheng can stand to not yell at them immediately for a few more hours.

{Buy me a kofi}

#bt writes #commissions #the untamed #mdzs #jiang cheng #xicheng #wei wuxian #jin ling #oc #family feels #all of them #hurt/comfort #a magical coma #that makes it so that jc learns he is so very loved

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arofili · 4 years

Note

#45, kidnap fam?

(Dear anon: I’m sorry.)

45. “How much of that did you hear?” Maglor asked quietly.

Elrond looked up at him, his eyes hard. “Enough.”

Maglor nodded, closing his eyes. “You shouldn’t be here,” he said. “We sent you away for a reason.”

“Well, I am here.” Elrond sighed. “Atar...you don’t have to do this.”

He laughed hollowly. “You heard me. I tried. But Maedhros...he won’t let this opportunity slip through his fingers. You know our curse, yonya. If we don’t try we will be consumed, turned to worse things. Like we did to you.”

“You made up for it,” Elrond said fiercely. “You must know that.”

“I wish I did.” Maglor looked up into the sky, where Gil-Estel shone bright and damning. “Your father has one Silmaril. Your real father, I mean. Your other fathers...we must have the other two.”

“Atar,” Elrond blurted out, “I came to ask you to come to Valinor with me.”

Maglor stilled. “You’re going to Valinor?”

“If you will come with me, yes.”

“And Elros? What about him?” Maglor looked up at him again, something undefinable glittering in his eyes. “Where is he? He didn’t come with you.”

“Where’s Maedhros?” Elrond asked. He grimaced. “Elros is...busy. Like Atya.”

“Your atya is drowning his sorrows and preparing for a Fourth Kinslaying.” Maglor clenched his fist. “I certainly hope Elros is not.”

“We were offered a choice,” Elrond said, looking at his feet. “Of which kindred we shall be counted as. They said—the Valar said that if we chose mortality, they would give us a land, a blessed land, to the West. Not the Blessed Land,” he added hastily, “not Valinor. But we could take what remains of the Edain and find a new place to live.”

“Beleriand is certainly not habitable anymore.” Maglor nodded, dread coiling in the pit of his stomach. “And if you chose Elvendom...?”

“We could go West, to the Uttermost West, and live in bliss in Aman.” Elrond’s voice was tinged with longing. “Like you, when you grew up.”

“There is a reason we are here now,” Maglor reminded him.

“And you want to stay?” Elrond demanded.

Maglor laughed bitterly. “I have no choice, unlike you.”

“If you forsake this madness, convince Atya—”

“Maedhros will not be convinced. You heard, Elrond. He has been a captive once; he would kill himself before he faces such a fate again.”

“The Valar are not like Morgoth!” Elrond protested. “They would not—”

“Let me remind you which of us was raised in the Blessed Realm,” Maglor said flatly. “This choice of yours, it was offered by Námo, was it not?”

“...Yes. And Manwë.”

“Námo the Doomsayer. Námo who cursed all Noldor who followed my father. Námo who holds my father, and all my brothers save Maedhros, in his keeping even now!” Maglor’s voice grew heated. “No, Elrond. This choice—it is not just. You are peredhil; why must you decide which kindred is better? You are both.”

“I chose Elvendom,” Elrond snapped.

Relief washed over Maglor, dispersing a fear he had not realized he held. Good. He may be damned, but at least his sons would be safe, and live eternal. Aman was not so bad a place, after all. He wanted to go back, wanted to join the peredhil and see his mother again, even at the cost of the Valar’s judgement—he was so tempted by Elrond’s offer.

But Maedhros would not go, not even if asked by Elrond, and Maglor would not abandon Maedhros. Not again.

“Then go,” Maglor rasped. “You and Elros—you have not wronged the Valar as we have. Go with them to Valinor, and live in peace. You will be happy there.”

“I can’t,” Elrond whispered, a single tear streaming down his face. “I can’t go alone.”

“You won’t be alone,” Maglor said. “Even without us...your parents will be there, your real parents. And you will always have Elros.” As much as this conversation hurt, he longed to see Elros again, wished he had come with Elrond.

“I have already lost him!” Elrond wailed, falling into Maglor’s arms. “He—he chose mortality!”

Maglor held him tight, cradling his son like he had when he was a child, though he neared adulthood now. Numb shock overcame him: how could Elros do this? How could he abandon Elrond? Did he not know the pain his fathers had endured for their brothers’ sake, the soul-rending torment of Ambarussa sundered from one another this long age, how utterly this could destroy them both?

Mortality. He would take that kingdom offered by the Valar, lead the Edain, and for what? A life lived in the blink of an elvish eye? The promise of...something, beyond the boundaries of Arda? His grandmother Lúthien’s legacy, to doom his family like she doomed hers? Thingol had not outlived his daughter; would Maglor survive this loss? Daeron, her brother, Maglor’s onetime-lover, had lost himself in his grief; would Elrond be able to endure the long ages of Arda alone?

“It’s selfish,” Elrond wept, “he chose first! We’ve been living with the Edain, when Gil-galad is too busy to mind us, and they’re good folk, they love us, they love him, and he told me how much he wants to know what is beyond Arda. He says he feels his mortality in his blood, that no matter how we study, elves will never know! He was so studious, I was the wild one, you know this, and he’s—he’s pursuing knowledge, just like you taught us, knowledge over glory and eternity, and I told him it was a worthy choice, a good one, and then I chose Elvendom.”

Maglor had no words to comfort him, still reeling with shock and horror. “He...he will die?” he rasped. “And we will lose him forever?”

“I could have followed him, gone with him,” Elrond sobbed. “But I am a coward. I want peace and light and the easy way out. But now I will be alone, and Eärendil will sail the skies and Elwing sits in her white tower doing nothing but mourn and you and Atya are going to get yourselves killed or worse chasing the fucking Silmarils!”

Elrond tore himself away from Maglor, wiping his eyes. “I don’t know what to do,” he said, his voice cracking. Maglor could scarcely stand to look at him: he was so young, and already faced with so much pain. Such were the children born in Beleriand. And so much of that pain was Maglor’s own fault.

“Please, Atar,” Elrond begged. “Please listen to Eonwë. Come to Valinor with me, I will plead for you, and you and Atya can be freed of your Oath and I can have a family there. Please.”

“We cannot,” rumbled a new voice, and Maglor jumped. Maedhros walked out of the shadows, his red hair, once so burning bright, dark and matted with sweat and blood.

“Atya, please—”

“You should not have come, Elrond.” Maedhros used to be so beautiful, once. It broke Maglor’s heart to see him like this. Even after Angband, he had been beautiful, for he shone with purpose and love. Now...even with Maglor here, even with Elrond here, that was all gone. Only the Oath kept him living, Maglor knew.

“Where will I go?” Elrond cried. “Without you, without Elros—what will I do?”

“Gil-galad will not give up his kingship for Valinor,” Maedhros intoned, his voice flat. “Go with him to the east. Celebrimbor is going with him; he wrote inviting us to join him, if we would but forsake the Oath.”

Maglor had not known that. He flashed a look to Maedhros, asking without words if he had been planning on sharing that information. But Maedhros didn’t blink, didn’t acknowledge him.

“Gil-galad... Gil is your brother,” Maglor said softly. “You know that, right?”

Elrond looked between them. “He is Fingon’s son, not yours.”

Maglor bit his lip until it bled. It was low, dirty of him to use Fingon against Maedhros at a time like this, but if it would convince him...

Maedhros blanched, turning pale white beneath the web of scars across his face. “This is cruel of you, Makalaurë,” he rasped, still not turning to look at him. “I thought better of you.”

“You—” Elrond broke off. Maglor saw him calculating in his mind; truly, it was not that difficult to figure out, though Fingon was never spoken of in Maedhros’ earshot, and thus he had been forced to learn of his deeds thirdhand. “You and him—and Gil-galad—oh.”

“He will want a herald. I heard his was slain in the last battle.” Maedhros was back to monotone. “Go east with him.” He shook his head. “Elrond, I...”

“Atya?”

Maedhros looked on the verge of saying something heartfelt. Maglor gripped Elrond’s wrist, hoping, yearning for some spark of the brother he loved to flicker back to life.

But Maedhros’ eyes only darkened. “I wish I could choose to unmake myself as Elros has,” he said. “It would be easier.” Without another word he retreated, leaving Elrond and Maglor staring dumbfounded after him.

“He doesn’t mean that,” Maglor said tiredly, but his words did not even fool himself.

“I understand now,” Elrond murmured. “I...you’re right, Atar, I should not have come.”

“Elrond...” Maglor wiped at his eyes. “I am sorry. Truly. For everything we have done to you. You—oh, child, you deserve better than the lot you have been dealt.”

“I have plenty of time left to make something better out of it.” His words were dull. “Gil-galad will take me, but...he cannot replace Elros. He doesn’t even know me as his brother.”

“He will. He will love you, Elrond. Who couldn’t?”

Elrond looked at him, the full force of his betrayal shining through his tears. “I can think of a few people,” he whispered.

If Maglor’s heart had not already been shattered into countless pieces, it would have broken then.

“Goodbye, yonya,” he mustered, and Elrond gave him one last embrace.

He could not bring himself to wish his son joy. It would only serve as a last reminder of all they both had lost.

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dan92785881 · 3 years

Text

Harry Styles “Changes by Cam Country” Lyrics Analysis

“There is a town”

In the entertainment industry, there is a town centered around “pop stardom”.

“Somewhere down a country road”

The way to reach pop stardom is through the “straight heartthrob womanizer” image.

“I see it now”

I did not realize that this was the formula across the industry. But I do now.

“I take it everywhere I go”

It turns out, regardless which label I sign with, this is the path I was put on, every time.

“The river sways”

On this path, my mind and my conscience has been hesitating and swaying.

“I can almost hear it now”

My inner voice is getting louder, I am finally more clear on what I want.

“As if to say, You’re not the only one who wants a way out”

I want out. Out of this small-town narrow-minded path.

I know you want out too. We both do.

“So I go”

So, I decide that I am leaving this small town.

“Cause I don’t wanna feel like I don’t know you anymore”

Because I want us back, I do not want to lose you.

“I memorize those roads”

To backtrack out of this, I study the paths people took, the paths we took.

“Somewhere out in the big wild country”

Imagine an open and free world, far away from the narrow-minded small town.

“Someone’s fallin’ in love in a backseat”

In this big world, people can fall in love in the spur of the moment, of their free will.

“Giving it away, Like their hearts won’t ever break”

People do not have to first calculate if their hearts may later be broken. They can just give it a go.

“God bless the young hearts sippin’ cheap wine”

We all should cherish and protect these young loves, who have limited means,

“Gettin’ drunk with their friends for the first time”

cherish and protect these young loves, who may do a few reckless things,

“Thinking nothing’s gonna change”

cherish and protect these young loves, who want their love to last forever and never run into problems.

“‘Till everything changes”

As time goes on, there are always challenges that test the young love. Love changes.

“They never leave”

Back in the small town of “pop stardom with a straight image”, the couple with young love is still trapped.

“They are all havin’ babies now”

Time went on. They are not young anymore. They are forced to have fake babies now, to continue to fulfill their “straight image”.

“Watchin’ daytime tv”

It’s like a soap opera on daytime tv, creating cheap drama for the sake of ratings.

“Livin’ off the gossip of a cruel small town”

All these dramas serve to generate more revenue for the record labels.

But the small-town narrow-minded narrative is incredibly cruel to the people (the young loves) involved.

Will love endure?

“So I go”

So, I decided that I am leaving this small town.

“Cause I don’t wanna feel like you don’t know me anymore, don’t recognize my face”

Because I don’t want this narrow-minded portrait of me.

I want to be authentic. When you see my face, I want you to see the real me.

I want you to be confident that I am still the one you fell in love with.

I want you to be confident that you still know me. You always know me.

“Somewhere out in the big wild country”

“Someone’s fallin’ in love in a backseat”

“Giving it away, Like their hearts won’t ever break”

I long for an open and free world where everyone can love freely.

“God bless the young hearts sippin’ cheap wine”

“Gettin’ drunk with their friends for the first time”

“Thinkin’ nothings gonna change, ‘Till everything changes”

I want everyone to cherish and protect young love and give love a chance.

“There ain’t nothing here for me anymore”

This narrow-minded small town for “pop stardom” no longer has anything to offer me.

“They say they don’t hear from me anymore”

The folks in charge of the town are complaining that I am not playing along, I am not actively participating.

“And I don’t wanna hear it anymore”

I no longer want anything to do with this small-town narrow-mindedness.

“Somewhere out in the big wild country”

“I was fallin’ in love in a backseat”

“Giving it away, Like my heart won’t ever break”

I was young. I fell in love.

“Had such a young heart sippin’ cheap wine”

“Gettin drunk with my friends for the first time”

“Thinkin’ nothings gonna change, ‘Till everything changes”

Everything has changed. I chose love. I chose you.

#larry stylinson #harry styles #changes #louis tomlinson #larries #larrie #babygate #lyrics #hldaily

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mymelodyheart · 3 years

Text

Highland Destiny Chapter 12 ~Dark Truths~

Jamie didn't want to leave Claire's side particularly now when she's at her most vulnerable and damn it, he just got her back...well almost. Today they were supposed to be having breakfast in the hope of clearing the air of whatever doubts she may still harbour, and maybe talk about the "talk", but instead, she's in the hospital high as a kite, his to-do list is getting longer by the second, and he has had very little sleep. His disposition was very fragile and the fact that he had spent a few hours the night before in jail, charged for assaulting Tom Christie, meant he was treading on thin ice.

The thought of Tom Christie made his blood boil. He had been nothing but a pain on his backside ever since they were young lads. What was supposed to be a healthy competition in all aspect of their growing up, Christie had always turned it into a heated rivalry and dispute even though he excelled in more fields than Jamie, especially academically. Christie had made it his life mission to out-do him whenever the opportunity presented itself whether it was in sports, girls, popularity, friends. Still, somehow Jamie, more often than nought, seemed to trump over him as if God was playing some cruel trick, much to Christie's ever-growing annoyance over the years.

It did make Jamie wonder if he had anything to do with what happened to Claire. Joe did say it was plausible, but would he go that far to score a point against him? Could Christie be really that calculating and devious? Although he found Claire's earlier uninhibited display of seduction quite erotic and amusing, it had entered his mind that the drug may have been intended for that purpose. The thought had given him chills, and Jamie was glad that he had arrived at the pub on time when Claire collapsed. Christie never disguised his attraction towards her even though she had been oblivious to it, and Jamie had tolerated it for her sake. But if it turned out, he had anything to do with drugging Claire, and if anything happened to their unborn child, God knows what he would do.

Jamie read Finn's text once again. Jamie, please come ASAP to the bar. I have some footage from our surveillance camera that I want you to see. But before he left, he stood by Claire's bed looking down at her peaceful face and remembered her love declaration before sleep took over. His heart lightened, easing his fatigue and disconcertion, her words like a balm to his soul.

..........

Jamie arrived at Scotch & Rye Pub. The door was still closed to the public, but the door immediately opened before he could knock. Finn had been expecting him.

"Jamie lad, it's good ye made it on time. I've had a call from the police asking for the surveillance footage from last night. I figured it might have had something to do with Claire, and I thought ye might be interested in seeing it first," Finn chattered excitedly, not wanting to reveal too much before Jamie has had a chance to look. "This way, follow me."

Jamie's heart was pounding, anxious of what he might find out. He thought of Claire to find his calm as he followed the bartender to the back of the bar that led to a tiny office. Finn instructed him to sit as he started some program on his computer. He opened four browsers up on his screen, two of it showing different angles of the bar, one at the entrance and one outside the building.

Finn played the first video which showed the entrance, and then he fast-forwarded to the correct time and played it. Jamie could see the pub was full, and people were coming and going.

"There!" pointed Finn as he paused the video. "That's the lad Claire was with...Tom."

"Aye, Tom Christie. Claire said they were meeting in a pub, but I dinna ken at first that it was this pub she meant." Jamie leaned forward to take a closer look and noticed Tom was easily recognisable. "Play that a bit forward please."

Finn used his mouse to manipulate the next still picture instead of playing the video. "That one?"

"Aye, that's the one. Can ye zoom in, please." Jaime's eyes were squinting trying to make out the hazy picture. "Right, stop." Behind Tom Christie was Laoghaire MacKenzie, they were both entering the pub. Claire wasn't on the video yet, but Jaime expected that. "Right, let's play the next one."

So they played all the videos, reviewing each footage that had Tom in it. Jamie noticed from the outside camera that Laoghaire and Tom arrived together. Once inside, they were both stood at the far end of the bar, talking and watching the entrance. On the next video, he saw Claire arriving and Tom coming over to greet her and Laoghaire was not on the screen. Then Finn played the footage of the bar where Tom was ordering drinks, and Laoghaire was once again in the picture. Everything seemed quite normal, two friends chatting and laughing. Finn manipulated the video with the cursor to watch the film in slow motion and what he saw next, made Jamie sick to his stomach. He saw Tom Christie retrieving from the inside pocket of his jacket what looked like a vial, emptying it in a glass of wine before disposing it into Laoghaire's open bag. The rest of the footage became a blur as Jamie sat back, trying to comprehend what he just saw.

Jamie envisioned all sorts of scenario in his head if he hadn't arrived on time, and he recalled Tom's words when he cradled Claire in his arms when she fainted. "Listen, Fraser, I'll deal with this. I'm a doctor, and I'll make sure she gets to the hospital. Go and join yer friends." Had Tom planned to take Claire to his home? What was Laoghaire's part in it? Why would she take part in some heinous activity, and what did she have to gain from this? He remembered Claire's behaviour from earlier and couldn't help but wonder, would she have been as wanton with Tom if he had managed to take her home? Oh, Christ! Jamie was getting sicker by the minute. He didn't know whether to punch the wall next to him or to throw the computer screen on the floor, but he knew he needed to get his anger under control. But Jamie was reeling...reeling mad, thinking of their unborn child and the possibility of a loss and Claire's heartache when she finds out. Jamie thought of all the times he had tolerated Christie's taunts, smear campaigns, vilification, disparagement towards his person, and he had endured it all in good humour. But not anymore. This time Christie had gone too far.

Then his phone rang. It was Joe.

"Jamie, listen. I found out from the board that Tom had taken Ketamine and some other drugs from the hospital unsigned and unaccounted for. This is not public knowledge, so don't do anything stupid - don't jeopardise the investigation. The police are on their way, and they probably want to talk to Claire. So she will need you. You hear me mate?"

He took a deep breath. "I hear you, Joe. I just need to sort some things out, and I'll come as soon as I can. How is she?"

"She's fine, Jamie. I'm more worried about you. Don't do anything rash and make matters even worse. Think of the unborn child, ok?"

"Aye Joe, don't worry, ye have my word."

After speaking to Joe, Jamie called Angus, the head security at the distillery. "Angus, I don't have time for an explanation but listen carefully. Under no circumstances is Laoghaire MacKenzie allowed to leave the premises. Make sure one of yer lads keeps an eye on her. This is a serious legal matter. I will explain later."

"Aye Jamie, nae bother, I will personally see to it," the voice on the other end replied.

Before he left the pub, he had some copies of the video made and sent to his lawyer, Ned Gowan and on his private email account.

..........

"Laoghaire, into my office NOW!" Jamie roared as he stepped off the lift and strode past Laoghaire MacKenzie's desk, not caring if there were other employees within earshot.

Laoghaire knew Jamie was on his way up. She had a ready-smile plastered on her immaculately made-up face, but her expression quickly changed as she was summoned in a deprecatory manner, which was very unlike Jamie. Her face turning red, she quickly stood up and followed him to his office and slammed the door after her.

"What the fuck has gotten into ye, Jamie? How dare ye speak like that to me in front of the people!" waving her hands in the air, her cornflower blue eyes shooting daggers.

"Sit and shut the fuck up," Jamie bellowed, as he angrily sat down and swiped the neatly stacked papers from his desk, sending them flying into the air. "Ye will talk when I tell ye to!"

Laoghaire was nonplussed, her mouth opening and shutting like a blowfish. She wanted to remain standing but thought better of it, having previously heard of stories of Jamie's rare temper.

In a much lower voice, nevertheless, steely, Jamie spoke. "Tell me what part ye played in lacing Claire's drink with Ketamine."

The colour drained from her face and what she saw in Jaime sent chills down her spine. His eyes normally full of warmth and humour had turned glacial blue flashing wrath and fury. "Oh God, did something bad happened to her? Oh, God, oh, God. I didn't mean to." Her eyes wide and filled with panic started to well up.

Known for his chivalrous acts and saving damsels in distress, Jamie was not having any of it and ignored Laoghaire's cries. "Start talking," he said in a warning tone as he turned his attention to his laptop momentarily.

"Oh God, I'm so sorry, Jamie," she blubbered. "Tom wanted Claire, and...and... he reckoned you stole her from right under his nose. He thought if ye found out Claire had been with him, ye wouldn't want her back." She closed her eyes tight, as fresh tears flowed before she continued. "And...I...I have always been in love with ye. I thought...we had something together back then and then ye discarded me. I thought if the Sassenach was with Tom, maybe ye could look at me the same way ye look at her."

"We never had anything together," Jamie snapped acerbically. "Ye forced yer way into my life the way ye snuck into my room after Hogmanay in Lallybroch years ago. Aye, I was drunk, and I remember vaguely what happened. A couple of months later ye came to me announcing you're pregnant so I decided to do the right thing. I said to ye I'd marry ye after the baby was born. As it turned out, ye weren't pregnant at all. But I stayed with ye, thinking ye need help. And what did ye do? Ye paraded yersel' in town every night with Christie knowing I will know. Ye knew our history and still..."

"That's because ye never treated me like yer girlfriend. I did everything for ye, and still, ye were indifferent," she cried bitterly. "I thought ye stayed because ye have fallen in love with me. But whenever ye came to my bed, it was like making love to a log. I went with Christie to make ye jealous..."

"How can ye make someone jealous who never wanted ye in the first place?" Jamie cut in dispassionately. "Ye never endeared yersel' to me no matter how I tried to see something good in ye. Instead, ye constantly lied, manipulated people around ye to get what ye want and now this...I dinna ken how ye can think what ye did has something to do with love. What ye did was selfish and egotistical."

"I thought ye wanted me back when ye hired me. Did ye ever love me at all, Jamie?" she asked miserably, the tears staining her cheeks with black mascara.

"I cared for ye, Laoghaire, and maybe I felt sorry for ye. But, no, I never loved ye. Ye never gave me a reason to when ye had me." Jamie shook his head as if seeing the past replayed before him. "Aye, I felt sorry for ye...yer da was a cruel man, and ye didna have it easy. And I hired ye because I thought ye would have grown up. But no, ye're just the same wee pathetic lassie." Jamie paused, contemplating his next words. And when he finally spoke, his tone was caustic and sharp. "I dinna care what ye and Christie do to me...ye can do what ye like, and it will just bounce off me. I would even let ye off. But this time, I'm not letting this pass. Both of ye nearly killed the woman I love, and there is a possibility she might lose our baby. You and Christie will pay. I will make sure of that."

"No, Jamie, please...oh God! I'm so sorry. I'll do anything ye want. It was mostly Tom's idea," she wailed in a grovelling plea. "Tom stole the drugs from the hospital, and I kept it for him for safekeeping. I gave it to him before we arrived at the pub and Tom was the one who put the drug in Claire's wine. I only went along with it because I thought with her out of the way...and she with Tom...maybe we...us...could be together."

Jamie's face was unmoving, and he scorned at her pleas. "You are a vile person Laoghaire MacKenzie. Ye and Christie deserve each other and whatever is coming for both of ye next. Hope and pray that nothing happens to our baby because if something did, ye would wish ye've never laid eyes on me. Save yer pleas and apologies for the court. I am done with both of ye."

"NO! Ye have nae proof, James Fraser! Ye fuckin' wanker...ye send me to the court, and I promise ye, I'll do far worse to yer Sassenach bitch. That fucking witch was nothing but trouble since she arrived. Ye hear me? Ye have no proof!" Laoghaire screeched, her eyes wild and her face contorted in rage.

Jamie then turned his laptop around, and to Laoghaire's horror, she saw a video messaging program up on the screen, live with Rupert and two police in the background. Before she could react, the door opened, and four officers led by Rupert walked in.

"Laoghaire MacKenzie, you are under arrest on suspicion of assisting in administering an illegal substance with an intent of indecent assault and causing grievous harm. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence." Two officers lifted her bodily from the chair and secured her wrists in cuffs as Laoghaire screamed abuse and obscenities at Jamie.

Jamie just sat and watched, his face impassive as they led Laoghaire away from his office.

Then his phone rang. It was from Joe again. Christ now what! Jamie still had pending voice messages he wanted to attend to from his sister and Ned Gowan, but he thought it could wait.

"Jamie..." Joe spoke cautionary. "Claire is missing..."

"What?!? What do ye mean she is missing? She's in bed sleeping, she's too doped to go anywhere..."

"Geillis came to her room for a visit, and she found Claire wasn't there. The bed covers were on the floor, but she found Tom Christie's phone. He must have dropped it..."

"What the fuck! I thought he was detained!" Heart pounding, Jamie was already standing up, grabbing his keys and jacket.

"He was. Two officers were watching his room in the hospital...they must have wandered off thinking he was minimal risk. They didn't take him last night to jail because Gail, who was on duty, wanted to keep him in after Tom suffered a concussion from your blow previous night..."

"Ye have surveillance cameras in hospital, right?" Jamie didn't bother using the lift. He was already running down the emergency stairwell.

"Yeah, we are on it..."

"I'm on my way." Oh God, please let her be alright!

..........

Claire opened her eyes, and she saw the floor moving under her feet. Realising she was on a wheelchair, she tried to move her head and felt a painful kink to her neck. She groaned as she lifted a hand to massage the muscle spasm.

A hand patted her on the shoulder. "Dinna worry my love, we're soon there." It was Tom Christie's voice.

She had a hazy recollection of Tom coming into her room, dressed in his lab coat wearing a stethoscope around his neck. His face was swollen, and his hair matted, and she had asked him in her groggy state if he was alright as she reached out a hand to touch his face. Tom had said something along the line that he fell and that he was okay. Then he had carefully lifted her off the bed and told her he was taking her to be examined.

Wincing at the painful discomfort of sitting slumped on the chair, Claire tried to gather her bearings. She noticed the corridor was void of people and activities, but her mind was too foggy to think clearly. When Tom finally wheeled her into a room, Claire realised immediately she was in an empty pathology lab. Something was very wrong, and before she could utter a word, there was a sharp sting on her arm. Once again she drifted into darkness, dreaming of Jamie running towards her but never quite catching up and somewhere in the deep recesses of her mind, she could hear Tom singing Every Breath You Take by the Police.

#melodyheart #highlanddestiny #Claire Beauchamp/Jamie Fraser #outlanderfanfic

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detroitbecomeyandere · 5 years

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I just need a Nines losing his fucking sanity over a soft! Reader like she just fucking brings him to his knees by just smiling at him. Like I need him wanting to just physically latch on to her and hold her because she's just a Ray of sunshine and he just needs the warmth to himself.

~hey there! i hope you enjoy my rendition of soft nines~

Nines doesn’t understand it. He just simply can’t comprehend the emotions that surge through his processors whenever you merely look his way. They’re all simple gestures, but all the same they end with a short circuit and a blue tint dusting his cheeks.

It’s humiliating in a sense. For a human to render one of the most prestigious lines of androids ever created into a blushing, bumbling mess. But considering the…inconveniences he’s forced you to endure, he supposes the punishment fits the crime.

Crimes.

Nines chooses not to focus on the minute details.

He adamantly chooses to see it as a rescue. Salvation from an ugly, cruel world that would crush you under its heel without so much as a passing glance. You were soft - delicate; Nines could handle all the cruelty and dish it back tenfold. Provide for you while you sit pretty in a beautiful home like you deserved.

Nines just didn’t predict how coming into his deviancy would affect him; binary code devolving into a mess of numbers and letters at the thought of your smile. Thirium pump beating rapidly to the point he thought it would burst when he caught a glimpse of you biting your lip; your own arousal apparent without him even having to scan you as a confirmation.

It was nice, to put it as simply as possible. Coming home to you, even when you swore up and down you would never accept this new arrangement. How quickly that phase came and went, much to his delight. The wonders a locked, dark room can do to the proclaimed human spirit. He just wishes the control you exuded over him wasn’t so strong; he still needed to function properly outside of these four walls.

After another long day, he finds himself once again returning to you. Investigations, interrogations, the tasks he was literally created for, mean nothing to the prospect of being at your side. What he feels when you practically purr as you nestle against him can only be comparable to the notorious high of Red Ice, and just as addicting.

Nines calls for you with a reserved gentleness that only finds purchase within the confines of your “home”. The response is immediate, conditionally trained, and you say his name like the coo of a dove. Your voice resonates from the kitchen, the smell of a freshly cooked meal wafting through the hallways. A reward for good behavior, he had furnished the house with state of the art equipment so you could spend your free time cooking and baking at your leisure. It had proved to be a cathartic release, and he was pleasantly surprised with your increase in serotonin as a result.

It’s a beautiful sight, finding you cooking without an ounce of apprehension plaguing you. You idly hum to yourself as you finishing preparing the last of your dinner; a single plate (as usual). Such an ordinary thing but again Nines finds his thirium pump pounding and cannot seem to quell its rapid cadence.

“Nines!” You chirp, turning your attention to him fully as he enters the room. The warmth in your greeting envelops him whole and for a moment he feels alive.

You approach him eagerly and stand on your toes to plant a chaste kiss to his lips. It’s a miraculous sensation in all its simplicity.

“I decided to wait a bit before I cooked myself dinner. I wanted to wait until you got home, I hope that’s okay?”

It’s a question poised so innocently. Of course it’s okay but the gesture’s sentimentality is insurmountable.

You’ve effectively rendered him speechless.

“My love?” You ask gently, concern laced in your word. His LED burns red at the title, messages flashing behind his eyes speaking of software instabilities and system malfunctions.

But who cares - Nines certainly doesn’t. Reverently, he drops to his knees in front of you and he will gladly welcome a complete shutdown if it means dying at your feet. He wraps his arms around your waist and buries his face against you.

You have never seen such intensity in his affections before and you’re momentarily taken aback. Your hands soon finding purchase in his hair, stroking so tenderly but it sets every electrical pulse beneath his chassis aflame. Cold metal and colder demeanor melting under each burning touch.

“I love you, Nines.” You say softly, each syllable honeyed sweet. Nines has only known facts, hard calculations. But your words are the most glorious admission of truth he’s ever heard.

“And I you, teacup.”

-Mod Vic

#writing #mod vic #detroit become yandere #dby #yandere x reader #yandere nines #soft nines is my HUSBAND #asks #infinitew-olf

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falling-pages · 4 years

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Worth it: Mori x reader Part 3/4

What up y’all, it’s your favorite caffeinated mess here with part 3! This chapter actually really threw me for a loop and it was a lot different than I had planned, but here we go. plot twists galore. angst galore. also, I made an executive decision to make this into four parts, just because the original trilogy just couldn’t fit everything in like I thought it could.

Parts 1 and 2 here in case you missed them. Enjoy, comment, engage!

“Absolutely not.”

You throw down your fork and spring out of your chair, backing away from Kyoya. Pressing your hand against your chest, your heartbeat surely registering as a panic attack, you can’t tear your eyes away from your fiancé. He is like a magnet; something about him draws you to him. Not in a romantic way. More of a dark way, where you could feel his brain sucking you into a trap.

“Well.” Kyoya stays still, his hands clasped behind him. “That is not the way I had intended on introducing myself to my future bride, but it will do.”

“We’ve met,” you chew out. As your eyes narrow in on the man sitting beside Etsuko, it all comes flooding back: he was her ex-fiancé, the boy chosen for her before she came out. And you were never alone in your playroom--you remember a sullen-looking boy scribbling something down as you ignored each other for the night. Kyoya must have been your playmate.

The velvet in your dress draws sweat, and the high-neck collar almost constricts your breathing. Slowly all the pieces fall into place. The woman who walked in must be Mrs. Ootori, and the young men her sons. The man who looked so familiar must be the patriarch. As one of the most powerful men in the country stared at you hard enough to burn, you suddenly saw his resemblance to Kyoya.

“Gina, be civil,” your father chides. Below the table his hands curl into fists. Your parents had never beaten you, but you had a feeling they would start tonight.

“The third son to marry the third daughter,” Mr. Ootori broke in. “It only makes sense.”

Set on causing your parents another embarrassment, you shake your head. “No. Mr. and Mrs. Ootori,” they look at you, the wife’s mouth trembling, the man’s brow furrowed, “I am sorry you came all this way. I will not be marrying your son.”

“Outrageous!” your father roars. He slams his fists on the table as he stands to face you. A wine glass falls to the floor and shatters. “It is not your decision!”

“Yes it is!” you yell right back. “You’re selling me off like cattle to win favor with people you hate! I am my own person, and I get to chose who I marry!”

“Gina, you’re an embarrassment,” your mother mutters. She strokes the rim of her wine glass, taking a draught of the dark red liquid.

“Just like Etsuko, right? Eleven years ago?” Your sister shoots daggers at you while the man beside her squirms. Her sexuality wasn’t the issue: your parents were fine with that. What had embarrassed them was the time in which she chose to announce it, and that in doing so, embarrassed your family in front of the Ootoris and blemished your name in those social circles. They couldn’t survive round two.

You looked at Kyoya, who still hasn’t moved. Like a statue, the mouthpiece you never could be, he absorbed the verbal blows. But then you looked into his face, startled to see his dark eyes catch yours, even more startled to see the sad impassiveness inside. He had a good poker face, but you knew he wanted this engagement just about as much as he did.

Out of his Ouran uniform, he looked like a different person. You had seen him in class, the cruel, calculating, manipulative showrunner of the grade. Now dressed in a tuxedo, the light glinting off his glasses, he gave you a small, cold smile befitting a fox before a lamb.

This marriage? They could forget about it. You didn’t see how a boy who saw everything as a transaction to be gained from could ever feel love. Besides, with all that time he spends with the Suoh heir, you always thought he was of a different persuasion.

“May I have a moment alone with my fiancée?” he asks, respectfully consulting your father. You start to protest, but Kyoya flashes you a look that pleads with you to go along with it.

At your father’s nod, Kyoya reaches out, grabs you by the wrist, and drags you around the corner to the guest bathroom, presumably from where he had just exited. Though your hands were slicked with sweat, his clammy palm pressed against yours, further emphasizing what a mismatch you were for each other.

Kyoya shoved you in and bolted the door behind him. With his face to the door, shoulders heaving with an emotion known to no human, he possessed all the power of a desperate man watching his life slip through his fingers like sand in an hourglass. But then he turned around, and no trace of emotion remained. In his eyes were only a shred of moroseness. His lips were quirked, chest relaxed. Almost like nothing had changed.

What creature could endure such metamorphosis? The afternoon events led you to believe there was no God. This panicked escape, though, had taught you that if He existed, he was this boy in front of you.

“Kyoya,” you whisper, not actually knowing what to say. The hatred in your chest was never directed at him. You two were only pawns that had the unfortunate desire to act out.

Your fiancé looked at you. Really looked at you, not at your chest or like he looked at the girls in the host club. He looked at you like a partner, an equal, and it just confirmed everything you always knew.

“You’re forced into this, too,” you mumble.

The Shadow King nods. “Gina, you know people like us don’t get the luxury of love in a marriage.” He swallows, the words soaked in bitterness. “Maybe once or twice we can love outside these borders, but marriage? A ploy. A contract.”

As he paces the room, stopping to study the soap collection, you, too, look at him for the first time.

“You love someone else?” you ask.

“Yes.” It takes him a moment to answer, and his voice is guarded.

“Well, so do I!” you exclaim, a grin stretching across your face. Maybe a solution is easier than you thought. “Just tell them you’re not on board, and they’ll call it off. They can’t force us to get married when we’re both opposed.”

“That won’t work.” Kyoya straightens and pushes up his glasses. “I need to marry you and have an heir to get my inheritance.”

You scoff, throwing a middle finger up at him. That’s what it all boils down to? Some sad rich boy getting Daddy’s money? “Frankly, I don’t give a damn about your inheritance,” you say. “I’m sure there are flocks of heiresses wishing to spend their fortunes for a future with you. Go marry someone else.”

“How easily you say that.”

At the smug tone you almost punch him. But then he looks at you again. His eyes trail up your body, not creepily, as some men do, not adoringly, as Takashi does. But knowingly, coldly, flicking his eyes at you nonchalantly as you understand.

Oh.

“What was his name?” you ask softly.

Kyoya bends over the sink, resting his wrists on the counter, staring straight into his own worst enemy in the mirror.

“Tamaki.”

His tone is adoring, but he speaks each syllable like his tongue is wrapped in barbed wire. So your suspicion was right about him and the headmaster’s son.

“I see,” you say, your fingers curling around your opposite arm for comfort. “Does your family know?”

“They found us together,” Kyoya says, still locked in a staring contest with the mirror. From the brutal look on his face, you wouldn’t be surprised if he punched through the glass right now. “My parents’ marriage is one of diplomacy. They’ve never known love or passion,” he continues. “They do not understand the love within themselves. How could they understand what he and I had?”

Maybe he wasn’t as evil as you thought. Maybe he was just a boy with a broken heart projecting what he experienced at home.

“So they barred you from seeing him?” you ask. The sadness rolls over in your stomach, and you feel empathy wash over you.

“They made sure that if I ever contacted him again, there would be consequences.” He finally looks at you. “You are aware of his heritage?”

You nod.

“Then you know how easy it would be to pay off a scientist to taint a paternity test that would send him back to France.” He clenches his fist. “With a dying mother, no relatives, and no inheritance. I couldn’t do that to him. Here at least he has his father, friends, an education. He is still the Suoh heir; he would be safe.”

You swallow. If that is what they would do to a boy of noble birth, you shuddered to think of what they were doing to Takashi.

“And you love a commoner?”

You were surprised at how quickly he moved on from his own heartbreak. “Yes,” you say, moved by his own circumstances to share your own. Though knowledge and rumors of the Shadow King’s manipulative strategies remained in your thoughts, you felt a strange trust in him, built on sympathy. “Takashi Morinozuka. I just know they’ve already done something to him. My family’s guards killed one of my sister’s old boyfriends, and I couldn’t bear it if they killed him!”

The absolute terror of finding Takashi’s dead body finally washes over you. Could you even bear watching his funeral, knowing that your impulsive love was his demise?

Kyoya cocks his eyebrows at the name. While you weep, he walks to you and lightly rubs your shoulder, an action that nearly makes you stop crying out of shock. Maybe you two could be friends, in the end. With an arranged marriage, that was the most you dared to hope for.

“No, they haven’t hurt him,” he says, softly squeezing your shoulder before letting go.

You rub your nose with a tissue, grateful for the reassurance. “You think so?”

“Of course not.” You lift your eyes to Kyoya’s and whatever hope of friendship you had dissipates at the glint of his glasses. “They didn’t know his name.” He stands up straight, giving you a cruel, tight-lipped smile. “And now they do.”

Before you can say anything, he walks out the door and slams it behind him. The click of the lock tells you you’re trapped in here, but that fear is only a little prick compared to the wave of betrayal crashing over you.

“You bastard!” you scream as realization sets in. You fling yourself against the door, pounding your fists hard enough to bleed. He really was a slimy, manipulative Shadow King who only views everything as a transaction to be gained from.

And in trusting him, you just sent your beloved Takashi to his death.

I know. Don’t kill me, I’m crying too. Final part out soon! What do you think of all of these plot twists? What do you think Gina’s family is going to do to Takashi? Will Kyoya find his conscience and help, or will he end like a traitor? Come back next time to see! Parts 1 and 2 here in case you missed them.

#ohshc #ouran high school host club #takashi morinozuka #mori #mori x reader #takashi x reader #kyoya ootori #kyoya x reader #shadow king #tamakyo #takashi imagine #mori imagine

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