#creating beauty instead of causing violence

[clarisse-doodles]

Cass + ballet 🩰 (ft. supportive siblings and good dad Bruce)

I love the idea of Cass enjoying dance. It's an outlet that allows her to express herself without words, and I think she would enjoy the highly technical aspect of ballet combined with its storytelling and emotional side. and as a former dancer I always have fun imagining my fav characters do ballet :)

[prodbymaui]

LET THE WORLD BURN — 이동혁.

this is how it always had to end. if I can't have you, no one can

PAIRING: lee donghyuck x reader

GENRE: the crazy and his lovely

WORD COUNT: 2k words

WARNINGS: violence, gore, torture (brief), mentions of no remorse, kingpin!haechan, public sex (club)

SYNOPSIS: Haechan wakes up without you beside him, and later at night, he found you flirting with another man. Too bad, because for him— if he can't have you, no one can.

A/N: another dark-ish fic for haechan, inspired by this tiktok even tho it has no connection lmaoooo. hope you enjoy reading!

NOW PLAYING... LET THE WORLD BURN BY CHRIS GREY !

One would squint their eyes, losing themselves to the rhythm of blasting music as they let the dizzy haze caused by the alcohol consume their body— but not him. Bright lights flashes across Haechan’s face amidst the initial darkness of the room. The whiskey sloshes inside his rocks glass, circling the ice. Despite drinking the same liquor ever since the sky got dark, Haechan doesn’t feel lighthearted nor tipsy from it.

Instead, he gets drunk on the way your black body con dress hugs your curves perfectly, accentuating the physical features he desires so much it hurts to admit it. Every shadow created by your form and the flickering lights inside the club sends his cock stiffening as the clock ticks.

You’re so fucking beautiful. That kind of face he would be ecstatic to show off hanging by his arm as he tells the world that you’re his and no one else’s. 

So imagine how much it wounds him when he woke up this morning and founds out that the other side of the bed had gone cold. Too cold that the other parts of his penthouse feels icy as well, showing no signs of life other than his– if he’s even alive.

The streets say coming across Haechan is worse than meeting death. From his blank yet chilling stare to his unwavering decisions on the lives of people that wronged him. He’s neither remorseful nor guilty from all the blood that covered his skin. Turn the lights on, he phrases. The set of words made rounds and established itself as something one wouldn’t wish to hear. Because Haechan doesn’t usually handle problems himself, most of the time it’s his goons that does it. But when he takes matter in to his own hands? He doesn’t just kill them. He sucks the life out of them.

And now, as he watches you exchange giggles with someone, looking happier then you were with him– Haechan feels the green hue of jealousy running through his veins, pumping the same hue to the every inch of his body.

Is he the reason why you left him this morning? Is he the reason why you’re not beside Haechan, batting your pretty eyes and whispering sweet pleas against his ears?

The rocks glass previously on his hold is now on the table as Haechan walks where you are seated. He dangles the unopened bottle of whiskey in front of the man’s face, catching both of your attention. You stand up, mouth agape, as you leave the man alone on the couch.

“Hyuck?”

Your call of his name falls to deaf ears. And a rather numbing series of screams fills your ears after Haechan smashes the glass bottle on the man’s head, sending him laying on the couch bleeding and unmoving. 

Haechan walks around the table separating the both of them and picks him up in a sitting position by his collar. “Don’t worry, it’s on the house.”

He shoves the man’s chest and pulls out his gun. Three resounding gunshots ring inside the club, each closely shot in no more than an arm away from the man’s face. There’s no patrons left in the dance floor, none on the couches and seats as well. Except for the staffs who are rushing to close the doors, and the group of men sitting in the balcony of VIP section, Haechan’s men.

You watch as he picks up the neck of the shattered bottle, and winces when he gauges the pair of eyeballs, throwing it somewhere for his staff to find out later. Now there are six holes in Jeon In-su’s face. Two for his eye sockets, one for his mouth, one on his forehead, and one on the each side of his cheeks.

Haechan throws away the bottle, wiping down his bloodied hands on his pants. Then, he turns to you.

A hitched breath interrupts your lungs, observing the remaining blood stains on his skin.

“Am I next… ?”

Haechan lets out a deep chuckle, shaking his head. He caresses your cheek, gaze drifting to your lips. “Oh yes, you are. I’ve got a lot of things coming for you, pretty.”

A smile stretches your face as Haechan surges for a deep torrid kiss, almost immediately diving his tongue in your mouth. It’s messy and full of spit. Normally, you wouldn’t want to ruin your look and makeout beside a corpse but nothing is normal when it comes to Lee Donghyuck.

He picks you up by a hand wrapped around your waist and another on your leg, blindly striding towards the counter. Placing you on top of it, his kisses travels to your neck, littering bruises anywhere his mouth could reach. Haechan’s hands then busies themselves exploring your body, arriving at the hem of your dress. He gathers fabric just enough to fit in his fist and bunches it upwards past your hips.

The pads of his fingers comes in contact with your soaked panties, earning a whimper from you and a pleased hum from Haechan. Oh how he loves being reminded how much effect he has on you. He’s blissful as he feels the slimy wetness coating his fingers, almost letting him slide in with no trouble.

“Donghyuck..”

The man hums in response to your call, dragging your dress’ padded chest area and tugs it downwards, revealing your breasts together with your nipples perked up just as how Haechan likes it. His mouth leaves no space of time, immediately coming down to suck on your bud loudly while the other plays with it to bring the same amount of pleasure.

You draw your head back, eyes close shut, basking in attention and near worshipping Haechan is doing to your body. The way he lick every part he lays his eyes on. The sound he makes when he tastes you on his fingers. The unconsciously desperate humps of his hips against your knee. There’s no hint of him masking it nor desire of hiding it in privacy. After all, it is no secret that you are Haechan’s kryptonite.

You’re all he needs to crumble down.

“Fuck,” A smirk curls on your lips at the breathless whisper from the man. Your hand finds itself tangled in Haechan’s hair, pulling his head backwards as you press you lips against his ears.

“Say it,” You peck the side of his head lightly. “Say it, Donghyuck. Let them hear you.”

Haechan shivers in your hold. Groaning at the loss of feeling your nipples on his tongue, he meets your eyes, lids heavy and seemingly short of air. “Darling.. please, let me taste you.”

You chuckle softly, satisfied by his pleas and the obvious shock on his goons’ faces. They try hard not to listen, to ignore whatever goes down between the two of you and focus on watching the surroundings on alert. Yet the rare image of their kingpin begging makes it hard to do so.

At your approval, Haechan sinks down to his knees in no time and dives his face deep in your cunt. You moan, leaning back as you use your palms as a leverage, gasping following Haechan’s tongue gliding across your pussy before slurping your juices. He grips your thigh, even more fueled by the sweet taste on his tongue.

“Fuck, you taste so good,” His tongue, a weapon honed by years of intimidation, now trembles as it explores the hidden depths within you. Each thrust is a controlled explosion, a release of the simmering tension that built between you.

"Haechan–! Fuck!" Your voice, usually a silken whisper, is now a raw, desperate plea. It is a sound that resonates deep within him, a reminder of the power you hold over him.

He pins you down, his grip not entirely gentle, but not the brutal dominance he usually exudes. There is a subtle tremor in his hands, a barely perceptible shift in his gaze, as if he is struggling to maintain control.

His lips devour you, not with the predatory hunger of a wolf, but with a focused intensity that borders on obsession. His fingers, usually instruments of control, now move with a frantic urgency, each stroke a desperate attempt to reach a crescendo.

As your climax nears, your body convulses beneath him, a symphony of pleasure and surrender. Donghyuck watches, his gaze unwavering, as your eyes roll back, your name escaping your lips in a series of broken gasps.

In that moment, the kingpin, the man who rules the underworld, is nothing more than a man, utterly consumed by your pleasure. The fear he instills in others is replaced by a quiet desperation, a subtle crumble in his facade, a reminder that even the most powerful men can be brought to their knees by the sheer force of your desire.

He pulls away abruptly, a primal need surging through him. Rising to his feet, he begins to strip, his movements a blur of dark intent. He returns, a vision of raw power, his pants and boxers discarded, revealing a magnificent specimen – long, thick, and crowned with an angry tip.

Haechan pumps his cock, his gaze fixed on your flushed face, on the way your breath hitches in your throat.

You meet his gaze, a defiant glint in your own eyes. "Go on."

A slow, predatory smile spreads across his face. "As you wish."

He nudges your legs open, a low growl escaping his throat as his cock breaches the entrance, the friction igniting a fire within you. You arch your back, meeting his thrust with your own, a silent challenge.

"You're more eager than I anticipated," he murmurs, his voice a low growl.

You simply smirk, a silent invitation to continue.

He wraps his hand around your knee, folding your body until it touches the cool, hard surface of the counter, deepening the thrust, a painful pleasure that makes you gasp. "Fuck– do you see that, darling? Look at your stomach, shit, it's bulging. Am I too big for your tight pussy?"

He pins you against the counter, his weight heavy, his gaze intense.

"Enjoying yourself?" he asks, his voice a low growl.

You meet his gaze, your own filled with a mixture of pleasure and defiance. "Exceedingly."

"Good. You should be." He plows into you, a relentless rhythm that blurs your vision, white spots dancing before your eyes.

You grip the edge of the counter, your nails digging into the cool surface, a low moan escaping your lips. "Harder."

He smirks, increasing the pace and intensity of his thrusts. "As you wish."

You white out, shuddering against the hard, unforgiving surface of the counter, your body arching, your name escaping your lips in a series of broken gasps. He buries his head in the crook of your neck, a low groan rumbling in his chest as he reaches his own peak, pulling out to finish on your back. He leans in and kisses you, a soft, teasing kiss that send shivers down your spine. Haechan pulls away, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "Now," he whispers, his voice low and husky. "Let's go home, my darling."

He fixes your dress and brushes the hair off of your shoulders, pressing another kiss before he places an arm on your waist, guiding you out of his club. The group of men behind falls into a formation behind him, signalling the remaining staffs to clean up the mess. You look over your shoulder to take one last look of the deformed body. And to your surprise, no guilt rushes in your veins.

Instead, what you feel is a strange sense of anticipation, a mixture of excitement and desire.

You know this is just the beginning.

The beginning of a life you’ve never thought you’d live.

[thisisntmyrightera]

Our Glory - Jeon Jae Joon x Fem Reader pt2

Plot: Jae Joon leave South Korea to avoid being part of a violence scandal and arrives in America to start his life again, finding the love of his life who makes him feel human for the first time. Despite the distance, no matter how much he avoids his reality, the ghost of his past will reach him wherever he is endangering everything he has achieved.

Genre: Romance, Fluff, Violence, Angst, Drama Warning: Themes of school violence, abuse of power, minors being harassed, harsh language.

A/N: The story is inspired by The Glory, however, some time periods have changed as well as situations where the protagonist will be part of changing some original scenes.

I appreciate you reading and being part of this new story, as always I hope to please your readers' hearts.

I'll be back soon.

Jae Joon seemed to lose his personality every time you came and your oxygen mixed with his, your simple presence was a sign of salvation for his employees because they knew that he would stop his rude and violent attitude.

It wasn't that he pretended to be nice, he was just so stupidly in love that he even forgot who he was.

You're a son of a bitch, you're useless, do I have to do everything myself? Huh? - Jae Joon pushed his guard making him crash into a wall while the man just looked down in shame

Babe? - your voice made his jaw relax as he turned around hastily worried that you might have seen that scene

Baby, what are you doing here? - his smile formed wide as he hugged you by the waist lifting you a little in the air - how is my favorite girl doing?

I passed by here and came to visit you - you smiled hugging him by the neck kissing his lips leaving a light trace of your lip gloss on them

You arrived just in time, I was starting to miss you - he smiled carefully lowering you adjusting your blouse - are you staying to eat with me?

I don't think so, I have an appointment with the florist and then I'll go pick out the veil for my wedding dress - you smiled at him wiping the lipstick off his lips

You'll be the most beautiful bride of all - he kissed your cheek making you laugh like a teenager in love, both feeling for a moment that nothing around you existed

Both of you seemed to have no notion of time and wanted to rush everything, by then a huge ring adorned your left hand, it was beautiful and exotic very different from the generic rings that your friends boasted.

It shine with every ray of sunlight that hit the perfect shaped stone, always being the topic of conversation at the meetings where now you no longer accompanied your parents as part of the Y/L/N family but instead you presented yourself on Jae Joon's arm as the future Mrs. Jeon, causing annoyance to the dozens of people who once approached your family hoping to create a bond and you rejected their annoying sons.

Life was perfect, while you chose the ideal flowers for the wedding and tried the desserts that would be served at the reception you forgot that you ever doubted that this moment would come, everything was happiness.

Maybe we can take some of the fabric from here and adjust it - you looked at the dressmaker through the mirror while you touched your waist detailing the last adjustments of your wedding dress

I understand, how do you like the train of the dress? - she smiled at you placing a couple of pins in the leftover fabric - would you like it to be a little longer?

No, I think it's fine, I wouldn't want to trip walking down the aisle - you laughed looking at the back of your dress

You'll be a beautiful bride, your fiance must be very lucky to have you - she smiled at you adjusting the veil looking at you with adoration

I think so - you smiled looking at her feeling your phone vibrate, lately Jae Joon had become very insistent in his messages, sending you loving texts and images of every movement he made

I'll go get the other veil for you to try on - the dressmaker smiled leaving giving you your space while you unlocked your phone looking at the message from an unknown phone

''Will you be a very happy bride?''

With this message, it would be the third one you received in the last month, all coming from an unknown phone, always different and with a foreign area code

Miss, is everything okay? - The young girl looked at you worriedly, bringing you out of your thoughts, smiling at her as you locked your phone again to go with her to the center of the room.

Yes, excuse me - you sighed nervously, looking at her, trying to make it seem like everything was okay - please show me the other veil.

Of course, this one will be for the reception, it's shorter and has a more subtle fall - the girl explained to you while your head spun, thinking a thousand things at once.

Trying to remember if you had done something to bother someone to receive that kind of subtly annoying messages that worried you.

That night you felt like you wanted to tell Jae Joon everything, it wasn't like everything you told him wasn't enough already, but sometimes you decided to keep certain things to yourself to avoid him getting upset, not exactly with you but with others and causing an annoying situation.

Like the time you told him that the Peterson's son kept sending you messages to go out with him again (even though you had made it clear to him almost a year ago that you wasn't interested) and he didn't take long to show up at his company offices making a fuss so he would stop bothering you, a split lip was the least you think he could give him.

After dinner and making sure that the people who helped him at home went to rest (something you implemented since you came to live in his apartment) you both agreed that it was a good idea to rest in the Jacuzzi, something you had taken as a habit to relax and talk about their day.

Sometimes you didn't even say a single word, you just relaxed with each other's presence, but he wasn't stupid, he noticed every change in you and he could tell that you weren't completely calm

Is something wrong? - he murmured, arranging your hair to the side of your neck, feeling your bare back better against his chest

Yes, just… I'm a little tired - you sighed without opening your eyes, making yourself better comfortable near him

How about I skip work tomorrow and go with you to see the wedding pending? - he smiled when he saw you barely nod - anyway, I wanted to ask you to go with me to see the last details of our house, I would like the new decoration to be how you like it and I need your opinion

Yes, that's okay - you smiled barely, snuggling into his chest with a thousand ideas running through your head - Can I… tell you something?

Whatever you want… -

But do you promise not to get mad? - you looked at him barely blinking at something he found adorable

How could I be mad at you? Don't ever think that love, look at me - his arms took your waist moving you like a weightless piece on his legs making you look at him head on - don't ever think that something about you bothers me, it doesn't matter that I'll always listen to you, do you understand?

Yes it is… I just don't want you to be upset you know with… someone else..- you looked at him shyly sighing nervously

Someone else? - his gaze darkened tensing his jaw- who did something to you?

No… it's not something like… someone did something to me… it's just that..- you sighed again looking at your hands between the bubbles in the bathtub- for… a couple of weeks I've been receiving messages…

messages?… are they from that bastard Peterson? -

No…no it's not him…I don't really know who it is actually…it's just that they are strange messages, like…I don't know, like asking me things, I haven't even answered, in fact I blocked the first number and then I received another one and…that's what it's been happening..-

Show me those messages - he sighed deeply massaging the bridge of his nose while you took your phone and showed him the series of messages

''You are the light in his darkness, it would be a shame if he was blinded and forgot his reality''

''Are you funny? It will help when you see him cry''

''Will you be a happy bride?''

These sons of bitches - he sighed again holding all the air in his lungs in a scream of frustration throwing your phone against the wall making it break into a thousand pieces, realizing his mistake when he saw you jump scared looking at him with fear - I'm sorry babe - he hugged you quickly making you feel confused - you don't have to worry, I'll change your phone number and we'll only give it to the really important people okay? No one else, I don't want these bastards to keep bothering you

A thousand names ran through his head, maybe one of your ex dates, Yeo-Jin even the starving Hye-Jeon, whoever it was he wasn't going to let them ruin his perfect life by your side.

Absolutely nothing could go wrong and if it did, he would fix it for you.

His eyes kept moving around the place where the reception was going to take place, an exclusive and elegant garden with a view of the city as you both liked, he could listen to you talk and talk without letting go of your hand.

I would like there to be hundreds of gardenias on the tables, for the whole place to smell like flowers - you smiled looking at the options to decorate the guests' tables making the organizer look at you smiling somewhat distrustful of your choice

Gardenias are a bit expensive, could I recommend some other flower or style to decorate the tables - he smiled confident of his comments writing in his notebook

Hey.. - Jae joon looked at him without missing a detail with his predatory eyes - if my wife wants hundreds of flowers you will get them, do you understand?

Yes, it's just an opinion…

We don't need your opinion, you're going to do what she wants and that's it - he looked him up and down smiling mockingly rolling his eyes annoyed by nosy people

Sometimes, even though you didn't share his dominant character, seeing him have that kind of reaction made you feel good, his possessive and jealous attitude was most of the time a compliment for you even though you felt bad about it afterwards but ''That's how men are'' your mother always repeated to you when you told her how Jae Joon acted on certain occasions.

After all, that's love, isn't it?

That's what you always told yourself to make yourself feel better after every outburst of anger your husband had, never against you, always against those who contradicted you or questioned your ideas or his, a bad habit that you normalized over time.

On your wedding day, it was like a fairy tale written in reality, your mother helped you put on your expensive designer dress, your long veil for the altar and your hands adorned with your expensive engagement ring.

On the way to the altar you could notice familiar faces and others not so familiar, Sara was one of them, smiling like crazy (drugged) watching your pretty dress float down the aisle.

Yeo-Jin couldn't control her jealousy and envy as she watched how you broke all her expectations, being a beautiful and elegant bride making her feel insecure and tiny comparing you to her on her wedding day, how was that bastard's wife going to beat her? It was unforgivable for her.

Hye-Jeong hated you, just that, she hated you, you had stolen Jae Joon's heart without putting in the effort she had tried for years, she felt inferior and humiliated in the dress Sara had give to her to attend your wedding, feeling nauseous every time you and Jae Joon smiled at each other wishing she was the one in your place.

You are the most beautiful daughter I could win Y/N - Mr. Jeon, now your father-in-law smiled at you hugging you just after finishing the ceremony - you did a great job Jae Joon, you have a beautiful woman, now please do not take long to give me grandchildren

Dad..shut up - Jae Joon looked at him disgusted feeling a little embarrassed while you smiled blushing a little

Congratulations Joon - Yeo-Jin smiled holding her cigarette followed by the two girls with mixed emotions- it was a beautiful wedding

Love, this is Yeo-Jin an old friend, Hye-Jeong and Sara, you already know her - Jae Joon looked at them a little defiantly knowing how to interpret the attitudes of each one with his years of experience knowing them

A pleasure - you smiled a little cleverly looking at them, receiving a hypocritical smile from Yeo-Jin and a pale and emotionless face from Hye-Jeong - Jae Joon has told me a little about You

Really? What an honor, I hope it's just new things - Yeo-Jin laughed smoking a little more making you feel strange for his sarcastic answers

If you don't mind - Your now husband noticed it, holding your hand smiling kindly - we have to go

This time, you smile (hypocritical) as you passed by her made two of the three girls look at you with hatred while Sara said goodbye waving her hand excitedly out of this planet

Wow, she's so cute, like a princess - Sara smiled lost in your dress receiving a blow from Yeo-Jin making her react annoyed while rubbing her arm - what's wrong with you bitch?

Shut your mouth you damn drug addict - Hye-Jeong looked at her annoyed

The rest of the night none of the three girls could believe what they saw when they saw how Jae Joon behaved next to you, it seemed like he was another person, his loving attitude and dedication to make you happy in the least had them surprised.

Look at him - Hye-Jeong sighed leaning on her hand watching how you took a piece of cake with a fork and brought it to Jae Joon's mouth making him eat while both laughed in love - if any of us had done that, he would have taken that fork and stuck it in our eye, he's a bastard

He's a bastard because you're jealous - Sara laughed drinking from her glass - accept it you poor, starving girl, he would never have noticed you, you're poor, ugly and have no sense of fashion, look at her, she's a foreigner with nice tits and the most expensive bags you can imagine, she's a lucky bitch.

You can shut your mouths - Yeo-Jin looked at them annoyed rolling her eyes- she's just a bitch, if she knew everything that son of a bitch did and why he fled the country in such a hurry I assure you that she wouldn't even have noticed him, she's too pure for that problematic bastard

Well there's nothing we can do now, is he already a tied man or not Hye-Jeon? - Sara laughed mockingly smoking making the short-haired woman look at her annoyed crossing her arms

We'll see how long their love story lasts, when she knows who Jeon Jae Joon really is she'll send him to hell..-

[teenidlegirl]

Ɛ⠀⠀BEAUTY OF THIS MESS⠀⠀ .⠀۟⠀۪⠀ು⠀⠀CHAPTER 16⠀⠀Ȝ

꒰⠀⠀⟡⠀.⠀military!miguel⠀𝓍⠀fem!neighbor!reader⠀.⠀⟡⠀⠀꒱

⠀ ᰦ 󠄀 ྀ .⠀SUMMARY⠀♡⠀time has passed and your pregnancy has progressed, meaning you’re starting to show. the wedding of peter and mj has arrived, you are the maid of honor. unfortunately, miguel is the best man. an awkward ceremony for you both.

⠀ ᰦ 󠄀 ྀ .⠀CONTENT⠀♡⠀angst, some fluff, pregnancy, brief religious themes, churches, emotional distress, swearing, mild arguments, mild violence, jealous!miguel (yessir hehe)

❛⠀ previous chapter⠀⋅⠀masterlist⠀⋅⠀next chapter ⠀❜

several weeks have passed and your pregnancy has progressed. you’re starting to show, a little baby bump. the sight always makes you smile, knowing your little bundle of joy rests in there. since your decision of keeping the baby, you’ve been happy. you’ve been searching baby clothes and nursery stuff nonstop. you created a nursery pinterest board of cute nursery ideas. aesthetics are your thing so you have been searching for both boy and girl themes but also neutral themes as well. so many cute and creative ideas, you have over 200 pins saved.

since this new turn in your life, you have also been thriving. work has been good, publishing top worthy articles which leaves a very pleased jameson praising everyone in the office and offering cookies. that surprised everyone to see their grumpy, sassy ass boss so cheerful but they didn’t complain. happy boss, happy work life. one day you even got sent home early, crusty from your work because he was very happy, and there was no way you would decline that offer. you also informed jameson of your pregnancy and future maternity leave which he of course grants and congratulates you with the baby.

you finally told your family about the baby, which created a cheerful screaming and hugging apocalypse. another grand baby for the family. there were questions about the father but you avoided answering or say it’s complicated. however, you did tell the truth to your parents because you can never lie to them. they wanted to kill miguel but the last thing they want is to complicate things than they already are. instead, they support you and the baby as the caring parents and grandparents they are.

while you’ve thriving on the new journey, miguel still lingers in your mind. his number is blocked to prevent further communication of regret and lame ass apologies. you’ve also taken further lengths such as blocking any social media accounts of his. that bastard deserves tasting his own medicine. he doesn’t know you’re staying at anne’s but is aware you aren’t home. your friends vowed to never tell miguel your whereabouts. although, they would tell you how upset he was whenever they encountered him and begs to them to know where you are. your reaction was scoffing and rolling your eyes. know the asshole knows how it feels, fucking irony at its best.

however, a part of you deep down misses him. after weeks of not seeing him, you felt a bit of relief when miguel finally returned. you truly believed he would never come back and didn’t want to be involved with the baby, that it was the end of your relationship. technically it was the end and it hurts to admit that. seeing him for the first time after those painful weeks made you want to run into his arms and cry. don’t be mistaken, you’re still fucking pissed at him. but that doesn’t discard your feelings for him, the love you have for him that still lingers in your fragile heart. no matter how much you hate miguel, a small part of you still loves him. that is the shittest part of all.

no matter the pain he caused you, that love never vanished. that proves how deeply you love miguel and the impact he made in your life. love is a fucked up thing. you’ve already learned two lessons about it. the first broken your heart, the second rotten it. how could it ever be repaired from such damage? it will be a long, difficult recovery but you’ll get there eventually. this baby will restore your heart.

moving on with life, major events are happening. first and foremost, the wedding of peter and mary jane.

the long anticipated ceremony has finally arrived. the day your best friend marries the love of her life, who is also your friend. you all have been excited for this day to come. originally the ceremony was going to be taken place at a church but mary jane wanted an outdoor wedding and peter had no problem with that, he liked that better anyways. a simple outdoor wedding decorated in neutral colors.

it’s a big day for peter and mj but also for everyone, including you since you’re the maid of honor. since you’re pregnant and have a tiny baby bump, you had to get a size up of your dress to accommodate your gradually expanding belly. it’s still tiny but visible which you don’t mind. the dress matches with the theme, a pretty ash gray satin mermaid tail gown. you and the girls get ready as well help mary jane get dressed in her wedding gown. you and anne assist her getting the dress on, lyla did her makeup and styled her hair. just a cute girls moment, dressing up and doing each other’s makeup.

after doing the finial touches on mj’s appearance, you all step back to admire the bride’s final form. the three of you stare in awe of your beautiful friend. the gown, hair, and makeup, it’s all perfect.

“you look so beautiful.” lyla smiles with glossy eyes.

“honey, you look like an angel.” anne compliments.

“the most gorgeous bride ever.” you add.

mj began forming up her own tears. “aww you guys!”

“no no no! don’t cry! the makeup!” lyla warns.

the bride softly chuckles, fanning herself so the tears dry up and not ruin the perfect makeup. “i’m trying not to, just can’t help it sometimes.”

the four of you gather together in a group hug, letting out all the emotions without tears.

“you guys look beautiful too.” mj gestures at the matching bridesmaids gowns.

“especially ms. maid of honor here.” lyla gently nudges your shoulder playfully.

you roll your eyes, unable to not smile. “oh shut up. the spotlight is supposed to be on mj, not me.”

“whaaat? i can’t help it how cute your little baby bump looks in that dress!” the short-haired woman gestures at your brief pregnancy belly.

“how’s the baby doing?” anne asks.

“they’re okay, just chilling in there.”

“they’ll definitely love the food and cake later.”

you snort. “don’t doubt it, we’ll see what they like and don’t like tonight.”

“too bad you can’t drink, you’ll be missing out on all the good shit, especially the wine.” lyla jokes.

“gotta make sacrifices.” you shrug, laughing.

“and it’s worth the sacrifice.” mj approaches you and gently takes her hands in yours. “you are so rocking this little baby bump, i’m glad they’re a part of my wedding, even though they’re unborn.” her kind words about your baby makes your heart warm.

“yeah, too bad miguel isn’t here to see it.” lyla said.

“wait— isn’t miguel here?” anne inquires, making the room go silent. “isn’t he the best man?”

oh shit.

miguel is the best man. peter chose him to be his best man since they are friends since high school. he is the best man and you’re the maid of honor, meaning you have to walk down the aisle together.

oh fuck, you completely forgot.

you suddenly feel your heart drop at the realization. you have to walk down the aisle with the man broke, rotten your heart. the man who left you alone for three weeks without communication. the man who betrayed your heart and trust. the deeper you think, the heavier your breathing becomes.

your three friends look at you with concerned looks, approaching your carefully.

“hey, you okay?” anne places a gentle hand on your arm, bringing you back to your senses.

“yeah, yeah i’m fine.” you quickly reassure them, waving it off. “just forgot about that…”

“are you sure? mj asks, a serious glint in her eyes. “if that makes you uncomfortable, we can him switch out for someone else or we can—”

“no no no, no switching around. it’s totally okay, don’t worry about it, please.”

“honey, i’m not allowing that asshole near you and the baby. i’ll gladly ask peter for eddie or harry to take his place by any means necessary.”

you shake your head. “no, mj please. i’m not allowing my shit interfere with your wedding. this is your special day and i will not allow my personal shit to ruin that, no fucking way. please don’t worry about it, i’ll be fine and it’s only a few seconds then we go our separate ways. the baby and i will be okay.”

the room goes silent as your words sink in. you can tell she heavily disagrees, so does lyla and anne, but accepts it. the three of them trust you and promise to keep a cautious eye on miguel at all times.

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ┈ ୨ ₊ ┈ ౨ৎ   ┈ ₊ ୧   ┈

the wedding is about to start. the bridesmaids and groomsmen are called to gather for the ceremony. you are the first one ready and walk to the door that leads to the backyard where everyone is sitting and waiting. as you make your way towards the door, there is already someone else waiting in the small room. you recognize that tall, broad figure and chocolate locks of hair any day. suddenly, your blood went cold and heart rate increases.

the clicking of your heels gave you away as miguel turns around a little too excitedly. his eyes widen and lips part open in pure astonishment. those wide brown eyes trail over your appearance, how the ash green compliments your skin tone beautifully, how the dress captures your curves perfectly. your beauty never fails to take his breath away.

but really captures his attention is the tiny visible baby bump wrapped in ash green.

you’re starting to show. it’s so tiny yet visible, visual evidence of the tiny life growing inside you. the tiny life that will become a combination of you and him.

the guilt strikes in like a knife.

his heart beats in both guilt and glee.

guilt because of the pain he caused you and glee because of the baby is finally shining through.

this is first time he sees you after a month and a half. since your argument and your disappearance, miguel has been drowning himself in guilt and shame more than ever. it’s been eating him alive. he has shed so much tears than he could count. your disappearance left him a mess. he couldn’t eat, he couldn’t sleep, he stopped visiting the boxing gym because he never left his home, he didn’t bother to shave due to no motivation so miguel had a stubble for a while.

he was so dysfunctional because he lost you.

now here you are, a month and a half later, standing in front of him like a fucking goddess while he still feels like an absolute piece of shit.

“you… you look… beautiful…”

his weak ass tone and attempt to be flattering makes you roll your eyes in disgust. unfortunately, you can’t deny that miguel looks handsome in that tux. how it snugs up his broad shoulders. those brown locks slicked back, unlike its usual waviness. the intoxicating scent of his cologne, musky. the scent that you love and drives you fucking crazy.

it was an uncomfortable… painful silence between you two as you wait for the bridesmaids and groomsmen to arrive, standing at opposite ends with great distance. you glance around anywhere to avoid his gaze while miguel struggles internally what else to say and simply admire you in silence. his palms opening and closing as a sign of anxiety.

his eyes admire you with remorse while yours look out the window at the crowd of people waiting for the ceremony to begin. with an anxious breath, miguel takes slow caution steps toward you, reaching out with a shaky hand but you catch him.

“don’t you fucking touch me.” you snap.

panicky, miguel immediately takes back his hand and stops, still leaving reasonable space between you two as he stares at you with remorseful eyes.

“i-i’m sorry, i just—”

“cállete.”

and he does.

your fingers rub the temples of your forehead as you exhale deeply. “mj wanted to switch you out with the other guys so i wouldn’t have to walk with you.”

miguel frowns at that but remains silent.

“but i told her no because i didn’t want ruin her wedding because of me.” you spare him a glance as you lower your hand. “peter chose you to be his best man and switching you with someone else would’ve made things complicated and i didn’t want that.”

that makes him feel more guilty. the last thing you want is to walk down the aisle with the man who broke your heart indefinitely yet you refuse to change that because your friends are much more important than your own needs and discomfort.

“so i’m going to say this once,” you glare at him, making him anxious for what you’re about to propose. “the only time you’re gonna touch me is walking down that aisle for our friends. don’t even think this means anything. the minute we part ways, you stay the fuck away from me.”

your cold tone and piecing eyes of anger sends an unpleasant shiver down miguel’s spine. he understands your reasons and obeys, no matter how much it pains him to be in the same room as you but not able to be close to you. he doesn’t deserve to. a light nod reflects his understanding, sealing the deal.

the bridesmaids and groomsmen finally arrive. lyla and anne kept skeptical eyes on miguel, which didn’t go unnoticed by him. it was time to line up, the maid of honor and the best man in front then the rest behind them. lyla with harry and anne with eddie, leaving you with miguel. everyone had their arms linked, making you hesitant to do the same with the man who hurt you. miguel senses your hesitation, which he doesn’t blame you for, and offers his arm to take. with a quiet sigh, you slowly link your arm with his. normally you would grip onto his bicep but considering the current circumstances, your hand simply hangs over without touching him, only your arms linked together. the fabric of his sleeve glazing against your skin. both your hearts leap with great anxiety as it invades your bodies.

you are touching each other for the first time in months, in which feels like an eternity.

you pretend it doesn’t phase you as the ceremony music begins playing outside. while his heart beats like crazy, miguel sneaks a glance at you making sure you’re okay but you focus ahead. both of you prepare yourselves as the doors open and multiple heads turn around awaiting your arrival. taking a deep breath, you and miguel take your first steps.

while walking down the aisle with linked arms and the small bouquet of flowers in your free hand, suddenly everything feels like in slow motion as your mind begins playing tricks on you. your imagination takes you to where you are expect you’re walking down the aisle in your own wedding dress, your dad by your side and miguel standing at the altar. it was your own wedding. a dream you never imagined before. sure, you loved miguel and wanted to be in a long relationship with him. marriage seemed a bit serious since the relationship was still fresh at the time. however, marrying miguel in fact seemed like a dream, if only things were different and you didn’t hate his guts and he wouldn’t have abandoned you.

you snap out of that dream as soon you and miguel approach the altar. you don’t hesitate to unlink your arm from his and walk to the bride’s side, making miguel frown briefly before heading to the groom’s side. once everyone was in position and peter joins, the wedding theme song begins and everyone rises from their seats awaiting the bride’s arrival.

once mary jane arrives and joins peter at the altar, the ceremony begins. as you watch your friends exchange their vows with tearful eyes of happiness, miguel’s eyes never tore away from you.

although it’s shitty of him to not pay attention to the wedding, especially his friend getting married, miguel is solely focused on you. those brown eyes solemnly looking at you the entire time. the longer he stares, the more he drowns himself in guilt. admiring you in front of an altar triggers his imagination in a painful way. miguel envisions his own wedding, dressed in a similar tux, you in your own wedding gown, you two getting married instead. the vision was too emotional, causing a thin layer of tears in his eyes that he quickly blinks away.

the only time his eyes tear away from you is when peter and mj finally kiss as husband and wife, offering a small smile of happiness before looking back at you, watching you cheer and clap.

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ┈ ୨ ₊ ┈ ౨ৎ   ┈ ₊ ୧   ┈

the reception was quite nice. everyone savoring the delicious food from the amazing caterers and drowning themselves in wine and other drinks. classic hit songs blasting through the speakers, children running around chasing one another, everyone seems to be happy and enjoying themselves. the newlyweds smiling at each other as they dine as husband and wife for the first time. giggling as mary jane fails to attempt giving peter a piece of cake which gets smeared over his mouth.

you sit with at a separate table with lyla and anne along with relatives of mary jane. tons of gossip and compliments about the newlyweds over wine. sadly, you can’t participate in the wine party due to the baby but honestly you don’t care much. the food was what you were looking forward to and damn it’s delicious. your baby likes it too.

while you dine and gossip with your friends, miguel observes from afar. throughout the reception, his eyes remain locked on you. every time you smile or laugh, his heart flutters. watching you so happy and being yourself is a sight miguel misses a lot. his mind flashes back to the times you were smiling and laughing at him when you were together. those cute, sweet moments just you and him. utterly in love and had nothing to care about but each other. he misses the way he used to make you laugh or smile. seeing and making you happy was his goal. the way your pretty lips curl up showing off that beautiful smile. the angelic sound of your laughter blessing his ears.

expect you weren’t smiling and laughing at him, your friends get the privilege to witness that, not him. the guilt and sadness returns, smacking him in the face. miguel lost that privilege and he isn’t sure if he’ll ever get it back. watching you being so happy not only makes his heart flutter but also ache with immense guilt. he isn’t the one making you happy, other people are. he’s the one making you angry and upset.

the guilt was stressing himself out that miguel excuses himself to head to the restroom. the last thing he needs is more tears of guilt, especially at his own friend’s wedding. he just needs to clean himself up and try not be a sulking bastard.

rising from your seat, you plan to get more food despite your friend’s protests saying they would do it for you but you heavily insist you’re fine. as you select your food from the caterers, your shoulder accidentally collides with someone else’s.

“oh shit, i’m so sorry!”

“ah that’s alright.”

a deep, rich baritone voice makes you look at who’s voice that belongs to. your eyes dilate immensely. a man with thick brown hair, a beard connected with compelling sideburns. goddamn he is handsome. your eyes briefly scan him up and down. he waits a simply tux yet you can tell this man is buff as hell. he is at least 6 feet tall or taller, either way he’s tall.

“i wasn’t looking where i was going, i’m sorry.” you offer him a sheepish smile.

“no damage done, sweetheart. i’m still standing.”

the endearment term makes your heart flutter, especially in that rich tone of his.

you chuckle shyly. “still, sorry about that.”

“you were caught up on food, can’t blame you.”

“yeah, it’s just that good.”

“logan howlett.” he offers his hand to shake.

you give your name as you shake his hand, noticing how warm and calloused it feels against yours.

“i saw you up there at the altar, one of the bridesmaids, huh?”

“maid of honor.”

“ah, bride’s best friend?”

you nod, softly smiling. “yep. you?”

“just a mutual friend, i know kaine, peter’s cousin.”

your eyes lighten up in surprise, partially because kaine is one of miguel’s military buddies. does logan know miguel? “oh, cool. you in the military too?”

logan shakes his head. “no, construction guy. met kaine in high school.”

“construction, huh?”

“12 years, don’t plan on stopping any time soon.”

oh so he’s a construction worker, you like this man even more. your interest in him grows.

“what about you, sweetheart?” logan asks.

“journalist.”

his thick brows eyes in amusement. “oh, you like writing big fancy stories?”

you snort, shrugging. “it’s my only talent. but it doesn’t compare to building, that’s hardworking.”

“writing is hardworking too, sweetheart.” he offers a wink with a smirk, making your heart swoon.

goddamn, this man is something else. he’s making you a bashful mess with his attractive voice, the sweet nicknames, and flirtatious antics.

you have felt like this since miguel—

no, do not think about that asshole.

“you want some?” logan gestures at his glass of what appears to whiskey, seems like it.

“oh i wish but this one won’t let me.” you glance down at your pregnancy belly and place a hand on it.

logan’s eyes follow yours and widen slightly in surprise at the visible tiny baby bump. “oh, definitely can’t. congratulations, though.”

you softly chuckle. “thanks.”

he glances back at your hand and takes note of the absence of a ring wrapped around your pretty finger. his curiosity increases. “i’m gonna be bold and you can slap me all you want, you just by yourself? no boyfriend or husband?”

“yep, it’s just a sperm donor.” you lie quickly.

it would be awkward to tell logan the truth that the father is here eating and drinking just like everyone else. since you refuse to include miguel in the picture and you two are basically broken up without officially saying it, you simply believe a sperm donor is a good excuse. with this shitshow, it honestly feels like it.

logan hums, contently. “well, congrats to you both.” he gestures at your baby bump.

suddenly, it was time to dance. everyone gets with their partners and head to the dance floor. glancing around, miguel doesn’t seem to be here. perhaps he had to take a breather to get his shit together. you know he’s been watching you the entire time. you can feel his eyes on you, making your body on fire.

logan notices your somber state, making him frown slightly. his eyes follow yours to the dance floor. an idea pops up into his mind.

taking one final sip of his whiskey then setting down the glass down on the nearest surface, logan offers a hand. “dancing isn’t my thing but one chance doesn’t bite, you up for it?”

you look back at him with slightly wide eyes, a bit surprised by his offer. a man offered to dance with you at the same party miguel is. although he isn’t here at the moment, he will show up and see you dancing with another man. part of your heart still beats for him but you remind yourself the pain he caused you. besides, the idea of miguel getting jealous excites you. honestly, you don’t give a shit.

“fuck it, why not?” you shrug and take his hand, making logan smirk in amusement.

with your hand in his, logan guides you to the dance floor and join everyone else in slow dancing. his left hand takes your right and his right hand captures your waist ever so gently, making your heart flutter at the sensation. your right hand rear on his shoulder, feeling the muscles underneath the tuxedo. your bodies pressed against one another. his musky scent invades your senses, just so intoxicating.

you and logan began moving slowly, small steps side by side following the rhythm of the music. it was casual slow dancing while making small talk. logan would throw occasional flirting, making your cheeks your warm and rolling your eyes playfully. you flirt back to match his energy, increasing the tension.

finally, after getting his shit together, miguel returns from the restroom. just as he heads back to his seat along with friends, his eyes caught your figure on the dance floor, causing miguel to stop in his tracks. those thick brows furrowed in envy and confusion at the random ass man dancing with you.

who the fuck is that?

why is that fucker dancing with you?

his blood boils in envy and slight possessiveness at the sight of another man dancing you, or just you being with another man in general. an uncomfortable feeling sits heavy on his chest. suddenly his breathing intensifies, fists clenched at his sides.

that guy shouldn’t be dancing with you or have the honor to be close to you, it should be him. no another man should be allow to so close to you like that. no another man deserves to touch you.

but is miguel really deserving of that honor? especially after what he put you through.

not only is it painful to watch you with another man but also you carrying his child. seeing another man’s arms wrapped around you while his child rests peacefully in your belly. panic invades his body as miguel continues to stare solemnly at you with this random bastard. the strongest urge to storm over there and yank the bastard away from you was getting to him. however, miguel knows he can’t do anything because it isn’t right. he broke your heart, the relationship basically ended which means you’re allowed to do or be with whoever you choose.

but the sight of you with another man causes immense pain to his heart. you seem to be moving on and miguel is still trapped in everlasting guilt. this makes him panic because he’s losing you for real. he lost you the moment he left you alone but now it truly feels like he’s losing you forever.

with the possibility of losing you forever, miguel is losing you and the baby. because of his stupid behavior, he’s losing you both. his fears pushed you away into the arms of another man. it feels like you are slipping from his grasp and lost in the void forever. the dreams and hopes of you becoming a happy family is now slipping away. when he finally came back after those painful three weeks, miguel wanted to become a father and have a family. after much thinking, he decided he was ready for it. however, that possibility is now fading away.

he wants you back, he wants to be a father, he wants to have this baby with you, he wants to have a family, he wants to raise this child with you.

but it seems like an imagination now.

miguel snaps out of those panicky thoughts when logan gently pulls you closer by the waist. suddenly, his blood goes cold like ice. a scowl settles on his face as jealousy flows through his veins. his fists tightened at his sides, nails digging into his own skin.

all common sense and morals fly out the window as miguel begins storming his way towards you and logan. however, before he could reach the dance floor, he collides with one of the waiters, knocking out the tray of appetizers onto the floor. the sound of steel hitting the ground causes several heads to turn, including you and logan. thankfully most of the guests were still partying and dancing.

“chingado…” miguel curses.

“hey man, what the hell?” the waiter, a scrawny looking man no taller than 6 foot.

that whiney tone triggers miguel’s already pissed off self, glaring down at the scrawny idiot with piercing eyes which makes him gulp anxiously.

“pinche huevón, watch where you’re fucking going.”

“y-you’re the w-who bumped into me! you should be the one to watch where you’re going!”

oh that was the last straw.

“mira, cabrón…” miguel yanks the waiter by the collar with harsh force, earning a few gasps from bystanders. “te calmas o te calmo porque yo—”

as miguel raises his fist and the guy begins to flinch like a coward, a firm hand stops him from doing something he will regret.

“alright, let’s clam down, shall we?” eddie comes to the rescue, firming holding miguel’s wrist.

miguel shoves off eddie’s grip and yanks back his hand, lowering it at his side then walks away, mumbling various spanish slang.

heavily sighing in frustration, you roll your eyes at the stupid argument but mainly miguel’s behavior.

“fucking idiot.” logan mutters.

you scoff. “definitely an idiot.”

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ┈ ୨ ₊ ┈ ౨ৎ   ┈ ₊ ୧   ┈

finally, the reception is over and the newlyweds took off in their car to begin their honeymoon, waving goodbye to all the guests. as majority of the guests leave, you stay to help clean up. logan decides to stay a little longer to help you and also to spend more time with you in general. you can’t deny you like him. after a while and everything is cleaned up, you head to the parking lot with logan by your side.

“i don’t think i’ll do this shit again.”

you laugh at his grumpiness. “it’s not your thing, i get that. especially not with this one controlling me, this is probably the last time i’ll be able to party.” you gesture at your pregnancy belly.

logan briefly looks at your baby bump than back to your eyes, offering a very faint smile before leaning down a bit. “now you better be nice to your mom, kid. don’t give her too much trouble.”

your heart warms at the cute interaction between logan and your baby, even if they’re not fully developed yet, it’s still heartwarming.

standing at his full height, he looks back at you. “i might have not been excited to go to this since this shit ain’t my thing but meeting you was the only good thing today.”

there goes your heart skipping a beat again. “well, it was definitely nice meeting you, logan.”

“i don’t mind if we meet up again, just not at a party again, if you’re up for that?”

knowing what he’s implying, you can’t bite back a grin. “i wouldn’t mind either.”

after exchanging numbers, you bid each other farewell with light hug. before he leaves, logan insists on walking you to your car but you tell him you rode with your friends and they’re waiting for you. you two share one final smile before he leaves. while your eyes remain on him, you hear footsteps approaching.

“soooo, snuggling up with sideburns hottie?” lyla smirks, strolling up beside you.

“oh shut up.” you roll your eyes, grinning.

“what? i don’t blame you, he’s hot as fuck. those sideburns are something else.”

“can’t deny that.”

“so, when’s the first date?”

your eyes widen in shock. “jesus, lyla. we literally just met, you know i’m not dating right now.”

“you didn’t exchange numbers for no reason.”

another eye roll. “just as friends, nothing else.”

“does he know that?” she raises a brow.

“yes, i told him.”

she raises her hands. “alright, alright, just saying. however, mr. asshole probably got the wrong idea.” lyla looks past you as she lowers her arms.

turning around, you find miguel observing from afar. you lock eyes for a moment, the first time since walking down the aisle earlier. you notice the jealousy written all over his face. those furrowed brows and clenched fists at his sides. you roll your eyes again before looking away, not caring anymore.

“i don’t give a shit, the asshole can watch what he had lost.” such defiance in your tone.

it’s the truth, you don’t care if miguel gets the wrong idea about you and logan. that man hurt you and deserves to watch you thrive without him.

“ooooo, i like this badass tone.” lyla smirks.

without sparing a final glance at miguel, you and lyla walk away together to join anne on the journey back home. pretending that he doesn’t exist.

miguel, on the other hand, solemnly watches you walk away with your friend just like any other moment. always watching you walk away from him, vanish from his eyes. realization hits that this may be the last time he’ll see you until who knows when. he can’t live without seeing you again yet miguel doesn’t know how to change that.

with a sad sigh, miguel turns back and walks away, carrying the guilt on his shoulders as usual.

𓈒 ࣪ ᠀⠀⠀𝓣𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓⠀⠀♡⠀⠀@reverieblondie @nina-from-317 @kavimoo @aly29a2001 @lazyjellyfish300 @tojishugetiddies @aphinthestars @novelaaaaaaaa @imamexican @obessgurlll @deputy-videogamer @lovehadlovelost @agoddoesnotplead @saintdiior @whoopwhoppghost @tomalymme @skadiloki @asterrrrose @glossygreene @youcantseem3 @resident-clown @kutsipie @zuevcs @totorotales-08 @meowgirl1 @sukunash0e @sirendyes @leahnicole1219 @lisa-takeshi @yehet-moi-ohorat @slowlyshycomputer @wasitforrevenge @webshoootrz @f1-hoff @chaeriescola @espressopatronum454 @trocaderoisyummy @totallygyomeiswife @mcmiracles @celestialgarden23 @tatatida @whdhjfjvjvjfjdhsj @nocturne-light @xenop0p @juneonhoth @ghostsdoll @marshmallowsforever ( if you’re not tagged, age/age-range is require since this fic is 18+, context for reasons why )

©⠀TEENIDLEGIRL⠀♡⠀don’t plagiarize or repost my work

[whateversawesome]

Spy x Family Ch. 108: Fear

Don't get me wrong, that panel with Twilight remembering his friends was beautiful. I think he feels nostalgic for that connection with other people. However, I think what really caught my attention in this chapter was Melinda.

Come on, look at this:

Look at this face of terror. And she was just remembering her husband's eyes!

A long time ago, when we just met Melinda, I wrote this theory about her being afraid of her husband. Today, it was finally confirmed.

I feel so sad for her. Melinda has probably been carrying this alone for a long time. I doubt she's shared her fears with any friends or family members because, who would believe the illustrious political leader could be an abusive man? This is especially true if there's no actual physical violence in the relationship. However, like I said before, violence is more than that.

Something tells me that the violence in their relationship is mostly psychological. Donovan Desmond uses his authority to tell Melinda what to do, to create fear, to keep her away from their children.

Melinda appears as such a composed woman who has her life together in front of others, and only someone as emotionally perceptive and caring as Yor would notice something is wrong. There's a shame component in abusive relationships: "How did this happen to me? I used to be so strong and brave," combined with disbelief: "Am I overreacting? Is he really that bad? Why am I afraid of him if he hasn't really done anything to me?"

Hopefully, in time, Melinda will realize that fear is not only her responsibility; even if her husband wasn't physically abusive, his behavior caused her fear.

Without a doubt is a complicated issue, which brings me to something that will probably complicate things even more:

Yup, Twilight.

I'll admit that this is the first time that I felt very uncomfortable with what Twilight is about to do, but that's exactly the point. Good fiction/literature is suppose to move something within us, even if at times, it makes us feel uncomfortable.

You probably imagine why: Melinda is a person in dire need of therapy. She deserves (and needs!) a true professional and instead, she getting someone who is only trying to gather information.

HOWEVER...

Time and again, Twilight has shown that despite his line of work, he'll always try to do the right thing and the least amount of harm. So, I'm hoping he will apply that in this specific situation. My guess is that it will start as a way to get information (his classic "for the mission") but then, as Melinda opens up, he will actually give her good advice and hopefully empower her, as a real therapist would do!

Something else to keep in mind is that Melinda story of domestic violence could trigger Twilight himself in some way, given his own family history. We will have to wait to see how that goes.

Bonus

A final note on Melinda's beliefs in occultism: it makes sense.

I won't comment too much on the specific meaning of the cards because my knowledge is limited and I'm skeptical about that. But I will say that it makes sense that someone with so much fear and uncertainty in her life would believe in something that would bring her reassurance that everything will be okay or try to know the future in order to protect herself. (I really want to give Melinda a hug.)

On the other hand, you know who doesn't believe in that?:

Yup, our dear Becky, who is one of the most authentic character in sxf, who is protected and loved by her parents and Martha. That makes sense too.

[leroiestmortvivelareine]

Strap in if you dare, I’m going to talk about Riko.

Yes, he is a Bad Person. Nothing I’m about to say counters that. However… evil isn’t always so obvious as to dress in black and torture everyone you love. Evil is insidious and nuanced - it can creep in when you aren’t expecting it and have no defences. We’ve been given this incredibly complex and interesting example of it, and we’ve been given it for a reason. Riko is a character worth trying to understand.

Could Riko ever have been saved, and if so what would it have taken? What if he’d been able to follow the Fox path to redemption instead of the Ravens to perdition?

Except both Foxes AND Ravens were traumatised… the thing that ruined Riko was power. Lincoln said it: “nearly all men can stand adversity but if you want to test a man’s character, give him power.” Who was Riko without power? It’s hard to see.

So I’m fascinated by a different question - how did Riko see Riko?

We know how the Foxes saw him: a low-functioning sociopath with zero coping skills and the personality of a cat trapped in a wall cavity. Presumably that’s not how he saw himself. What kind of headcanon did he construct for himself, what was his own personal mythology?

We know he wanted his father’s approval, he wanted to be number one. We know how badly he dealt with those desires being thwarted.

I know how it feels to be an abandoned child. You feel like the outer edges of a person, with this gaping hole in the centre. It’s not just that you lost a loved one, it’s - how can I say it - it’s like the clasp that lets you hold on to people has been torn out too. Everyone will leave now, and you know it.

(I didn’t cope by turning my bedroom into Abu Ghraib, though.)

It’s the worst of both worlds. His father is far enough away to cause that gaping wound, yet not sufficiently gone for it to ever close over and heal.

But… despite his impossible situation, Riko wasn’t withdrawing into himself. Resentment ate away at him and he liked doing side-projects of revenge, but it was hope driving him on. I see Riko as someone with a very hot flame in them, someone determined to succeed (like Neil). He was driven, even if the goal he chased so eagerly was an illusion. I think he saw his situation as a challenge, an opportunity to prove himself and eventually take his rightful place at his father’s side (surely that’s what Kengo really meant, surely this was a test, a test he can pass if he just wins one more time...)

Imagine something like… the second son of a Roman emperor, sent to some far-off outpost to get him out of the way subdue rebel tribes. A chance to make a name for himself, an opportunity to create an elite unit where violence and skill are everything, where winning is everything. A challenge he accepts with savage excitement.

And the world views them with the kind of awe once reserved for ancient Sparta. Unsurpassed warriors, impossibly focussed. Yes, they endure conditions no one else could even consider but they always win, and everyone loves winners. They are the legends of legends. Surely his father will see.

Kevin was his Lancelot, his shining sword, his right hand. Kevin added to Riko’s status, assured him he must be a hero if he had such a splendid champion at his side.

But Kevin is beautiful, so perhaps Riko’s feelings were more complicated than that, perhaps they were feelings he couldn’t admit he had. He could still work those feelings into the overall picture though… it’s all part of Kevin being his beloved champion.

Until the champion started edging him out of his own story and had to be sacrificed. A necessary sacrifice, but losing Kevin struck a huge blow to the mythology Riko built up about himself. He could no longer look in the mirror, side by side, and see Kevin’s glory (and, yes, Kevin’s dad) reflected back as though it belonged to him too.

Despite this Riko finds a way to keep winning, even without his champion. Surely that is even more impressive? Can his father see that?

Still no response. In the story Riko constructs for himself his father does no wrong, so this towering rage he feels has to crash down on someone else. He tells himself he is punishing his troops for daring to be unworthy.

Then there is Jean, someone from a caste so low as to be unclean, even subnormal, someone it would hurt Riko’s prestige to treat with any kind of respect. But Jean is also beautiful, and those feelings can’t be worked into the myth. Their outlet is the darkness behind closed doors, along with all the other feelings that don’t fit the story of the hero.

Harming his people, his intimate possessions, was Riko’s coping mechanism for rejection and humiliation the way self-harm in many forms is to many others. (Are you hearing me if I say hurting yourself is hurting your own Perfect Court, and there is collateral damage even if you think it’s just you, because people love you and suffer because of it? Are you hearing me if I say stop being Riko to yourself?)

And maybe his enjoyment of that cruelty was, deep down, a form of denial that the cruelty arose from anguish. ‘No I’m not upset, I’m not a loser, I’m in control, I’m doing this because I like it…’ Maybe even to the point where rendition becomes sexual.

But it’s starting to unravel. He’s lost his only friend and can no longer unleash his mounting frustrations on Jean the way he wants to; he’s running out of pieces for his board.

Then he finds the fugitive his family were chasing for so long. This is his big chance. He’ll have a brand new champion for his stable or a valuable offering to please his father, he wins either way.

He captures this feral child who tells him there is no empty throne waiting by the side of the emperor, Kengo never mentions his son’s name, Riko is nothing more than a joke in that far-off capital. So much scorn in those words that the carefully constructed mythology withers before it.

First the would-be rook took the queen, then the wild-card knight escapes again, and now the whipping boy / concubine / bishop is taken by a girl with a cross around her neck. The king has lost all his men… because that’s your REAL story, isn’t it: everyone leaves you.

And then… Kengo dies.

Yes, Riko is a Bad Person. No, I do not like him. But Nora gave us two boys who met their brother for the first time, two boys who cried out their brother’s name only to see their hopes shattered. And in that moment they were one, so I cannot dismiss this monstrous, horrible abomination no matter how hard I try.

I can however dismiss anyone who says Nora is not a goddess of writing.

[onlyseokmins]

mischief maker • y.j.h.

Pairing: yoon jeonghan x fem!reader Genres: smut (minors dni!), angst, priestess!au, fantasy!au, gods/goddesses!au Warnings: magic, mentions of blood, war, cruelty, tyranny - all that good stuff, mentions of religion (au-specific), violence (i.e. suggestion of murder), (death) threats, and possible gaslighting ��🏻 jeonghan is an absolute FILTHY menace, light slapping, uh I wrote this so long ago and just finished it so lmk if i forgot anything?? WC: 4.2k A/N: also another thing rotting in my drafts </3 anyways kinda proud of this one but it's also obscene and hard to follow so sorry </3 let me know if you have any theories hahah!!! this goes hand-in-hand with Ashes and Cinders, so definitely recommend to read that one if you haven't already

"Look at how heavenly you are. The lengths you'd go, so dedicated to prove your servitude."

Droplets of perspiration turn into diamonds, littering the bare skin of your back that's exposed more than usual due to the disheveled state of your robes. Neither the dewy sheen coating your skin nor the cold stone you're pressed against causes the chill that sets off tiny bumps decorating your sweat-soaked figure. It is from the sensation of a plethora of tiny gems crystalizing against your heated body before they slide to the floor. 

Each precious jewel that falls creates a tinkling melody. Echoing the sound of the ones wrapped around your neck and sewn into the fabrics that were once draped elegantly over your curves as you moved through the temple.

It's difficult to focus when your eyes are nearly crossed. Your elegant, upright visage is beyond recognition. Instead, a depraved image is reflected in the pristine water of the blessed fountain that flows out into a shimmering pool encased by polished marble. You were always quite meticulous about upholding the beauty of the temple you oversee.

Yet, who's the one sullying all the hard labor the maidens endure under your watchful guidance?

Drool dribbles past your lips, sore and swollen from how many times teeth have bitten into and at them. Now, they have no choice but to stay open and release a series of successive, sultry moans being drawn out of you and resonating throughout the chamber. Head lolling and vision starting to swim, losing count of how many times you've been brought to and over the overwhelming peak of pleasure.

"How does it feel?" Sweeping back long, flaxen bangs out of his glowing gaze with the finesse a mortal man could only dream to possess after hours upon hours of fucking, Jeonghan smirks. Miniscule encrusted diamonds grow, glisten, and gleam, bestowing a dazzling glitter on his forehead before they drop. "How does it feel for your god to bury his cock inside this tiny blessed cunt, my precious priestess?" 

If a verbal answer was needed, the both of you would be shit out of luck. Fortunately, as a sentient being, he can hear the innermost thoughts of many. Usually a low murmur in the back of his mind unless he focuses on them or they are an extremely devout believer in prayer. 

And you just happen to be the high priestess of Yoon. The model of devotion. Possibly the only mortal capable of handling the god of the temple in his true, divine form. 

By now, he has to chuckle at how your little head is only full of nonsensical thoughts. More, more, more, and Jeonghan, god, Jeonghan are the only comprehensive things that cry out to him. Even within the physical tremor of your body beneath him and the fluttering squeezes of your pussy. So much pleasure writhes throughout your very being that it races like electricity in a wire and surges inside his own, erupting into unadulterated waves of even more bliss for the both of you.

He leers in victory. Bringing you to your knees was a lot harder than expected, especially for someone who was supposed to serve the people in his name. To be completely honest, he was the one who ended up on his knees first — cleaning up the tantalizing slick gathered between your legs with his tongue. It was after you had spread them teasingly upon his arrival, accidentally summoned to your bedchambers at the seductive cry of his name. Cock-throbbing whimpers that had fallen from your lips while pleasurably climaxing from your fingers dipping in and out of the wet warmth between your legs. Eager to let go after playing for quite some time with such sweet, pooling arousal.

That was the day he found out just how much more delicious you were than the frothy nectar of the gods overflowing from their goblets during festivities. 

And he had become addicted. 

But now, look at you.

Your saintly garments are an unholy mess. Saturated by a mixture of both of your releases, the pure white colors practically become transparent. Especially following an… unfortunate tumble into the holy spring.

Normally, it would be a punishable offense to defile the holy waters. But when it's a priestess capable of the most powerful purification skills being encouraged to ride the cock of the temple's worshiped being who very much doesn't give a damn — well…

It's why you're splayed across the pool's ledge, lower body on full display for the god to use. Not entirely the most comfortable of positions. But it's somewhat of a respite for your tender breasts that are littered with sore bites and nips from Jeonghan while he muttered praises bards might be inspired to repeat as songs if they weren't so filthy.

You're unable to think a single thought in that pretty head of yours. His hips snap rapidly at such a pace to bully his dick deep within your cunt and with the force that would've broken a human of the same stature's bones otherwise. Lanky, sinewy muscles buzz with a faint glow to match the radiance of his irises.

"What would the maidens that look up to you in awe think if they saw you like this? Your loyal priestesses that respect you? The followers that worship the ground you tread on almost more than how strongly they pray to me?"

You were an influential figurehead of society. Ever since you walked in the steps fate laid out for you by a grand oracle's prophecy, you became the pinnacle of holiness in the surrounding lands. Virginity as a requirement was only practiced in the days of the old texts, and though your romps with the handsome and beautiful people of the citadel were not fully behind you, Jeonghan would make sure no one else could ever satisfy you like he can.

Besides, who could ever fuck a human as well as only a god can?

His stamina is on a whole other level. Unthinkable for a divine being well known for his laziness in the so-called dignified parables spun by the mortal tongue for generations. Maybe it's fueled by the intricate bond formed between the two of you, but it would be a lie to say it wasn't by far the best dicking down you have ever received. Jeonghan's not the thickest cock you've taken, but he sure is the longest and knows exactly how to use it.

"Dirty little priestess, the way this sopping pussy clings around me like a vice." He scoffs at the realization. "No wonder even the mightiest of gods bows down and lays with his mortal queen every chance he gets."

The distraught huff torn from your lungs paired with filthy wet noises when he pulls out of your sloppy hole is music to his ears. Akin to the harps and flutes the muses and their delicate fingers pluck and play to grace the court of deities present among the clouds.

His palm splays out, flying across your ass cheeks with a resounding crack visually reflected by the responsive jiggle and wiggle of your hips following the cruel motion. Scratch that. He bites his bottom lip with glee, the same hand fingering your cunt to scoop up the mixtures of his multiple releases and yours from earlier. The delightful squelching is much better than the heavenly harps of the gods.

Jeonghan figures that's where you'll end up one day, sitting all pretty. Whether or not you'll be a divine being — he refuses to use his wily brain to think harder about that. Though with the way the two of you continue to defile one another, a trip to the underworld may be in your future cards instead.

He reckons you'd love the delightful heat of the lava baths and the cute little boiling bubbles that pop at the surface. Especially if you decided to sink down on his cock… the god shivers delightfully at the thought.

"Vices. How fitting for you mortals."

Tugging the back of your ear with his unsoiled hand so you can turn your head, squishing a cheek against the marble and blearily struggle to look at him through unfocused pupils. Still, you're able to make out the v-shape of his pointer and middle finger — and even the clear strands of arousal stretched between them — before he sticks his tongue out to lick up. All while maintaining eye contact with a smirk, continuing his venomous words.

"Silly brother of mine, wasting time to concoct a drink for the gods who have no need for refreshments. Stupid humans who attempt to brew it with their measly tools as an homage." His thumb returns to circle your sore clit, drawing out more garbled moans. "All those efforts when this," another swipe and he's slurping it up again and tossing his head back with a throaty groan of pleasure, "this is the real ambrosia."

Jeonghan, Jeonghan, Jeonghan, cries your body, your mind, and your soul.

So much that your very being resonates and calls out his true name, causing the god's aura to glow brighter. Dozens of rubies, crystals, jades, and emeralds spill out from his pores at the effort and exertion of his dick slamming back inside of you. It's more thrilling and stimulating than participating in the senseless wars his brothers like to lure him into.

Strength fills him like never before. No one would think the god of mischief would have many believers but humans were petty. They may pretend to walk the righteous path yet they thrive on the downfall of even those close to them. You delivered messages from the god with little thought, for greater forces spiraled his playfulness into much more ominous threats if they chose to — swallowing up his domain for their own brutal goals.

"Why do you not wish for more power?" you'd dared to ask him on the rare days he appeared at the temple. Lounging about on the architecture's high peaks without a care in the world. "Surely you could have greater control."

"My dear high priestess," Jeonghan chides. He's not completely unaware of the effect his acknowledgment of your existence and title has. "The strenuous move of my pinky finger is enough effort asked of me for the next millennium. That alone could cause a child's village to go up in flames just because of a little prank gone wrong."

Your posture remains as refined and poised as always, yet your eyes wistfully trace his features — wishing it could be your hands instead. "I see."

"I imagine the creator molded me the way I am for the benefit of the world. Think of the havoc I could wreak if I was motivated to do so?"

Unbeknownst, the creator did take it into account. Though they made no concerted effort to intervene in the consensual exploitation the mischievous god took of the beautiful priestess. Or maybe it was the other way around? Fully aware of the unspoken thread weaving through the temple of Yoon, content to watch the god become more interested in life as he whispered in your ear. This time, bold words that were definitely not meant to be relayed to his followers. 

The creator let fate be, for the current gods can only fall for a new world to rise.

"Ambrosia that would bring a transgressor due enlightenment and a savior," Jeonghan continues with a dark chuckle, "or a god to their knees. All for this sinful, perfect little cunt."

Moan after moan leaves your mouth, shamefulness long gone the minute the god saw your spread legs, and his azure eyes were immediately drawn to what was in between them. His cock continued its brutal assault, pistoning in and out of what he deemed the world's finest treasure.

"But no one will ever get a taste of this one. It's mine. Mine!"

His slender fingers wrap around the back of your neck. Surprisingly, he lifts your head up gently — just enough for you to nod your head at his growl of "Isn't that right?", though when only more drool drips out of your mouth, Jeonghan shakes your head roughly in a "yes" motion.

"I could break you," he hisses as if he hasn't already nearly done so. "You are as fragile as a blade of grass in my hands." Another harsh slap lands on your backside. "Yet so resilient to my wrath, this hole of yours is always so welcoming. Why?"

Yours, yours, yours.

Jeonghan agrees with a feral growl, one not of this realm. Like a sounding bell and beckoning call from the vast unknown, it sends a vision flashing across your eyes. The sun freezes in the sky with its brilliant, harsh glow yet the world turns eerily cold and not into dust and ashes as expected. Then the sky turns black, a terrifying darkness, and a howling moan of despair. 

The moon joins its counterpart like two eyes glaring at the universe. They shudder in tandem, vibrating at a shaking frequency until you realize. They are staring right at you, unwavering. Like a face. Like a reflection.

A crash and a boom and a roar — then you're coming undone on Jeonghan's cock for an unbelievable amount and length of time. Shuddering as the world falls apart inside your brain, screaming and writhing though not quite in actual pain as the god kindly fucks you through your climax.

"Turn you into one of us, then you would no longer have such a weak mortal body. But even that's not possible… unless it's the creator. Perhaps even then…"

You don't register his words and maybe it's good you don't. He refuses to bare the heart he doesn't have. An ultimate weakness. Not like his foolish brothers. 

And yet…

While waiting for the shaking of your body to subside, his hands ghost over your form as if to ease the trembling. Listening to your heart rate until it no longer beats as crazily as you find rest in lean arms that cradle your body without sexual intention for the first time since the god's descent. After placing your weary body in the fountain, you're soon lulled into a dreamless doze by the soothing lap of the tiniest of waves against your skin and Jeonghan's gentle caresses.

You awaken much later. Feeling a lot more refreshed by some well-deserved rest and your innate healing powers aided by the holy spring's rejuvenation. Flowers in varying shades matching the luminescent color of Jeonghan's eyes litter the bed. Surrounding you with the same sweet scent when in his embrace. Picking one up, you thumb at glossy petals that remind you of the god's silken hair and smooth skin. 

Truly a symbol of his likeness.

"Priestess."

Your head jerks up when the subject of your thoughts silently materializes. A scratchy throat turns even drier and makes it hard to swallow upon spying a glint of silver pinning up Jeonghan's long locks. Another symbol — this one of the god's chilling wrath — is a spear disguised as a fragile hairpin. 

Carved from the bones of an ancient beast slayed by a hero of legends, the shining spear was crafted and embellished by the hands of a talented blacksmith gifted it in the name of his fellow brother and deity. The one that stands before you now, Jeonghan, the god of mischief. 

Tales of the legendary weapon thrown from his slender fingers and whistling through the battlefields to mercilessly strike down foes and enemies alike are documented on ancient scrolls in the oracle's grand library. As the only other one with access to such rare treasures, you'd poured over the delicate artifacts for days to learn more about the god you serve, eyeing the tiny circlet that hangs around his neck, certain it's the powerful aegis that supposedly wields the ability to turn those into stone.

"Drink." A chalice disrupts your view of the god and you take it, grateful at least for something to soothe how parched you feel. If he even notices your anxiety, he stays quiet and sits on the edge of the bed. Playing with a flower stem until you finish, the representative plant somehow looks both foreign yet perfect in his hands. "You saw something, didn't you?"

"Some sort of vision. One that was quite… frightening." 

"Describe it to me."

"Th-the gods. I think, my goodness, I am certain that they were at war."

As you explain in greater detail, weaving your tale of the bleak sun into it, Jeonghan's sapphire irises grow darker. Colder. By the time you've finished, the stem he'd been twirling in his hands has snapped in half and you no longer dare to look him in the eye even when he hums.

"The sun… hm? How interesting."

"Yes." 

You nod knowingly, and he lets out a dramatic sigh. There's a shing! noise and the god stands, a visible aura radiating around his form as the fearful spear elongates, revealing itself. It looks less deadly than described in stories, though you suppose no one who has been pierced by its shaft has lived to tell the story of its killing nature. Delicate and thin with a beautiful glow around it in this peaceful moment. But you know better than to trust what the eye — even one as perceptive as yours — can see and shudder.

"Is it the holy war you fear? Doubt that you'll receive a divine blessing of protection?"

A wry smile graces your lips. "I don't need to worry about being protected. It is my duty to defend the temple no matter what."

Jeonghan snickers, remembering the sharpened tip that almost grazed him. Caught off guard on his first visit when a priestess greeted him with a nocked arrow rather than a subservient bow of respect. And who knew he'd end up bedding that very same priestess, addicted to your body and all that it offered him. 

"Nothing will strip away the divine barrier encasing us so easily," you also point out and he nods, eyes lifting to the sky displayed through the high, open arches of your sleeping quarters. 

"I suppose you're correct. Though I do not know if you'd be able to fend off all my brothers…" The god lets out an undignified snort. "I do not believe they are planning an uprising so I must see what this vision of yours could be about." Jeonghan stretches, sending a lazy grin your way. "Do you trust me?"

You think back to gentle touches after a rough session. Whispers of sweet nothings and meaningless pledges when he thought you had drifted asleep. Waking up clothed in gossamer silk — a gift each time — and various reminders of his touch in the aches of your body that had yet to recover, visual ones scattered about the bed you rested upon each time. 

You recall what your purpose is. The oath you must uphold is proven by your namesake. Your destiny. And more. It is something you cannot forget. Ever.

"Of course," you assure him and Jeonghan laughs carefreely. Like he can't believe your faith in him himself. Neither can you.

He shakes his head, strands of hair shining like gold threads. Taking the chalice from you and lifting your freed hand to place a chaste yet flirty kiss to your knuckles. "Don't forget about me, my priestess. I'll return soon."

Another empty promise. Though you don't refute, playing along with his teasing remarks of you welcoming him back with open legs. Bidding the god a rather casual farewell before he disappears — but not with a wink followed by a bright flash and loud thunderclap.

Once you've sensed his presence is truly gone, you rise from the bed. A lyre sits in the corner and you run your fingers melodically across the taut strings while refining your appearance. You have a job to do after all.

The shrill cry of a raven draws your gaze to the open window where the black bird lands. It hops around, tilting its head curiously and rustling feathers expectantly. You smile, laying out a collection of gems on the ledge for it to inspect and play with. Summoning the maidens of Yoon, you speak to your confidante, stroking its midnight plumage while waiting for them to make the journey up to your chambers.

"Foolish gods, always underestimating. Jeonghan may have forgotten… everyone must have cast it from their minds." Your avian companion lets out a low croaking noise, nuzzling your palm with its beak as if to comfort. "But I… I will never forget." 

Do not. Forget.

Don't you. Dare. Forget

"I won't. I can't."

The voices in your head would never let you. And they will only get louder as time marches on, especially without Jeonghan by your side. But that is neither here nor there. You can't do anything about it except the one thing you — and only you — can do. 

By the time the eldest maiden has ascended the steps, you are alone again. Dressed in the purest of white robes and not a hair, jewel, or garment out of place. There are no black feathers, radiant jewels, or azure petals found in the humble and barren chambers of the high priestess. Just you, with your hands clasped together, and a fixed smile on your face.

"It is time." None of them notice the empty look in your eyes as they bow before you, heeding the declaration that comes from your lips. "It is time to spread the prophecy to the world. The real one."

"Yes, Mother," comes the obedient chorus.

The young women's eyes remain cast downward out of respect and the ambience of power emanating from you. For though they loyally represent the god of mischief, there could be no higher honor than serving a greater goddess such as yourself.

Jeonghan is clever. Wily. Smarter than he lets on which can be a true asset to those unsuspecting. But by no means is he ambitious. He is young too, and though the shell you reside in was destined to be his high priestess, the ancient bind to your soul has a stronger pull.

"He is coming," you murmur to yourself as the maidens set about the command you've ordered.

There's a warm glow bursting from the horizon, a fiery heat swathed in a tender caress making those erratic flames calmer. Softer. You're accustomed to what should be a sweltering wrath full of rage and the indicative hint to the tempered nature makes you smile. But the fuzzy feelings are tainted by a bitter tang of what is to come after the god of the sun's visit.

And so you prepare yourself for Seokmin to bring his eager request in your private chambers, stroking the head of your elusive feathered companion at your side while you wait. Watching as the sun rises higher and higher and an auburn-haired figure makes his way closer and closer.

Meanwhile, a flaxen-haired god's grip might nearly snap the spear he's holding in half. He stares at his eldest brother, aghast.

"You're lying."

"I am many things, Han, but I am not a liar."

"Brother —"

The king of the gods holds up a hand. "You don't have to believe me but it is the truth."

And though Jeonghan wants to fervently deny it, the dragged-down weight of his mortal shell's bones fight against what his godly head refuses to acknowledge.

He's brought back to what he was envisioning while bored out of his mind at his brother's lengthy counsel session. You — touching yourself, needy and forlorn without him there to fill you up — and him — returning to find such a scene and punishing you in the most salacious way possible.

But it's warped by his prophetic powers, proving his brother to be correct. Instead, you call him to bed and of course he follows, seduced by the way your body moves and everything else he wouldn't dare admit. And just as he finishes painting the inside of your cunt with all that he's worth and more, heavily spent from the throes of passion — you strike. Like a cobra lying in wait for its prey.

"Why?" is what he pathetically says as golden ichor drips from the corner of his mouth. The dagger you'd struck into his chest hurting a lot less than the actual damage truly dealt to what no human should ever be able to touch — his heart.

Blinking out of the painful vision, Jeonghan scowls at his brother. "You didn't know we've had an enraged primordial goddess on our hands?"

"Don't turn this on me when you've been fraternizing with said goddess."

Just as he's about to retort, the sudden darkness below the heaven's distracts both gods. The sun slips from the skies and a wail of grief so loud and chilling echoes, the harkening sign to the beginning of an apocalypse. The end. And for the first time ever, they feel a rush of emotion they've never felt in their whole immortal lifespan.

Fear.

As if that's not the worst of it all, he hears your voice. You're slyly drawing on that mental connection between the two of you, so that the phrase can be heard so crystal clear that his knees almost give out at the damnation you've orchestrated.

"And so… let the gods pay as they fall."

onlyseokmins: September 2024 ©

[mehiwilldoitlater]

He gently caressed their scattered skin, dry for their living condition and from the mud that had been spattered on them while they were dragged to the sentences of the seven.

The imposter was finally captured, and now the day of their execution has come.

As they were taken to their pyre, the seven archons observed in disgust the blasphemy of the creature that dared to impersonate the actual creator. But three, among those who wanted to claim their heads, felt a heavy doubt about this call for blood.

The Hydro and Dendro Archons looked at each other, knowing that something in them was so off. And, just behind Lady Furina, the Ludex watched, in horror, the scene in front of him.

That wasn't justice. Justice was something that needed to be used in order to create peace—to judge and punish the ones that harm others lives, the ones that have to keep everything in check.

They dragged that poor, marturated body over the stage,their hands grasping some hair from their caged throats. Their jailers didn't lose the opportunity to shove their feet on their already broken ribs, causing them to cough and gasp. That wasn't justice.

Days prior, Neuvilette studied the case, searching for everything that could justify the looming execution against someone who had impersonated the creator. And his efforts took him to nothing; the accused was attacked on the spot, but there wasn't any activity from their part.

They never professed to be the creator; the persecution started without an actual felony.

And now there they were, the former dragon in front of the soon-to-be dead imposter.

Why did he feel his heart clench at the vision of that human in that sorry state? He was the great judge of Fontaine; he wasn't supposed to feel sadness against someone like them, and yet...

Without even knowing it, he moved in their direction. Some believed that he was ready to strike something, to hurt them more like everyone else. Instead, followed by the crowd falling into silence, he kneeled in front of them, watching the creator in their eyes.

There were no eyes to watch—just two burning holes. They once admired the beauty of that world.

His gloved fingers reached for their cheeks, meeting only a trembling and sobbing mess. They retreat, fearing another sharp blow.

"Please..."

His voice was calm and gentle, which surprised them. How lovely did someone actually use that tone with them?

They kept trembling, but they didn't retreat again when he had the courage to stroke their faces. Was that agonizing torture really necessary? The face of a god was enough to justify the horrors of what they did to that human. In all the years of his work, Neuvilette has never felt such agony for someone who clearly faces unnecessary violence.

Did the archer really enjoy this? Did they actually feel such happiness terrorizing and violating someone who was clearly at their limit? For the first time in a century, Neuvilette felt his blood boiling.

"Why did you impersonate a god? ...Did you want to fool them in order to gain power?"

There wasn't any evidence reported in the document; the witness never actually stated that they ever did something against their law. He had nothing; now he wanted to hear it out.

No words; just a small whine came out of their lips. They wanted to say something, but they were too weak to even talk. Neuvilette came closer, trying to understand something, anything.

"It hurt... It hurt so much. Please."

He didn't need any more words.

////

"Ummm... I wonder what kind of interesting new show you're going to put us through, my dear Ludex!"

Furina's voice was chirpier than ever, clearly infatuated by the outcome of the last week.

Neuvilette decided to ignore her small talk; he had more important matters to attend to.

"By the way, you said that the other day our new guest had... spilled gold from their bandages?"

"Yes, I think that happened. I think I saw a few traces back at the executor, but I never investigated anything about it."

"Ummm..."

Silence fell again in the office, and the two occupants now wondered the same question.

What now?

[just-aake]

Trust Me

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: A side story/prequel to Come With Me but can be read standalone. You work with Clint to eliminate a dangerous Russian spy in Budapest.

Warnings:  fluff, violence

Words: 2851

Budapest, Past - 2003

“I got eyes on the target,” Clint’s voice comes through your earpiece as you slowly move up the staircase of the apartment building.

“Any clear shot?” you whisper back, adjusting the grip of the gun in your hand.

“Not yet.” 

“Are you even going to shoot her if you do?” you criticize him, still mad at the fact that he didn’t take the shot when he had a chance, letting your target escape and forcing you to track her down all over again. 

Clint sighs tiredly.

“I’m telling you, there’s something different about her. She has potential.”

You roll your eyes at his words. You were quickly moving up in rank at Shield, becoming one of the best trackers in the agency. The last thing you need is a failed mission to derail all of your hard work. 

You slow your steps as you near the door of the apartment room.

“Still nothing?” you ask.

“Yeah, she’s keeping to the center of the room,” he grumbles.

Checking your gun one more time, you nod in determination.

“Okay, you create a distraction and I’ll go in.”

At the sound of broken glass, you kick the door open and rush inside. You spot the target quickly enough, her red hair flipping behind her as she snaps her head toward your direction. 

You shoot at her twice, but she dodges in time for the first bullet to just graze her arm while the other one misses her completely. 

You are about to advance further into the room when a chair flies at you, causing you to duck back behind a pillar as it crashes into pieces against the wall. 

You quickly turn back into the room with your gun raised when her hand grabs your wrist and slams your arm against the pillar. The force causes your gun to fall out of your hands and onto the floor. 

With your arm still in her grip, you raise your leg to kick her, striking her stomach. 

The impact pushes her back, but she doesn’t release you. Instead, she uses the momentum to pull you forward and flip you onto the ground. 

You can only focus on the pain in your back for a second before there is a pressure against your neck. 

The target is on top of you now, pinning you down while pressing her arm hard against your neck. From this position, you can see her face more clearly. Her fierce, cold eyes focus on yours.

You can now understand what it meant when her file described her as beautiful. 

Your lack of oxygen reminds you of your current position, and you internally curse at yourself for losing focus, beginning to struggle against her hold.

She doesn’t budge, but you don’t give up. You glare determinedly at her even as it gets more and more difficult to breathe. 

Her eyes suddenly widen in realization as if snapping out of a daze, and in the next second, she releases her hold and moves off of your body. 

You take in a deep breath, coughing, before rolling shakingly to your feet, picking up your gun during the process. You point your weapon at her, your finger hovering near the trigger. 

But you hesitate when you see her. She hasn’t moved from her position on the floor, and her posture now appears heavy and tired. She has an apathetic expression as she stares at you. It’s like she’s given up completely.

You keep your gun pointed at her cautiously as you try to catch your breath.

“So you’re the Black Widow,” you manage to rasp out.

“Natasha.”

You tilt your head in question. 

Natasha nods at you.

“You were sent to kill me right? I figure if someone should know my name, it should be the one who finally gets rid of me.” 

This was supposed to be the most ruthless assassin? The thought runs through your mind as you watch her.

You lower your gun slowly at her response, raising your other hand to your earpiece to ask Clint.

You don’t notice the red dot that appears at the center of your chest.

“Clint–,” you’re interrupted as Natasha tackles you onto the sofa, and a gunshot shatters the window of the apartment hitting the area where you were standing. 

You look at the bullet mark. From the angle of the shot, if she hadn’t pushed you, you would have been fatally wounded. 

Clint’s voice comes through your earpiece. “A truck just pulled up with a lot of armed men entering the building. You need to get out now! I’ll take care of the ones on the rooftops.”

A small grunt of pain catches your attention as you look at Natasha. Her arm is bleeding from where you had shot her previously, and she had landed on the injured area when she saved you. 

You look between the exit and Natasha, shaking your head as you make an admittedly reckless decision. 

“I’m taking her with me.”

There are sounds of fighting in the background when Clint replies. “What!?” 

You ignore his exclamation, standing up.

“Just meet us back at the safe house.”

Throwing her uninjured arm around your shoulders, you pull her up and wrap your arm around her back, supporting her. You ignore the questioning look Natasha throws at you.

Honestly, you’re not sure what you are doing either. 

Rushing out the door, you stop at the sight of two armed men down the hall. They spot the two of you and raise their weapons. 

In the next second, your body is pushed behind a pillar as gunshots are fired at your position, sending pieces of wood flying. You realize Natasha is pressed close to you, shielding you with her body. 

When there is a slight pause, she pulls out her gun and shoots back at them. After they are subdued, Natasha looks back at you to check your condition, and she finds you staring at her curiously. 

You were speechless, unsure of what to say after the supposed assassin protected you for the second time. You are about to thank her when you spot another man over her shoulder, appearing from one of the other apartment doorways. 

You quickly push her behind you before firing at him, his body slumping to the ground.

Turning back to her, Natasha has an impressed expression as she looks at you. You ignore the warm feeling when you see her intense gaze, grabbing her hand and pulling her towards the direction of the staircase.

You stop abruptly when you see more armed men sweeping the floor around the corner. 

Backing up quietly, Natasha pulls you into another open apartment room. 

You close the door, locking it, before pushing the dining table against the entrance. Turning back around, you find her standing on the window sill. 

“What are you doing?” you hiss at her, grabbing her hand.

“I’ve got an idea. Just follow me.”

She begins to move along the edge outside of the building, but she stops when you don’t release her hand.

You look down at the long drop skeptically.

“They’re going to break in any minute now,” Natasha warns.

At the sounds of stomping and yelling in the halls, you curse as you reluctantly climb up onto the edge with her. 

The two of you move carefully around the building until she stops suddenly. You gasp in surprise when she jumps off the edge. 

Natasha lands gracefully on a balcony two floors down of the building next to yours, straightening back up. She looks up at you expectantly.

“Come on, I’ll catch you.”

You scoff in disbelief.

“Sure, I’ll just trust an assassin with my life. What could go wrong?”

You close your eyes, resting your head against the building as you prepare yourself. You don’t see the small, amused smile on Natasha’s face as she watches you.

Letting out a deep breath, you leap off the edge. Her hands wrap around you, catching you and bringing you safely to the ground.

You stumble into her as you try to stabilize yourself, your hands holding her shoulders tightly. You stay in that position, taking deep breaths to calm your beating heart.

When you finally pull away, she raises her eyebrows at you in a silent question.

Huffing, you shove past her into the building, grumbling under your breath.

“I should’ve just killed you.”

Natasha lets out a small smile at your words, looking away, before following after you.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

The two of you arrive at the safe house first. After checking the locks, you turn to the supposedly deadly spy. She has an impassive look on her face as she settles on one of the chairs.

You frown when you notice a dark color on the sleeve of her arm. She must still be bleeding from when you shot her. You go to the bathroom to grab the first aid kit, a clean towel, and a bowl of water.

Natasha looks at you curiously when you pull up a chair next to hers. You were laying out your supplies on the table before grabbing a pair of scissors and reaching for her arm. Her years of training cause her body to instinctively tense and move away. 

You pull your hands back at her guarded posture.

“I’m just going to cut off the sleeve to patch you up. We need to get that clean unless you want to get it infected,” you reassure her. 

You wait until her body relaxes and she moves her arm back to you before getting closer to remove the piece of clothing. 

You observe the injured area. It didn’t look too deep since the bullet only grazed her, so all you would need to do is dress the wound and bandage her up. 

You are careful not to jostle her arm too much as you begin your work. Dipping the towel in the water, you dab it gently around the edges of the wound, cleaning off the dried blood. When you finish, you grab the disinfectant spray.

You look up at her apologetically.

“Sorry, this is going to sting.” 

Natasha doesn’t respond to your words, but you see a slight nod of acknowledgment.

Sighing, you spray the disinfectant solution on the wound before covering it with a dressing. Besides a tiny sharp inhale of breath, she doesn’t even flinch at the contact. 

Fully focused, you unconsciously blew lightly on the surrounding area to provide some relief from the stinging sensation.

Your action causes Natasha to look at you in surprise. It’s been a long time since she has been cared for this gently before. 

You begin to apply the bandage. As you carefully wrap her arm, you decide to speak up.

“Thank you, by the way, for saving me back at the apartment,” you tell her sincerely.

When you look up at her, there is a pained expression on her face. You are about to ask if you had hurt her when she spoke first.

“Why didn’t you kill me?” 

Her question causes you to pause for a second. You shake your head, looking back down to continue your process of wrapping the bandage.

“I could ask you the same thing,” you respond, referring to when she let you go. 

“You know who I am. What I’ve done. I’m not a good person. As long as I’m alive, bad things will happen.”

You finish the last wrap, securing the bandage in place before looking at her. 

“From what I saw, you saved my life. Twice. I don’t believe a person who does that can’t have a little bit of goodness in them.” 

Natasha’s eyes widen in surprise.

You give her a small smile and a few gentle pats on her arm.

“All done,” you tell her. 

Standing up, you gather your supplies to return them to their places. Glancing at the corner of your eye, you see Natasha examining the newly bandaged area, gingerly touching it.

At the sound of the lock opening, you both snap to the door, cautious and alert. You relax when you see Clint stumbling in, a little frazzled but otherwise unharmed.

Clint stops at the doorway as he looks between you and Natasha. Letting out a deep exhale, he presses his hand to his head in disbelief.

“Oh wow, you actually brought her with you. This is going to be fun to explain to Fury.”

An hour later, you and Clint check in with Shield on the status of the mission.

Fury’s face is fuming by the time you both recount the events that took place earlier.

“I sent you to eliminate a very dangerous, very deadly Russian spy. Instead, you bring her back with you. What on Earth were you two thinking?”

Clint flinches away from the video call before addressing Fury.

“It’s not Y/n’s fault. I was the one who suggested not to eliminate her. I’m telling you, Fury, she could become a great asset to Shield.”

You look over at Natasha as they continue to argue. She has a cold and impassive expression on her face, seemingly already resigned to her fate. 

You decide to interrupt, “I’m also backing his recommendation for her recruitment to Shield.”

Clint turns to you in surprise at your change of opinion, but you don’t look at him. Your eyes stay focused on Natasha who's now giving you a questioning look.

You continue, “Clint’s right, Natasha has amazing skills and abilities. She’s not irredeemable.”

You look back at the screen.

“She just needs a different option, Fury. We can give that to her.”

A brief look of surprise passes on her face as she stares at you. 

You see Fury contemplate your words, his eyes looking into the distance in thought. He shakes his head in resignation. 

“Ah, what the hell, fine. One chance. Take down the Red Room, and maybe I’ll consider it. But you two are responsible for her. Everything she does, it’s all on you and your jobs. You two better hope you’re not wrong about this.”

You nod your head at him, “Don’t worry, sir.”

You lock eyes with Natasha confidently.

“I trust her.”

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Unknown Airspace, Present Day - 2018

“Ow, that stings.” Natasha winces as you clean the cut on her hand. 

“Stop moving,” you chastise her, as you begin to gently wrap the bandage around her hand. 

“You know, back when we first met, you didn’t make a sound when I was patching you up.”

Natasha gives you a teasing smirk, “That was because I didn’t know I would get a kiss from the pretty agent if I showed a little pain.”

Letting out a huff of laughter, you finish tying the bandage in place before turning her hand and pressing a soft kiss on her palm. 

You move to stand up to put away the supplies, but a tug on your hand causes you to stumble onto her lap, narrowingly avoiding her newly bandaged hand. 

“Nat!” You shouted, examining her hand again to make sure nothing was affected. 

After you finish your inspection, your concerned expression changes into an unserious glare when you finally look at her. 

Natasha has an amused smile on her face, as she raises her eyebrows pointedly at you.

Rolling your eyes, you cup her face, bringing her in for a soft kiss. Natasha’s smile widens against your lips before pressing closer to you, deepening the kiss. 

You were slowly losing yourself in the kiss when you felt her hand caress your thigh. Her injured hand. 

Your eyes snap open at the realization, and you quickly jump off of her lap. Natasha remains frozen in her position, eyes blinking in confusion at your sudden disappearance.  

“No, none of that, you are on bed rest until we get to Wanda’s and Vision’s location.” You reprimand her, moving away quickly towards the door in case she pulls you in again. 

Natasha stands up to follow you, disbelief on her face.

“It’s just a small cut.”

She grabs your hand to turn you around and sees the concern in your eyes.

“What else is bothering you?”

You sigh as you look down at your joined hands, gently caressing the top of her bandage.

“I’m just worried. It’s not like them to not check in.” 

“They probably just lost track of time and forgot.”

Natasha brings her face close to yours.

“Trust me. Everything’s going to be okay.”

You give her a short peck on the lips, smiling at her.

“I always have.”

Natasha smiles at you with love in her eyes before walking backward, pulling you with her. 

“We still have an hour before we reach their location.”

She tilts her head at the bed and raises her eyebrow suggestively. 

You give her an exasperated look.

“You’re injured.”

She has a teasing smirk when she replies.

“There are other things I can do to you that don't require my hand.” 

You roll your eyes and shake your head fondly at her, but you don’t resist when she pulls you on top of her, your body melting into hers perfectly.

[sleepyfan-blog]

Protection

Author’s note: this is the fourth in the Bully(ing) Cato Sicarius fic series. First. Prev. Next

Tagged: @egrets-not-regrets @the-pure-angel @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan @i-am-a-dragon34 @passionofthesith

Warnings: Cato Sicarius Being Himself, ask me to tag if something bothers you, canon-typical violence, disparaging descriptions of food

Summary: Cato is your escort to an Imperial Gala. He’s very bored until he isn’t.

Cato dislikes going to these events when his duties as Second Captain of the Ultramarines mandate him to within Ultramar. Or when he is called upon as the Knight Champion of Macragge to aid in the raising of funds for one thing or another. He's almost always in his dress uniform which offers fuck-all in terms of actual protection, is stiffly starched, inhibits his full range of motion and the cloth is itchy to boot. And speaking of boots, instead of his usual combat boots, he's wearing fine, soft-souled leather boots. He's sure that the leather is ridiculously expensive - it'd taken an annoying amount of credits to get them created in time for the Imperial Gala. At least his family's ancestral sword was at his side. One of his hand drifted down to the hilt of the blade - not that he was going to draw it (and stab himself out of the sheer, unending boredom that gnawed voraciously at his sanity) but merely to reassure himself that it was there, when you come up to hi m, looking frustratingly beautiful in the dress you were wearing.

As your escort, the two of you had color-coordinated… And given that you were part of the Lord Regent's retinue, both Cato and yourself were draped in the colors of the Ultramarines. You were wearing a beautiful deep blue dress with gold accents and jewelry. The central gemstone on the pendant necklace you were wearing was an ultramarine blue lapis lazuli that shone brightly in the light. You thrived in this sort of situation. There were many people of high influence who were willing to be convinced to spend money on the cause you were giving voice to - which was additional funds to repair certain devastated regions across a dozen worlds in this sector of the Imperium.

Cato glared down at the plate of food that had been put in front of him. As an Astartes, the amount of mortal food he'd need to consume in order to properly sustain himself was laughable. These miniscule portions with all sorts of strange crap dribbled across the plate was entirely unappetizing. He poked the… Meat? It was a deep violet color and was oozing a fragrant liquid that was nearly overpowering to Cato's senses. He took one of the far too small eating utensils and poked at it. He'd been to fancy meals before, but most event organizers knew better than to try and feed a space marine anything other than foods and rations made specifically for Astartes.

You nudge him in the side with your elbow "This is Sheldeer tenderloin. It's very expensive and only served to guests of high status. It's supposed to look like this, and the sauce is made out of Splumes - which are a dark purple fruit that are equally sweet and musky. If you refuse to eat, it's an insult to the host."

"… Fine." He had promised Father to do his best to behave himself. Cato's scowl intensified and he cut into the insultingly tiny portion of food, bringing it up to his lips and eating it. He had enough experience with mortal food to be able to keep from flinching as the barrage of intense flavors assaulted his tongue. He swallowed down the tiny morsel without much chewing and grabbed at his wine goblet - the wine had been provided by Father from Macragge itself as a generous gift. The familiar flavors of the wine washed away the strange tastes and textures. There were dozens of reasons why young Ultramarines were given lessons on how to eat at mortal events like this, including them to the assault on the senses that mortal food could prove to be. Especially expensive mortal foods, with their love of anything that was obscenely expensive - no matter how vile it actually tasted.

Acquired tastes his left ass-cheek. Cato didn't care how expensive Purple Truffungus was, it was disgusting. He'd smelled soldiers who'd been suffering from Nurgilite trench foot for weeks and that smelled better than the second tiny dish that he was served. Rancid fish eggs with purple truffungus shaved over top. He glared at the dish, as it was a personal offense to him. The scent alone was making him nauseous.

You nudge him in the side and hiss "Eat it."

"No! I refuse! I've smelled rotten corpses more appetizing." Cato hissed back, shooting you a glare. He could tell that several of the local nobles were watching them. The temptation to cross his arms over his chest after shoving the dish out from under his nose was tempting beyond words.

"Stop being a picky eater! I thought Astartes could eat anything, including dirt and concrete! This is specifically made to be not only edible but allegedly delicious." You counter. You didn't enjoy fermented fish roe either, but he was being ridiculous.

The glare he sent you could melt a glacier within seconds. "Just because we can eat nearly anything doesn't mean that we do." He wasn't going to admit to eating building materials or ground. Even as a dare during his scout-hood days. Reluctantly he picked up a tiny spoon and shoved the dish into his mouth as quickly as propriety would allow, swallowing without chewing to avoid feeling the fish roe bursting disgustingly in his mouth.

~

Once the vile dinner had concluded, Cato followed you onto the dancefloor, taking one of your small hands in one of his, his other hand coming to rest lightly on your waist as he led the two-person dance as the first song played. The food settled unpleasantly in his stomach, but none of it had been poisoned. Simply horrific and nausea-inducing. He remembered the steps to this dance, effortlessly leading you from step to step, his grip light as you spun in the middle of the dance.

"We're going to need to dance with other people. Mingle with the other guests." You murmur, voice low so as to not to carry over the sound of the live music playing.

Cato scowls at that, his grip on your hand and waist tightening a little "No. I am your escort for the evening, which means I am to stay by your side no matter what, in case of emergency or attack."

You sigh a little, eyes softening a bit. He's an asshole, but you're keenly aware of how seriously he takes his duties. "You don't have to be on the other side of the dancefloor, but part of the reason we - I - am here is to make friendly contact with the nobles here, to encourage positive relations between nobles of differing worlds and sectors of the Imperium. Part of how that is done is spending time getting to know them, at least on a superficial level."

The scowl on his face intensified "I agreed to escort you and dance with you. I did not agree to dance with any mortal who wishes to dance with me tonight."

Considering the ferocity of his glare, you doubted that all but the very bravest would get close enough to ask him. "Captain… Cato, please do this for me? I'd be grateful if you did." You plead, looking up at him hopefully. You had to get him to go along with this, for the night to be successful. If he loomed over your shoulder and dance partners all night, it would cause problems. You had to get him to agree to back off, at least a little.

Cato stares down at you, looking as if someone had shot him point blank with a bolter. He stares down at you for several minutes, the frown on his face having shifted into something more thoughtful. His movements during the dance felt automatic - and you could practically hear the many gears in his head churning and churning. Eventually he managed out a gruff "Fine…" He sounded marginally less likely to stab someone than he had all night, which you were counting as a success. With a surprising amount of reluctance, he let go of you when the first song ended.

Since then, you had been flouncing around from person to person as the songs played on, batting your eyelashes at the other mortals. Coaxing them into spending the wealth that their families have been hoarding for untold millennia in exchange for a sweet smile and the occasional dance or flattering comment. You'd been working on Lord Fuckwit the Two-hundred and Eighty-Ninth of his name for the past ten minutes, giving him some of your most professional smiles as he drones on and on about how lucky she was to be even in the same space as him, how illustrious his family was, and how important he personally, was for the Imperium.

Cato had danced with a steady stream of shorter partners, none of whom seemed to have realized that he was an actual Ultramarine from the way they gossiped and griped about the changes to their power-structure that Father had made, more than a few making nearly treasonous comments before spluttering and back-tracking, saying that they'd drunk too much wine, and of course they would follow the mandates that the only known living Holy Primarch had handed down to their rulers. He was mentally categorizing the complainers between those who were likely just talk, those who likely would side with the high lords of terra should those corrupted bastards try for a coup against Father (again) and throw who would get involved and then crumble into a thousand pieces at the slightest bit of threatened hardship if they didn't spill all they knew of such things.

After the tenth song, a number of the mortals had retired to the edge of the dancefloor to refresh themselves. You were busy speaking and dancing with Baron Shitface the Jabbering, so Cato politely excused himself from his latest dancing partner - an empty-headed little mortal who had tried to guess which branch of the Astra Militarum he was from by the cut of his uniform. He didn't even smack or yell at her once for how utterly wrong she was. You better be grateful for how tolerant he's being. Cato stalks to the edge of the dancefloor, the mortals sensing his dour mood and showing some of the sense the god-emperor gave them when they were born by getting the fuck out of his way as he made his way over to the nearest server with a platter of non-alcoholic drinks. He grabbed two of them, taking a sip of both of them and waiting to see if his Bletcher's gland would activate.

It did not, and you looked like you were in need of rescue from Duke Asshole the Seven hundred and four, so Cato made his way over to where you were dancing with him. He was well-passed tipsy and hovering around shit-faced drunk. It was obvious from his swaying movements and slurred speech. You were handling him well, as the seasoned diplomat you were is capable of. He even waited for the most recent song to end before cutting in. "Would you like a refreshment, *cor meum?"

Duke Whoever from Fucking Nowhere spluttered "And just who are you to cut in while I am dancing with this lovely lady?"

Cato didn't so much as glance in the drunken fool's direction, knowing that he only just had control of his temper as it was "I'm not talking to you, Duke." His intense gaze was focused on you.

You could see the way his fingers twitched around the crystal goblet he was holding out to you, the slight furrow of his brows that never meant anything pleasant unless you redirected him away from his fury. You were taken aback by the pet name. You do gratefully take the goblet of water "How thoughtful of you, yes I very much would like a drink, Cato. Duke Thendali, it has been an honor to dance with you, but I would ask of you an indulgence and let me rest for a moment. I have beendancing since the first song and need a moment to refresh myself."

The furrow in Cato's brows softened a little, and he gently tapped his glass against yours "To a successful evening."

The duke wandered off, muttering drunkenly to himself, his eyes set on someone else to speak or dance with.

You echo the captain's sentiments, a small smile appearing on your face. You've been trying to get away from this drunken noble for several minutes, and Cato has given you an excellent out. You wonder if he did that on purpose, and what the cost of that is going to be, or if he feels it is his duty to rescue you out of awkward social situations tonight, in addition of any physical danger you might be faced with. If so, his timing is impeccable. "To a successful evening. Have you been enjoying dancing?"

Cato stared down at you as he sipped on his drink before answering "Dancing with you, perhaps. My other dancing partners have been… Informative. A couple of them I'll mention to Father." From the veiled but dour expression on his face, whoever those people were, were likely to be getting visited by an allied Inquisitor soon.

But that wasn't part of your position and not something that you'd concern yourself with. You finish the drink that Captain Sicarius got for you, going to the drop-off table, humming along to the beautiful music, a genuine if small smile on your face. Despite the fact that you can tell that captain Sicarius has been seething for most of the night, he's… He's clearly trying his best to be pleasant. And he hasn't flung a single baseline human yet, You're almost proud of hi-

Cato watched you as you moved through the crowd to where the empty cups and goblets were supposed to be placed, the irritation and boredom he'd been feeling all night once again bubbling just beneath the surface of his mind. He tensed as one of the servers walked directly over to you, their movements off.

The server pulled a large kitchen knife out of one of their pockets, raising it up as they aimed for your unprotected back.

OH FUCK NO!

The second captain of the Ultramarines sprinted over to where you were standing, oblivious to the danger, not bothering to suppress the furious growl that rumbled in his chest as he bodily slammed into the fool, one large h and crushing the wrist of the idiot who thought to strike at you while under his protection. "You dare strike at her? She who is under the protection of the Lord Regent? Of the Ultramarines? Of myself?"

"Wh… Who are you? Why are you so fucking big?" The idiot spluttered, their eyes going wide as they struggled weakly in his grasp. "She is a hindrance and will be remo-urgk!"

Cato plucked the knife out of the idiot's hand and casually flicked it into the foot thick, solid hardwood table, knowing that it would be buried to the hilt. No one short of an astartes or Ogryn was getting that blade out of the table with any kind of swiftness of ease. In the same motion with the same hand he grabbed the yapping fool of a would-be Assassin as he slowly moved backwards, ensuring that his bulk covered you entirely from all eyes in the room, his own cold as the deepest depths of space "I am Cato Sicarius, captain of the second company of the Ultramarines. This diplomat is under my protection. No harm will come to her tonight or at any other time that she is in my care. You will be questioned and you will spill all of the information you have."

He paused for a moment, looking you over. Your eyes were wide and you were trembling ever so slightly. Fear and confusion plain in your scent, though your Diplomat's Mask kept a calm expression on your face. "Did he nick you anywhere before I could come to your side, my lady?" His voice was warmer, gentler but carried just as far.

You swallow past the lump in your throat and shake your head, noticing as several guards began rushing over. You signal for them to slow down - Sicarius was not likely to take more clearly armed strangers moving at speed towards you. Not with the terrible temper he'd been in all night and the casual violence he'd already showed. "No, he didn't do me any harm. The guards are here, you should give the would-be attacker to them for processing."

Cato huffed, sending a suspicious glare at the sheepish and startled guards "… As you command, my lady. You, catch." With that he flung the would-be assassin to the ground, aiming him so that he hit the ground in front of the closest pair of guards with the ease that a baseborn human would chuck a couple of grapes.

The assassin wheezed out "THERE'S ONLY ONE OF HIM! ATTACK! WE'LL GET HER!"

Nearly two-dozen people suddenly drew weapons and charged yourself and Cato. You froze up, unsure what to do.

Cato snorted, entirely unimpressed. He grabbed the large table filled with empty drinks with one hand and threw it at the closest five would-be assassins, scattering them as he pulled you to his side with his other hand. "Stay close my lady. I will make short work of these fools." He picked you up one-handed, setting you on his shoulders and out of the immediate stabbing range of your would-be attackers. He then drew and activated his power sword. He kept one hand on your back to keep you in place as he hacked and slashed at the charging baseline humans.

With each swing of his sword he either decapitated one of your would-be attackers or took off the arm that held the short blade that they'd been wielding. Twelve of them were dead before anyone really had a clear idea as to what the fuck was going on, and Cato was stalking after the closest three, a predator's smirk on the one handed idiot.

"W-wait… Please… I… I've… I've decided to surrend-aaah!" One of them pleaded, screaming when Cato cut one of their legs off, in order to slow them down.

"I don't think that you and the rest of the idiots who made this suicidal charge understand just who and what you're dealing with." Cato purred as he cut another would-be assassin shoulder to naval, spilling their intestines as they staggered back with a pained gurgle. "I am an Ultramarine captain. Do you know how many centuries of combat I have in order to qualify for that position? How many successful campaigns I've lead, mmm? And you idiots sought to harm my charge. Those of you who survive the next several minutes will regret your idiocy for the rest of your lives. Not that the Lord Regent tolerates traitors and assassins to live past their interrogations. With this stunt, you may just get his personal attention… And you should believe me when I say that he has a way of making a person reconsider every life choice that led them to putting them at odds with him."

Two more of the assassins tried to run from Cato - not that they got near to where the illustrious people had fled to the edges of the large room of, screaming and watching in terrified horror as they watch a furious space marine dismember those who dared think that they could fight against them.

One of the assassins desperately threw a blood-soaked dagger at him, which he didn't bother to dodge - he knocked it out of the air with his own blade, so that the wayward projectile didn't harm any of the other quests. He was going to be scolded for frightening the baselines as it was… He was doing his best to minimize potential civilian casualties. The mortal guards were just as useless as Cato expected them to be - half of them had frozen up in fear, the others were trying to avoid being trampled by the wealthy guests.

Cato killed all but two of the would-be assassins, using the fools own knives to pin them in place by their clothing. He did have some blood splattered on his unform, which was a shame, but at least he had made sure that you were wholly clean of blood. He pointed the tip of his power sword at one of the whimpering sword as he heard the familiar rumble of jump-packs. The smile on his face widened a little as a squad of his subordinates in full ceramite entered through one of the large windows, lead by lieutenant Titus.

Titus called out "I heard that there's a commotion going on. If I'd been told that the gala was going to end like this, I'd have sparred you for the honor of guarding our diplomat, captain. I'm not much for fancy parties, but killing idiots is something I revel in. Father's on his way. Who's the weepy bastard at the other end of your sword?"

"One of the fools who attempted to harm our diplomat, Titus. If you and Numitor would please escort her back to Macragge's Honor, where I know she is entirely safe, I would be most grateful. I am going to start interrogating this idiot now." Cato ordered Titus. He was unwilling to let you out of his sight, but he knew that the lieutenant would die to ensure that you were safe. Not there was anything on this world likely to be able to kill him.

Titus sighed "I figured you'd say something like that. Father says to not interrogate prisoners in public. I've got three squads following me to processing the living and the dead. We're all heading back to Macragge's Honor. Father's orders."

Cato huffed but nodded, sheathing his sword "As Father commands." He scoops you up in his arms, tucking you into his chest as he broke into a swift run, Titus and the squad of Ultramarines he'd led surrounding yourself and Cato protectively.

*according to google translate this means my heart in Latin and as Ultramarines are Space Romans... I went with Latin for pet names.

[moon-child-goddess]

When we say goodbye Pt 1

Pairings:  Druig X LightBender!Eternal!Reader (Fem) 

Summary: Druig and readers time together before he leaves the group. The beginning of her descent into darkness. 

Warnings: MCU Violence, Blood, Fighting, I used Fem pronouns, some fluff and angst. Time Jumps

Author's note: I watched Saltburn and then Eternals, got an Idea so here we are my first ever thingy thing. This is part one. I got carried away…. I hope you all enjoy it! 

Part Two Part Three

Intricate gold patterns trailed up Y/Ns arms as she used the sunlight around her to create a massive hawk. It took off, sinking its glowing talons into the deviant’s eyes. The creature let out a strangled shriek before biting the bird. The golden creature dissolved in its jaws. Y/N pulled more light together, throwing it at the ugly monster. The ground rumbled under her feet as it fell over.  It held the force of a mini earthquake. She used all the strength in her legs to keep from toppling over. Usually, Y/N had to have help from Thena or one of the other Eternals help her take the deviants down. She could wound them but hardly ever executed. 

A deviant that was hidden in the tree line focused on the Y/H/C-haired girl. She stood over its friend, a  wide victorious smile on her face. And did a small dance, proud of herself. It huffed out before taking off toward her. The creature now behind Y/N raised a clawed hand, slashing it through the air with the force of hurricane winds. An ear-splitting scream passed her lips while the deviant’s razor-sharp nails ripped through her flesh. Cutting right through her like a perfectly done steak. A searing heat of pain ran through her body. 

"Y/N!" Druig cried out. Within a heartbeat, he took off running to her. Leaving Kingo and Thena to fend for themselves. He knew they were more than capable of handling their situation.  After all, Thena could take three deviants down in the blink of an eye. 

Gilgamesh neutralized the deviant attacking the girl, effectively preventing it from killing Y/N. More deviants came out of the trees to defend their fallen, pulling him back to Thenas side. There were more of the creatures in this area than anywhere the group had been before. They were multiplying like bunnies in the spring.  

Druig knelt in Y/N's blood as it soaked in to the forest's floor and carefully pulled her head to his lap. His eyes flitted over the crimson wounds, muttering a sorry when a whimper escaped her. Through the blurry haze of pain, she could make out a deviant coming toward the two of them. No one besides Y/N seemed to notice the thing. Without another thought, she used the small patch of sunlight by her fingers directing the stream of light to blind the monster. Cerci took care of the rest.

"Saved my ass again, my sunshine." He smiled that breathtaking smile, pushing her hair out of her face. Druig took a deep breath wiping any emotions he showed off his face. He didn't want to worry his friend. 

"I think we are even now," she spoke, inhaling sharp breaths with each word.

Ajak got down by the two, placing her hands on Y/N. A numb, tingling feeling ran through her. It felt like her limbs were waking up after sleeping on them wrong. Even with how many times Ajak has used her abilities on her, it was a sensation she would never get used to. Once Ajak was finished,  Y/N thanked her.  Honestly, the group would have been dead if Arishem hadn't given them Ajak.  

Y/N got up to her knees and faced the black-haired menace she called her best friend. She bit her lip, not finding the words she wanted to say. ‘Thank you…I love you.’ Instead, she hugged him.  Druig buried his face in her neck, inhaling in her smell overwhelmed his senses.  A reminder she was still there.

“You’re still here,” he murmured against her neck, causing chills to run down her spine.

“You would miss me if I was gone. Who would accidentally hurt Ikaris for you." Y/N joked, pulling away to look into his beautiful blue eyes.

"You don't even know." He responded. Ruffling her hair before helping her up. 

---------

Thena dodged at Y/N. They were training in a secluded  area of a beach. The girl side stepped out of the way effectively blocking the blonde warrior. Thena tried a right hook and Y/N used her arm to block the hit. That was the fourth time in a row. Which was a major improvement. 

“See I can fight” Y/N giggled as Thena threw another punch at her. 

“You have some things to work on, for your safety.”  Thena responded. She was doing this for Y/N, but Druig had begged her to help. He never asked for anything so she gladly complied. 

Y/N managed to hook her leg over Thena’s. Effectively pulling  her down on the sand. She straddled the warrior with a victory smile. Sounds of claps met her ears from a distance. Looking up it was Makkari cheering her on. Thena used the distraction to flip over and pin Y/N down. She wore the victory smirk now. 

“You cheated” 

“You lost focus.” Thena pulled her up.  

“Did you want me to kill you?” Y/N asked exasperated. 

“No, but let's go again. This time I won't go easy”  

“Easy?” That was outrageous.

 Y/N made the first move this round of sparing. Thena effortlessly dodged the attack knocking Y/N down. She glared up at the women, more determined to win. She got up and tried again only to be knocked on her ass once again. Grains of sand fell into her clothes, and stuck  to her sweat. Her hair was all over the place too she knew she had to have looked crazy. Her chest heaved as she began to catch her breath. 

Thena put an arm out to help her up but dropped her halfway up. The blonde woman smiled down at her. Y/N  heard a laugh this time. She knew that laugh like it was the air she needed to breathe. He must have made his way over with Makkari. Those two were attached at the hip lately. 

“Shut up Dru.”  she called out to her dark haired friend, and bit down on her lip. 

Thena helped Y/N back up and got her to her feet this time. Nodding at the girl to go again. There was a moment of hesitation before she lunged back at her screaming. This time she grazed Thena with her fingers, and escaped the movement the warrior made to grab her. There was at least 7 feet between them now. They both waited for the other to make a move. Thena started to go for Y/N’s right but swerved for the left taking the girl for surprise and once again putting her on the sandy floor. 

Y/N huffed out, defeated and done for the day. She covered her face with her aching arms. This hit was going to bruise. Druig laughed again. 

“Once again, shut up Dru.” He apologized but his tone was joking. She knew he was too amused to mean it.  

“You are doing well. In another week you will be able to defend yourself flawlessly.” She pulled Y/N back up to her feet. Signing to Makkari to join her in the city. 

Druig was distracted by the sweat glinting off Y/N’s body as she made her way to sit next to him. She dug her bare feet into the warm sand resting her head on her knees. He rubbed her back watching the ocean's waves roll on to the shore. 

“You are improving sunshine.” She grunted at his words. 

‘Lies’ she thought leaning in to him. Her body hurt all over. 

---------

Y/N ran through the crowded town square knocking into some people. She ignored the glares thrown her way, too focussed on finding her friend. She wanted to show him something exciting. He was going to love it. It thrilled her to know she was going to see that soft smile of his.  

“Druig!” Y/N yelled when his head of hair came into view.  As soon as he heard her voice, he dropped what was in his hands, looking for her.  A small smile fought its way onto his face as she ran towards him. She quickly closed the remaining distance between them before he could even step forward.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                               

"Yes, my sunshine?" His smile widened as he watched her bounce on the balls of her feet. Obviously excited about something. 

"Come with me. I want to show you something." Y/N grabbed his hand, lacing their fingers together. She whisked him off toward the forest. He didn't have the opportunity to say no. Not that he would have denied her anything. He would have walked across hot coals if she so much as asked.

They came to a halt in the middle of a clearing of varying purple colored flowers. Y/N stood, so she was right in front of him, stealing his attention. He used their joined hands to pull her closer. A sparkle crossed his eyes as he rested his forehead against hers. He glanced down at her soft lips. Their lips were a breath away from what they both wanted, but they were too stubborn to do anything. 

"Ok, close your eyes, no peeking." she bit down on the inside of her cheek, untangled their fingers, and took a step back. Druig frowned. And reached out to her. She shook her head.  

"I swear, Y/N,  if this is a trick. I will not talk to you ever again." That was a lie. Even if it wasn't, she would wear him down. She knew all the right buttons to push to get his attention. A soft musical laugh escaped her before she responded. He yearned to bottle that sound up for a cloudy day. 

"Dru, it's not. Now place your hands over your eyes, and no using your powers." He poked her in the side, straightening up before complying with her demands. It earned him another laugh. 

Druig could sense her tongue sticking out. Y/N had always done that when she was concentrating. He knew her better than he knew himself. He paid attention to every detail for centuries and stored them in his memory. Druig could read her like an open book. Sometimes he wondered if she knew all her little quirks. How she tousled her hair when she was stressed or when her nose twitched when she wanted to yell.

After a couple minutes, Druig's hands were tugged away from his face. He kept his eyes closed, waiting for her to be truly ready. Afraid to ruin her surprise. Y/N once again laced their fingers together. Druig squeezed her palms, rubbing his thumb across her soft skin.  He could stay like this forever, just the two of them. Although, he would prefer to actually see her. 

"Open." It felt like an eternity before he did as she asked. 

The scene in front of him was ethereal. Thousands of gold butterflies fluttered around them. Y/N watched as Druigs sapphire blue eyes followed the movements of her creations. There was a lone black one that flew past his face. It looked more like a moth than a butterfly. It landed on a rock before vanishing. 

Druig’s whole body was relaxed for the first time in a while. He stared at the spectacle in front of him in utter disbelief. With an extended finger, he coaxed a butterfly to land on it. It spread its wings out as he pulled it up closer to examine. There were delicate patterns on the wings. They looked like any regular butterfly, just dipped in liquid gold. 

Druig set the thing on Y/Ns nose and dragged the finger past her lips pulling at her bottom lip and rested on her chin. Her nose scrunched up as the insect walked across her cheek. An affectionate smile took over his face, and his eyes dilated. His finger lingered on her chin a second longer, watching as the butterfly disappeared.  

She had butterflies; anytime he touched her or simply looked her way. With that look, he reserved for her alone. It was softer than he ever looked at Makkari. Butterflies were there at the thought of him.

"How is this possible? You can usually only create one thing at a time."  Druig pulled them both down. He sat on the cold ground and her on his lap. He snaked an arm around her waist, holding her close. He rested his chin on her soft hair, keeping his gaze on the moment playing out before him. 

"I'm not sure I was playing around, and bam. Butterflies." Y/N paused, making an exploding gesture with her hands. She looked like a kid on their birthday, giddy.

“Not the most frightening thing. But hey, I did it."

"This is wonderful. My beautiful, beautiful sunshine." Y/N leaned her head on his shoulder, watching the glittering butterflies disappear with the sunset. Druig played with her hair absentmindedly, placing a soft kiss on her temple.

----

Y/N stood in the forest with everyone listening to Ajak lecture Druig about controlling the humans. Thena began to twitch and mumble inaudible things next to her. Y/N truly thought it was another insult toward Druig, but she couldn't hear anything as Phastos began yelling. Thena  started to speak a little louder this time. 

“Thena?” Sersi said, turning to us looking concerned. “Are you ok?” 

“Everyone is going to die” Thenas eyes went a foggy white, and she summoned a polearm ready to attack. 

“Sersi!” Y/N cried out trying to get in front of her before Thena could attack. Makkari reacted instantly before the rest of the group knew what was happening, and pulled Sersi out of the warrior's way. Druig focused on Y/N’s cries. 

Chaos broke out instantly. The golden weapon managed to hit Phastos. Y/N tried to summon something but there was no light available to pull from. The darkness moved slightly casting shadowy lines on the ground, but she couldn't gain control of them.  Druig yanked her out of the way as Makkari took off with Thena.  

Before Druig could even try to stop her, she went running after them.She ran as fast as she could trying to have half the speed Makkari had. He called out to stop her, but she was too far gone, trying to protect those she cared about.  

Makkari was hurt on the forest floor. Thena waved her weapon around frantically, nicking the girl in front of her. Drawing blood. Y/N let out a hiss. Was it dumb to run after someone when she can't fight? Absolutely, but she wanted to protect her family.  Thena was about to make a fatal blow, but Ajak stopped it with her hand. She showed no emotion as she stared the warrior down.  It was chilling.

 Y/N used the distractions as her opportunity to get to her friend who was laying still. She put pressure on Makkari’s wound to slow the blood loss.Throwing her whole weight on it, which caused the girl under her to flinch. 

“It's ok. We will fix this.”  Y/N spoke, trying to keep calm while waiting for Ajak to come. Hoping Makkari would understand her. 

Druig knelt next to her putting his hands on top of A/N’s. A worried look flashing through him as he caught sight of the cut on her arm. Ajak was over in no time working on healing them. Gilgamesh stood by looking absolutely guilty for what he had done to Thena. 

Druig pulled Y/N to a river washing her hands in the cool water. It was slowly grounding the girl back to reality. He murmured gentle affirmations to her as he scrubbed at her skin. 

--

Once again, Druig and Ajak were arguing about the humans. They were all in the confines of a pyramid now. Ikaris involved himself always acting as if he was the one incharge. He threatened Druig. They frequently fought about something stupid and made empty threats. Normally Y/N would defend him. But she was overwhelmed with the dry blood that remained under her nails and Thena laying in front of her. Y/N had found it easy to tune them out through the centuries, turning them into background noise. Her second favorite person was hurting, and she couldn't fix it. This wasn't fair, she thought. Ajak couldn't even truly fix it. Her powers had limits, just like the rest of the group.

Intense words continued to be traded amongst the group. A malicious tone was hidden behind every spoken thought.  Ajak stayed calm; she was the only one with a level head. Y/N stood stark still in a corner, keeping quiet. She tried to become one with the wall behind her. Her eyes were glued to the colorful walls, begging internally for them to calm down and stop. 

Eventually,  a stark silence took over the room. Cries of the innocent outside seemed to disappear through the walls. Y/N glanced up,  examining the small space. Druig was rushing out. No one moved from their place to stop him. They just watched. 

Y/N began to hyperventilate; the air was thinning out. Dru wasn't going to say goodbye? Was our friendship a lie? Did he only put up with me for entertainment?  Poisonous thoughts raced through her head. Her feet had their own mind and made her take off after him.

"Druig!" Y/N Shouted, bolting down the stairs. She wanted to beg him to stop… to come back and say it was all a sick joke. She yearned for him to tell her he would never leave her behind. 

‘Stay with me, please.’ She begged him subconsciously.  Her thoughts were so loud that she was half convinced he could hear them when he flinched. Y/N knew it was selfish, but she needed him

A choked sob escaped her as her feet hit the flat ground. It felt as if her heart was making its way to her throat. The thing beat rapidly against her ribs like a stampede of gazelles being chased as prey. It was almost painful.

"Dru, please." He didn't respond, only walked at a faster pace. Y/N yelled out again. One last desperate attempt to get his attention. 

This time, he stopped surrounded by the people under his control. Y/N blinked back the tears, threatening to fall. She placed a hand over her mouth, smothering a sob. Druig’s hands clenched into tight fists. He watched the people in front of him, all unmoving not even a blink. 

 "Please- Please don't leave me."  Y/N’s voice cracked. Deep inside her soul, she knew this was goodbye. He turned to face her, eyes dilated. Instead of sapphire blue, she was met with black pools of obsidian. She stepped forward. The people were already on the defense with her movements towards the Eternal. Druig stopped them immediately she was no threat, and no harm would come to her at his hand. 

"My beautiful, beautiful sunshine. I have to go. Arishems plan is not for me.” Druig cautiously wiped away a stray tear from her cheek. He never wanted to be the reason for those tears, but this was what was best for her. She would regret leaving with him, and he couldn't ask her to leave the people she loved so much. Y/N closed her eyes. Tipping her head up to the starry sky, she let out a depleted laugh. 

“You are going to do wonderful things." He mumbled. Before he could stop it, he pulled her in for a hug. Druig held on tighter than usual. She wrapped herself around his frame, taking in the comfort of his hold. He buried his face in her neck. They fit together perfectly. As if they were sculpted for each other. They were two pieces of a puzzle meant to be lost. He pulled away slowly and tucked loose strands of Y/N's hair behind her ears. Then placed a gentle kiss on the tip of her nose before resting his forehead against hers.

"Please." she choked on her tears, reaching out to cup his face. She held on to him like one would hold an injured bird. Druigs eyes flashed through emotions before going blank.  Oh how he wanted to be selfish, but he couldn't ask her to leave. He wiped away another tear, yearning to stop her pain. Their lips were mere inches apart. He could take the one thing he's wanted since he met her on that ship.  But he couldn't do that to her. He was a selfish man, just not when it came to her. 

"You need them, and they need you." He took a step back and locked his jaw. It took everything in his soul to not reach out and grab her. He forced himself to walk away. 

"No." She whispered as she watched him retreat through the flaming city. Her heart shattered with each step he took with his new followers. A darkness began to fill in the cracks.

"I-I need you." she whispered to the air once he was gone.  

[youshouldjustliveinmychurch]

Symbolism of Jinx's Hair

*Arcane spoilers*

CW: Violence, self-harm, suicide

OH. MY. GOD. So so so many thoughts, but for now a few quick thoughts on the symbolism of Jinx's hair.

-The bangs are there the whole time and represent her relationship with Silco since we see young Silco with similar bangs. (credit to Tik Tok for that).

-After Isha's death, Jinx's very long hair is completely undone from its braid. This calls to mind Rapunzel, perhaps symbolizing that in her depression Jinx is isolated in the tower of her mind and - maybe - needs someone to rescue her but it's difficult to reach her unless she tosses her hair down and lets someone in. Problem is, Jinx doesn't feel worthy of letting anyone in. Silco, while well-meaning, is reminiscent of Mother Gothel, who keeps Rapunzel trapped by teaching her to act a certain way. The hair is unbraided, which symbolizes the loss of her identity as Jinx. Her inability to form and be comfortable in a distinct identity not explicitly attached to another person leads to a lack of self-worth that causes her death.

-THEN she cuts her hair to the length it happens to be when she's powder in the other timeline. This symbolizes a reversion to - not necessarily her old self (too much has happened) - but to someone closer to who she would have been without so much trauma. This is the point when she's about to *you know* and Ekko manages to stop her. The sad thing about Jinx in the current timeline is that her identity has become irreparably tied to other people because of her trauma so she doesn't think she has any value on her own. First she (and her identity as a younger sister / daughter) was linked to Vi and Vander, then attached to Silco (as a daughter). When she loses Silco, she loses her identity, until she once more finds an identity in being a sister / attaching to Isha. She thinks she has value by playing that role. When she loses that, she once more loses her sense of identity and worth because she's never been allowed to grow up / form one on her own because of her trauma. That's why her "sacrifice" in the end is such a tragedy and not actually something to be admired.  It all stems from her lack of valuing herself, which is a tragedy. The Powder in the other timeline is different because she's had time to form an independent identity and sense of self-worth which we can see demonstrated by her clothes and the fact that she's not very susceptible to the slight pressure from Vander and others to be more ambitious and live up to her potential. The ONLY thing that makes her help Ekko is the fact that Vi is alive in the other timeline. She expresses her love in her own way by creating something contrasted to how Jinx expresses her love for Vi by destroying herself. Also, Ekko is the only one who can reach her in that moment and stop her self-destruction because he sees her soul - the real Powder. It's like the difference between friends and family. We love our families. They are (good or bad) important. But they have preconceived notions about us and our identities related to them. Our friends, on the other hand, CHOOSE us. They choose to be around us (ideally) because they like us for who we are in our natural state.

-When she zooms up with Ekko, her hair has been changed yet again. She keeps the bangs (representing Silco) and has dyed a streak purple (to represent her and Vi together - pink + blue and also VIOLET). The rest, however, is jaggedly cut off close to her head. Instead of this representing an entirely new identity, I see it as representing the hope and POSSIBILITY of a new, more authentic identity growing (see hair growing) while still keeping the foundation of her care for the people she loves. The hair is cut jaggedly and isn't necessarily beautiful or put together by typical standards, but it doesn't have to be. One of the main themes of this season is that "brokenness" is essential to who we are and isn't always a bad thing. As Ekko says, it's a chance to build something new. Unfortunately that never happens because of the consequences of trauma.

I'm not sure I agree with Jinx's death because on the surface it feels like the tired trope of villain / morally grey character is redeemed by sacrificing themselves for someone else. Personally, I think it's much more powerful to have a character take responsibility for themselves while also forgiving themselves. I concede that this was done in a really nuanced way. The thing is, I don't think we're actually supposed to read Jinx's death as a heroic act that redeems her. Instead, it is more in line with the themes to read it as a horrific suicide caused by trauma, oppression, and a lack of self-worth/identity. In that split-second decision, Jinx reverts to all that she knows and has been taught, even though for a moment she did have a shot at a new identity. She chooses to die because she doesn't value herself / doesn't know who she is and has been taught all her life that you show love through violence (even if it's violence in protection of those you love). With as clever and innovative as Jinx is, don't tell me she and Vi couldn't have figured out another way to best Vander. It makes sense to read this moment as an avoidable, tragic suicide because Jinx is clearly suicidal and even makes an attempt. The song that plays during her attempt also plays during her death. We're supposed to see this event more in the light of what happened to Isha, which HEAVILY foreshadowed and paralleled Jinx's death by showing a child's misguided attempt at expressing love. An innocent child shouldn't feel obligated to sacrifice their life to save someone else's life. That moment is horrific. Not even an adult should be asked to do that. That's an unmistakable tragedy. Just like Isha was doing what she was taught (the simplicity and complexity of "pew-pew"), Jinx was doing what she was taught. It's a cycle of innocence, violence, and trauma that also mirrors Jinx's accidental role in Vander's death when she was trying to mold herself to what everyone expected her to be. It's haunting that Jinx says, "Killing isn't mercy." She doesn't give herself mercy in the end. We see that even though Vi tries her hardest to show Jinx she's loved and can have mercy/ a second chance, Jinx doesn't know how to accept that. It's not a coincidence that in that same conversation with ghost Silco they talk about identity. That's just my personal interpretation.

Anyway.

[splosh-crime]

The Unafraid: Children of Gaea (PJO)

A Demigod fully isolates themselves from mortals due to abuse. When left to play on their own, such as during recess, they walk up to the nearest tree, climb it, and talk to it within the embrace of its branches rather than approaching a mortal only to get burned once again.

In their free time they go on walks and hikes on a secret mission to befriend every tree and bush in their hometown. Eventually, when the abuse at home comes to a head, they run away and are welcomed warmly by the forest that raised them.

The forest whispers of other abused children in need, and they find they cannot leave it well enough alone. Not when their situations are the same. Not when this child whispers to the wood the same as they do. This demigod cautiously, slowly climbs down from the branches; fascinating the child below. The demigod offers a hand to their kindred spirit and they’re both returned to the wood.

Together, they start a band of abused children, multiplying their numbers as the forest continues to whisper direction.

Their group is comparable to the Hunters of Artemis in its affinity for nature and children, but instead of solely worshipping Artemis, they worship the gods and primordials of the Wild; deities like Gaea and Pan. They are blessed with immortality & strength just the same.

As they grow older, they become eco-terrorists (think Poison Ivy), destroying factories, drills, mining operations, and killing CEOs that would dare threaten their one true mother. Many of the more radical Satyrs and nature spirits begin to join them on these endeavors. For they are the Children of Gaea, they are the Unafraid.

You can decide whether the Unafraid are antagonistic or not, but personally I’d really like to see a different side to Gaea’s character, she has a lot of backstory to explore.

If you don’t want tons of OCs, remember that there are tons of canon characters that are environmentalists and could get caught up in this. i.e. Grover Underwood, Rachel Dare, Hudson River Spirit, East River Spirit, Juniper, Percy Jackson, Annabeth Chase, Piper McLean, etc. Remember that time Grover spent a few days in the Lotus Casino and played a reverse hunting arcade game where you’re a deer that gores humans for littering? I know video games don’t cause irl violence but it was a bit intense with the way he was yelling.

Fun fact: I honestly could’ve sworn I already posted this fic but I can’t find it anymore if I did. If you see it, send it to me so I can find it again and maybe delete one of the two.

Genuinely friendly reminder that all my posts double as invitations for discussion. Nothing’s better than creative energy building off each other to create something beautiful. I also accept constructive feedback.

[princessanonymous]

Of Trials- Part 2/3 (Ask)

Platonic Yandere Vampire

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Story Chapter list

Finally another one posted! Y'all, I'm a slow updater,but you best believe I'll update nonetheless. Better late than never. XD

As I said last time, this is from an ask someone sent to me privatly. Once again, you'll need to read the main story, When Night Comes (Linked aboved) to understand this. :)

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Immortal Children were children who had been turned into vampires at a far too young age.  These children, once transformed, became uncontrollable beings, driven by impulses they could not yet understand or manage. Their beauty was unmatched; they were truly irresistible beings fated to remain untouched by the sands of time. Their physical perfection was a double-edged sword, enchanting and deadly in equal measure.

With red eyes that shone like bright fire and smiles that retained an eerie innocence, Immortal Children possessed an almost angelic appearance. This innocent facade belied the dark reality of their existence. Despite their sweet appearance, they carried the same capacity for horrific violence every other vampire had. Their enchanting smiles masked the bloodshed and destruction they were capable of. The problem lay in their inability to control their impulses and the immense danger they posed to both humans and vampires alike. Immortal Children brought chaos wherever they went, leaving a trail of death and suspicion that threatened the secrecy of the vampiric community. Their very existence was a cause of disaster, as their actions could not be predicted or controlled.

The creation of an Immortal Child was considered a crime of the highest order within the vampire world, a transgression with severe penalties for both the sire and the fledgling. It was seen as a reckless act, bringing risks that outweigh the benefits. A crime Dorian had now been accused of.

"We can leave," Killian suggested, pacing around the room frantically. So frantically, in fact, that he didn't notice when his feet reached the wall, and he began to walk up it. Had Dorian not been so preoccupied, he would have commented on the impropriety of such behavior. "You always said you wished to visit Japan again; we should go. I'm sure (Y/n) would find it lovely.”

Dorian wanted to pull his own hair out in frustration. "They will find us," he promised. He was sure of that. "And when they do, no trial shall be held and we will both be made to burn under the deadly sun. You might suffer the same fate, for helping us."

Killian stopped and turned to face Dorian, standing upside down on the ceiling with a look of incredulity. "So you want us to wait until they come to take you both? Have you lost your mind?"

Dorian's eyes burned with a mix of fear and resolve. "I haven't lost my mind, Killian. I'm trying to protect us. Running would only delay the inevitable and draw more suspicion. They have eyes everywhere. Leaving now would be a death sentence."

"So you will let her die?" Killian demanded in outrage. "You turned her, and I won’t allow you to do that to her." Killian had grown to care deeply for (Y/n), just as much as Dorian did. It had taken some time, but he had come to take on a more important role, that of a second father to her.

"Oh, don't you dare accuse me of that!" Dorian's eyes flashed with anger, his voice rising defensively.

"You created this problem!" Killian bit back, pointing a finger at Dorian. "(Y/n) could have had a perfect, happy, and fulfilling life without your interference."

"She would be dead!" Dorian screamed at him, his voice cracking with the intensity of his emotions. "Dead and rotting in the ground, eaten by maggots, larvae, and any other pests wanting a piece of her!"

Killian recoiled slightly, the rawness of Dorian's words hitting him hard. But he quickly composed himself, his own emotions bubbling to the surface. "And instead, she’s trapped in this cursed existence. Is that really any better?"

Dorian's eyes blazed with a mixture of rage and desperation. "I couldn’t just let her go! You don’t understand, when I looked at her for the first time, I just… I just knew she would complete us. I couldn’t stand by and do nothing while she slipped away.”

Then, there was a knock at the door, and they paused, their argument abruptly silenced. Dorian took a deep breath and called out sweetly, "What is it, starshine?" He wondered how long the girl had been standing behind the door, listening to their heated exchange.

The door slowly creaked open, and the girl who was the subject of their worries stepped in. Her red eyes gleamed with an innocence that belied the turmoil surrounding her. She looked between Dorian and Killian, sensing the tension in the room.She had her face scrunched up in an adorable mou that drew a smile on his own face.

"Was it a nightmare?" Asked his now calmer partner.

She shook her head looking frustrated. "You're arguing more than usual.”

Killian agreed with her, sending her an apologetic look. “We apologize, dear. Your father and I have been terribly preoccupied recently.”

"Because of that lady?" she probed further, her keen intelligence shining through.

Dorian shook his head, trying to maintain a calm demeanor. "Why don’t I take you back to your room?" he suggested gently.

"I don’t like her," (Y/n) said, clutching the hem of her nightgown, “She was awfully unpleasant. I don't want to see her again."

Dorian smiled weakly at her, feeling a pang of guilt for having brought her such distress. He planted a gentle kiss on her head. "That is alright. You won’t," he assured her softly.

He walked her to her room in silence, aware that she sensed his restlessness. They had tried to curb her habit of sensing the emotions of everyone around her, but their efforts had never worked. Over time, they had grown accustomed to this small breach of privacy, deciding to simply try to keep their emotions in check, knowing that she was affected by strong emotions. By the way she clutched his hand, trembling slightly, he knew their attempts hadn't quite succeeded.

"I can feel how scared you are," she whispered. "It makes me scared too." 

Dorian's heart ached at her words. He gently brushed a strand of hair from her face. The weight of his emotions was heavy, but he forced himself to remain composed for her sake. As they reached her room, he opened the door, intending to tuck her into her coffin.

But as the door swung open, the metallic scent of blood assaulted his senses, pulling him abruptly back to reality. His only reaction was to raise his eyebrows as he took in the scene before him: a woman's body lay sprawled on the floor, lifeless and drenched in blood. Despite the horror of the sight, a strange sense of resignation settled over him. He felt an astounding lack of surprise as he gazed at the corpse on the floor.

"(Y/n)," Dorian breathed out in defeat, his voice heavy with a mix of relief and frustration.

"Mayella cut herself while cooking today," (Y/n) explained with a shrug as she walked over to the corpse, completely unfazed by the sight. She plopped herself down on her coffin, swinging her legs casually. "I kissed the hurt goodbye."

"Starshine," he began, struggling to keep his voice calm, "you can't just—"

But as he looked into her innocent eyes, he felt his throat close up with a mixture of frustration and despair. It seemed they had tried to teach her better self-control, but it never seemed to stick. Feeding was always at the forefront of her mind, even after she had eaten only a few hours ago.

He looked at her tenderly and laughed wetly.  "You did well," he whispered, hoping she didn't notice the despair that overtook him.

[baek-at-it-again95]

Intro: Siren (Sailor! Hongjoong x Siren! Reader

Synopsis: Killing men is all you have ever known—it's what your species does. However, you have recently begun to question your purpose. When given the chance to save a human, your experience leads to new discoveries

Warnings: Mentions of death and violence.

Genres: fantasy au, angst, fluff?

A/N: Helloooo atiny babies! HAPPY HONGJOONG DAY! I was supposed to be writing a four page paper on the odyssey and ended up being inspired to write this. What can I say? LOL :) Thank you for so much love with the previous hongjoong series as well <3

You lie on a bed of rocks near the shore of your island, listening to your older sisters gossip and giggle amongst themselves. They always talk about rather useless matters. Your tail glistens beautifully, each obsidian-colored scale appearing shiny when the dense clouds decide to reveal the bashful sun. The waves that crash over the rocks create a refreshing mist that dusts your grayish skin. The voice of your eldest sister interrupts your relaxation.

"Y/N, you have not joined us to hunt humans in a while. Have you become weak?" she asks sharply. Your other sisters giggle. 

"No," you answer quickly. "I...I have just been thinking a lot. What is our purpose? Why must we kill humans? We do not even eat them." Another one of your sisters places her hand over her chest, surprised.

"Why must we kill them? Oh, Y/N, we are just helping the world. Men are vile creatures. They cause every problem. They destroy the world and then destroy themselves. We are doing the gods a favor."

"They cannot all be bad." You argue, cheeks feeling warm with embarrassment. Are you wrong to think so?

"Do not be foolish, Y/N. If you get yourself into trouble, I can only say I warned you," your eldest sister speaks again. You avoid her eyes. 

"Look!" Another sister points to your left and all of you follow her clawed finger. A large ship approaches fast from beyond. Speak of the devil. Your sisters gasp with excitement. "This will be fun!"

"Y/N, come with us this time. It will be good for you," the eldest says. You reluctantly push yourself off of your rock and slide into the water below. You follow behind all of them, consumed with guilt for what is to come.

With just a few strokes of your strong tails, you arrive at the ship. You station yourself a bit farther behind everyone else as usual. One of your sisters mischievously splashes the surface of the water with her tail, causing a commotion for the humans on board to peer at. Just as she desires, a man comes to the railing, pointing and calling over his crewmates. One by one, more men join him at the railing and look on in fascination. With all of your tails now hidden under the dark water, they must think you are mermaids or sea nymphs. They do not fear you as they should.

The last man to appear at the railing piques your interest. He is similar to you, the way he quietly positions himself farther from the others in the group. While the onlookers pay attention to your sisters, you make eye contact with the man at the end...and you can't look away. 

He is the most beautiful creature you've ever seen.

You cannot possibly stay and watch as your sisters kill such a beautiful thing. Ridden with guilt, you disappear below the waves and swim to the other side of the ship. 

Once you surface on the other side, you hear a voice from above filled with concern. "Miss!" You look up to see the same human, looking down at you again from the other side of the railing. Why did he follow you instead of watching your sisters making all the commotion?

It is then that you hear them. Your sisters begin to sing, their voices like honey but dripping with venom as they lure their prey. You panic as the human turns his head toward the other side of the ship. You cannot let him die. They can't kill him. You quickly begin to sing a soft melody yourself. The human suddenly turns back to face you, entranced by your voice. Despite refusing to sing for quite some time, it comes naturally, your voice as sweet as always. 

You continue singing, luring him with your sweet melody until he plunges into the waves beside you.

***

You had pulled the unconscious human to the shore of your island, your strong tail allowing you to arrive quickly. You hurriedly laid his body on the pale sand and retreated back into the water to watch him from a safe distance. How will he act when he wakes up? Your sisters have always told you human men can be violent and unpredictable...but you have only seen them under the influence of your enchantments. Besides, this human did not look at you in that way. 

After observing him from afar for some time, you begin to get antsy. The human does not stir, just lies peacefully, chest rising and falling slowly. You cautiously swim closer, looking for any more signs of movement. Pushing yourself onto the shore, you sit yourself next to him. Now you are able to take a longer look at him, his eyes closed and his lips slightly parted. There is sand in his soft, wet hair, and his pale skin is flawless. He is truly the most beautiful creature you've ever laid eyes on. 

"Hello?" you whisper meekly. No response. Curiously you draw closer to his face, touching his cheek slightly. When he does not move, you boldly trace your finger across his sharp nose and jawline, fascinated. "Pretty," you say out loud. A sound nearby causes you to look up, eyes darting around to look for any sign of a threat. When you don't see anything, you look back down at the human. His eyes are now slightly open, peering up at you. You gasp, scooting away from him.

"Wait," he says. His voice is angelic, so soft and light. He tries to sit up but holds his head, stifling a groan. You hurriedly move back to him, lightly touching his head in concern. Your eyebrows furrow together as you observe him, your thumb brushing over his temple gently. He stares at you in awe. "Did you...save me?" You look at him with wide eyes, nervous about talking to a human. You have only used your voice to sing for them, killing them one after another for as long as you can remember. You are afraid to hurt this one.

You decide to start with one word. "Yes." Your species has the ability to speak in any tongue in order to lure your prey with a song they can understand.

"I see, how—" You see his gaze land on your tail, eyes widening. "A mermaid?" he questions. Should you lie to him? You do not want him to fear you. Mermaids are a completely different species. Though you have similar anatomy, they have much more colorful tails, and they lack the ability to lure their prey with song. You must have taken too long to answer, because the man says, "Yes?" 

"No." You look at him nervously before letting out another word above a whisper. "Afraid."

"Afraid of what?" You watch as his gentle hand comes to hover over yours. As his hand touches yours, you tense, but immediately relax at his warmth. Humans are warm. You forgot that they are, since their bodies soon turn cold after dying. 

"Hurt."

"It hurts for you to speak?" he asks, his eyebrows furrowed with worry. Maybe now you can try more than one word. 

"No. I do not want to hurt you." He tilts his head.

"Your speaking hurt—oh." He glances at your tail again. "You must be a Siren."

"Yes," you reply, eyes wide since he figured it out. Humans are intelligent.

"Why have you not killed me?" At this, your heart sinks. Is he afraid of you now? Maybe it was a bad idea to even interfere with your sisters' plans. What will he do when he realizes they killed his shipmates? You think about your words carefully.

"Killing humans was all I knew for a long time, but I do not wish to hurt them anymore. My sisters think there is something wrong with me." The man's eyes search yours with a gentleness you've never seen. Your free hand comes up to touch his face again, just as you did when he was still asleep. "Beautiful," you say suddenly. The human touches your hand that traces his face, looking at you with the prettiest brown irises.

Why do you kill these human creatures? 

He draws closer. "Y/N!" The piercing voice of your eldest sister calls from the water. You pull away from the human, struck with fear. Following the fear comes a sudden jealousy. You do not want your sisters to see him. He is yours. "Y/N, have you finally killed something? Let me get a look!" She laughs, swimming closer. 

You cage his body protectively with your arms and hiss at her. "Mine!" 

"Alright, alright. But I want to hear all about him later." She smiles, disappearing into the dark sea. You turn to the human, fear evident in his features. 

"You are not safe here," you say. Your guilt returns, the uncomfortable feeling arising in your stomach. "You must go home. I will take you back to your abandoned ship, and I will pray to the gods that you arrive safely home." 

He seems hesitant, but he agrees. "Thank you for saving me. You are very kind." As he thanks you, the realization that you would be parting from him completely sinks in. An emotion you have never felt before begins to overwhelm you. You touch your face, wiping at a warm liquid that falls onto your cheeks. You look down at your hands with confusion.

"They are tears," the human says. "It happens when you are sad." You look up at his now blurry face, feeling more tears drip down your cheeks. "It will be alright," he says, using his thumb to wipe them away. He stops suddenly, proposing an idea. "Come with me."

Leave with a human? Humans and Sirens cannot coexist...can they? No human has ever left this island alive. But you could change that. After all, you have grown tired of your life here. Killing men and listening to your dreadful sisters every day is not what you desire.

If you cannot leave with this human, you would rather die anyway. 

"Yes." You use the back of your hand and wipe away the rest of the strange tears coming from your eyes. "I would like that."

[quinnfabrayswife]

hi!! i’m requesting quinn fabray x fem!reader where they tussle and quinn ends up knocking the reader out❤️

Fight Or Flight — Quinn Fabray

quinn fabray x fem!reader (but not really)

where reader finds out that her girlfriend, quinn, has been cheating on her with rachel berry… and instead of running from the problem, she takes it into her own hands.

disclaimers: violence, use of y/n like once (pls i tried to avoid it but i could not), no happy ending, really fucking stupid ending, this entire story is unserious as hell… that’s all.

a/n: i never planned on writing anything on here, but i saw this req and i had to. this is the stupidest thing ive ever created and i hope you enjoy.

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it’s your favorite part of the day. glee club. glee club is where you met the love of your life, quinn fabray. besides finn and rachel, you are glees power couple. while you’re putting your books back in your locker, you glance up at the picture of quinn you’ve hung up on the door, smiling softly to yourself. suddenly, you hear your name being called, and you snap your head around to see none other then kurt hummel, who then begins pulling you away from your locker frantically.

“kurt, what the hell?!” you exclaim once you two stop moving, now in a secluded corner. out of breath, he replies, “i’m sorry, but before glee club, there’s something i have to tell you. well, something i have to show you.” your eyebrows immediately furrow when you see him pulling out his phone, swiping through a few things before turning it in your direction. your heart immediately drops, and tears threaten to spill out of your eyes when you see quinn fabray, your girlfriend, kissing someone else. wait… that’s not just anyone, that’s…

“my girlfriend cheated on me with rachel berry??!!” you immediately freak out, kurt putting a hand over your mouth to shut you up. “you didn’t get this from me.” and with that, kurt struts away towards glee club. you stand there in the corner, dumbfounded, and thinking about how stupid you were to believe she wouldn’t do that to you. i mean, her ex boyfriends best friend got her pregnant while they were still together for god sakes.

you wipe a few tears from under your eyes, and begin fast walking towards the choir room in a rage. you open the door to see your girlfriends painfully beautiful face, a smile appearing once she sees you. she stands up to greet you, and you take the opportunity to aggressively pull her by her wrist out of the door and into the hallway.

“wh- what is going on??” she asks in a surprised voice, but instead of answering, you slap her across the face. that’s when everyone in the choir room piles into the hall to watch it go down. you turn back to see her clutching her cheek, her jaw slightly dropped, and her eyes full of shock. “you cheated on me with rachel berry??!!! out of all people??” you yell at her, wasting no time in yanking on her high pony so hard she collapses to the floor.

“stop it!! don’t touch her!!” rachel yells. quinn stands up, and quickly shoves you into a locker. “me and rachel are in love y/n!!!!” you scoff, pushing her away from you. “in love?? you make fun of her all the time.” quinn grabs your arms. “that was obviously a cover up!! how stupid are you?” this fills you with rage, and you slap her again.

“SLUT!!” you scream at her, tears now flying freely down your face. you see a fist flying towards your face through your blurred vision, and all of a sudden, you’re on the floor. quinn has punched you so hard, that you fell backwards and hit your head on the floor, causing you to pass out.

“QUINN!! YOUR HAND!” rachel immediately comes to her rescue. she looks at you, passed out and bleeding on the floor, and smiles. “i have a first aid kit in my locker, let’s go fix up your hand.” they interlock hands and walk away, finn running to the choir room. “i heard yelling what did i-“ his words are cut off by him screaming, seeing you in your state. “why aren’t you guys doing anything??” he exclaims, the other members looking at each other and shrugging. “y-your girlfriend is ch-ch-cheating on you with quinn,” tina stutters, finn’s face dropping. “what??” when no one answers, he bends down to check your pulse.

“she’s… she’s gone.”

this is meant to be bad i promise. dts: @planetpedri @halfwayhearted 😘😘😘