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#monstrous army
stromuprisahat · 1 year
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Alina: “Absolute rubbish. It's the second amplifier. With the Stag, summoning came like breath. This is like reining chaos. Crossing the Fold was a disaster.”
Oh no! I’m barely trained and increasing my power only made it worse! The last one was mirculously easy, why isn’t this one?!
Nadia: “Hey, we'll get you there. I could hit you with a switch and call you "stupid girl".”
Abuse is funny and educational!
Alina: “It may come to that. How is it I'm overwhelmed by the second amplifier and at the same time feeling the lack of a third?”
Perhaps it’s because you’re unpracticed af, but the amplifiers are drawn together by their nature. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Nadia: “For now, let's focus on what we can fix. Your aim, for starters.”
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Alina: “As leader of the Second Army, I need more. I need to learn the Cut.”
I can’t control the raw power I have, so I need to learn the hardest skill I’ve heard about to look good.
Nadia: “That was Kirigan's way, to lead with fear. You can lead with your heart. The Second Army will be better for it.”
Cutting people in half’s terrifying, if you do it with no tool. The Darkling used to do it to make us afraid! Not as... y’no, last resort weapon...
You can lead an army with love and empty hands. I’m sure your enemies will happily hug your unarmed ass...
Nadia’s stuck-up teen, who never took a step outside the walls of Little Palace in the books, dumb writers’ mouthpiece and “diversity” quota in the show... gross.
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witch-sweets · 23 days
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OK dont get me wrong I love fics/AU's where Snatcher wakes up in the past as the Prince (I have my own au of that exact scenario)
BUT WHERE IS THE OTHER HALF OF THAT EQUATION WHERE THE PRINCE WAKES UP IN THE FUTURE AS SNATCHER-
IMAGINE THE CHAOS
IMAGINE THE ANGST
IMAGINE HAT KIDS REACTION TO THE CHAOS AND THE ANGST
Just think about it ok-
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fourgods-nobrakes · 3 months
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Christmas dilemma: build a standard Keeper of Secrets, or build Shalaxi?
Both are very hot, meaning there is no wrong answer, but also, both are very hot, how do I choose.
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cosmicrhetoric · 1 year
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i feel like i never paid enough attention to The Resolutions at the end of monstrous regiment like of course clapping and cheering for wazzer and tonker & lofty's excellent arson adventure but shufti moving into the inn. naming her baby after jackrum. appointing paul as the specialist uncle in the whole world.....waah
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myinventoryisfull · 2 years
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Nothing makes me laugh more than the thought of the Primus coming back from Korthia only to find the Theater of Pain hosting “Maldraxxus Vision” and the Seat of the Primus covered in flashing rainbow lights while Carameldansen blasts from inside.
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ozzgin · 1 month
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Omg bro yk whats been on my mind for do long?? A demon king trying to court a hero reader. Like the hero has already fought and defeated the king but somehow he comes back and he's desperately trying to get the hero to join him (in more ways than one). He wants the reader to be his spouse and leader of his army against the corrupt human race and the reader (now fallen from stardom due to the evil kings defeat) just wants him gone and to be left alone. Idk if this makes sense but I need to see SOMEONE write abt it before I lose my last marble.
-Doll
This is giving me Dragon Quest vibes, haha. Not a trope I'm too familiar with, but it sounds interesting nonetheless. I shall do my best! Sorry for the delay, I hope it's close to what you imagined. :)
Yandere! Demon King x Hero! Reader
As it goes with villains, they always find a way to return. This time, the Demon King has a different plan in mind. You were prepared for anything, from evil schemes to ancient conjured weapons...except for a wedding ring cordially placed before you. Do you say yes?
Content: gender neutral reader, monster romance, 🔥proposal (literally)
[Part 2]
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You still remember everything so fondly. How you crawled out of that enormous crater, body battered and weak, as everyone watched in horror and held their breaths. Finally, you raised your fist victoriously. The Demon King had been, at last, defeated. The people cheered and cried and pulled you up under thundering waves of applause. Peace was no longer just a dream.
A sweet, innocent memory, even more so given its fleeting nature. The genuine smiles of gratitude quickly turned into crooked grins asking for favors. Before you knew it, you became some sort of political accessory to convince the masses. Posing for photos, shaking hands, being interviewed with bizarrely planned questions reeking of propaganda. You suddenly felt burdened, heavy, disappointed. This was not the kind of fame you envisioned for yourself.
Thus, you gradually vanished from the limelight, keeping your distance from everyone else and spending most days in solitude. Better than having to look into those unscrupulous, opportunistic eyes measuring up your worth. You had fulfilled your job and purpose.
This morning you're woken up by the sound of your belongings rattling in their shelves. The wooden frame of your bed is creaking, and you struggle to get up. An earthquake? A wave of nausea flushes over you. You recognize this feeling all too well, though you never expected to deal with it again. This is a disaster alright, yet the forces of nature have nothing to do with it.
You rush outside, swinging the door open and nearly tripping in your hurry to confirm your suspicions: the demonic creature is approaching your humble adobe with heavy steps, as the ground crumbles and shatters underneath. The Demon King himself, in flesh and blood. Although the blood splattering his armor is most likely not his. Same for the visceral remains threading his weapon. Regardless, your jaw tightens nervously, and you stand back, in a defensive pose. "You're a stubborn one", you say smugly, trying to maintain your composure. "Can't say I'm a fan of dying, that is correct." A ragged, monstrous voice erupts from the tall, armored figure.
"What brings you back?" You demand. The surroundings are too peaceful for him to have tampered with the city. Did he stop by to formally announce his destruction? "I have an offer that might interest you." The Dark Overlord has closed the distance between you, now looming above your much smaller body. You shiver. "I don't barter with Demons!" You conclude, turning around, prepared to leave. "Even when your precious people are on the line?" The horned beast warns with a grin. "If there's nothing better to do as a Ruler of Realms than killing petty humans..." You swiftly retort, going back into your house and slamming the door shut.
He stands for a moment, speechless. "Y-your Majesty? Should I take care of the humans, or (Y/N)?" Only now he notices his scaly butler, bowing to his side with claws resting over the weapon. The Demon King raises a hand, shooing the servant away. The annihilation of the human race can wait. There are more important matters to deal with presently. He'd expected your rejection, naturally, but not in such fashion. The indifference, the flat voice, the empty eyes devoid of emotion. Have the city dwellers tampered with his hero? He expected to see your fierce rage and in return he was met with a hollow shell.
Bright blue flames erupt from the openings of his armor, resulting in a menacing show of lights. He's known it for the longest time, of course. Humans are rotten to their very core. Vile, deceitful creatures that have slithered their way up, exuding undeserved arrogance. He's been trying to show you this very fact, yet you were blinded by naive faith. Your unwavering, honest heart that won him over has turned out to be your early demise. Not anymore. His vengefulness knows no bounds when it comes to traitors.
The sudden spike in temperature alerts you. Was it your rudeness that angered the Demon? You don't care anymore. Whatever happens to the city is out of your hands. And yet...you're buckling the straps of your old suit made for battle. Sword in hand, you gaze at your reflection. What could the Beast want? The fortified city no longer holds the value of its olden days. Just like you've left your hero days behind. Without much contemplation, you run out and head for the main gates. The path is paved with ash and rubble and your grip on the weapon tightens. Regret immediately wells up in your chest, ready to burst out. Is it too late? The entrance is engulfed in fire, charred corpses toppling against the ruins of the walls.
You reach the town hall - or rather, what remains of it - and face the Demon King. Has he gotten stronger since your last encounter? You hold your breath as the horned monster turns towards you. "I've tried to tell you, again and again. Time after time." He sighs, defeated. "Between the two of us, I'd say you were the stubborn one all along." His voice is softer than what you would've expected from someone that had just massacred an entire settlement. There's not a single scratch or sign of struggle. Was he merely holding back during your last fight? One thing is certain: you're his final obstacle. You raise your sword, determined. Hot sweat trickles down your face as the flames surround you. "Well, at least you've convinced yourself now, I hope. There's nothing left for you here." The Demon King lowers himself, extending a fist towards you. A spell? Secret weapon? Your leg muscles contract in anticipation.
His fingers open and stretch out, slowly. In his palm, a barely noticeable ring. Given the ridiculous size difference, you assume this is better fitting for a human. You stare at it in confusion, discerning the wedding vows carved in the noble metal. "What's the meaning of this?" You mutter, glancing at the Beast now resting on one knee before you. "What? Is it not your human custom?" He looks away for a moment, clicking his tongue. "That useless butler. He told me- Forget it! You are to return with me to my Kingdom. As my spouse."
Of all the things you've prepared yourself for...Your brows furrow and your mouth hangs open in shock.
What is your answer? The Demon King will not leave empty-handed.
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falseficus · 7 months
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I read a physical copy of monstrous regiment soon after listening to the audiobook, and I noticed two tiny discrepancies between the two editions that make an absolute world of difference. when I found out that these discrepancies existed (you’ll find reddit posts backing me up about them), I felt cheated that my first experience of the book had portrayed a less cohesive arc than pratchett intended
if you’re looking to buy or read monstrous regiment, I strongly recommend the doubleday 2003 version or the corgi 2004 version, which iirc contain the original text. The harper collins publications and audiobook both contain these changes, which imo are confusing and severely undercut the themes the book is trying to get across. if anyone knows the status of other editions of the book pls feel free to add on
obviously the audiobooks and ebooks are more accessible than physical books to some people, so if you read one of those just know that the original text is different in some key ways. I still recommend you read the book because it’s crazy good :)
the changes I noticed, beneath the cut to avoid some serious spoilers:
firstly, the last line of Jackrum’s last scene. in the Doubleday version, this line reads:
“Jackrum had turned her chair to the fire, and had settled back. Around him, the kitchen worked.”
in the harpercollins version, the line reads:
“Jackrum had turned her chair the the fire, and had settled back. Around her, the kitchen worked.”
this pronoun change is actually has huge implications. in the scene in question, jackrum, a transgender man, reveals that he joined the army in disguise. he is referred to as “she” throughout his background reveal. however, he then considers where his future will take him, and in the final line of the scene his pronoun reverts back to “he.” jackrum’s pronoun goes from he->she->he, encapsulating the gendery arc of the scene. however, in the altered he->she->she version of the scene, half of that circle is erased. the neat tie-up of jackrum’s journey is left confusingly unresolved, and the importance of his gender to the book’s overarching themes goes underemphasized
the second change I noticed is how maladict appears in the book’s ending:
in the Doubleday version, maladict appears “in full uniform.”
in the harpercollins version, maladict appears “in full female uniform.”
maladict is the last soldier to reveal [their] true gender, keeping up a masc/ambiguous presentation far after all the rest of the squad has come forward as women. “in full uniform” maintains this ambiguity, allowing the reader to decide for themself whether maladict comes forward and presents as fully female or continues to dress masculinely despite the fact that circumstances no longer require it (in fact I believe that the latter is more likely, as maladict says “thought I’d try again,” which could mean dressing in male uniform again). “in full female uniform” removes that ambiguity, and brings maladict’s arc to a somewhat unsatisfying conclusion. it eliminates the possibility of maladict as transgender or gender-non-conforming, and I’m left wondering, “if maladict presents as female so readily, why make such a fuss of it before now?”
both changes undermine the book’s message by eliminating its space for non-cisnormative identity… which is kinda crucial to the whole idea. im honestly really disappointed that these changes were made in any version of the book, because whoever made them clearly didn’t get the point
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sayruq · 5 months
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Today was a big for the resistance. It seems people were right, they were waiting for Biden to leave so they can respond to the Ah Ahli Hospital massacre (the tweets below are arranged from the earliest reports I saw to the latest in order to show the coordination between different groups in different countries and the escalation)
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Like I said, a big day for the resistance
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And I see no signs of things slowing down
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The Palestinian resistance has a list of objectives for this operation including damaging Israel's economy, forcing Israel citizens to flee the country, and slowing down immigration to Israel in the long term (because that leads to new settlements)
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In other news, Biden's bloodlust was enough to disgust an arms dealer.
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Several of his staff have also expressed discomfort with the administration's choices the past few weeks
Nonetheless, American troops have been told to prepare for deployment
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The past few days I've been pointing out how Russia has gone from pro Israel to carefully neutral to increasingly critical of Israel and now we have this.
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I'm so glad that Israel has continued to shoot itself on its foot by isolating itself from Russia and China
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Russia is actively intervening to ensure that America and its allies can't use the Black Sea to counter the resistance in West Asia which is a big deal
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So far, all signs are pointing to a regional conflict
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This has to be a huge blow to Israel seeing so many countries, even a NATO nation, coming together to ensure that it can't annihilate Palestine.
More importantly, it shows that Palestine does not stand alone.
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jv · 2 months
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Look, I actually believe Israel has found ties between the UN refugees agency in Gaza and Hamas. Let's not forget Hamas isn't just a bunch of crazy-eyed terrorists: Hamas is the main political party in Gaza too: it has 25k card-carrying members in Gaza, on a (adult) population of about a million. Israel doesn't even claim that the UN employees are members of Hamas, but "has links" to Hamas: That could mean that they have a cousin that's a Hamas member, or they go to the same cult place than one, or that they have a childhood friend that's part of Hamas. For the record, the percentage of population in Gaza that's a member of Hamas is a bit below that the percentage of the US that's part of the National Rifle Association. Imagine someone being cataloged as "having links with the NRA" because their cousin Mark is a guns nutjob.
The UNRWA employs about 12k palestinians in Gaza. Of course, 100% sure, that some of them are going to have 'links' with Hamas. Hell, it would be pretty much impossible to expect that none of them are even direct Hamas supporters.
About 20% of the people who participated in US' january 6th insurrection had been part of the US military, with a good bunch of them being active members. By the same logic they are using to stop sending humanitarian aid to Gaza, the US should disband their army.
Using something obvious and impossible to avoid to justify stopping humanitarian aid in Gaza is inhumane. It's monstrous. I'm relieved that my own hasn't retired its support, but I'm embarrassed that some countries of the European Union has done so. Shame. Shame.
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worth-the-chaos · 3 months
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Adventures in Babysitting Masterlist (ongoing)
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Series Summary: As Dustin’s babysitter, you encounter the perils of the Upside Down as you try desperately to rid Hawkins of the evil lurking just below the surface. However, you’re not alone; you have the gaggle of kids as well as the one and only Steve Harrington by your side as you risk your lives attempting to solve the mysteries of your once quiet rural town | steve harrington x fem!reader (message me to be added to the taglist!)
Chapter summaries and links below the cut!
Part 1 - You haven’t been babysitting Dustin for very long. Underestimating his tendencies for rebellious behavior, you realize too late that he’s snuck out, with your dire search for the boy leading you to the last place you wanted to be: Steve Harrington’s house. | Word Count: 6.5k
Part 2 - With the events of last fall in the past, you attempt to move on, still working on your academics and babysitting Dustin. You and Steve have drifted since your encounter with the otherworldly, but he begins to make more active efforts to talk to you, making sure you have an invite to Tina’s big Halloween party. | Word Count: 6.3k
Part 3 - Billy is still hitting on you, Steve’s still mad, and Dustin’s still a pain in the ass to babysit. When he tells you and Steve that there’s a massive problem of upside down proportions, the two of you have no choice but to drop everything to help the boy, reprising your roles as badasses who eradicate the supernatural in Hawkins. | Word Count: 7.0k
Part 4 - Looking for Dart isn’t easy, but it gives you and Steve a lot of time to have a heart to heart, as you slowly start to realize your feelings for one another. | Word Count: 6.5k
Part 5 - The situation with the demogorgons gets increasingly more dire, leading you to the Byers’ house to wrangle four kids that can’t listen to save their lives (literally) while everyone tries desperately to save Will and the world. | Word Count: 8.9k
Part 6 - It’s summer, and you and Steve are working at Scoops Ahoy so that you can make money while Dustin is at summer camp. The lines between friends and something more continue to blur as your relationship with Steve gets more intimate, allowing doubt to creep in…and the Russians are invading Hawkins. | Word Count: 6.4k
Part 7 - You continue attempting to translate the code, commencing your operation to determine the nature of Russian involvement in Hawkins. Robin and Dustin continue their attempts to push the two of you together, tired of the mutual pining…oh and Erica has enough sass to probably take out an entire Russian army. | Word Count: 5.9k
Part 8 - Well, the five of you do get in that secret room, but the problem is you can’t quite find a way out. Tensions rise as you realize the gravity of the situation, the forced proximity revealing hard feelings between you and Steve. | Word Count: 7.2k
Part 9 - Held captive by the Russians, tensions rise and as you and Steve attempt to navigate communicating in a drugged up haze, your feelings for each other become even more apparent. | Word Count: 7.4k
Part 10 - The Russian invasion and the upside down begin to merge as you meet up with the rest of the crew. You are in the fight of your lives as you scramble to try to stop the monstrous creature from the upside down before it destroys you. | Word Count: 5.8k
Part 11 - Steve and you are finally officially dating, the kids are finally in high school and no longer need any sort of official babysitting, and life is overall pretty damn good. You try to push aside the unease settling in your chest, but how long can you ignore it before it manifests into something much worse than you could possibly imagine? | Word Count: 6.7k
Part 12 - The evil that you thought you had gotten rid of is still very much lurking within Hawkins. You, your boyfriend, and your friends race against time to try and find Eddie before it’s too late. | Word Count: 6.5k
Part 13 - As you all attempt to connect the dots of the gruesome murders occurring around your small but sinister town, secrets start to spill when Steve realizes you’ve been keeping things from him. | Word Count: 7.2k
Part 14 - Nancy and Robin take a shot in the dark and Steve tries to protect you from the supernatural. When the darkness comes to get you, will his love be enough to protect you? | Word Count: 6.0k
Part 15 - Racing against the clock, you and your friends desperately attempt to connect the dots before it’s too late. Your efforts bring both progress and peril as you and your boyfriend dive headfirst into life-threatening scenarios in order to save each other. | Word Count: 8.8k
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mllemaenad · 7 months
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Listening to Wyll's backstory in context of all the details we're acquiring on devil's contracts and soul selling is fascinating.
See - I listened to Lann Tarv's three tales to get my soul coins. I felt bad for making Karlach listen to that, obviously, but to be honest I didn't even want the coins that much. I actually wanted the stories. I wanted a better understanding of how this works.
And what I'm learning is - for the gods (and godlike beings) of this world, cruelty seems to be the point. I mean - it's possible there's a god in this world I wouldn't want to stab to death with a rusty fork, but if so I have not met them yet.
These beings have the power to save people and places, to change lives, to do anything. And when someone asks them to - they demand a terrible price. But they don't just demand a price. They subvert the original request in such a way that they utterly fail to deliver on the original promise.
An abused woman wishes to be loved - and her true love appears, but dies instantly. A man wishes to save his children from starvation, and ends up personally growing masses of meat on his own body - not only painful for him, but forcing his children into survival cannibalism, which they were trying to avoid.
Auntie Ethel works the same way. Every one of her customers is left in a tortured state, while Ethel still takes her payment.
The idea is that the person must come to regret their wish long before the payment comes due. Every cry for help must be met with a boot to the face. Or else the mortals will get uppity? Or something.
What is interesting is how consciously Wyll defies that. And how much Mizora is dancing around, trying to force him into that state of miserable regret.
Wyll was manipulated into selling his soul. He was a kid, and he was summoned into a terrible situation - and in that moment, he could see no other way to save the city. Mizora did need to save Baldur's Gate to serve her boss's purposes, so she couldn't take that victory from him - but she did everything she could to take the joy of it.
He didn't get respect, or admiration, or his father's pride for saving the city. He lost his home and his family. He was assumed to have done something monstrous because he was denied an opportunity to defend himself.
That was supposed to fill him with bitterness and regret - but he got to work building his own life instead. By the time you run into him, the Blade of Frontiers is a hero of some renown. He's remade himself, and found a way to enjoy what his powers can do, however he came by them.
So that didn't work.
Then Mizora sent him after Karlach, and that was a mission tailored to break him. Karlach is kind and heroic herself, and that the start she has been sold into slavery, mutilated and forced to fight in a war against her will. If Wyll killed her, and then found out who she really was, then he betrayed everything the Blade of Frontiers is supposed to stand for - and he would lose the life he made for himself.
But he didn't, and that didn't work either. He's got a friend, now, who at least knows part of what he's dealing with.
So Mizora gave him demonic features. That would destroy the life he's made for himself, because no one would trust him to help them.
Except now Wyll basically goes nowhere on his own, and a small army of people can attest that he got those horns and eyes as punishment for being a good man. Mizora might be able to shut his mouth, but she can't silence his friends - and the group absolutely have shouting sessions about everything. Wyll's horns become a battle scar, like his missing eye, and nothing more.
And beyond that, if you are playing as a heroic character, a significant throughline in the game's story is the journey of the tiefling refugees. The story makes it clear that these people experience a constant barrage of racism, due to their appearance and "demonic" heritage. It also makes it abundantly clear that this prejudice is entirely undeserved - they're just people, with virtues and flaws like everyone else, and what is happening to them is terrible. So Wyll turns up to assist a bunch of people whom he now at least somewhat resembles - and with Karlach along, you have two people in the group who technically count as "infernal", but haven't got an evil bone in either of their bodies.
Mizora created solidarity. Oops.
Wyll is deeply suspicious of gods and higher powers. He doesn't want to make more deals with devils. When Elminster arrives to tell Gale what Mystra demands of him, he explicitly says he does not do religion. When you get Mizora to agree to let his contract expire in six months, he starts by casually invoking the gods - but switches to thanking the player character instead, because he knows who helped, and who did not.
But he utterly refuses to regret the pact he made. That can be a struggle. He clearly misses his dad, and would like that relationship repaired. The fact that he was transformed very much against his will is clearly a source of distress from him.
But if he regrets, then Mizora wins. That's it. Game over. She gets what she wanted all along. So he doesn't.
The main companion characters all have this kind of problem, and naturally have different ways of dealing with it. You have characters like Shadowheart and Lae'zel, who were indoctrinated as children, or Gale, who was literally seduced by one of these nightmare deities - and with them you have to start out by convincing them they they were the wronged party in the first place.
But Wyll knows exactly what game he's playing, and he's been screaming defiance the whole time. It's just that, in his case, the "defiance" is grinning and carrying on every time Mizora inflicts some more bullshit on him.
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lady-zenin · 3 months
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🥀 ─ MISTRESS OF MELANCHOLY. . .PART ONE
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˚ ༘ * LADY ZEN'IN PRESENTS. . .
CROWN PRINCE YUUJI stumbles upon his father, KING RYOMEN SUKUNA, most favored concubine; he find that there is more to her, underneath all that melancholy, than first appears.
ryomen sukuna x concubine!fem!reader, prince yuuji & concubine!fem!reader kidnapping, threats of violence, trueform!sukuna, mentions of child abuse, hunting, and slaughter
tag(s) mistress of melancholy 🥀
RYOMEN SUKUNA, the King of Curses and Poisons, ruled over the lands of his empire with an iron fist. There were not many in his domain that did not fear him or worship him as a god. From his temple, appropriately named the Malevolent Shrine, he dwelled with an army of servants to tend to his comfort, guards to protect his home, and concubines to keep his bed warm. 
The king did not leave his sanctuary unless there was an uprising or unrest in his lands, which did not happen often. Many of the lords had extended invitations to the king, but they all declined or never even received an answer. He only held hearings for the peasants every year or so, and since they were expected to keep their heads bowed the entire time, they did not catch a glimpse of the king — unless they wanted to be beheaded.
As such, not many had ever laid eyes on the king outside the others who lived in his temple, and those who did often did not live long to tell the tale. 
The appearance of the king was a mystery to many, reported to have four arms, two faces, and a mouth on his stomach amongst many other oddities. Some said he became more curse than human with all those he had slaughtered, maimed, and tortured — accounting for his monstrous appearance. Many thought, as no one dared say aloud, that it was because of how cruel he was that the king was not able to conceive a child, despite the many women he had warming his bed every night, many of whom wanted to give him a child — whether for the wealth, status, or power that came with it. 
Only one had been able to do so in all the years that Sukuna had ruled, thus his only son and heir, Prince Yuuji, was also a mystery to the peasants of the land he would one day inherit; though, his birth somewhat put any thoughts of the king’s impotence to rest. 
The young crown prince was the spitting image of his father without the almost grotesque additions. With hair the color of blush, pair skin, and light brown eyes (only different in color to his father’s which were red), there was no doubt of who had fathered the child. 
While doubts of the king’s virility were put to rest with the birth of the prince, new rumors began to emerge because of how similar to his father he looked. There were faint whispers that Sukuna had him born from cursed energy, and not from a woman for that was another secret of the temple: who the young prince’s mother was. Not very many people knew, not even Prince Yuuji himself. 
The absence of a mother made the young prince curious in his young years as to who it was who gave birth to him. There were so many concubines that occupied the castle that he thought it would be anyone of them — or his mother could even be dead for all he knew. It was not as if he could simply ask his father, the king was not so open about such things — or anything. 
Perhaps it was the lack of mother in his life that caused the young princling to rebel from the maids who tended to him, seeking to give them a bit of a fright by running off to hide in various places in the temple — the kitchens, the bath–houses, the gardens. . .
Often, it took his maids hours to find him, and it only served to make the prince more curious to see how long he could be amiss. Oblivious to the punishments his maids received when the king found out, Prince Yuuji escaped from his maids once more and into the gardens of the temple on a sunny afternoon during his fifth year of life. Little did the prince know, he was not allowed in the gardens that he happened upon for there was a secret there. 
It was there that he saw her for the first — a woman of great beauty wrapped in a silk kimono the color of red wine with the saddest face the prince had ever seen. She almost looked as regal as a queen would with her straight posture and intricate hairstyle.
She was sitting by a koi pond with a parasol above her head, held by a servant of the temple — or so the prince guessed from how she was dressed. The lady’s eyes were focused on the book that sat delicately in her lap, and so it was not surprising that she did not notice the presence of the young prince. He was very light on his feet, even more so when he was sneaking away from his maids. 
He watched her for a long while as she gazed down at the text, seemingly so lost in the pages, looking as though she was far away from the temple. He would have mistaken her for a statue with how still she was; it was only the gentle rise and fall of her chest as she breathed and the way her delicate fingers would turn the page every so often that indicated she was a real person.
The prince was certain she was a concubine of his father’s from the way she was dressed — as no servant would be able to dress in such a way without punishment even if they had enough coin to do so — which they would not. 
While the prince was uncertain how many lovers his father had, he had seen many of them, and this one was not familiar to him. He recalled faintly the mention of the king’s most favored concubine who had all the luxuries she could ever want. The others were jealous of her and her ability to enrapture the king as such, she was often a topic they discussed — or so Prince Yuuji heard from the gossip his maids did not bother keeping from his little ears. 
Even as he got lost in thought, the prince made sure that his presence was undetected. He knew his father would be most wroth to hear he had interfered with his favorite concubine. 
Perhaps, the woman would never have known that the young prince had stumbled upon her domain within the temple if it were not for the unexpected, rather loud arrival of his maid. She clumsily stumbled out of the temple’s interior with a shrill cry as she spotted him within the lush flowers he hid in; so relieved to have found her charge, she called, “Prince Yuuji!”
There was no one in the gardens who did not hear the maid, and the little prince could only watch as the sad lady’s eyes snapped to the screaming woman, and then darted around before landing on him. For a moment, the melancholy vanished from her face and was replaced with recognition then horror in a flash.
Alas, both emotions were gone as quickly as they came and the lady looked away. She bowed her head and stood up, leaving the gardens with a flutter of her long–sleeves. She was followed quickly by the woman who was holding that parasol above her head; for some reason, she seemed familiar to the prince though he was not certain from where he recognized her. 
As the sad lady made her escape, the prince also tried to run off. His endeavors were fruitless as he was taken into the arms of his maid who began to scold him for running away once again. He missed that there were almost tears in the maid’s eyes and the fear that was etched into her expression as he tried to squirm out of her grasp.
Prince Yuuji did not hear a word, cutting her off and asking, “Yuki, who was that lady?”
“Lady Itadori?” Yuki asked in reply; she seemed surprised and nervous, which did not get past her charge, “She. . .She is one of the king’s concubines. . .His favorite if the gifts and luxuries she is showered with can be any indication. Those gardens are her own private gardens, no one is allowed in them.”
“If she is my father’s favorite concubine, why is she so sad?” Prince Yuuji wondered as he peaked over his maid’s shoulder, catching a glimpse of the sad woman’s back before she disappeared into a different part of the temple. He just missed the way she had glanced back as well. 
“That is not my story to tell,” Yuki replied resolutely as her grip on the crown prince tightened, “And it is none of your concern. Do you know what the king would do if he found out you were asking such questions?”
The prince barely knew his father, even if he could see how frightening he was, so he shrugged. His little eyes looked forward as they entered the temple, coming across Uraume as they did so. The person looked relieved to see the prince in the arms of his maid, saying, “Good, you found him. If it had been any longer, we would have had to inform the king.”
Before the maid could reply, another voice came from down one of the corridors, “Informed me of what?”
“My king,” Uraume immediately bowed in submission, the maids following their lead; only Prince Yuuji did not, not that he could as he was still in the arms of Yuki, “The little prince had run off again, nothing unusual. He was found before any damage would be done.”
“Is that so?” Sukuna questioned as his four red eyes fell on his son; he didn’t look convinced if the way his eyes narrowed was any indication, “Because I was just visiting Lady Itadori when I found her returning to her chambers, quite spooked. She said the prince had been in her private gardens.”
Uraume’s fist clenched as they said, “I apologize for Lady Itadori’s distress, but I was not with Yuki when she found the prince, so I cannot say what was the cause of her fright.”
Yuki placed the prince on the ground and kneeled so far that her head was touching the floor as she said, “I apologize, my king. Prince Yuuji had run off to the gardens, Lady Itadori’s gardens to be exact. I do not know how he got there, but Lady Itadori saw him and — ”
“Enough,” the king replied with a raise of his upper left hand; his lower pair of arms were crossed over his chest, “I did not ask for your pitiful excuses. Lady Itadori has already told me what happened, she even begged me to spare your life, that you meant no harm. Who am I to deny my flower’s wishes?”
The maid wept as she thanked the king, saying, “Lady Itadori is most gracious, as is Your Grace — ”
“Next time,” Sukuna hummed, cutting the woman off, “I will not be so merciful. Lose my son again, and you will pay with your life. What else are you here for but to watch over him?”
“Yes, my king,” the maid said, trembling visibly with fear, “I understand.”
“Good,” the king looked bored as he said it; he turned his eyes to the prince once more, “What makes you think that you could just enter parts of the temple you are not permitted into, boy?”
The crown prince felt fear creep up his throat as he said, “I apologize, Father. I did not know the gardens were restricted, I will not enter them again.”
Sukuna was silent for a moment before he gave a nod and said, “You will begin your training tomorrow. No more of this coddling, you will become a warrior.”
“Yes, Father,” the boy muttered, bowing his head in submission and saying what his maids taught him, “As you say.”
Sukuna looked to Uraume and spoke, “Make certain the prince is returned to his chambers; I think a night with no supper will make him understand.”
“Yes, my king,” Uraume said obediently, “Consider it done.”
The King of Curses left without another word, leaving a seed of fear planted in his son’s heart. He finally understood why his maids were so afraid of his father’s wrath.
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Lady Itadori was well–aware of what was whispered about her throughout the corridors of the king’s temple; she knew well that she was called his favorite concubine and his saddest. One of the maids told her that she was called the “Sad Lady of the Temple” and “The Mistress of Melancholy” by the other servants.  
While they were rumors, they were also true, just as real as the jealousy that the other concubine’s harbored for her — yet never acted upon. No one ever went against the king’s word which was law. One of his many rulings was that no one was allowed to enter her gardens, along with the rest of her private dwellings that he had given her six years prior, without permission — save himself. 
Thus, it was an understatement to say that she was beyond surprised when she saw a young maid run into the gardens unannounced and yelling for the crown prince. It was only as she realized he was there that she started to look around — his eyes peeking out through a patch of pink flowers that complemented his hair. 
She felt a sense of horror as she spotted tufts of pink sticking out from one of the flower beds before a pair of brown eyes poked out of the petals, looking directly at her. She couldn’t hold the young prince’s gaze and bowed her head, almost as if in submission or defeat.
She faintly heard her faithful servant — Junko — who had been holding a parasol above her head, calling for her, but she didn’t listen. She did the only thing she could think of.
She fled. 
Junko followed after her as she slid open the shoji door on the opposite side of the garden from where the prince was, casting only a singular glance back at the boy before she stepped inside; he was clearly being scolded by his maid as he tried to escape from her grasp. 
Junko followed briskly, making sure to carefully close the door behind her lady as she did so.
Yet the lady she served seemed to only want to get back to her chambers as quickly as possible. She moved down the hall as quickly as her tight, restricting kimono would allow her, using muscle memory to lead her towards her chamber — which proved to be one of her mistakes. 
She collided with a solid mass blocking her path; she stumbled back in surprise, almost falling if it were not for a pair of hands wrapping around her waist to steady her. 
She knew those hands — and the owner of them — all too well from the black designs tattooed into the tanned flesh and the familiar sound of a body falling to the floor as Junko bowed in submission — prostrating herself.
For a moment, Lady Itadori did not know what to say as she gazed up into the king’s red eyes. If she were anyone else, she would be dead for certain, but she was offered the chance to correct her mistake — which she did by bowing her head in submission and saying, “My king.”
The hands wrapped around her waist remained as another hand tucked a fallen strand of hair behind her ear while the other tapped her chin, forcing her to look up. She was once again met with the sharp gaze of Ryomen Sukuna as he said, “My flower, what are you in such a rush for?”
Before she could mask her emotions, apologize for her disarray, or assure her king that everything was alright, she let out a sob. Even Sukuna seemed to be taken aback as the lady let her head fall into his chest, and she said, “I saw him. I saw the prince.”
“The prince?” Sukuna hummed, seemingly unperturbed; if she did not know him better, she would have assumed he truly was, “How did you see the prince?”
“He–He was in the gardens, my gardens,” she muttered in reply, lifting a hand to wipe a tear from her cheek quickly, “He must have escaped from his maids — ” Lady Itadori suddenly stopped and said, “I apologize, my king. I do not mean to trouble you with — ”
“Quiet now,” the king ordered gruffly; she saw a flash of something behind his eyes, “I am going to go deal with those pesky maids who can’t even watch over a child. You will return to your chambers and wait for me there.”
The woman seemed to understand exactly how Sukuna was going to punish the women in charge of caring for the prince. 
Not being able to bear the thought, she rested her hands on the king’s broad chest and looked up at him, saying, “Please, my king. Do not harm them, I couldn’t bear to know I was the cause of — ”
She was hushed once more as the king rested his hand over the back of her head and said, “Do not worry your pretty little head, my flower. I shall not be too harsh with them.”
It was only then that the lady relaxed and sighed, “I will return to my chambers now, Your Grace.”
The king released his concubine after a long pause and nodded; the woman did not look back as they parted ways. She immediately made her way towards her chambers, sliding open the door and barely making it to her bed before she collapsed, sobbing into the sleeve of her kimono.
Junko called her name with worry. Her real name, her first name, given to her by her father and mother, as she came to her side and embraced her. It almost felt odd, it had been many years since anyone called her that in such a worried, loving tone.Allowing herself the comfort, the lady sobbed into her maid’s shoulder, barely hearing the gentle hushes whispered in her ear as she cried, “I want to go home! I want to go home now!”
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Uraume remained with the little prince for the rest of the day, ensuring that he did not escape. It was by direct orders from the king that the cook watched over Prince Yuuji or else they would have occupied themselves with preparing a meal that would surely please the king after the events of earlier. 
Alas, Uraume had been informed that the king was spending the rest of his day with Lady Itadori in her private section of the temple — the south wing. They had heard from the servants that the lady was crying before Sukuna arrived, but it ceased soon after. The cook could only imagine what the king was doing to console his mistress.
Along with thinking of the king, Uraume was preoccupied with the intent stare that the prince had been giving them since they announced they would be taking care of the prince for the rest of the day. It was only when the prince was being settled into bed that the monk said, “I will allow you to ask me one question about whatever is on your mind. I will answer truthfully.”
The prince was silent for a moment before he said, “Why is Lady Itadori so sad?”
“She misses her home,” Uraume replied simply, “She is homesick, my prince.”
“Homesick?” Prince Yuuji perked up, “Where is her home?”
Uraume looked at him for a moment and then said, “I answered your question, my prince. Now you must stop with your curiosities, and keep what you have learned to yourself. You will have a long day tomorrow. You do not want to disappoint your father, do you?”
The little prince shook his head and said, “No, I do not.”
“Good,” Uraume said, “I will cook you something good for when you break your fast tomorrow, if that pleases you.”
“It does,” the prince allowed, “Good night, Uraume.”
“Good night,” the monk said, “My prince.”
Prince Yuuji dreamt of pink flowers and a sad face that night.
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Prince Yuuji understood that he should take his father’s threat seriously, and that the king was not one to be messed with or disobeyed. Yet, the crown prince could not help but be intrigued by the well—dressed lady he had seen on his last escape attempt. He had never seen such a sad woman before nor such a beautiful one. He felt the need to see her again — especially after learning the reason for her sadness.
So, at the age of five years old, he made a plan that he thought was quite wise for someone his age. He would not run away from his maids during the day, instead he would seek out the sad woman at night when his maids were asleep and the only people awake were the guards. He would just have to make certain that the guards did not see him.
It took a whole fortnight for the little prince to find the courage to carry out his little plan. In that time, he had started to be trained by his father who had a brutal way of molding his son into being a warrior as skilled as he was. It was for that reason that the prince ached all over as he sat up in bed on the night he planned to sneak away. 
The moon was high in the sky, casting a faint glow into the room, just enough light to allow the prince to see that his maids were all sound asleep. He smiled triumphantly as he carefully pushed off the blankets he was tucked into and carefully slid onto the floor. The padding of his feet were muffled by the tatami mat on the floor. 
Prince Yuuji had only spared his maids one look before he carefully slid open the door and made his escape. He decided that he would start in the gardens he had found the sad lady in, exploring the rooms around it in hopes that he would find the one that belonged to the lady.
It was night time, and the only light was cast by the moon from where it remained high in the sky. The prince was able to make out the little pathways between the flower beds that were filled with little stones that hurt his feet to walk over. He beared through the pain with a determined look on his face as he momentarily delayed his plans.
He moved towards the koi pond where he could make out some of the beautifully colored fish and pretty lily pads that were bright green and pink; the edges of the water were surrounded by stones that were smooth and large, offering his bare feet some relief. 
The prince remained there for some time, admiring the scene; he was tempted to take a seat on the wooden bench where Lady Itadori had once sat. It was beautifully painted red with gold lines that looked almost like the tattoos his father bore. 
He did not dwell on the fact for long as he was reminded that he needed to complete his mission before sunrise which was only a couple of hours away. He returned to the stone path, recalling the door that the lady went through after she fled the gardens. 
He faintly heard the smacking of heavy feet on the ground — guards patrolling. He waited for them to grow distant, knowing that they often patrolled a whole hallway or section of the temple so he would have a short amount of time where he could enter without being seen. 
Prince Yuuji recalled that his father said he happened upon the lady while he was on his way to her chambers. He took the chance that they were somewhere near the gardens as he slid the door open. He entered and closed it once more. Once he had, he looked both ways to make sure that there were no guards.
As he was scanning the area, he saw an ornately painted door with blooming roses painted all over it. He could only assume that it was the sad lady’s room, and took a chance on it. He moved quickly towards it before getting on his knees to slide the door open.  
He didn’t bother to look inside before entering and closing the door behind him — knowing that the guards would have caught him if he waited too long. 
Prince Yuuji turned his head once he was certain the door was closed only to find the sad lady sitting by an opening on the other side of the door which looked out at the mountain the temple was located on. This time, the lady was aware of the prince’s presence from the moment he entered the chamber, and she quickly gasped, dropping the book that was in her hands.
“Sad lady?” Prince Yuuji questioned gently, “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
“Prince Yuuji. . .” the woman muttered in response, placing a hand over her breast, “What are you doing here? So late?”
“I wanted to see you,” the prince said with a shrug.
“You should not be here, my prince,” Lady Itadori replied; she seemed nervous, almost shaking but she tried to do a better job of masking than their last encounter, “If the king caught you, he would not be pleased.”
“He will not catch me,” the prince said confidently, “Not even my maids know I am here.”
“That is why you should return now,” the woman replied, placing her hands over the book in her lap, “So that no one ever knows you were here.”
“Please, Lady Itadori,” the crown prince begged, bowing forward, “Please don’t send me away.”
There was a look that glossed over the lady’s face that the prince could not quite decipher before she sighed and nodded, “Alright, just this once, but you must tell me what truly brought you here. Not just that you wanted to see me.”
“I wanted to say I’m sorry,” the prince replied eagerly, “I saw you a while ago, and I wanted to say I’m sorry, for scaring you that day.”
“It’s alright, my prince,” the woman replied lightly, “All is forgiven.”
The prince smiled in return and asked, “May I ask you a question?”
The lady hesitated for a moment before ultimately nodding and saying, “Yes. Is there something you need?”
“Why are you so sad?” Prince Yuuji blurted out suddenly, “I think that you are my father’s favorite concubine, and everyone else wants to be that, yet you are so sad. Ur–Someone told me it was because you are homesick. . .that you miss home.”
Instead of seeming surprised at the boy’s words, the lady only smiled softly and agreed with a nod, “Whoever told you that is correct. I am sad because I miss my home, my prince.”
“Your home?” Prince Yuuji echoed, curiously moving forward, “Where is your home?”
“I used to live in a small village far from here,” she hummed; she allowed her eyes to drift towards the mountains once more, “Until the king took me.”
“Took you?” Prince Yuuji questioned; his eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “Why did he take you?”
“Because he could, my prince,” the concubine replied, setting her book to the side, “The king takes what he pleases.”
“Would you tell me about your home, Lady Itadori?” Prince Yuuji asked eagerly, “I have never been outside the temple. What is it like?”
“Well, I have only truly seen my home and this temple,” the woman replied, almost seeming to be trying to find a way out of the conversation, “So that is all I can really tell you about. It might bore you.”
“I wish to hear about it,” Prince Yuuji said seriously, his little eyebrows furrowing together, “Wherever it was, it seems to have been nice. . .since you were so fond of it.”
“It was nice,” the lady agreed, “I lived outside of a village near the forest. My mother’s family had long since abandoned living in the village and moved into the forest. One of my ancestors built a beautiful house near a meadow of flowers and a hot spring. No one really knew about it except for my family. The house had been added onto for years, and it was grand. It was painted with a rare color that my ancestors made by grinding up a special flower that grew in the meadow. It was a gold color.”
The prince found it fascinating, moving to sit next to the woman as he said, “Was it more beautiful than the temple?”
“Yes,” Lady Itadori admitted, “Far more beautiful. My chambers were covered in flowers that grew naturally along the house. All I ever smelt was the sweet scent of flowers or the freshwater of the hot spring. Before my mother died, my father and I would go to the gardens every morning and pick out flowers for my mother when she woke up. She was always delighted, no matter how ugly our bouquets were.” 
She looked sad as she was reminded of the death of her mother, so the prince asked her, “How did your mother and father meet?”
Some of the lady’s melancholy dissipated as she replied, “My father had been one of the few to stumble upon the meadow and fell in love with my mother; they had me. I lived there until I was six and ten — when the king found me.”
“I am sorry you miss your home, my lady,” the prince said sadly; he then piped up, “I will visit you for now on! So that you can tell me about your home and not be lonely.”
Lady Itadori’s eyes widened, and she looked as though she were going to protest, until she looked in the eyes of the boy before her. He looked so excited, so eager and so she conceded with a nod, “Alright.”
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author's note thanks for reading! you can find this story/series on ao3 here.
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greatstormcat · 1 month
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Into the Fire
TF141 x f!reader
Part 5
Series Masterlist
TW: MDNI 18+, talk of violence, oral f!receiving, forced exhibitionism
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Things become tense after Laswell’s announcement, and you do your level best to avoid getting in anyone’s way. Whoever Baron Shepherd is, he is clearly not good news and everyone is on edge as a result. The castle’s stockpiles of supplies are checked and rechecked, food, weapons and of course, healing supplies. It’s a sudden change of intensity that catches you off guard but you find Laswell is a great support despite the demands already on her.
You quickly learn to delegate, to find a few younger members of the household staff who are able to run tasks, fetching and organising, while you prepare for the unknown. Small accidents happen, a crushed finger here when moving barrels, a sliced hand there from the guards training, and you have things to keep you from dwelling too much on matters.
At night, however, your nightmares become a constant battle. The feeling of being watched, of something just out of the corner of your eye waiting for you, constant restlessness plagues you. It becomes normal to quickly cross over and down the hall, to knock softly on Kyle’s door and sleep wrapped in his protective embrace.
He never complains, never turns you away despite how exhausted he is from the increased training and drills the knights are expected to undertake. His hands are rough and calloused, splits on his knuckles and bruises from sparring, but his kisses are no less hungry than before. He makes you feel safe, and you repay him eagerly, as he settles into the space between your thighs.
His chambers echo in the dark of night to the sounds of your crescendo moans, his greedy words and praises, chasing away the things that lurk inside your dreams with a fire born of passion. Falling asleep, with the steady beating of his heart against your ear, comes naturally and without fear afterwards.
The day finally arrives when the Baron’s army nears, and Price sends a messenger to invite him to talks. You peer out of your workspace window overlooking the courtyard, gazing down at Price and the assembled knights on the steps the the main door of the keep. Armour shines in the afternoon light, weapons sheathed but ready. Laswell stands beside Price, her face etched with tired lines. It’s rumoured she hasn’t slept at all since her spies sent word of the invasion, constantly gathering information and moving her field agents to get any advantage possible.
Your eyes move over Price and the others. Kyle and MacTavish have long swords sheathed at their hips, but Simon, skull helm in place, has a monstrous montante, a double handed sword near as tall as he is, strapped to his back and a mace at his hip. Everything about him is designed to send the message that he can, and will, kill.
The gate opens slowly, clanking on the heavy chains used to pull the enormous things open, the sound jolting your attention towards them. The clatter of many hooves on the approach to the gate can be heard over the tense silence in the courtyard, and Shepherd rides through with a small number of his own knights. The bald Baron halts at the bottom of the steps, making no move to dismount. He wears full armour, clearly meant as a display of readiness, as do his other knights. One figure stands out, robed in black and their head covered by a cowl. The horse they ride skitters and shies beneath them, and something about the sight makes your stomach lurch.
“You have some balls, Shepherd,” Price says gruffly. “Take your troops and get out of my lands.”
“That won’t be happening, and you know it,” Shepherd retorts, openly looking over the assembled display of strength in the courtyard and deigning to look unimpressed. “I haven’t come all this way just to turn tail now.”
“Then I’ll have to cut it off,” Price sneers, just as unfazed.
“You forget, John,” Shepherd drawls, a mirthless smile crinkling the skin around his eyes, “I have The Shadow himself in my pocket now. If I bring him into play you won’t stand a chance. Your entire little domain would be wiped out. Is that what you want?” He lifts a hand and beckons forth cloaked rider, the horse’s bit flecked with foam and its eyes wide with distress.
“You brought that fucking lich into my lands, my castle?” Price roars, stabbing his fingers at the black cowled figure before taking a breath and regaining his composure. “You’re talking about murdering thousands of innocent people,” Price grits out between clenched teeth, his fists clenching as though resisting the urge to lash you here and now.
“Casualties of war, nothing more,” the bald man replies, leaning back in his saddle and smiling smugly. “It's your choice, submit to me or condemn your people,” his eyes are cold as he speaks, as though he wants Price to oppose him just to give him the excuse he wants to rain down horror and bloodshed. “You’ve got a week to get your affairs in order, and then I’m coming for you.”
Price steps forward, voice low and deadly.
“You wont get away with this,” he snarls. Shepherd looks around the courtyard at the assembled knights, his eyes catch yours through the window momentarily and your blood runs cold.
“I doubt it,” he says finally, and pulls his horse’s reins, leaving through the gate with his riders. The cowled figure turns his fretful horse slowly, the animal clearly distressed by the creature on its back, the figure’s head turning this way and that as if searching for something. A cold, creeping sensation slithers over your skin but it is quickly countered by a burning anger that isn’t yours.
He looks up at you, eyes looking into yours instantly, and the smile that spreads across his pale face reveals unnaturally sharp teeth before moving through the gate. When the echo of hooves dies down Price sighs deeply.
“Kate, we need all the help we can get,” Price says, pointing his finger at her. “Get me Alejandro, now.”
“Yes, My Lord,” she replies and turns on her heel, heading back inside the keep without waiting another moment. You turn from the window, heart racing at the bizarre encounter and hearing Farah's words: what has risen with you?
Two days later the Harbour Master, Nikolai, stands on the quay watching as a ship carefully negotiates the breakwaters at the mouth of the harbour, its sails snapping in the fresh breeze. You try to ignore the way MacTavish’s kilt does the same as he stands at the edge of the wall, one leg braced up on a iron bollard. Nik bellows instructions to the dockhands, his voice booming as it carries, having them ready to berth the vessel. You stand with Kyle, MacTavish and Alex, waiting for the ship. Laswell had told you they needed a healer after a crewman was injured on their way here, so you rode down with them.
“So these are friends of yours?” Alex asks Kyle casually. You've grown fond of Alex and his easy going manner.
“Yeah, Price helped Alejandro and Rudy out a few years ago. Since then Price allows them a certain amount of leeway with their activities in exchange for answering his call when needed.”
“Huh,” Alex grins under his moustache, “so he’s got pirates on the books? Smart move.”
“Price is always two steps ahead,” Kyle replies with pride, “that's why we’re here.”
The ship slowly pulls up alongside the quay, ropes thrown to the hands on the harbour wall, and a man stands on the railing holding onto the rigging and grinning.
“Hermano!” MacTavish calls out to the man on the ship, a huge grin splitting his face, and receives an equally enthusiastic welcome back. As soon as the ship is moored the gangplank is deployed and the smiling man jumps ashore, making his way to MacTavish with long, easy strides. He wears dark, loose fitting trousers tucked into sturdy boots, and a dark hide vest that leaves his muscular arms exposed. A belt with a short sword circles his hips.
“Es tan bueno verte de nuevo, hermano,” he says, gripping MacTavish’s wrist and pulling him against his chest briefly. He embraces Kyle just as fondly, before being introduced to Alex.
“I wish it was under better circumstances,” Kyle says, and the man nods somberly.
“Agreed, but you know we wouldn’t turn you away. We owe you a debt,” he says, and you snort softly at the mention of debts, drawing his attention inadvertently. He glances from you to the others, a smirk on his face.
“And who is this?” He takes your hand and bows, placing a quick kiss on your knuckles before anyone can say a word and your eyes dart to Kyle. His eyes narrow, but he doesn’t say or do anything. Behind him, however, MacTavish covers his chortle with a cough.
“The bonnie lass is our new healer,” he explains, and pats Kyle on the shoulder roughly, “and Sir Kyle’s… eh… companion.”
Alejandro grins at you as he hears this, a mischievous glint in his eye.
“Oh? Well in that case I am honoured to meet you,” he doubles down and kisses your knuckles again, clearly intent on getting a reaction from Kyle.
“Alejandro, stop drooling on her,” a woman’s voice calls out from the ship. Alejandro’s charming expression twists and sours as he hears her and he turns. A man and a woman descend the gangplank, both dressed in similar garb to Alejandro. The woman is shorter, her dark hair cut short and tattoos covering the exposed skin of her arms. Her hips swap as the saunters down the plank, a confident smile on her face.
“There ya are Rudy!” MacTavish calls the man with her, and he smiles and greets him warmly. He isn't as tell as Alejandro, but just as solid in build.
“This is Valeria, she joined a few months ago,” Alejandro explains, his voice carrying a level of distrust as he indicates the woman joining them.
“She’s the healer we asked Laswell for,” he explains, stepping back as she locks her eyes onto you. Valeria moves to your side and puts her arm around your shoulders, her hip pressed against yours as though greeting an old friend, and she begins to take you towards the gangplank.
“Cariña,” Valeria says sweetly, shooting a look over her shoulder at Alejandro, “come with me and let them catch up. I will take you to our crewman.”  You cannot help but notice how his brow creases as he watches you leave with the woman, but her pull is insistent and you are soon making your way below deck with her. The air is dank and foetid below deck, and the only light comes from hanging lanterns suspended from the low beams. 
You’re glad that Sir Alex follows you, as something about this woman makes you feel like a mouse staring at a smiling viper waiting for it to strike. You’re taken to a man lying in a hammock, his arm splinted and his face ashen and drawn.
“He took a bad fall from the rigging,” Valeria explains, standing close enough to you that her breath tickles the side of your neck. You try to focus on the injured sailor, but she doesn’t move back her eyes on you constantly.
“So, uh, how many crew are on this ship?” Alex interrupts, clearly seeing your discomfort and trying to draw Valeria’s attention away from you. She turns sharp eyes on him, a slight toss of her head as she does so, before answering him. Thankfully he keeps her talking, getting her to tell him about the crew and the cargo they’re carrying. His mind is clearly quick and sharp, knowing how to keep her occupied. With her focus diverted, you concentrate on the injured man, quickly, so you can leave.
You soon leave the ship and rejoin Kyle who is still talking with Alejandro, moving beside him to distance yourself from Valeria, and Alex takes position on the other side of you.
“Come to the keep this evening, Price wants to have you at his table,” Kyle says with a final shake of hands.
“We will be there,” Alejandro accepts, and you follow the other to the horses to ride back up the hill to the castle.
“Are you okay?” Kyle asks as you ride beside him, finally having been given a horse of your own.
“I’m fine, just got an odd feeling from that woman,” you reply, trying to give him a smile and failing.
“Look, we’re heading to the training grounds to meeting with Simon. Do you want to come with us?” Kyle asks softly. He doesn’t demand you go with him as he might have done before, but you can tell it’s what he’d rather you did. To be honest, it’s exactly what you want right now.
“Please,” you nod. “If that’s okay?”
“It is,” he says and you hear his relief. You ride with the knights around the side of the curtain wall to a large grassy area where archery butts and other equipment is set up. You quickly spot Simon, larger than anyone else by a head, giving instructions to younger knights as they practice. Steel flashes and glints in the bright sunlight as they cut and parry, and you panic. They’re only wearing padded clothing and steel helmets.
“Aren’t they going to kill each other? They’re barely wearing any armour,” you observe, watching as one young man catches his opponent on the arm. You tense, waiting for it to slice through the padded gambeson.
“Those are just feders, training swords,” Kyle explains with a grin. “They’re completely blunt, but still leave a bitch of a mark behind.” He winces as though from recent memory. The young knight twists with the impact of the blow but just shakes his arm and carries on.
“That’s still going to bruise him,” you mutter, earning a chuckle from MacTavish.
“Builds character, cannae take soft bairns into battle,” he grins, before shrugging out of his shirt and your eyebrows raise when he stands there in just his kilt and boots. They all do the same, and heat creeps up your neck and face as you realise this is how they practice, without any padding or protection.
You sit and watch once Simon joins them, as the four men begin their own training, simple drills to begin with cycling through a series of cuts with their own blunted swords. Swords raised then swept down as they cut through the air and then again in another direction for several minutes. Then they pair up and begin to spar, muscles bunching and shifting as they dodge, deflect and counter with dizzying speed. Sweat beads and runs down their skin, the sun blazing down onto them and adding to their exertion. 
They stop after a few hours, and walk with you safely in their midst back to the safety of the castle.
“Can you use a sword?” Simon asks you thoughtfully.
“No, but I can shoot a bow well enough to hunt with,” you offer hopefully. He nods, lips tight as if this is barely enough in his eyes.
“Better than nothing I guess,” Kyle sighs, he looks concerned at the idea of you fighting at all.
“Your best defence is always to run, no matter what weapons you have to hand though,” Simon continues, his dark eyes serious in his scarred face. “If anyone, or anything, comes after you, just run.” The way he says ‘anything’ makes you uncomfortable.
“I will keep that in mind,” you say, trying to hide the tremble in your voice. It’s cooler inside the granite walls of the keep and you let Kyle guide you down the stairs behind the others, soon recognising you are heading towards the bathhouse. The men discuss their training, but Kyle is quiet, his jaw tight as you glance at him and you turn to ask what’s bothering him just as you reach the door where Laswell had guided you on your first day here, which stands open.
Kyle pulls you through the open door slamming it closed behind you in the startled faces of the others. Before you can breathe another breath he presses you against the solid wood with a kiss. 
“Pulled a favour with Laswell,” he murmurs against your lips. Dropping his shirt and unfastening the laces of your bodice as his tongue delves into your mouth. In a few moments he has you naked and pinned to the door, the warm air of the bath house ghosting across your skin. 
His mouth is hot and wet against your skin, leaving kisses and small bites in its wake as he moves down, kneeling before you and lifting one of your plush thighs over his shoulder. You know his destination, and a shudder runs through you in anticipation, the excitement pooling in your cunt.
“I saw you looking at the others,” he growls between kisses. “Just need you to remember who you owe your life to.”
The first flick of his tongue against your throbbing clit nearly has you falling on top of him, if it weren’t for the grip he has on your hips and his strength supporting your thigh on his shoulder. Voices echo from the other room, and you suddenly flush realising that they will hear you if you make too much noise.
His tongue moves languidly against your clit, your thighs trembling as he draws out the delicious friction against it. Soft moans and gasps fall from your lips, and you fight to keep quiet. He pulls away, and you stifle a needy whine as you look down at him. His mouth glistens and his dark eyes burn up at you.
“You’re gonna let them hear you when you come,” he says, steel in his tone. “So they know you’re mine.”
A thick finger slides too easily inside you, your body already begging to be filled by him in any way it can be, and you feel the groan he makes against your clit. You clench around his finger, already dangerously high on arousal, and whimper unapologetically when he sucks on your engorged clit. His finger moves in and out of you, timed perfectly with his licks and sucks. 
But it is the addition of this second finger that makes your knees weak and breaks your silence. He pumps them into you, refusing to rush you to your end, your harsh breathing echoing around the daft stones of the bathhouse. All you can hear is the rushing of blood in your ears and your own groans as he fucks you with his hand, tongue circling and teasing your clit.
You can’t help but moan his name, riding the pleasure higher and higher until you cannot contain it any longer. With a sharp cry you come on his fingers, desperate whimpers following as you ride out the spasm while he works you through your orgasm.
“That’s my girl,” he purrs, lowering your leg and helping you into the soothing water of the tub. He quickly joins you and holds you to his chest as you float in the heady afterglow of your orgasm. The two of your take time to enjoy the warmth of the water together, sharing kisses and gentle touches before the chill of the cooling bath forces you to wash and get out.
Later, the household gather in the main hall for the evening meal. Price welcomes Alejandro and Rudy, but Valeria is noticeably absent. For that, you feel distinctly grateful, not wanting to be near her any longer than necessary.
“This is wonderful,” Rudy says in awe as he looks over the food heaped on the long table. “We’ve had too many days of dried meat out at sea. You eat like kings here on land.” Alejandro rolls his eyes at him with a smile.
“Price keeps us well fed,” Simon agrees, tearing into a piece of beef on the table before him.
“Aye, Kyle had plenty to eat earlier,” MacTavish winks at you, “but the lass needs to regain her strength.”
Laughter erupts around the table, Kyle punching the Highlander’s arm without malice. But the moment is cut short as a blast of a horn sounds through the castle, smiles freezing instantly.
“What’s going on?” Simon bellows, standing up so urgently his chair clatters to the flagstones. A guard rushes to respond, his face a mask of horror.
“The gates have been opened! We don’t know how, but Shepherd’s men are in the courtyard!”
-----------------------------------------------------
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hauntedwitch04 · 4 months
Text
Just a Mirror
Sam Winchester x plus size!Reader
Words: about 6.3k words
Warning: saddy sadness, and some allusion to sexy time, eating disorder, hating on your own person, please be careful if you sensible about this themes
REQUEST: Hi :) I saw that your requests are open, and I was wondering if you could do a Sam Winchester x plus sized reader; an angsty fluffy friends to lovers that has some smut and reader hating herself in the mirror and possibly problems with eating
Author’s note: Hi love! Thank you @desicroft02 so much for your request. I felt really inspired by your idea love and I hope you like how it came out, if you don't find yourself with what i wrote, feel free to say it to me and I'll write to you a new one !
p.s.I got very caught up in the topic, since it is something I feel very close to. I was never the skinny girl, but with the years I've grown used to feel different to others girls, and even if sometimes I really hate what I see in the mirror, I kinda arrived to the point that I see both the flaws and the strenghts of my body and I love both, but some of my closest friend and this kinda of disorder and I tried to help them the way aI could so this one is for them too.
In case you need someone to talk to, I am always here, don't be afraid to seek help because often having someone close by to remind you that the volume of that evil voice we hear inside can be lowered or eliminated is important.
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Why?
This is the only question that floats in your mind, while, with thick tears in your eyes, you try to read the enormous book about whatever monster you are hunting with your friends in this little city, forgotten by God.
You and your childhood best friends are hunting some monster that you still haven't been able to figure out what it is, despite the fact that you are reading yet another list of monstrous animals in the story, while Dean and Sam are still out at the bar where you had decided to spend the evening, and from which you had decided to escape as quickly as possible, without giving any kind of explanation to the two hunters, holding back tears and trying not to meet their confused gaze
You and the boys have been friends since you were six and they were seven and eleven. You met on a rainy October day when you were still living at Bobby's house, after your father had died in a hunting accident after leaving you with him, and being his friend and seeing him almost as a brother he couldn't help but welcome you and raise you as if you were his own daughter.
Dean and Sam had just been left in the rain on the narrow dirt road by their father when you looked out and saw these two cold, sad, and at the same time angry children. You could see the resentment they felt for the man who looked less and less like a father and more and more like an army general, ready to train soldiers and not raise children. Immediately you went to Bobby and told him of the presence of those two unknown children who were in your driveway. He had immediately run to get them and brought them inside the house, worried that they would get sick from standing in the rain, and wondering why their father had left them there, without saying anything.
"He said he didn't have time to explain and that he had to get there as fast as he could, but that he would call you this evening." Said the older of the two once they were seated on the couch in what must once have been a beautiful dining room, and was now more like an ever-growing mountain of books. It is to your adoptive father that you owe all the culture and ability to read texts on the supernatural that most hunters would not even know how to open.
As he spoke you could see the blond child trying to hold back the sadness within himself and show himself as a big boy, almost pretending to understand why his father abandoned them like that without saying a word; in contrast, the one who was supposed to be the smaller of the two, with unruly brown hair, looked more like a beaten puppy, as he wetly moved his feet lazily on the floor, listening to what his brother had to say, but not hiding his sadness and anger at his daddy's decision.
"Baby, couldn't you get Sammy a glass of water for him while Dean and I go make a call for a minute?" Bobby then asked you suddenly, and you realized that you were lost in thought as you watched and studied those boys. You nodded quickly, trying not to let it show that you had spent all that time staring at them, as you heard Bobby's voice and that of the blond boy, apparently named Dean, drift away, only to hear the front door open and close.
After a few minutes you returned to the living room with a glass in your hand, and walked over to the brown-eyed boy, who was now looking at you and smiling shyly. You handed him the glass with a beaming smile, and he could do nothing but blush a little and retract his body a little, letting shyness take possession of him as he took the glass.
"Thank you." He told you in a faint voice.
"You're welcome." You replied as you sat next to him on the sofa.
"My name is Sam." He said, only to freeze and blush again as he held out a hand for you to shake, just as grown-ups do. You told him your name, and he commented that it was a very nice name, and that he liked it a lot, before going back to being silent and staring into the sad void.
You not being able to see what you considered a new friend feel so bad, you shamelessly asked him why his father had left him there and if that was why he was sad. He turned to look at you, and unknown how, he burst into tears, while with his hands he covered his face, not wanting to be seen as weak with someone he had just met, but you didn't give a damn.
Immediately you hugged him and listened to him talk about how his father was behaving with them, how his brother was struggling more and more to hide that he was tired of his parent's behavior, and how he was lonely and sad, constantly changing towns and seeing nothing but his family. That poor seven-year-old seemed to be thirty years old because of the problems he was telling you about, and as much as you were even younger because you were only six, you felt like you could understand him, because for a while that had also been your life before your father passed away.
You remained thus cuddled on the couch and fell asleep, lulled by the warmth of the fire slightly away from you and the new friendly presence that had entered your lives that afternoon, so much so that when Bobby and Dean returned after trying for a varied amount of time to contact John, and finally once succeeding in being insulted and put down by him, they both smiled at the sight of those two small and defenseless children embracing each other, as if to protect each other from the world. But no one knew that night before you fell asleep you had promised to protect each other forever, no matter how, when or why you would always be there for each other.
That was how you got to know the Winchester brothers, and the hatred for their father also began.
You awaken from your thoughts when you hear the motel door open and close, realizing that another time had gone into the whirlwind of memories and you were lost in remembering again when life was easy. You hear someone coming toward you with heavy footsteps, so you wipe away the tears you didn't know were there on your cheeks, which like small streams had almost made a furrow along your skin by now.
You sense right away who it is, but you don't have the strength to turn around so you continue to cry silently as you feel two arms wrapped around you, and Dean's warm body resting on your back as he leans down so that he can put his head in the crook of your neck and hold you better. Ever since the two of you met it was immediately like big brother and little sister between the two of you, and even now despite the fact that it has been a long time since you were children and in your spare time you enjoyed stealing cherries from the neighbor's tree, there is still that complicity and understanding between the two of you that once existed.
He knows exactly why you escaped so suddenly from the dive bar you were both in a few hours ago. Sam had seen a beautiful girl, the classic cover model of some magazine, slim and with all her shape in the right place, taking a drink at the bar, looking seductively at him as she put the drink straw between her lips. Sam's hormones had not let him repeat twice that clear call to fuck directly in the bar's bathroom, a bathroom from which you were coming out as he was sticking his tongue down the throat of that fake and at the same time perfect babe, who in his arms looked so small and yet in the right place, toned against his strong muscles, as opposed to how you would have looked with your shapely body. You couldn't stand there and watch the boy you love for so long now make out with someone else, so without explanation you left and went back to the motel where you took two bedrooms for the case. Usually you take two rooms only when Dean wanted to find someone to take to bed, unlike Sam who kept his sex life much more private than his brother, but since he and Cas had come out a few months ago you had not taken the second room, having practically grown up together and thus having no problem sharing space. That night, however, when you had arrived in the small town Sam had insisted on taking a second room, and stubbornly had not told his older brother why when he had asked him, and somehow your heart was preparing for what would happen, but in fact nothing would totally prepare you for what you would see in that bar and how your heart would break.
Dean squeezes you tightly, as if he is afraid you will disappear at any moment, and that heartfelt squeeze only makes you break the weak dam you had built when you saw him come in, and you burst into endless weeping.
"I know baby, I know." That's all the blond man can manage to say to you, as he gets you up and carries you toward the bed, so you can lie down and take off your shoes, before coming close to you and holding you in his arms, until exhausted, you fall asleep safe in Dean's strong hold, while he whispers soothing words to you.
The next morning you wake up with the sun gently caressing your face from over Dean's shoulder. You smile for a second, imagining what it would be like to wake up in the other Winchester's arms, and soon after your heart, as if pierced by an arrow, bleeds at the memory of what happened last night. You get up, shifting your friend's arms, and go to the bathroom to wash and freshen up, when you hear the door to your room open, and a male voice, known even too well, shout to your still sleeping friend.
"Dean, wake up!" Sam yells, and you behind the door hold a hand over your heart, just imagining her beauty after her usual morning run to stay in shape. Her long dark hair tied back in a light bun, her forehead sweaty and muscles still tense from exertion.
"I'm awake, you asshole." Dean replies, as you hear him get up and go get some coffee. "You could have deigned to make less noise last damn night, you know there were people here who wanted to sleep."
You hear Sam snort at his brother's words, then respond to him in an aggressive, cold tone.
"Well then there are people who wouldn't want to see you run off to fuck wherever we go, hold hands all the time or make love wherever you are. And you know something else too Dean, I thought you were a better person. Why her? Come on you've had a lot of girls, and it wouldn't cost you anything to find a thousand more, why did you have to choose her!?" Says the younger brother, before leaving the room, slamming the door behind him.
You close your eyes and try to control your breathing as you feel yourself lacking oxygen. You feel tears coming to your eyes, but you try with all your strength to push them back down. You take a few minutes to control your emotions as all you want to do is fall to the floor on your knees and scream until you can't hear yourself anymore, but you stay strong and open the door to see Dean immediately in front of you, looking pained and guilty, seeing your state.
"You didn't tell him." You say in a calm, quiet voice, not asking, but stating that your best friend had not told about his new relationship with our angel friend.
"I never found the right time." Dean tries to say, then looks down. "I never had the courage, every time I seemed to miss the words."
"Sam would never judge you, and you know that." You say as you feel a pang inside your heart, remembering the words the man you love had used a few minutes earlier. You feel your clothes sticking to your body like glue, too tight, so tight that you feel as if they have pre torn. You feel how the floor gives way under your feet, you feel how a billion eyes are on you ready to judge you, you feel something inside you break, but you can't let anyone but yourself see how mere words have hurt you, so you grit your teeth and continue to look at Dean stoically, as you feel a single and only tear escape down your face.
"I know, but I'm afraid in the same way, I don't want it to end like last time." Dean confesses, still looking at the floor, but crying clearly, as his words take you back to when you were nothing more than kids and he had come crying to you one night, confessing that he had fallen in love with a boy he had met during his last case, and that his father after finding out had beaten him so badly that his scars remained, and had forced him to watch pornographic movies, reminding him how "a real man acts." No one had ever seen you as angry as Dean, and Bobby when he heard you scream and came to watch that night as you swore to heaven that you would kill John Winchester. Dean had never told Sam about that episode, not wanting to worry him since he had just run away to study at Stanford, and asked you to do the same. It has been so long since that night, yet the memory of that pain and that man still frightens the wonderful person in front of you.
"But I swear I will. He has no right to think such things about you! I-I will tell him-" He begins to say, as he tries to wipe away the tears running copiously down his face. You, moved in turn and knowing that like you he too was remembering that fateful evening, take his face in your hands and bring his eyes to gaze fixedly into yours.
"No, you won't do it now, you will do it when you feel like it." You comment chuckling as you caress his face. He looks at you unconvinced and you see his inner battle inside whether to accept your proposal or to be as always too good and allow the world to kick him in the balls.
"Please be selfish for once. And if I serve as your cover, so be it, not that I would have had any chance with him anyway." You continue, smiling at him as you feel your heart slowly shatter. You see Dean ready to retort, but you have already disappeared back into the bathroom, crying silently. Once the bathroom door is closed, you stop to look at yourself in the mirror and realize how disgusted you feel about your body.
There is not a single thing about you that you like: your thighs, your arms, your stomach, your chest.
The more you look at yourself, the more you want to break that all-too-truthful mirror, which tells an unfiltered reality, a sad truth that for so long you had tried to ignore, but which now that Sam had spit it in your face you could no longer pretend not to see. So you decide at this very moment that everything was going to change, you don't know how, but it was going to happen.
So weeks go by, Sam still won't talk to you, and slowly you continue to sink into the stupid realization that he doesn't because only he, like you, can really see your body, and that he hates you for it, so now convinced that you have to change your body to be loved, you begin to eat less and less and more rarely, and what little you put in your mouth to make Dean happy, who sees you getting sadder and more tired, is rejected from your stomach just moments later when no one is looking at you. This situation hurts your body and your heart, but you do it so that you can look at yourself in the mirror without wanting to punch him, but things seem to get worse and worse. You look at yourself and you never fit, before you saw a body you didn't like, now beyond that you see a person you don't like.
Dean is getting more and more worried about you, seeing you getting paler and paler and thinner, but every time he tries to talk to you, you put on a smile and pretend that everything is going well and that the only reason your shirts now look huge on you is that you are working out more, but he knows that you never liked sports and that is why he knows you are lying to him. He tried to talk to Sam about what was going on, but all his brother managed to say by pouting was that if he needed relationship advice to go somewhere else and that he didn't want anything to do with the two of you.
Dean was on the verge of smashing the plate he was holding in his face and yelling at him to open his eyes and see that you love him more than Dean does right now and that he is fucking in love with their favorite angel, but then he had seen Castiel's face and knew he couldn't let him down after he asked him to keep a low profile and let as few people as possible know about their relationship.
Dean had never felt so lousy as deciding between the love of his life and a friend in need, but he knew that if you found out what he had done you would insult him, so he played it cool and moved on, as if nothing had happened, while he continued to try to take care of you, with little success.
It's been almost a month since Sam had said those horrible things, and you're not getting worse and worse, but in order not to show it in front of your friends, you keep doing the same things as before, trying to have the same cheerfulness.
You are now hunting a werewolf in a remote town in a state you don't even remember. Your body is weak, you haven't eaten anything Dean has brought you in the last three days taken at the various fast food restaurants and bars he had found along the way, and what little you had put in your mouth had gone down the drain shortly thereafter, hating yourself just for having the idea that you could eat something. You feel your eyelids as heavy as shutters, the muscles in your body are nonexistent, and what few are left ache from the mere effort of standing and walking, while your head throbs incessantly.
In this you are scouting around where the last victims had been killed, to see if you can find any more information, but so far you have not had much success, so you decided to split up.
You are barely holding the flashlight in your hand, too heavy for you, when you feel a sudden dizziness that forces you to lean against the wall. You stay a few minutes trying to catch your breath, eyes closed, breathing in the cool night air around you, when you hear a noise coming from a short distance away from you, like a dog growling. With difficulty you open your eyes and see before you a sight that is frightening to say the least: the werewolf you were looking for is looking at you ravenously, while a dark laughter rumbles from his belly to his mouth. Quickly you try to pick up the phone to call Dean or Sam, but unfortunately your mind is so clouded that you can't even do simple things like this and the phone slips out of your hands to the monster's feet.
"The Winchesters' little friend!" He says, seeing who you were trying to contact. "I've heard a lot about you, among the monsters you are known as their true weakness: so small and helpless, you wouldn't even survive my bite, I'll do you a favor and eat your miserable heart." He continues as he gets closer, and you do whatever comes to your chin at this moment, as you feel death coming slowly but comfortingly too, like an old friend you haven't seen in a long time. You scream Sam and Dean's name as loud as you can, hoping that at least one of them can hear you, your lungs aching from how much breath you had to use and your throat burning from the effort as you feel your strength failing.
You lean back against the wall again, this time with your back, and let yourself slide down to the floor, as your vision goes completely black and your ears become plugged as when you go too deep underwater, and the world seems more and more distant. You have one last flicker of life before you pass out completely in that dark alley, at the mercy of that monster, and you hear Sam's voice call out your name for a moment.
Your heart loses a beat, and then completely dark.
You awaken with a jump and a gasp as you sit up on the bed on which someone has carried you. Your head immediately begins to spin like a spinning top, and your vision fails again as you feel a warm hand settle on your shoulder and bring you back to lie down.
"Relax, you're safe now. It's okay." Says in a low, soft tone a rough voice, leading back to Sam. You, shocked to know he is there next to you, open your eyes with difficulty and find yourself lying on the bed in your room, in the bunker, as you see him kneeling beside your bed. His face shows the weariness he feels, but in his eyes shines a strange hope as he looks at you mixed with sadness. You place your gaze on the rest of the room and see your favorite chair, where you usually sit to read your books or do your research when you are tired of sitting in the library, covered with blankets and pillows, making you realize that your favorite giant has been sleeping there for what seems to be even more than a couple of days, otherwise everything looks the same, unchanged, and strangely everything now seems to make more sense with the presence of Sam and some of his things in the room. Immediately you slap yourself in the face at that thought, reminding yourself that he hates you, and that the reason he is here is because Dean will have had better things to do than watch you sleep.
You're about to tell him that he can leave, and leave you alone, knowing that he doesn't even want to be in the same room with you, as he has shown recently, and that in case his brother asks you, you won't tell him, but he beats you to the punch and starts talking.
"First of all I want to say I'm sorry, you don't even know how much, and I certainly understand if you never forgave me in your life, because I wouldn't forgive myself." Sam says, as you see tears forming in his eyes. You try to stop him, confused as to why he was making that speech, but he stops you in turn and begs you to let him finish.
"We found you just in time, by "luck," if you can call it that, that asshole had decided to torture you a bit before eating your heart, and we got there before he could do it, but when Cas touched you to treat you he said he didn't know if you would survive anyway because your body was too weak since you hadn't eaten for too many days. Dean insulted me and even beat me up a bit before explaining the matter from his point of view." You can't help but widen your eyes, and Sam chuckles seeing your expression, as two tears run down his face, and he darkens a little again before continuing, without looking you in the eye.
"Yes, he also told me about Cas, and also about that affair with our father to make me understand why you decided to cover for him."
You close your eyes for a moment, expecting a series of insults, but you only feel his lips rest on your hand, so you open them again and see him leaning over the bed, as you feel his tears coming hot to contact your cold hand.
"Thank you." The boy confesses in a whisper. "Thank you for everything you did for Dean, thank you for always taking care of him when I couldn't or was too blind and stupid to, I don't deserve to have you in my life."
You can't find the words, and so you do the only thing you can think of this moment, and you take his hand and squeeze it, while barely smiling at him.
"We will always have helped each other, you remember. Then Dean will be your brother, but it's like he's my brother too." You say as you pull his face up and force him to look into your eyes. You see him cry even harder, a few sobs escaping his lips, as he squeezes your hand even tighter.
"I'm sorry, I promised I would always protect you, and instead I was so stupid and jealous that I didn't realize what I was doing." He tells you again, only to stop for a moment and look at you this time with a resolve he lacked until a few seconds ago. "Why did you stop eating? How come you covered your mirror in the bathroom? Dean found the remains of the one from before in the garage, thought you didn't like it and got a new one, so he changed it for you."
Immediately you remember, one night in a rage after looking at yourself in the mirror for the umpteenth time, you had started punching it until it had become nothing but stardust under your bleeding fingers, and the next day when you had returned from your walk with the dog, you had found a new one, with a note from Dean who had said that seeing that you had taken it off, thinking that you didn't like it anymore, he had bought a new one, so realizing that you couldn't escape that vicious cycle and knowing that if it happened one more time it would arouse even more suspicion, you had simply covered it up, and hoped that no one would ever learn of that dirty secret, and instead, here it all was for all to see.
You look at Sam in those damned puppy-dog eyes of his, and burst into desperate weeping. He, seeing you in this state, instinctively picks you up and holds you in his arms.
"I disgust myself Sam." You finally manage to utter those damn words, and immediately you feel as if your soul lightens as you feel his arms grip your body even tighter as if you could disappear at any moment, and at the same time he does it with an innate delicacy, as if it were a precious crystal figurine that can be broken under his gaze. "I'm disgusted by my body, I'm disgusted by every single thing about me, and you're disgusted by it too, don't lie to me. I thought if I lost weight things would get better, but they don't, I feel worse and worse." You continue, while somehow trying to get away from him.
"In what sense would you disgust me? When would I have ever said such a thing?" He asks confusedly as he looks at you, tears have dried on his face. His eyes range and seem to want to imprint your every little detail in his memory. His gaze makes you blush as you try to find the words to tell him how his words have done nothing but unleash a storm that had long been locked up somewhere inside you and was just waiting to be released. So you take a deep breath and tell him everything, while he looks at you attentively and astonished, his arms still around his body, as if he needs reminding that you are there beside him, and that you are not just a product of his mind.
You tell him everything, every little thing you had felt hearing his words while you were locked in that damn bathroom, your feelings and emotions in the month to follow, along with all the thoughts and all the actions you had put in place in the hope that he would no longer hate you, and that maybe you would hate yourself less, too. He starts crying again, and hides his face in the crook of your neck.
You stay a few minutes clasped to each other, in silence, after you have poured your heart out in front of him, ready to suffer the consequences, when he takes your face in his hands and stares at you steadily with those chocolate-colored eyes of his, and for a moment you feel your breath short.
"Don't ever think of such a thing again. Never. You are perfect exactly as you are, there is nothing I would change about you, there is nothing I don't love about you." At his words you stand still, as if petrified, afraid that a single movement of yours could mean the breaking of this beautiful illusion. "Yes, I am tired of holding all this in, I love you, I love you so much that I am sick just thinking about not having you near me for a second, I love you so much that I would have been ready to kill my brother for stealing the girl I love all my life, I love you so much that I would be ready to climb the highest mountain in the world and scream it to everyone!" He continues as he stands up on the bed, and begins to move his arms quickly, just enough to make you laugh. At the sound of your laughter he turns to look at you, and smiles even more, to return next to you on his knees and cup your face in his hands. "I love every little, tiny thing about you madly. I'm crazy, crazy in love, and I was a fool because I was so convinced that getting away from you would be better for you, that I didn't realize that you were suffering because of me, and I'm sorry. On the one hand I would like to let you go and make you happy, but on the other hand I am an extremely selfish being and I only want you for myself." He continues as he rests his forehead on yours, whispering the last words. "I love you, and I'm sorry."
You look at him, and not even realizing what you are doing, you take his face in your hands and bring his lips to yours. The kiss you exchange arises as sweet and gentle, like two flames dancing in an elegant dance side by side, testing each other's reaction, in the same way your lips move over each other, slowly tasting that new sensation. You feel her soft lips caressing yours, until neither of you has a single breath left.
"I love you too if you hadn't realized it idiot." You comment making him laugh. "I love you, and for so long I would have preferred not to because it made me sick, yet I could do nothing but love you. The only reason that kept me alive was my love for you, even though it was also my poison." You continue by looking into his eyes, and you see the pain in his.
"If you forgive me, I will do everything to correct what I have done." He looks at you, with a penitent and pleading gaze, as he takes your hands in his, before you release one and place it on his right cheek, and he instinctively leans into your hands, seeking that simple contact.
"I've already forgiven you moron." She laughingly comments, before throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him again, but this time the air in the room is different. The atmosphere becomes more erotic and intriguing. You feel his hands carefully explore your body, running his hands down your sides from your breasts to your butt, where he rests his large, warm hands, before slipping them under your T-shirt and caressing the skin of your back, making you shiver. You feel his hand rise higher and higher to the level of your bra and undo the hook that held it, but then he stops. Parting your lips he looks into your eyes for a second.
"If you don't feel up to it it's perfectly fine honey, we can stop here-"Sam says unsure, but you stop him.
"Afraid it's too much for you Winchester?" You ask as you raise your eyebrows, and see him smile, before resting his lips on yours, then creating a trail of kisses from your mouth to the chest exposed by the shirt you are wearing, down your neck.
"God, how I've missed you." He comments between kisses, but then stops again and looks at you seriously. "Anyway, I wasn't kidding myself, if you don't feel comfortable we can stop here."
You look at him, in his eyes only the pure affection and love you feel for him, and then put an end to all his doubts.
"I want to do it Sam." You say in a whisper as you take the bottom of his shirt with your hands and slowly slip it off, thus also dropping the bra he had unfastened a few minutes ago. "I want to do it with you Sam."
He looks at you and doesn't let you tell him twice, and he resumes his attack on your neck, leaving obvious signs of his passage, and then moves on to your breasts.
"God, you're perfect." He whispers before teasing one of your nipples. You moan softly at that sensation, feeling his teeth clench, his lips kiss and his tongue lick every single inch of your body, worshipping you like a goddess, a queen, tasting every inch of your skin.
This wonderful moment is interrupted, however, by the unannounced entrance of Dean, who, seeing the scene of his brother splayed across your body as he kisses your breasts, and with one hand explores the rest of your body, while you clutch his long hair in your hands, moaning his name shamelessly, lets out a small scream, before closing the door again.
"Damn you guys could warn." Comments the older brother, as Sam with speed grabs a blanket to cover you.
"Should we announce? You're the one who entered the room unannounced!" Sam replies in turn, making an expression that makes you laugh. "You can still come in now jerk."
"Bitch." Dean retorts, to open the bedroom door again and have a stupid grin plastered on his face. "So, I see Sam hasn't exactly figured out how to talk and resolve a situation, usually the mouth should be free to talk, not busy sucking-"
"You try to say one more Winchester word and I'll tell everyone about Christmas with Cindy McWood." You threaten him, and see him whiten, before his smile returns to its former self.
"Well what can I say in that case guys, good conversation and be sure to use protection, I'm not ready to be an uncle." He says closing the door behind him, then opening it again. "Not that I wouldn't make a great uncle, but I would say I'm too young and then-"
"Out!" You and Sam scream in unison, and the only thing Dean does is give you the finger before walking away. The two of you stand still for a moment weighing what just happened and burst out laughing, before Sam's lips find yours again.
"Where were we?" He asks you next, and you can't help but smile and moan at feeling his lips on you again.
It's shaping up to be a very interesting night, long but interesting, and you know that in the end maybe by tomorrow morning you can slowly look at yourself in the mirror, seeing the reflection of the man you love behind you supporting you.
TAGLIST
@supernatural-lvr @itzdarling @newtdumbledoorstarksoot @evansstan-akya
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teatreeoilll · 3 months
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Retribution (Ryomen Sukuna X Reader)
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w/c - 0.5k content warnings - MDNI!, 18+, fem!reader, dom!reader, attempted murder (lol), language, poisoning, Heian-era sorta sub!Sukuna, sorta smutty drabble, Reader is a pissed-off concubine trying to kill the King of Curses. I dunno what came over me
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"Has the king heard the tale of the obedient emperor?" You muse, your tone an eerie tune that lingers in the dim chamber. 
"What's in the drink, human?" Sukuna demands, his gaze locked onto his own fidgeting palms.
When Sukuna's fingers first wrapped around the cup, you scolded yourself for ever letting the other miserable concubines coerce you into believing that a mere poison in his drink would end his life. But as his body began to tremble, still trying to remain seated on the bed, and his pupils burst into black holes within his ruby irises, a glimmer of hope coursed through you like hellfire. 
"Nothing, my king. It's nothing but wine." You hold your breath as his body falters, "Unwell, my king?" There is a hint of self-satisfaction in your words as his arm extends towards you. But then, like pulled by an invisible string, it retreats, falling back onto his side. 
"They say a thousand years ago, far up north, lived the strongest emperor the world has ever known," You resume, watching the cup slip from Sukuna's grip, staining the wooden floor with remnants of the crimson drink, "It is said he had an army hundreds of thousands strong, servants to abide his every whim .." 
Sukuna's eyes pierce through you. He attempts to speak, but his words emerge as nothing but deep grunts and growls. His mouth fills with taste of lead as the cursed energy flowing through his body already works on his recovery.
"Ah-ah, don't interrupt," your malicious grin sends waves of fury down his spine, "Or you might not get to hear the ending." 
In the pleasure districts of your town which the king of curses burned to ashes, the brothel owner taught you thoroughly; all men who possess great power, crave to relinquish it as well.
Sukuna’s body wobbles, the thud of his torso hitting the mattress is like music to your ears. 
"Where was I? Oh - the servants. Men and women who cowered in fear when he spoke, who built him a palace so vast that even the gods looked down upon it with envy. And so, the gods decided to curse him." 
You approach the bed, watching his monstrous limbs sprawled across the mattress, enjoying the subtle twitches of resentment in his expression.
"They cursed him so that even with all his power," You put a knee on either side of his body, straddling him with all your weight, "He could not feel any pleasure until he would submit to another." You grind against his hips, a moan escaping your lips as you feel the bulge grow under you. 
"You like this, don’t you? Like being powerless?" 
"-Fucking Bitch." He groaned, interrupting your gleeful smirk; your eyes widen as you tip your chin down to watch his arms regain their vigor, shooting out to slam you on the mattress. 
You gasp for air, freezing when his body towers over you. The thuds of your pounding heart deafen your ears as he stretches out his arm. Your breath halts as you brace for impact, and for a fleeting moment, you see the imminent end.
Instead, he slams his hand down on the mattress beside your head, his expression a flushed, panting mess as he thrusts his clothed hips between your legs. "Fuck you." 
"Be nice," you chastise. As your initial plan crumbled, a greater wave of pleasure engulfed your senses at the sound of his breathless moans.
Maybe you’ll make him beg, just for fun.
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bfbkg · 8 months
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lunaaa!! just curious what would be in bakugo’s bag if he did that yt interview? idk if you’ve alr done that yet
HEY
WHATS IN MY BAG!!! BKG EDITION (list version lol)
i imagine he brings on his monstrous black army style multiple pockets, heavy without anything in it, expensive branded rucksack. the bag is massive but it looks normal on his back.
i think he’d carry actually quite a lot. like it’s the bag he keeps on him nearly all the time. always in the trunk of his car, he brings it when he’s sleeping over somewhere, in the corner of his office. literally his emotional support backpack. has everything he needs for every situation.
spare change of clothes. simple tshirt and joggers.
two changes of underwear. two extra socks.
bolts and screws for his gauntlets.
first aid kit.
his ipad for work.
wires and cables and chargers.
lip balm. a coconut one you like but he doesn’t mention that.
water bottle on one side.
electrolyte drink on the other side.
hed have a random photo booth strip of photos of you and him. he never took them out his bag when he first got them and now he knows it’s there he just keeps them.
notebook n pen. you never know when you need it.
one of your scrunchies. he never uses it but it’s there if you need it.
deodorant, shower gel, face cream, toothbrush, toothpaste.
cologne because there’s been too many times he’s finished work late and he had to meet you after.
somehow manages a little blanket that can double as a towel.
tiny tool set. for his gauntlet and whatnot.
his reading glasses and contacts.
protein bars. probably like four lol
his expensive ass wallet with one of those passport photos of you inside.
has a dynamight badge in the front of him, a little chibi of him a fan made for him. has green ribbon through one of the zips that you did thinking he wouldn’t notice.
this is all i can think of now because i believe he’s got things that i wouldn’t even think of lol SURVIVAL MODE BACKPACK you know???
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