#the panic and horror and fear and madness of it all

[i-am-beckyu]

In the Hands of my Tormentor

Yelloooooo! Been a lil bit since I've posted any writing! Been a bit hard getting much written with life and work at the moment but I had this random g/t thought and ran with it to get this lil fic. So enjoy another random oc created for the purpose of this fic lol.

Premise: You've been transported to another world where giants see humans as lesser and have ended up the pet of a Count.

cw: Fear, fear of death, fatal scenes mentioned, panic, mentions of being eaten alive, death mentions (no one dies tho), anxiety, torture, manipulation. Just the opposite of what I usually post lol. wc: 2318

Terror. 

That’s all I could feel as I watched in horror as the giant noble scarfed down their meal. Giant fangs tearing through meat 100x my size, as if it was sliced bread. I forced myself to not react as I heard them swallow, knowing full well should they tire of me- their pet, I may very well be the next one sliding down that wretch’s throat. 

In this world, Giants didn’t see anything smaller than them as intelligent. If you were found, the lucky ones either died or were crushed between teeth as big as boulders like food. And if you think ‘How’s that lucky?! That’s horrid!’ Be glad you’re not the one being digested alive.

But even that was a mercy compared to my fate. 

Every day I tread the thin line of a tightrope; a timer hanging over my head. Forced to live life as a performance, every step perfect in order to please my Master.

“TWIRL!” He’d demand.

“JUMP!” He’d spit.

“SING!” He’d sneer- and I’d do it without hesitation or face death itself.

For as humiliating as it was, being ‘keep’ worthy; even for a derogatory laugh, it was better than being deemed useless and ready for brutal discarding. And with how little manic glee he’d been having with me lately, that may be sooner than not. For if I have no worth, what’s stopping them from doing away with me?

Tonight I was on display at another one of their dinner parties. Parties they threw more to show their class standing and possessions than for company. Sometimes I’d be in a cage forced to sing like a songbird, other times I’d be kept on the table with a ribbon clamped around my ankle to perform tricks or be petted by gloved fingers.

The guests would often have varying responses at my presence.

“Such a rare delicacy humans are and you're wasting it as a pet?”

“What a wretched little thing it is. Why not just eat it and be done?”

“As amusing as it is, why keep it around when it’s a better snack?”

After a while, you learn to tune out the loud voices. It’s just a reminder I’m only seen as food, insignificant, a pest. I only listen to the Master's voice. He’s the only one that matters. I sit just to his right today. The ribbon on my ankle is too tight, and I can feel the way my foot has started to go numb from the lack of blood flow. I look at it absentmindedly, the phantom pain of a blade forced against an angry scar, throbs against the ribbon. Strange I can’t feel my foot and yet still feel the pain of past escapes. I stopped trying a long time ago. Better to submit then endure his sick pleasures again.

I try not to think about the will I’ve given up; the life I’ve submitted to and try to listen to the giants conversing overhead.

Had it not been for the size difference and ignorance to the obvious, the giants were just like us. Take away all the power-hungry madness and torture of the little guy and the giants were just like humans if they were living in a medieval fantasy. Perhaps in another world, I would have been one of the guests…

“Dance, Human.” Master demands, and I stand and let my body move the way I know it pleases the giant. I don’t even think about the steps anymore, I just let myself move as if I were a robot programmed with the steps.

The giants above me laugh, clap and snicker. I know I’ve done my dance right. They’re all talking around the table, some whispering to each other with cruel gazes locked on my form. Others are spitting profanities at me and joking to my Master about making me do more tricks. 

There was only one giant that didn’t seem interested in my suffering. They sat at the opposite end of the table silently, and hadn’t moved much beyond drinking from their cup. I didn’t pay them much mind. One less giant drooling over me was a blessing. 

I let their voices blend together as I continued to move, the only voice I was listening for was my Masters, and I knew he was grinning ear to ear with all the attention on his greatest possession. 

His rare and desirable human.

“Now sing.” He says sickeningly sweet and my mouth obeys as I sing old scales used to warm up my voice whilst I continue to dance.

He never said I could stop.

I don’t know how long this continued for, the time always blurred together with every order and step at these events. All I know is the giants are enjoying it for the time being and all hungry eyes are on me. I will do as they want till I’m so desirable, that Master snatches me away- just teasing the lessers with what they can’t have. I can see the manic glee in their eyes at being so close to myself. I know what they want, and I scold my expression to not let the fear show on my face. 

My legs ached, but I pushed on; my voice wasting away from overuse. Everything was starting to burn from the effort it took to do both. I sang a long high note and began to spin, a bad combo but my brain was on autopilot. How much longer till I collapse?

“Stop.” Master demanded; my saving grace but not by much. I stopped immediately, finishing the pirouette and ceasing my song. I didn’t dare move despite my labored breathing, fully aware that the command wasn’t just for me, for in the corner of my eye I saw it. 

An outstretched white, gloved hand reached for me- and it was not my Masters.

That was all that was said before the ribbon around my ankle yanked me back, sending me tumbling forward as I was reeled in. I kept my head down, biting my tongue to stop myself from screaming as I felt the glazed wooden table burn against my hands and knees as I was dragged. My performance was done. And so was the fool of a giant that had tried to take me. 

Or so I thought.

Giants had tried to take me from Master before that was a given, but I was his snack (as he liked to remind me) and those that had tried to take what was his, had been dragged out shrieking. But this one had the room silent. Someone with a demanding presence other than my Master had the room freeze.

“So Ed,” 

“That’s Count Edwin, to you.” Master spat at the other Giant.

“May I remind you who the Duke is here, Count Edwin.” the Duke replied nonchalantly, taking a sip of his drink. I saw the way the Master's hand tensed at the notion. 

He was irritated. 

Very few had the nerve to undermine him and make it out unscathed. So far nothing had happened to this Duke, which made him a threat.

“I understand you invited me here tonight to make a deal.” The Duke asked.

“Yes, that’s correct.” The grit in the Master's voice confirmed my suspicions. He’d interrupted his showing off. They were treading on thin ice. 

“I wish to put a natural water irrigation system to my crops from the south river. The river in question however, borders the edge of your land and in order for me to utilize it, would require access to your land.”

“And you want me to allow your filthy hands access to my river.” The Duke remarked.

Master's hand tightened on his utensils. Whoever this man was really had the Giant getting into a tizzy, which was never good for me. For all the time that I’d been here, it was very rare that anyone dared to go up against Master, let alone insult him. I felt a slight sense of justice from the thought. Even if it would never be me to do it, at least someone would knock them off their high horse.

I couldn’t help but glance up to see what such a person looked like and was surprised by what I saw. It was the uninterested giant from before.

Just like their attitude, the Giants' features matched their blunt, cold attitude. Jet black, side swept hair and dressed in a navy blue velvet coat, adorned with gold trims and fine sapphires bigger than my head, the Duke- the most regal man I’d ever seen in all my life, was listening to my Master with an icy cold stone stare. 

The man seemed bored of this tedious exchange and I could tell their patience was beginning to run thin as my Master blabbered on and on about the Giants river.

I wondered how long the fire would build behind the Duke’s eyes before their tolerance met its peak, and would put my Master in their place. For once I was glad they paid me no mind.

“I have much gold to offer in return for the river and with the greater yields we would produce, I’m happy to offer 5% of the total harvest.” Master’s smile curled into a grin as they folded their hands. They did that whenever something they wanted was about to go their way.

I averted my gaze back to my feet at this. They always got mad when they caught me staring. How sad I knew what his tells were.

“While your offer is good Edwin, as a Duke with the amount of land I have, your offer is insignificant to me. Why give you access to my river when I produce five times the amount you yield in a year?”

Master lost his composure at that, clearly not expecting such a response. Unsurprising when he acts like a toddler who has never been told no. “Well yes but-” 

“If you expect me to share such a precious resource, I expect a greater sum.” The Duke cut him off. “Or an offer with something of rarity to actually compensate for the price. Something like…” 

No. No, he can’t mean…

The duke took a sip from his cup as if contemplating, but only a fool didn’t know he’d already made up his mind the second he set eyes on me.

“That human.”

The Duke slammed the cup down, hitting the table with a clink as my head shot up and snapped straight to the Duke, my worst fears confirmed reality. The Duke’s ice blue eyes bore into my small figure. If I thought my grubby Master was scary then the Duke was sheer terror. 

His eyes pierced my very soul pinning me in place, and I stared straight back, unable to hide the terror on my face despite the consequences. Though it could have just been adrenaline, I swear I saw their eyes soften when they noticed my expression change, though it did little to put me at ease. His presence was terrifying and it hit me then why the room was so quiet. Why Master was so mad he had no control over this Giant.

This was a man with power.

I knew if I was what it wanted, then no one would be stupid enough to say no twice. Everyone in the room knew what his eyes were locked on. 

“You want me to trade my human, for access to the river?” The Count replied as he dragged me closer, pulling me away from my terror. “That hardly seems fair seeing how incredibly rare and delightful they are. It’s just about bored me enough that I'm peckish. I love to break their spirits just enough that they’re kicking and screaming to the end.” 

At this, I was flung into the air with a yelp before the Count caught me in a harsh grip. I cried out in pain as he squeezed my ribs tight to the point I was sure they’d break.

“It would be a waste to let all this time go to not enjoy them myself.”

“It’s the human or nothing.” The Duke insisted. “You have nothing more that I want.”

I risked looking up at the Duke again, the fire in his eyes seemed to have tripled. “It’s as you said, humans are incredibly rare. Are they truly worth a yearly supply of better income?”

My Masters hand began to squeeze tighter around me and I’m only lucky that the air had been forced out of my lungs enough before I could scream. His anger being directed on the only thing he could control in the moment, only for the pressure to leave as quickly as it came and I found myself falling.

“Deal.” 

And that was the only warning I had before everything flashed a violent white. My whole body was in complete and utter agony and yet I couldn’t even scream. I could feel silent tears dripping down my face as my vision began to dance with black blurry spots. This is where I died.

Everything felt cold, until it wasn’t. 

I felt myself engulfed in pure warmth as careful hands moved and cradled my broken body. I could hear muffled voices shouting and moving before the slamming of a door ceased all else. Dark blobs broke in between the black and I knew deep down I was in the Duke’s hands, but the soft warmth they provided blurred all other judgment. I hadn’t been warm- truly warm since I’d been brought here, and yet somehow I was now at ease. 

Perhaps it was just my mind twisting the truth as a last mercy to let me die peacefully.

“Rest now,” A voice whispered over head as the world faded to black. “I’ve got you now.” 

Funny how my mind could create such a promise after so much pain…

✩₊˚.⋆⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆⋆⁺₊✧

Don't worry, the Duke's actually the good guy in this lol. I have it head cannoned that he fixes them all up and helps them get home.

I may write onto this, I might not who knows! The fact I've written in a different pov to me is wild though! Thank you to squishy, xyz and especially munchkin for beta reading this. (Seriously savior on my grammar qwp) Thank you if you read this far and I hope you enjoyed!!!!

Tag List Link here: @local-squishmallow @brick-a-doodle-do @justarandomsloth @veryfunkycheesecake @munchkin1156 @kayla-crazy-stuffs @da3dm @eiscreme135 @orchid-harmony @the-tiny-lurker @colossal-red @nobodywritingao3 @nata2343 @bad-author777 @crazyfoxgirl10 @guppybubbles

(also side note: other wips are still being written. I am aware JORNOS has not updated in months but it's not been forgotten <3)

#beckyu writes #my writing #my ocs #gt #g/t #gt writing #g/t writing #giant tiny #giant/tiny #size difference #gt community #g/t community #read the content warnings before proceeding #it's kind of a grey area for tagging :/

[convexicalcrow]

i can't see the rising blocks and the giant moon and not be immediately transported to Pearl's streams where she was valiantly trying to work on the castle while floating every ten minutes and dealing with all the earthquakes. Really made the absolute dread sink in about the whole situation. It was horrifying, but at the same time, I couldn't look away. We all had to see it through to the end, even if that end was the moon crashing. Gods. What a season.

#hermitcraft #hc8 #cubfan135 #pearlescent moon #the streams really made it real for me #i still feel that dread sinking in when i think about it all #the inevitability #no one can stop it #the panic and horror and fear and madness of it all #pearl just doing her best to finish the castle #and the lil fear in her voice when the gravity effects kicked in #there was nothing she could do #gods #it was so much #HI WELCOME TO HERMITCRAFT THAT WAS MY FIRST SEASON WHAT THE HELL DID I WALK INTO

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

hi there, could I get poppy playtime (if that is to many characters then just catnap and dogday are fine) with a reader that has pica (if you don't know what that is it is where a person can tend to eat or bite on things not edible, like paper, erasers, eca)

I can do a few!

.....

Huggy (saved/rescued) + Poppy

While in his "idle mode" on the podium, he sees you munching on a piece of paper like lettuce and then plush stuffing like it's cotton candy.

And then you just snatch the key from him and move onto the next puzzle, and he goes "???????"

Why did you eat those things? Did they somehow sustain your hunger?

Huggy only gets to learn more after you save him from falling (and tame him with an actual edible snack you brought along), taking a breather after freeing Poppy from her box.

When he grabs one a random paper, you assume he wants to draw something as a way to communicate...until he starts chowing it down.

In his mind, humans DO eat paper and he's been starving and cannibalizing toys (and trying to eat you) for nothing...

But then he spits it out, picking shredded bits out of his teeth, before glaring at you as if you told him to eat that.

You're a little scared and confused until Poppy explains that he was only trying to mimic what you do, and she asks why you eat such random little things.

Eventually you explain to the pair of your condition called "pica".

You've had it most of your life, with an official diagnosis to boot, but it never really hurt your digestive tract.

Over the years you've cut the habit, although being stuck in this factory meant you had to find other sources of food...even those not even considered food at all.

Some of your coworkers knew about it, and their only complaint was the occasional eraser going missing thanks to you (which you deny stealing...most of the time).

"I always joke about having a cast-iron stomach," you tell the toys. "Food is the least of my......"

But you pause and look at Huggy, realizing he might be offended by you shrugging off food as negligible to your survival.

No matter what, though, it's not gonna stop him from trying different non-food items and seeing what tastes good.

He might've eaten pieces of clothing and plush fabric/stuffing over the years, albeit none of it was delicious by itself.

Dogday

"They want nothing more than to crawl beneath your skin and eat away at you bit by little bit--fill what feels empty inside themselves."

"Jesus, that sounds horrific." You say as you crunch on a piece of chalk (one of several that you got from the schoolhouse) nonchalantly.

Dogday takes immediate notice and is rather concerned. He knows the chalk and crayons here are made to be non-toxic, but insists they're not safe for human consumption.

He fears it's gonna kill you and begs you to stop, saying you needed to live.

Before you could fully explain your condition, the mini-critters are closing in, so you free him and haul ass out of the playhouse of horrors.

After making it somewhere safe where you could patch him up, he presses you on why you continue to eat all these foreign objects.

But he jumps to the conclusion that you got desperate after running out of food, going mad from hunger like the other toys did...

He recalls Picky Piggy going through something similar, and he gets a bad flashback to the Hour of Joy when he had to stop her from eating Crafty's paint....and the corpse of a Smiling Critter -

"Dogday? Hey stay with me..it's okay. I'm here, I'm here.." You console him, calming him down from his panic attack. "I'm not going crazy, alright? I just have this small condition called pica."

"...p-pica? Oh. I thought...kids grow outta that.." He mutters, finding familiarity with that term.

He's had his fair share of toddlers putting things in their mouth that could be choking hazards.

You shake your head, explaining that it stuck with you, but it doesn't cause your stomach any pain as long as you're careful about what you eat.

Dogday's relieved you're not losing it.

Even so, though, he's gonna feel nervous if he catches you eating another piece of chalk.

But it's just his instincts as a child caretaker, so you couldn't blame him.

Catnap

He hangs out in the shadows for the most part, watching your every move...and he does pick up on your strange habit of eating non-food objects.

It's something orphaned toddlers in the playhouse often did, and he'd see the other Smiling Critters hurry to take the items away from them before any emergencies happened.

But those memories mean nothing to him.

All he's doing is waiting for you to eat the wrong thing and keel over.

Unfortunately for him, you just keep trudging on, munching on a crayon like it's normal before throwing your gas mask back on.

He doesn't know how you manage to stomach so many things, and honestly is kinda envious.

Why can't he and the others sustain their hunger like you did?

It does make for some rather..amusing situations, though. Such as when you're in the smoke factory and use the elevator to escape him.

You just stand there as the doors close, eating some chalk and crunching it loudly without breaking eye contact with Catnap's horrific eldritch form.

Obviously, you're stress-eating at that point, but he doesn't have to know.

Miss Delight

The schoolhouse was like a cafeteria for someone with pica, aka you.

While looking for generators, you just pick up whatever you find: erasers, chalk, crayons, etc. and start biting them, or even chewing and swallowing them.

It only succeeds in angering Miss Delight right away, as she sees you doing all of this and snaps at how "childish" you are for eating things you shouldn't.

But you when shout back that you have pica, the PA system suddenly goes quiet.

Like Dogday and Catnap, that definitely triggered some memories for her, which she dwells on for a while before realizing you were still in the school..

And seeing you eating stuff makes her howling stomach grow louder.

"Barb" says you're mocking her own hunger, especially since she notices you gathering the notes she left around the place, and insists on killing you.

When you finally do encounter her, she is visibly disturbed by you crunching on a piece of chalk and throwing it to the ground to distract her, buying you time to break eye contact and flee.

She calls you "crazy", but you're not the one chasing her with a weapon made of a ruler and colored pencils.

#clanask #poppy playtime x reader #ppt x reader #huggy wuggy #dogday #catnap #miss delight #platonic #headcanons #pica

[izvmimi]

daddy's home (2) - izuku x reader

cw: MINORS DNI, noncon/dubcon, horror themes, you and izuku have a child, parental dynamics, manipulation, villain!deku, yandere!deku, violence, fem!reader summary: izuku tries to make amends with his family after his absence. (~3.4k words) a/n: reposted. part 1 here.

As you continue to hear his footsteps approach, the dreadful sound amplified by genuine fear of your partner, you think wistfully of the past. 

Clearly, it hadn’t always been like this. Izuku, at his core, was someone sweet - bashful, kind, protective… not whatever monster was marching through your home this very second, causing your mind to race as you thought frantically of ways to protect your daughter. That was your first priority.

But he wouldn’t hurt his daughter, right? That’s where he would draw the line, no matter how altered his thoughts concerning allies versus enemies had become over time. And even if now you had drawn a clear line in the sand, you’d like to think that he wouldn’t hurt you - he hadn’t ever threatened to hurt you, now had he? He’d only given you warnings, reminding you that turning against him wouldn’t be in your best interest. After all, according to him, he’s the only one who really cares for your well-being. That’s why he married you, right?

“I... I think all of this is excessive,” you mumble to Mei as she demonstrates the security upgrades to your home. Iida shakes his head almost furiously, and seems to double and triple-check his wife’s work and potential blind spots, peering at new cameras shoved in the corners where the ceilings meet and laser tripwires invisible to the naked eye. There’s a panic device in the hallway between the kitchen and one of the living rooms hidden behind a wedding picture where both of your smiles are radiant enough to be blinding. The fact that it’s come to this makes your stomach turn. 

“In all honesty, there’s a good chance it might not be enough,” Mei admits, and the fact that for once she realistically communicates her own engineering limitations underlines how grave the situation is. If even she is admitting that she’s not infallible, that means your situation is bad.

What is he, God? You think bitterly, but resign yourself to saying nothing. You are not too distraught to accept kindness from your friends.

Bakugou, for example, now texts you every morning, a simple two words.

You good?

While you understand and appreciate where he’s coming from, every time you see those words, you can feel yourself losing your patience. If you could have your husband back, you’d be great. Fantastic even! You’d always texted back the same thing, in different variations - 

Yeah, thanks for checking!

He never responded after that. It wasn’t that he didn’t care; it’s that he still did not want to entertain the idea that his friend had gone off the deep end for too long. 

It’s hard for everyone, not just your family, you have to remember.

You can hear Izuku’s steps almost right outside your door, the pace almost synchronous with the pounding in your heart. There’s no use in hiding anymore. Steeling your resolve, you hold your slumbering daughter close for a moment, and kiss her forehead.

“Mommy loves you,” you whisper. She doesn’t stir, and you wonder what it is to be a child again, safe and naive and uncorrupted by circumstance.

And then you tumble out of the room to face him.

—

He stands at the end of the hall facing you; you stand, fists balled tightly by your sides and your expression unnecessarily fierce - it’s thought that fear and anger often are mistaken for each other, and Izuku seems to think so today as well.

He tilts his head slightly, and his voice is slightly raspy, deeper than usual, as he calls out to you. There’s a strained quality to it, as though his voice has been unused for a while, even though the two of you did technically just speak, or maybe he’s forgotten how to speak to you softly, how to speak to anyone with kindness.

But he tries.

“Are you mad at me, love?”

There’s a little bit of electricity in the air that you can feel in the strands of your hair that you know emanates from him. Energy that he hasn’t kept inside now that he has no reason to show any restraint. His eyes aren’t glowing however; if anything, they’re devoid of any light, dull like a lifeless forest in the dead of night. You wonder if, haggard as he appears now even if he is always and forever handsome, has come out of the wilderness. Where does he stay when he’s not here? Where is he physically when mentally he is lost?

You can’t get words out of your throat no matter how hard you try to answer him. He breathes from his nose, a sigh, and in the blink of an eye, he’s crossed the distance between you two, and has you pressed up against the wall. Caged in, his hands pressed on either side to make it clear that you have no escape, your faces are millimeters apart. This is not the man you love who values your space and your autonomy and the idea of you, above all, freely offering yourself to him. 

This is not your Izuku.

Nevertheless, not-Izuku kisses you roughly and bites your lip sharply as his mouth disconnects from yours. It’s painful and bruising and you think you taste blood, but the salt on your tongue probably comes from the tears that fall from your eyes as you tremble. 

When you look at him through a moisture-blurred view, for a moment it seems as though his eyes shine too. 

Maybe, maybe for a moment. You blink, and they’re dull again.

“Izuku, please don’t hurt her,” is the first thing that falls from your lips. 

His facial expression turns wicked for a moment and then he laughs and it is not his laugh. It’s something tinny and sick and wrong coming from him. He kisses you again, bites even harder this time, enough that you wince, and this time you are sure your lip is bleeding. 

“Hurt? Why would I hurt my princess? How could you even ask something so silly?”

Izuku presses his forehead against yours, and his cool breath runs over your wet cheeks. His hands grip your wrists and raise them up above your head, pressing the back of your hands to the wall.

“Why would I hurt her or you when you’re so vulnerable and need to be cared for?” The way he stresses that adjective - vulnerable - turns your stomach and your whole body tenses, which he notices, tightening his grip on your wrists. 

“See, love, that’s why I had to come back. I said I would come back, didn’t I? To think I’d leave the two of you alone in such a twisted, unsafe world… what kind of man would I be if I behaved like this?”

You swallow hard, unable to look at him as you search for other points to focus on. He notices.

“Don’t you dare look away from me,” he hisses. Your eyes snap obediently away from everywhere else in the room and focus on him. There’s nothing behind his eyes. You want to scream into the endless void you stare into. What happened to him? What happened to your Deku?

“W-what do you want?”

Izuku’s eyebrows furrow, and for a moment, he looks genuinely confused, like a kid faced with a particularly difficult arithmetic problem. You stun him enough with your words that he lets go of your wrists for a moment and steps back, rubbing his chin.

It wasn’t meant to be said harshly - maybe it was your grief that hardened your voice, but he seems to retreat to somewhere deep in his chest, before shaking his head.

He smiles again, that unnatural grin that doesn’t reach his eyes. 

“I thought I was coming home. Do I need permission to see my family?” he asks in a honeyed voice. 

He leans in further, pressing a scarred, calloused hand to your cheek and stroking gently. Once upon a time, you would have leaned into his palm and kissed it, maybe even pulled him closer by the collar of his shirt so that you could kiss him. 

But all you can do is freeze, and let it pass. 

And he gets impatient. His fingers now pinch instead of caressing; it would be cute, and it was once cute, when he pulled your cheeks like this to steal a kiss, but now the downturn of his lips show that he is trying very hard not to accept the truth that you are rejecting him, or at least the ‘him’ that you see before you now.

His voice flattens.

“You really thought you’d keep me out with those silly trinkets?” he growls. The other shoe has dropped.

“Who made them?” he asks. “Who did you ask to help you keep me out of my own home?”

Izuku’s hands move quickly, now cupping your chin in his hands and pulling you to him roughly as he stands, so that you’re nearly lifted up off your feet. It’s an action that’s lacking any tenderness as though he’ll yank your head clearly off your shoulders. 

“Honey? That’s a direct question, not rhetorical,” he repeats.

You don’t utter a single word, and by now he’s beyond frustrated. He lets go of your face and you lose your balance ever so slightly, but before you fall he grabs your wrist again. You pull away reflexively and a flash of anger rises in him, and he pulls even harder, enough that you can feel the tingle of his Quirk intensify. 

“Clearly, we seem to be having trouble with intimacy, so I guess we’ll have to address that first before I ask you to communicate basic information with me.” The edge to his voice is palpable but the pain of the pressure he’s putting on your arm is almost worse and you try so hard not to cry out at the sensation of him nearly crushing your bones, knowing very well that this is the least of his rough handling of you for now but then - 

“Daddy?”

Your heart stops. Izuku lets go immediately, and you turn around with a gasp to see your little girl, a flurry of nightclothes and curly green hair, leap into his arms without the slightest bit of hesitation.

No, no, no, how… of all the times to wake up! You ignore the dead feeling in your arm to run into him and shove him as he holds your daughter and twirls her around, but he barely feels you, and you practically bounce off of him like rubber on glue. 

She barely even notices you fall flat on your ass. Rather, she lets her father give her the affection she’s been missing for months, and you can only watch in abject horror as Izuku throws her up and down in the air a couple times, then asks her if she’s been good.

“Daddy, where’d you go?” She finally asks, once she’s stopped giggling. Her cheeks are rosy and excited and her eyes are bright enough to fill his darkened ones - you clutch your bruised arm and can only watch. 

Izuku glances at you then blows a raspberry in his daughter’s neck which has her giggling again.

“Mommy gave me a timeout!” he says cheerfully, holding her close. She nuzzles herself into the security of his chest, and holds tightly.

“Time out?” she murmurs. She clutches at his shirt possessively, and Izuku gives you a look. Your stare becomes hardened - it’s a plea but it’s also a threat that he better not try a single funny thing with her because then fear will give way to desperation and he will have to be prepared to kill you instantly and-

He laughs - it’s less tinny than before, but still it sucks warmth out of the room, unbeknownst to your daughter. “Yeah when you’re bad you get time out!” he reminds her, poking her belly. She laughs again and presses her hands on his cheeks squishing them.

“You can’t be bad!” she exclaims.

Izuku glances at you again, his chuckle drier and his eyes more narrow as he adjusts his baby girl in his arms.

“Well, your mommy seems to think so,” he replies, quieter this time. Somehow, she picks up the serious turn to his voice.

Your baby girl looks at you too, disheveled on the ground and breathing a bit heavier than usual, looking wrong, like a feral creature, the sudden reversal of positions being apparent in such a short time. 

She looks into your soul for a moment and furrows her eyebrows. She is thinking - assessing the situation. Her father who she hasn’t seen in quite a while is holding her tightly, her mother sits in a heap and does nothing. It is always too dark in this house these days. She can’t see clearly, not this, not anything.

“That’s not right, Mommy,” she says, finally. 

Your heart pounds. You want to charge at him,  knowing full well all you will do is traumatize your daughter at best and get yourself killed at worst. You swallow your saliva as your throat is hot and dry.

Izuku grins at you, then pats her hair gently. He sets her down and kneels to her eye level. 

“Can you be a good girl for me, sweetie?” he asks.

She nods enthusiastically, clutching fistfuls of her dress to contain her excitement at having her dad home. The longer you watch her beam the more you feel like you want to puke up your insides. What do you do? What do you do?

“Go to your room and I’ll tuck you in in a little bit, okay?”

She nods and runs off immediately, back to the center of the home where you’re not sure how much of the structure still stands appropriately, but Izuku wouldn’t send her where it’s not safe - that’s his little girl after all - and the two of you watch as her small figure disappears.

The moment she’s out of sight, you finally spit up the vitriol that’s been bubbling inside you since that horrible display.

“Fuck you.”

You’re shaking, you are so upset. The thought that he can just barge in here, and put you in an awful situation, making you look like a bad person no matter what you do. 

Izuku’s dusky eyes narrow, and in seconds he’s dragging you to your feet and pulling you into the nearest bedroom.

“Gladly.”

It doesn’t matter how hard you kick and scream and protest. Eventually, Izuku gets tired, and throws you over his shoulder, clapping a hand over your mouth. You bite his palm and he barely reacts and instead of biting harder, you break out into muffled sobs. You don’t want to hurt him, it occurs to you. You don’t have the resolve to truly take purchase into his flesh and tear away like a beast.

He throws you onto the bed and locks the door as you bury your face into the bedsheets, continuing to muffle your tears. You’re not crying because you hate him, it’s because you love him still and the situation is so awful and confusing that it’s clear that there’s no way out. You scream and terrify your daughter, and Izuku will make you the problem. If she, by some magic, understands what’s going on, is it worth it for her to develop that same darkness behind your Izuku’s eyes right now?

Izuku snorts derisively as he watches you come undone in your own mind, as the reality sets in that there is truly no way out of this situation. You sob, and you sob and you sob, and he lets you, watching you with neutrality that is so atypical of him. You’re not the first person he’s seen cry, and even if you are the most important person to him, he’s had enough of your tears. Any tears, in fact. 

He sits at the edge of the bed until your sniffles die out, then finally runs out of patience.

“Stop it.”

You rise slowly to watch him stare at you, his own eyes red-rimmed. It’s the most emotion you’ve seen out of him since today, but you can’t understand what he’s feeling. You can barely understand your own right now. 

You sniffle and he sneers.

“Stop it right now,” he repeats, harshly this time. His lips crash into yours again and he pushes you so that you lay on your back. He tears at your clothes and your defenses, and soon you are kissing back, miserable and pathetic a creature as you are.

He whispers something about loving you and never letting you go, and you don’t have the strength to whisper back but you know it’s true. Your body misses him, misses the heat of his skin against yours and the scrape of his tongue across your nipples. It misses his fingers that tease you apart and make you fall apart, the sensation of being full of love for him and physically stretched and strained to accommodate him. It misses his teeth marking you, palms sliding across every surface.

“It h-hurts, Izuku,” you moan, sucking at his shoulder to distract from the corrupted pleasure. He groans into you as he continues to dig, deeper still when your nails dig into his back, deeper still when your legs tighten around his waist. “It h-hurts,” you murmur into his neck.

“You’ll endure for me, won’t you baby?” 

He doesn’t stop; maybe he slows, but he doesn’t stop.

The truth is you will. It’s not the only thing you’ll endure for him, you think as your head swims in desire.

“You feel better than I remember,”  he groans into your ear. “Perfectly tight, like you’ve been waiting for me this entire time to reclaim you, haven’t you?”

You sigh deeply and your back arches as you climax. It’s the only answer he needs.

“You’re mine forever, no matter what, aren’t you?” he says.

Till death do we part, you think, and you crash into full, reckless indulgence. Your husband lets out a cry; his hips stutter to a stop and he pumps you full, over and over again, and before you can catch your breath, he begins again. Faster this time.

“I love you. I will love you to pieces,” he whispers into your ear, and for the first time that day, looks at you with his own eyes, the look you remember. Your eyes well up. You’ve missed him terribly.

Your arms wrap around his neck.

“I love you, too.”

There’s catching up to do.

—

Bakugou has not heard from you all morning, and while he tries not to think about it, he can’t help but think about it. 

It’s only been a couple hours - he sent the message somewhere around 8 am, knowing that you’re usually up by this time. However, it’s almost 11 am and you should at least be up to take your daughter to school and yet you’ve neglected to respond. 

Not even a read receipt.

Oi, just let me know you’ve seen this message, okay? He texts finally, before shoving his phone back into his pocket. There’s quite a few other things he needs to be worrying about today, including tracking members of the second iteration of the League of Villains and figuring out what exactly happened to his friend. You are fine. You have to be, he thinks. 

His phone buzzes.

Instead of a message, it’s a video according to the banner. Bakugou hesitates, and there’s a tiny bit of dread as he opens it.

And his eyes widen in horror. 

You are wrapped up in white sheets, body facing away from the camera, but he can tell from the transparency that you’re most likely wearing nothing else. By the steady rise and fall of your chest, he can tell you’re still alive, albeit fast asleep. The camera shakes ever so slightly. 

From the audio, which he turns up he can hear a voice, Izuku’s voice.

“She’s just fine, don’t worry about us.” 

The video ends and Bakugou can feel his blood run cold as his mind begins to race. Before he can play the video again to look for clues, there’s a text message that pops up.

If you text my wife again, I’ll dash your brains on the concrete.

Have a lovely day.

#izuku x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #yandere izuku #daydreams: bnha #thoughts: izuku #mimi's notes

[copperbadge]

I just had a nightmare so bad it made me call in sick to work. (I am also actualfacts sick but it's just a stomach bug, not so bad it would keep me from working otherwise.)

It was so banal, too, is the thing -- no monsters, no body horror* or things chasing me or the deaths of loved ones. It was just...I came home from going out somewhere and my home wasn't my home anymore. The address was right, the building looked right, the front door was my front door, my key worked, but the unit inside wasn't my unit, was furnished differently and none of my stuff was there and two people I'd never met were living there.

They had just moved in, they said, and they weren't mad even, just as dumbfounded as I was. They clearly believed me and wanted to help but had no answers.

Where was my stuff? Where were my cats? I didn't even have any money, I didn't know who to ask about the situation. I was confused at first but then started to panic, and as I left to try and find...help, or an explanation, or maybe my REAL home, the building started to become unrecognizable as well. Was I delusional? Where did I really live? Did I even have a home?

It felt so unbelievably real. Usually in bad dreams I'm at least partially cognizant it's a dream. It's why I rarely find nightmares all that scary, because it's like seeing a horror movie on TV. Not really happening. This very much felt like it was really happening. I've never been so relieved to wake up in my own bed with Polk asleep on my chest.

I have no idea what it means either psychologically or metaphysically. I own my home, and I've never been in serious peril of being unable to pay rent or mortgage. While I do have a deep fear of becoming homeless it's not usually front of mind, like it's not something I dwell on. I've never had a dream like that before. It's actually comforting to imagine I just slipped into an alternate universe briefly. At least that means it's not likely to happen again.

* thanks autocorrect for changing this to "Jody horror", which did make me laugh.

#dreams #nightmares

[multi-fandom-imagine]

«Bring Me To Life || Astarion ||

A/n:here you all go, it’s up for you all to decide if the reader survives.

{ unless you all want me to make a part two to this }

And big thanks to @shadow-pancake9 for the open ending idea.

It was stupid to agree, to allow him to go through with it, a whisper in the back of you mind telling you to stop this.

To stop him.

So you did the only thing you could do, you through a blade at one of the spawns killing it. Interrupting the ritual, interrupting Astarion’s chance for power and he was furious.

You didn’t even recognize him, you saw nothing but hate behind those eyes you loved so much and then it happened. With in a blink of an eye he was in front of you.

You didn’t feel it at first, but you heard the scream of Shadowheart, Karlach’s shout for you to realize he stabbed you.

The man you had fallen so easily for had stuck his blade in your chest and the pain hit you all at once, blood pouring from the wound.Your knee’s bucking and for a moment you saw the change, the anger slipping away into horror, horror for what he had done.

“NO! No!”

Astarion easily caught you, you felt so light in his arms and gods why were you smiling. It took him a moment for him to even realize that he was crying, tears streaming down his cheeks.

That minuscule of power he had did that? He blinded his love for you? The only one that had ever truly cared for him, that made him feel free. “Please no!! Please.”

He could feel your hand upon his cheek, it felt so cold. Your blood still flowing freely out of the wound pooling around you both.

It made him sick.

“I love you.”

Then your hand feel from his cheek, your breath slowing, your chest nearly coming to a stop and that’s when the panic set in.

“No! You can not leave me! Please do not leave me alone.” Astarion begged, begged for you to just open your eyes.

‘Please open your eyes’

He could fix this, he could change you, make you like him. With the little power he had left he will save you, he had to save you.

Without even thinking, driven by fear at the thought of losing you he sunk his fangs into your neck drinking your blood, he knew he might look mad but he did not care. He couldn’t close you, you will not leave his side.

You couldn’t leave his side.

He did his best to force his blood down your throat and then he waited, and waited.

But nothing changed, your body was still. That same smile on your lips.

That same smile you would always flash him before you walked off to your bed roll. That same smile he would never see again.

He was just like Cazadro, worse than Cazador because he killed the only one he’d ever love. The only one that had ever loved him.

“Please.” Astarion whispered drawing your body in close, his face buried into your neck. A wrenched sob escaped his lips, a cry echoing out in the chambers as he desperately held your body to his chest to you.

He pleaded to the gods, to anyone, begged for you to wake up. He had to see your eyes, had to see you smile at him.

He prayed for you to wake up, to tell him that you loved him.

just open your eyes.

#drabbles #drabble #astarion #astarion romance #astarion x y/n #astarion x you #astarion x reader #baldurs gate iii #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate astarion #baldurs gate 3 x reader

[wandaslittlelove]

Destined Part 2

Warnings: Kidnapping, mentions of killing I know this part is really bad but I promise the next one will be better

Series Masterlist

Kamar taj is not like anything I had expected it to be. It was a fortress with many young sorcerers training or that's what they were supposed to be doing. Instead they all stood still, waiting for the fight that was bound to happen.

I stood downstairs with America as the roof above us shook violently signifying the fight that was happening upstairs.

“We have to get you out of here.” Strange spoke as he entered the room. Wong explained to us that Kamar taj had fallen and I took a deep breath. I knew Wanda was capable of a lot of things but killing a bunch of innocent people like this? This was madness.

Suddenly the doors began to slam shut and people disappeared into puddles. 

We had to quickly cover all reflectable surfaces but America was too slow and suddenly Wanda appeared in front of us. Wanda made eye contact with me before she went on to explain how her multiverse self had children in every other universe. How those children weren’t just hers but mine.

“None of that is real Wanda.” I spoke, stepping forwards ignoring America pulling my arm back. “At least not in this universe. You choose your life. You choose to cheat on me with vision. To create a life and children with him. Not me.” Wanda took a step towards me and softly caressed my face with her hand before gripping my jaw tightly. I heard a gasp from behind me and could feel the way Strange prepared himself to step in.

“You do not get to speak to me that way, little one. Even if you may not think so, you are still mine. Once I get America's powers I am going to get our children and we will be a perfect family. Now step out of my way.” She releases the grip on my jaw and I step back towards Strange and America. 

“I'm sorry Wanda but I will not let you kill a kid or tear apart a happy family.” With my words Stange sends a creature towards Wanda but she is quick to fight them off and send Strange flying into a wall. She lifts America into the air and I am quick to send a white burst of energy flying towards her but she only dogages it glaring at me.

“Stay back” She growls as she uses her magic to cuff my arms behind my back.

I watch in horror as Wanda uses her magic to suck the energy out of America.

“STOP STOP. WANDA STOP!” I shout and her attention turns back to me. “Don’t hurt her!” I scream again. Suddenly everything seems to go in slow motion as I watch Strange jump towards America knocking her back into the portal she had created. I hear Wanda scream angrily as it closes right behind them and then I feel the pain in my head as she grips my hair tightly dragging me outside. 

I say nothing as tears fall down my face from both the pain and the destruction around me. And nothing as suddenly my vision goes black.

When I wake up I look around confused as I notice my surroundings. Looking around I notice I'm in a bedroom. There are curtains half open on the windows and the door leading out of the room is cracked open. Slowly I sit up and begin to make my way towards the door. My eyes widen as I look down the hallway and see Wanda step out of a portal and into the living room. 

When she sees me she smiles and beckons me over.

“I'm glad you're finally awake Bunny. Come have a seat.” When I refuse to come towards her she frowns and flicks her wrist sending me flying towards her. Out of fear I attempt to send an energy blast at her but panic when I realize I can’t.

“What did you do to me!” I yell as I struggle against her magic. 

“Just a little spell to keep you in line. Your powers do not work anymore. Thanks to the dark hold our powers are no longer balanced.” She speaks as if it's the most simple thing in the world.

“America did you..?” I ask, remembering the portal she had just created.

“No. Her and Strange got away. The portal was to my throne.” she takes a look at my confused face before giggling. “You're such a naive little bunny. At first my goal was to gain America's powers so that I could steal the life of my counterpart but once she got away I figured why do that when I can just have my own. Even if I have to make you give me what I want.” 

Tag list: @alexawynters @username23345 @casquinhaa @idontknow-llol @delulu-bayolet-era @dorabledewdroop @bananasplits-world

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #dark wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x fem reader #marvel #wanda marvel #wanda maximoff mom #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x reader smut #wanda mom #wandavision #wanda x reader #wanda x you #wanda x y/n #wanda x fem reader #wanda maximoff marvel #mcu wanda #wanda mcu #wanda maximoff mcu #wanda maximoff avengers #wanda avengers #avengers wanda #marvel wnada #marvel cinematic universe #mcu #avengers #wanda maximoff series #dark wanda x reader

[zapreportsblog]

↱ stop toying with her ↰

➘ summary : billy and Stu are toying with Sidney so much she runs off and escapes, right into the arms of the third ghostface

➘ a/n : such a misleading title but oh well, this was inspire my this post by @dominantslasherking ooh and I’ll be writing a fem version of this too

➘ poly ghostface x male reader, stu marcher x male reader x billy loomis, ghostface x male reader, slashers x reader

Stu and Billy stood in the dimly lit kitchen, their eyes locked on Sidney, who was backed into a corner. The tension in the room was palpable as they prepared to reveal their true identities and the reasons behind their terrifying actions.

Sidney's heart raced, her mind filled with a mix of fear and confusion. She had known Stu and Billy for years, but she never could have imagined that they were capable of such horrors. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself as she demanded answers.

"Why? Why are you doing this?" Sidney asked, her voice trembling.

Stu smirked, his eyes glinting with a twisted excitement. "Isn't it obvious, Sidney? We did it for the thrill, the power. We wanted to be remembered."

Billy's cold gaze shifted towards Sidney, his voice calm yet filled with a chilling certainty. "We're Ghostface, Sidney. The ones behind the mask. The orchestrators of this deadly game."

Sidney's eyes widened in disbelief. She had heard of the Ghostface killer, the terrifying figure responsible for a string of brutal murders that had plagued their small town. But to hear that it was Stu and Billy, her friends, was beyond comprehension.

Stu continued, a sadistic grin spreading across his face. "You see, Sidney, we were tired of being nobodies. We wanted to be at the center of attention, to become legends. What better way to achieve that than by being the ones who terrorize our own town?"

Billy nodded in agreement, his eyes burning with a twisted sense of purpose. "We meticulously planned every murder, every scare, every torment. We wanted to make sure we left a lasting mark on Woodsboro, and on you, Sidney."

Sidney's mind raced, trying to process the enormity of what she was hearing. "But why me? Why target me specifically?"

Stu's eyes narrowed, his tone filled with a mix of mockery and resentment. "Oh, Sidney, you were simply the perfect choice. The final girl, the one who always survives. We wanted to test your strength, break you down, and make you realize that no one is truly safe."

Billy stepped forward, his voice dripping with malice. "We wanted to see the fear in your eyes, Sidney. To witness your vulnerability and watch as you fought for your life. It was all part of the sick game we created."

Sidney's anger began to replace her fear. "You're sick, both of you! How could you betray our friendship like this?"

Stu chuckled, his voice tinged with a hint of madness. "Friendship? Oh, Sidney, friendship is just a tool, a means to an end. In the end, it's all about power, control, and the thrill of the chase."

Billy stepped closer, his eyes locked on Sidney's. "We wanted to see if we could outsmart you, to prove that even the strongest can be broken. And now, Sidney, it's your turn to play our game."

As Sidney stumbled back, her heart pounding in her chest, she quickly turned and rushed away from Stu and Billy. Panic consumed her as she desperately tried to find an escape route, her mind racing with fear and disbelief.

As she turned a corner, Sidney collided with a strong, sturdy figure. She looked up, her eyes filled with tears, and found herself falling into the arms of a big, husky man. He held her firmly, providing a sense of security that she desperately needed in that moment.

"They're the killers! We have to leave, now!" Sidney pleaded, her voice trembling with fear.

But to her surprise, the man just stood there, his expression impassive and unmoving. Sidney's heart sank as she wondered why he wasn't reacting, why he wasn't helping her. Was he in shock? Did he not understand the gravity of the situation?

Before she could fully process her disappointment, Stu and Billy appeared around the corner, their smirks widening at the sight of Sidney being held in place by the mysterious man. Stu's voice dripped with sadistic delight as he called out to the man.

"Babe, grab her for me," Stu whined, his tone filled with a sickening mix of entitlement and cruelty.

Sidney's eyes widened in horror as she realized the truth. The man she had hoped would help her was working with Stu and Billy. Her cries turned to sobs as she struggled against his grip, feeling betrayed and helpless.

"(M/n), please, don't do this! Help me!" Sidney pleaded, tears streaming down her face.

But the man, known as (M/n), remained silent, his grip tightening around her. Sidney's heart shattered as she realized that she was alone in this battle for survival. She had put her trust in the wrong person, and now she would pay the price.

As Stu and Billy closed in, their smiles twisted with sadistic pleasure, Sidney's determination resurfaced. She refused to let them break her spirit. With a surge of strength, she fought against (M/n)’s hold, desperately searching for a way to escape.

"Why are you doing this?" Sidney's voice trembled, muffled by the fabric of (m/n)'s shirt. Her heart pounded in her chest, and her breaths came in short, uneven bursts.

“It’s always that fucking question!” Billy groans out as he and Stu stood a few distances away.

(m/n)'s grip tightened slightly, his fingers gently stroking her back as he whispered, "Because I understand what it's like, Sidney. To feel like you're drowning in your own thoughts, your own darkness."

(m/n)'s gaze held a mixture of empathy and vulnerability. "But, for the first time, I've found someone who doesn't recoil from my own struggles, my own demons. Someone who doesn't see me as a broken puzzle that needs to be fixed or a problem that needs to be solved."

Billy brows furrowed, "You’re not broken, (m/n). You're not a problem."

A soft, sad smile tugged at (m/n)'s lips. "See Sidney,” he says glancing downward at the smaller female, “That's exactly what I've always wished someone would say to me. You see beyond the surface, beyond the facade I've carefully built. They accept me for who I am, even the parts I've kept hidden away."

Sidney's voice quivered as she pleaded, her eyes wide with desperation, "Please, (m/n), just let me go. I promise that I won’t tell anyone it was you!”

(m/n) held onto her tightly, his expression resolute as he shook his head. "No, Sidney. There's no use in running. We have to end this movie now."

Tears streamed down her cheeks as she struggled against his grip, her voice cracking, "I can't. Pleasure, I'm scared, (m/n). I can't do it. Please don’t do this, I know you’re a good guy!”

His grip on her didn't waver, his eyes holding a mixture of sympathy and determination. "I know you're scared, Sidney. But running won't change anything. The movie's over now. The main character has to die to protect the killer's secret."

Sidney's gaze locked onto his, confusion etched on her face. "What are you talking about?"

(m/n) let out a deep sigh, his fingers gently wiping away her tears. "I mean, we can't outrun our problems, Sidney. Just like in the movies, sometimes the hero has to make a sacrifice to ensure that the truth remains hidden."

Her breath hitched, realization dawning upon her. "You're going to kill me?”

(m/n) nodded solemnly. "Exactly. Now listen, don’t let fear control you. You have to stand up to it, face it head-on, and accept that this is where and how you die.”

As Sidney absorbed his words, she felt a mixture of fear and determination welling up within her. Slowly, her struggles ceased, and she leaned into (m/n)'s embrace, his presence was always a calming one even now as he held her against her will.

Just then, the room echoed with cheers, Billy and Stu grinning from ear to ear. "Way to go, (m/n)!" Billy exclaimed.

Stu joined in, laughing, "Yeah, you tell her! It's the final showdown!"

“Break her neck babe!” Stu spits out with a grin, “No just stab that little bitch up,” billy counters with his own idea.

“How troublesome,” mumbles (m/n) grabbing the knife from out of Sidney’s hand. From the moment she had been grabbed by him he was surprised she hadn’t retaliated against him and stabbed him but then again she might’ve forgotten all about it, after all he had that effect on people. Making them forget their surroundings and get lost in his presence.

Grabbing her swiftly by the sides of her head he twists her head swiftly, and drops it back down towards his sides as Sidney’s body goes limp on the floor.

Stu and Billy exchanged triumphant looks, and then they turned their attention to (m/n), their eyes filled with affection and pride. In unison, they stepped closer to him, their smiles widening as they wrapped their arms around him in a tight hug.

"Congratulations, babe," Stu said, his voice filled with admiration. "You did it. We knew you could."

Billy nodded, his own hug warm and supportive. "Yeah, you really showed them. We're so proud of you."

(m/n) felt a surge of happiness as he hugged them back, their closeness radiating comfort and love. "Thanks, you guys. I couldn't have done it without you by my side."

Stu and Billy exchanged a knowing glance before turning back to (m/n) with playful grins. "And now, for the victory kiss," Stu announced, leaning in to capture (m/n)'s lips in a sweet, celebratory kiss.

Billy joined in, his lips meeting (m/n)'s in a tender kiss that conveyed their shared joy and affection. As they pulled back, their smiles remained, and they locked eyes with (m/n) once more.

"We're always here for you, no matter what," Stu said, his voice sincere.

"Exactly," Billy agreed. "We've got your back, just like you've got ours."

(m/n) felt a deep sense of gratitude for the two people who had stood by his side through thick and thin. Their love and support were unwavering, and in that moment, he realized how lucky he was to have them in his life.

"Thank you," (m/n) said softly, his heart full. "I'm so glad I have you both."

Stu and Billy shared a fond smile before pulling (m/n) into another tight hug. The three of them stood there, basking in the warmth of their connection, knowing that their bond was unbreakable and their love was something truly special.

#poly ghostface x reader #poly ghostface #x male reader #ghostface imagines #ghostface x reader #ghostface x you #ghostface #ghostface imagine #ghostface x male reader #x male reader imagines #x male reader imagine #stu x billy #stu x reader #stu x male reader #billy x male reader #billy x reader #billy loomis imagines #billy loomis imagine #billy loomis x reader #billy loomis x stu macher x reader #stu macher #stu macher x male reader #stu macher imagine #stu macher imagines #stu macher x reader #slashers masterlist

[sidekickjoey]

In the summer of '86, fresh off of saving the world, Steve Harrington and Nancy Wheeler get blonde highlights.

Be it a coping mechanism after handling the hell that was spring or simply a mutual need for change, the decision is made without nervousness from either party. They enter the salon together, swear up and down to their assigned hairstylists that, yes, this is what they want and no, they do not care that their hair already looks perfect as is, thanks, and leave donning notably different looks.

Steve's signature chestnut ends up woven between streaks of gold, giving him a sort of distracting glimmering effect when he walks out into the sun. Nancy's waves, though still shoulder length and crimped to perfection, sway almost completely and utterly blonde in any light.

Needless to say, their new looks quickly make them, the former it-couple of Hawkins, the talk of the town once more - including that of their two closest friends, Eddie and Robin.

They, unlike the general public of Hawkins, have spent the past few months slowly building massive crushes on Steve and Nancy, entranced by their might after surviving the horrors of the Upside Down. While to most a change in hair color for Steve and Nancy is merely an oddity, to them? It's like someone hit the panic button and left them to scatter in a secluded room.

Robin has only been over her gaga-for-Vickie phase for a few weeks now. The wound is still fresh, and she knows she should not be looking once again into a possible unrequited love situation until she is better healed emotionally. She also knows he has a weakness for blondes that goes beyond all reason, i.e. Tammy Thompson and her muppet singing voice. She shouldn't act and possibly jeopardize one of her most sincere female friendships over a silly little weakness like that.

However, Nancy looks like a vision in blonde.

Robin thinks it's her big doe eyes that do it. They pop when the blonde meshes with Nancy's fair skin, and it makes her heart swoon in the most debilitating of ways. Not to mention, the softer cut she got along with the lighter coloring frames her face so well. Robin swoons over it. If not for her fear of rejection, she probably would have already taken the leap and done something stupid, like confess how Nancy's scrambled her brain.

Eddie's not doing much better himself with Steve.

He had been there in the early days, when Scoops Ahoy's newest worker showed up in his first edition of golden highlights. Like any good Hawkins resident, he had handled it with poise, class, and lots of extra trips to Scoops Ahoy whenever he happened to be at the Starcourt Mall, along with frequent whisperings of 'what the hell' expressed in the confines of his room where no one could hear him freak out. T'was standard™.

This look, though...it blows Scoops Ahoy Steve away by miles.

It's bright. It's golden. It's like he slipped and fell into some kind of radiant daydream, only to emerge like a ray of sunlight to distract Eddie Munson and Eddie Munson alone, and Eddie can't shut up about it.

Seriously, Wayne has heard enough.

The issue is, he has next to no idea what to do about these feelings. His mind is screaming to make a move on the guy, because you only live once and, well, he's already on his second try. However, his little worried heart loves Steve's newfound companionship and whatever odd-couple friendship they have going on right now. He doesn't want to lose that because of some dye job and a trim. It's too important, too good.

So, like Robin, he finds himself refraining.

They both refrain, and over the next week or so, the decision to do so eats at them like mad. They stumble over their words when speaking to Steve and Nancy. They actually stumble physically, in Robin's case, when Nancy walks by one morning. They tell anyone and everyone they can about it aside from Steve and Nancy, and by the end of that week, it all hits a breaking point. Word slips for the sake of everyone's sanity to Steve and Nancy.

It should mark the beginning of havoc and betrayal.

Instead, it breeds two plans.

Because, here's the thing: Steve and Nancy are not dumb, contrary to what some might think. They are wildly observant people. They know what their friends are up to, and Robin and Eddie are high on that friend list after spring. They've seen their behavior and, though Nancy had to spell a little bit of it out for Steve, both have come to the conclusion that something is definitely up in the crush department. If they want to capitalize on it, they know there is no better time than now while their haircuts are still new and their own crushes are seeking an opportunity to spill their feelings.

Nancy's plan to handle Robin, to the untrained eye, is simple. She's known for carefully thought out strikes when people least expect them, and the last thing she's going to do is stop using that tactic to her advantage now.

So, she invites the other girl on a trip to the mall for new bracelets. She claims it's on account of Holly taking hers hostage (not a total lie) and needing time out with someone her age (also not a total lie), and Robin buys it in seconds. A day later, they meet up at a boutique mall just outside of Hawkins and roam for a few hours together. It's simple. Casual. Subtle enough to be innocent from afar yet just intimate enough for Nancy to make her move when the time is right.

The time becomes right when they're sitting at a booth in the food court, chatting about Holly's other jewelry-related crimes. Nancy accidentally knocks the fork for her salad off the table, catching the attention of them both. Robin is quick to say she's got it, but Nancy is faster. Ready. She reaches down, picks up the fork, and in a fit of bravery, makes damn sure she holds eye contact with Robin the entire way back up. Robin swallows and looks away, clearly flustered and trying to behave over such a small thing as eye contact. But, Nancy doesn't want her to ignore it this time. So, she pulls a cheesy line from Steve's old book (that she totally did not rehearse with Steve, not at all) and misbehaves, just to get the ball rolling.

Batting her eyes, she asks in her most casual drawl, "Sheesh Robin, do blondes always make you this nervous?"

Robin chokes on her milkshake. 'Accidentally' knocks over her own fork. Goes down beneath the table to - not subtly - whisper-scream about what the hell that just was, because what the hell was that? Hello?

Nancy finds it incredibly endearing. She kind of wants to tell her about it.

She joins Robin on the floor to do so and giggles, freakin giggles, at Robin's shock and awe over her being there. Robin, panicked, reaches for the fork she dropped and holds it up to Nancy for her to see like it's some kind of explanation for her huddling under the table a full minute after it fell. She then stutters out a small 'got it,' despite Nancy being a goddamn journalist who notices things for her job and is fully capable of using her own two eyes to see, what the heck Robin??

Nancy still finds it all so endearing, though she doesn't think saying it out loud would be the best course of action anymore. Her last words sort of sent the poor girl into a spiral, and as fun as it is sharing this cramped space with her, she kind of wants to get off the gross tile if at all possible. So, instead, she does the next best thing and expresses her fondness physically.

With a kiss.

On the mouth.

Hidden by the table but all-too-real and seen to Robin, who forgets how to breathe because oh my gosh. Oh my GOSH.

It's perfect. It's effortless. It's everything. It's hands-down worth the hours of waiting Nancy had to do under a hairdryer in foils to get her here, and even more worth Robin's adorably rushed confession after the fact that she's always liked blondes, just a little bit.

~~~~~~

Steve's plan is a lot different than Nancy's.

He is a tried-and-true passionate romantic after all, and Eddie is about as dramatic as Shakespeare. A casual outing or demure kiss under a table is just not going to cut it in terms of a confession for either of them. Steve knows this. He tells it to Nancy. Repeatedly.

After hours of back and forth over the phone, he eventually finds himself at a music store, equipped with a wad of cash and his eyes set on an, admittedly, badass looking guitar. It has blue flames along its black exterior that rise to its very top and are lined with a reflective silver, making it glimmer even in the dim light of the shop. Eddie's been moaning about losing his sweetheart to the Upside Down for weeks -- no, months at this point. Steve thinks this blue beauty would be a perfect replacement for her. He also thinks it might just be what they need to stop dancing around each other's feelings too, if he's lucky.

He purchases it and stows it away in his bedroom before calling Eddie over the following day. The boy is all nerves when he finally arrives. Steve doesn't help ease them by running his hand through his hair more than once, but what can he say? It's a tough habit to break, and he's been doing it ever since he's hand anything more than a buzz cut. Sue him.

After pleasantries about their day are discussed and Eddie appears to be more calmed down, Steve invites him upstairs for a 'surprise' that just about undoes all the poor boy's progress at once.

Because Steve didn't just place the new guitar in its case and put a bow on it to surprise Eddie. No, he propped that sucker on its stand, bought a small light to illuminate the silver and blue, and placed a little card on the case that said, 'To Eddie, from your sweetheart.'

Steve watches as Eddie physically has to reboot upon seeing it all. He then rushes to cover his ears as Eddie returns to consciousness with a full-blown yell, running over to his gift with repeated 'no way's that get higher and higher in volume with each utterance. All noise ceases when he finally reads the card, though. That's when Steve feels safe enough to drop his hands to his side and make his approach, a shy grin on his lips.

"Like it?"

"Y-You're my sweetheart?"

With a shrug, Steve once again cards a hand through his hair. "If you want me to be. I-I mean, I assumed you would want me to be with all the looks you've been giving me, a-and everything with the Upside Down. But if I've got that wrong, if...shit, maybe I should just-"

Their first kiss is messy, wet, and way too enthusiastic.

Eddie's all teeth from how wide he's smiling into the kiss, and Steve nearly falls over from the sheer force of the guy barreling into him. He grows a bit dizzy, too, from how firm Eddie's grip on his hair has him, and that does little for his already frazzled balance. But, it's perfect. It's so stupidly them and perfect and wild like Steve had hoped it to be, like Eddie hoped it to be.

Later, when Steve leaves Eddie to enjoy his guitar in peace and breathe because, yeah, he finds himself making a mental note to call Nancy when he's home. If this is what one round of highlights gets him, he'll be damned if they don't plan another round for touch ups soon.

Stepping inside, Steve catches sight of a blinking light on his answering machine that tells him Nancy'd be damned, too.

He smiles.

#stranger things #steddie #ronance #steve harrington #eddie munson #nancy wheeler #robin buckley #steddie fanfic #ronance fanfic #steve x eddie #eddie x steve #robin x nancy #nancy x robin #st fanfic #st4 #stranger things fanfic

[dailyadventureprompts]

Homebrew Mechanic: Stress, Panic, & Affliction

Whether it’s a full campaign or a simple spooky oneoff adventure, eventually every DM is going to want to run some kind of horror scenario, at which point they’ll discover that there’s a lot more to delivering scares than just using assorted Halloween iconography.  I’ve written before about creating an atmosphere of dread among your players using framing and narration, but I felt it was overdue to follow it up with a mechanical counterpart. 

SAYING a monster/scenario is scary is all well and good, but if we turn fear into an actual gameplay system then we can use it to build out encounters and make our job as DMs easier. I also ended up making this system because I’ve read or adapted one too many modules involving “eldritch madness” that didn’t really understand how horror worked: adventuring is a tough business, and people getting overwhelmed with stress and panicking or lashing out is a way more grounded and useful expression of that than becoming mindless cultists because they saw a weird wet bug. Check over here for my history of how “madness” has been presented in TTRPGS, and how we can handle it better in the future. 

Now for the system itself: 

When a character is exposed to horrific, frightening, or unsettling circumstance, the DM may ask them to make a saving throw to avoid suffering a point of stress, represented by a dot or check penciled in near their proficiency marker. This can be anything from a con save to keep a strong stomach while rooting through the backrooms of a butcher shop, a wis save to reassure yourself that it really was just the wind making all that creepy noise in the abandoned manor, or a cha save to ward off the psychic interference of a aberrant mind-weapon.  The DM may also rule that certain events automatically inflict stress, like seeing a trusted ally killed or getting swallowed by an eldritch horror.  

A character can withstand a number of points of stress equal to their proficiency bonus. After which they’re considered to be at a “breaking point”.  If any more stress is inflicted upon the character after that point the DM decides whether the character clears an amount of stress equal to their proficiency bonus and panics (the most likely option,  gaining the frightened condition for 1d4, save ends) or gains an affliction comparable to the source of the stress (roll on the madness table, though find some better ones than the default DMG ones).  The DM may also decide to have the stress compound,   gaining an additional point but not having anything trigger, so that the tension breaks at the appropriate time. 

Characters lose a point of stress by spending a full day resting in a haven (a safe place such as a town or a comfortable hidden hideaway) , though the DM may also rule that characters commiserating during a long rest  (oh look at that, a reward for roleplaying) may lose a point of stress. 

Using stress as a mechanic like this gives us something else to build encounters around other than just damage.  We can have traps or one off random encounters during exploration that only serve to unnerve a few of our partymembers, softening them up to fall into panic when they encounter something actually scary. Imagine running a full haunted house dungeon where most of the encounters in the first half didn’t actually involve monsters, instead slowly building in tension as the party discovers the horrific truth of the ghost’s tragic past in hopes of putting it to rest. 

Artist

#homebrew mechanic #horror #spooky #d&d mechanics #d&d homebrew

[starrierknight]

𝟎𝟐𝟐. 𝐥𝐢𝐭 𝐟𝐮𝐬𝐞

“Each of us is born with a box of matches inside us, but we can't strike them all by ourselves.” ― Laura Esquivel, Like Water for Chocolate

KINKTOBER 23' | 𝟏𝐬𝐭 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓* | AO3

*this fic is in media res

wc— 6.3k

pairing— yandere!dom!gn!reader x defected!sub!getou

cws/tags— dead dove: do not eat, yandere/darling dynamic, erotomania, dubcon, mind break, restraints (ropes — shibari), death threats, bodily harm threats, gaslighting/manipulation, heavy sadism/masochism, knife play, manhandling, pain play (scratching + hair pulling), humiliation, dacryphilia + drool, spit as lube, handjob, edging, suguru fantasises about fucking you, frottage, cumming untouched, praise, pet names: “(my) darling” + “good boy”, dialogue-heavy

You stalked over to Suguru, taking the knife out of the back of your shoe, the embodiment of jealous fervour. Your fingers tightened around the knot of ropes at the centre of his shoulder blades, tugging him upright. He heaved and gasped, his face contorting in a mix of fear and confusion when he spotted the gleaming blade in your hand.

"What?! W-What are you doing?!" Panic laced his voice, evident in the wide-eyed terror that flickered across his expression. 

Who would protect his loved ones? His body tensed, arms and legs twitching, desperate to escape the impending threat. What would happen to them if he couldn't endure whatever ordeal awaited him? Imminent danger materialised with the knife in your hand. Some type of torture? Did that mean you were going to kill him? The room closed in. He had people to save, damn it!

"Where the fuck is it, Suguru?"

“I don’t understand,” he muttered, shaking his head.

Your initial chuckle morphed into a peal of chilling laughter, your head swaying on your shoulders. Your lip trembled as you screeched, "Where the hell is it, my one and only?!" 

Your chest heaved and your blood coursed hotly through your veins like lit gasoline, fueling your temper. The air, hot and suffocating, rushed in and out of your lungs, each exhale a smouldering release.

Where could it be? The words, the tattoo, the declaration? Was the man before you truly your one and only? Was he the illustrious figure you had adored from the shadows all these years? The questions echoed in the caverns of your mind, each reverberation stoking the flames of your incendiary anger.

Inhale. The air, thick and acrid, seared your throat as it surged through you. Your chest expanded with the intensity of a furnace.

No, there had to be a reasonable explanation. Suguru would never willingly choose this. He loved you; he had always loved you. Conviction burned in your thoughts, a desperate attempt to anchor yourself in the belief. The man bound before you was your cherished one. He had to be.

Exhale. A low growl escaped your lips, flames licking at the edges of your composure. Beads formed on your brow and palms, glistening like molten droplets.

It was probably that damned cult of his, wasn’t it? They were jealous, coveting him for themselves. They had stolen him from you, tearing him away from the love and devotion he owed you.

Yet, like fire, jealousy can both illuminate and destroy.

Your fingers trembled uncontrollably as they clutched the knife, the cold steel vibrating. The hilt felt slick in your grasp. The cool reality of the blade danced with the reflected light of the candles in the room, an undulating promise of searing pain.

Kneeling directly in front of Suguru, your armed hand reached around him, the knife a menacing punctuation madness. Your gaze bore into his eyes with a ferocious intensity, a frenzied stare.

His face contorted. Wide eyes were saucers of panic, pupils dilated to the brink as if attempting to swallow the horror of it all. Sweat adorned his furrowed forehead, shining like dew. His complexion drained of colour, leaving behind a pallor that starkly contrasted with the usual warmth of his skin. The lines of his face, once familiar and composed, now distorted into a twisted mask. 

His mouth hung agape, a silent scream frozen on his lips. Tremors shook his body, his jaw clenched, muscles poised to flee—though you both knew he couldn’t. Every nerve was on edge, a single touch could shatter the fragile equilibrium that barely held him together.

As you held the knife, its cold blade a chilling presence, you gently dragged the back of it along his left forearm, tracing a path of distress up to his elbow. The metallic edge left a faint trail against his skin.

"I can't let anyone else have you, Suguru," you murmured.

It sent a chill down Suguru's spine, the sensation racing through his veins, setting his pulse ablaze. The soft touch, though hauntingly gentle, was enough to provoke his Adam’s apple to bob nervously. A cold sweat broke out down his back, beads of anxiety clinging to his skin, as your blade traced a perilous path, a few inches away from the delicate network of his veins.

"Don't..." he managed to whisper, his voice trembling, a plea that hung in the air like a fragile thread. Tears brimmed at the edges, and an involuntary stillness overcame his legs.

His mind raced, an anxious torrent of thoughts attempting to strategise, to find a way to escape the impending threat. The ropes, however, proved an insurmountable obstacle, binding him in cruel proximity.

“I love you.”

"Please..." he begged softly, his voice a desperate entreaty. His eyes remained fixed on the glinting blade.

The flat of the blade dragged along Suguru's bicep, a chilling sensation that sent shivers through his entire being. As you continued, the cool metal skimmed his collarbones, leaving a trail of cold dread in its wake. 

"Ah, ah, hah..." he bit down on his lip at the acute discomfort of the blade. 

Goosebumps erupted across his flesh. With each touch, his body reacted as if the very air around him had turned icy. His trembling and shivering became more pronounced under the merciless blade. Suguru's instincts begged him to scream, to resist, but his body, held captive by the ropes and paralysed by fear, fought against the primal urge. His eyes met yours with an expression of utter helplessness. He felt a desperate yearning for release, a desire to break free from the nightmarish reality that enveloped him.

"You're mine, okay? Maybe I'll make you match with me right... here," you murmured—a haunting promise.

The blade traced a perilous path, inching towards the area where his heart rested beneath his left pec. His heaving chest forced itself to still, a desperate attempt to avoid any accidental harm as the blade hovered over the epicentre of his being—his heart.

A helpless horror painted his features as he stared at your hand, left frozen in shock, a captive audience to the cruel drama. His body remained unnaturally still. He couldn't move. He couldn't say a word. He couldn't do a damn thing. Any motion, even the slightest twitch, threatened to turn this nightmarish ordeal into a self-inflicted tragedy.

"Or maybe..."

As you moved the blade with deliberate intent, dragging it inches from his skin and his pounding heart, Suguru's body betrayed him. The tip traced a sinister path along Suguru's abdomen, the cold steel scratching his skin but not breaking it. Shiny with sweat, his abdominal muscles twitched involuntarily in response to the metal.

A gasp of distress escaped his lips as the blade brushed against his skin, tickling every nerve ending and sending a sharp pang shooting up to his stomach. The heat emanating from the spot where the blade had touched created an acute awareness of the vulnerability of his soft, pale skin. A thin red line marked the path of the shallow scratch, not even enough to bleed. If he bled, would you be satisfied?

Down his hip bone you pressed the entirety of the flat, cold steel against the plushness of his thigh.

"Maybe here."

His body, already fraught with tension, tensed further at the sensation. The flat against his thigh felt like an icy brand. Suguru's hands shook uncontrollably, his entire being trembling in response to the cruel caress. Eyes, fearful and pleading, darted between your face and the blade. He waited for the anticipated moment of pain that never came.

"You... Please..." he whispered, on the precipice of breaking.

You, however, continued to stroke the inside of his thigh with the blade, a cruel tease. "It would look good carved right here.”

A sharp gasp escaped him as he felt the tingle of the blade running across the sensitive skin of his inner thigh. The sensation, a mix of fear and an unexpected wave of arousal, caught him off guard. He pressed his lips together, attempting to stifle any involuntary sounds that might betray the tumult within; but a soft moan escaped Suguru.

"Please…” he begged again, a fragile thread holding on to the remnants of composure, of pride. 

You licked your lips, your gaze fixed on the spot where the blade of the knife pressed against his inner thigh, a visual of the precarious balance between torment and perverse desire.

"You want me to be yours... permanently, right? You want me to be your soulmate, your forever—right?" he began, his voice a delicate balance of persuasion and vulnerability. His mind raced with the urgency of finding a way out of this hell.

He glanced at you out of the corner of his eyes, his gaze anxious as it fixated on the weapon pressed against his thigh.

"What if you can have me in a—in a different way? What if we can have something no other sorcere—no other couple can have?" he whispered, the desperation palpable in his voice. The air seemed charged with the weight of his plea as he attempted to navigate a fragile path between surrender and a desperate attempt at negotiation.

"And that is?" you inquired, a sudden brightness in your eyes catching Suguru off guard. He gave you a wobbly smile, his heart racing in his chest.

"I'll let you have me. In every way possible.” 

"Have you?" a shiver ran down his spine, his eyes on yours, searching for any sign of mercy or understanding. "I wanted to take my time with you, Suguru..." you sighed, your gaze dropping to the knife. 

"Please... I-I want you to have me," Suguru said, an unsettling desire that clouded his thoughts. "Please."

His body, restrained by ropes and paralyzed by fear, yearned to move, to escape the impending danger, but it remained frozen in place. A darker desire rendered him powerless.

"Please! I'll be good for you. I'll be good for you, I swear..." Suguru's desperate entreaty hung in the air.

You hummed contemplatively, your gaze appraising Suguru as he desperately sought a way out of the impending torment. "How?" 

A flicker of realisation brightened Suguru's eyes, a glimmer of hope amidst the encroaching darkness. "There's a way you can keep me without having to—that," he began, his voice shaking but now laced with a newfound confidence. "You can mark me as your own. You can mark me as yours and keep me by your side..." he whispered, his eyes locked onto yours, the intensity of his plea echoing in the room.

“How?” 

He remained silent for a moment, pride warring with desperation. Suguru bit down on his lip, his mind a chaotic whirlwind of words he yearned to say but hesitated to voice. The weight of the unspoken hung in the air, an unrelenting pressure pushing him toward disclosure.

"Touch me.”

For a moment, Suguru was left breathless, his admission hanging in the air like a cloud of uncertainty. He had said anything to make you drop the knife, to replace the impending pain with a different kind of surrender.

"Isn't it too soon? You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for the moment to make you… I wanted it to be perfect.”

In response, Suguru laughed—a genuine sound that echoed in the room, a laughter he hadn't experienced in a long time. A laughter that betrayed the nervous undercurrent beneath the surface, a way to mask uncertainty. The thought of it being a nervous laughter didn't cross your mind, the genuine tone seemingly validating the moment.

That laughter quickly transformed into a smile, the genuine expression playing on his features. Your eyebrows raised inquisitively, observing the way he spoke convincingly about being ready for you.

"Not at all," he whispered, his voice carrying a confidence that contradicted the vulnerability in his eyes. A millionaire smile adorned his face, a façade—the world was, indeed, perfect in that moment.

The handle of the knife in your grip felt unyielding, your knuckles pale from the force with which you held it. Slowly, you leaned your face toward Suguru, your gaze fixated on his lips. A slight tremor ran through you.

Suguru's eyes widened as he observed your approach, the blade pressed against him momentarily slipping from his consciousness. You were so close now, the minimal space between you diminishing further. His eyes fluttered shut, lips parting as his breath caught in his throat.

"Kiss me," he whispered.

The kiss was hesitant and nervous on your end, the palpable tension between you vibrating with adrenaline and a barely suppressed need. As you went to pull away, Suguru deepened the kiss. A quiet moan escaped you into his mouth, and in that moment, the knife slipped from your grip, clattering with relief to the floor. Pleasure swept through him, and any fear he had of the blade was momentarily forgotten. Seizing the opportunity, he took advantage of your distraction, deepening the kiss again with an eager moan.

Your lips met his, tongues finding their place together as the two of you kissed with abandon. Pleasure surged through Suguru as your arms went around his neck, holding him close in a passionate embrace. You cradled his cheeks in your hands instead, even as he stayed tied up. You pushed your tongue greedily into his mouth, and one of your hands laced into his hair, tugging it by the roots gently. 

When your tongue entered his mouth, his eyes rolled to the back of his head in pleasure. His body tensed and flexed against the ropes, instinctively rebelling to try and reach you. He moaned softly into your mouth, his hands shaking against the ropes that keep him restrained.

The kiss left both of you panting and trembling, desire and anticipation thick in the air. You broke the kiss, pressing your forehead against Suguru's, locking eyes with him. His gaze, hungry with longing, met yours.

"You..." you started, and Suguru swallowed thickly.

"You look so... Beautiful..." he murmured, his voice breathless and sincere, even if the sincerity was part of the act.

You chuckled airily. Open-mouthed kisses peppered his skin, and he responded with a breathy groan. Starting near his chin and making your way to the base where his ear met his neck, you bit down lightly, running your tongue over the sensitive skin. Suguru gasped, his head angled by the tug of his hair, your other hand gripping the ropes on his chest.

Straining against the ropes, his back arched like a taut bowstring, the bindings leaving indents that promised to bloom into bruises with the back-and-forth torment. With his hair pulled at a different angle, his gaze turned upward to meet yours, the height difference accentuated in this vulnerable state. Hungry eyes watched your every move, his mouth half-open, each inhale catching in his throat.

Your kisses and marks trailed along his neck, the tugs on his hair and the scratches of your nails against his scalp sending shivers down his spine. The hand on his chest ventured down his abdomen, tracing circles against one of his Adonis lines, a teasing touch that further heightened his arousal.

The familiar ache between his thighs pulsed with intensity, a relentless reminder of the desire that simmered. A yearning plea lingered in the air as he pressed himself closer to you, the heat of his breath mingling with the anticipation of your every exhale. He took a deep breath, his racing thoughts hidden behind closed eyes. A silent prayer echoed in the quiet recesses of his mind, a fervent hope that you would attend to the ever-hardening cock that strained to feel you.  

Shivers ran through his body as your nails scratched against his skin, a hint of pain mingling with the pleasure to keep him hooked. The ropes dug deeper into his skin, leaving red, painful marks across his back, chest, and shoulder blades. He squirmed, his skin begging for more.

"Ah…!" Suguru let out a half-moan, half-gasp. "T-That... That feels good..."

"You're mine," you mumbled against Suguru's throat before lightly biting it. 

A whimper escaped him, his body writhing against the bindings that held him captive. His arms were securely tied, leaving him unable to touch himself or you, but the sensation of your teeth against his skin, against his neck, was enough to elicit a response.

"Fuck... I'm yours..." Suguru mumbled, his eyes closed. There was no room for any other response; he was yours, willingly or not.

"You're safe with me," you reassured, kissing along his collarbones. 

His eyes flickered open briefly, only to close again as he noticed the tight grip of your hand in his hair. The pain, a sharp contrast to the pleasure, mingled in a way that seemed to deepen his surrender. The hand massaging his thighs made him squirm, his back arching to intensify the sensation of the ropes against his skin.

"W-Woah, easy on the hair," he muttered out of breath, a plea laced with both discomfort and a desperate need for your touch. 

You pulled back, narrowing your eyes and arching a brow. "What was that?"

Suguru whimpered softly, the fear rushing back as your fingers remained entwined in his hair, the tightness starting to border on pain. Swallowing thickly, his eyes opened slowly, his heart pounding with the resurgence of apprehension.

"N-Nothing... Nothing at all," he stammered, nervously avoiding your gaze. "I like it when you pull my hair... I like it really—really hard," he added.

A smirk played on your lips as you tugged his hair, bringing his face closer. "Good boy. I know you can take it, because you're strong, aren't you?" you cooed.

"Y-Yes... I'm strong..." Suguru whispered, gritting his teeth, attempting to hide the pain behind those words. He tried to muster a confident smile. Swallowing thickly, he nodded, lying. "I can take it," he whispered, his expression a mosaic of hurt, arousal, fear. "Yeah... I'm a good boy..." he continued, the words laced with a plea for reassurance. "I can take it... I-I can..."

You smiled approvingly and leaned in, kissing Suguru so softly that a moan escaped him, his eyes closing in bliss. The kisses were sweet and tender, carrying an addictive quality that seemed to erase the pain in his hair, replacing it with pure, unbridled pleasure.

In contrast to the softness of your kisses, your hand in his hair maintained its tight grip, a silent assertion of control. The other hand on his thigh sank its nails into the plush flesh, a sensation that brought a sharp intake of breath. The pain, though evident, seemed to intertwine seamlessly with the pleasure of your kisses. Suguru hesitated to voice any discomfort, reluctant to ask you to stop when the pleasure seemed to outweigh the pain.

Suguru was acutely aware of the pre-cum, a testament to the relentless ache that pulsed through his throbbing dick. The warm, wet stickiness coated him, and his fingers twitched to wrap around it just for some relief. His mind painted vivid fantasies where it wasn't his own skin but yours, where the pre-cum painted your skin with the rawness of his desire. The yearning for a deeper physicality clawed at him—your skin flushed against his.

A need that pulsed through him, a need that he found challenging to express: he needed you—needed you desperately, damn it.

A whimper escaped him as your touch lingered on his thigh, the pressure from your fingernails digging deeper. "Oh, God..." he whispered softly, his lips trembling slightly but still yearning for more of your touch. 

You pulled back, allowing your hand to fall from Suguru's hair, and instead, you tucked some of his long, silky black strands behind his ears, your hand lingering around the rope on his shoulder. Both of you were breathing heavily, and as you sat back a little, you admired the sight before you.

"You're gorgeous like this, darling,” you remarked, your voice laced with a mix of satisfaction and admiration.

A shiver rolled down Suguru's spine when you pulled away, his eyes slowly opening. He stared back at you with admiration, his gaze flickering down to your hand around the rope as you tucked your hair behind his ears. His breathing stilled, chest slowly rising and falling as he absorbed the sight of you appreciating him. The moment, however, took a sharp turn when your hand pulled away, and his expression shifted from admiration to fear as you drew close to the rope.

"P-Please!"

"Please?" you teased, a smile playing on your lips. Your nails dug into his thigh again, and you pulled, leaving deep, raw scratches.

He yelped and whimpered at the sharp sting, his whole body shivering at the feeling of your fingernails digging into his thigh and pulling. He whined and squirmed in his constraints, the ropes biting into his wrists, torso, and legs. Despite the discomfort, he had no choice but to endure.

"Please, I'll do anything!" he begged, his eyes wide and breath catching in his throat.

You raised your eyebrows, a playful smile on your lips. "Oh, I'm sure you will. Because you love me, don't you?" 

Your hand on his thigh gently stroked the fresh scratches, a soothing touch that blurred the lines between pain and pleasure. Suguru's breath hitched, and his mind, clouded by desire, struggled to discern whether he wanted to run away.

"Yeah..." he whispered, closing his eyes once more. "I do... I do." 

A part of him still yearned to break free, but the fear and anxiety of losing your touch overrode that desire. It was less about escaping and more about staying by your side, ensnared.

You lifted your hand off his thigh, wetting your lips before spitting into your palm. The sudden shock of your spit-slicked hand wrapping around his needy dick made Suguru's body stiffen. Despite the initial shock, the sensation felt undeniably good, and the movement of your fingers made him squirm in both fear and pleasure. His eyes darted between your face and your hand, his breath catching in his throat. Each stroke and pull like a drug, addictive and consuming. Biting his lips furiously, Suguru's face flushed crimson. His face twitched with anxiety, yet his entire body trembled with pleasure.

As the pace of your hand quickened, he keened and whimpered, unable to articulate a coherent response. "Is that how you like it, darling?" 

Suguru attempted to form words, but all that escaped were high-pitched whines. His teeth seemed practically glued together as another whimper slipped from his throat, his bound hands pulling on the ropes in a desperate attempt to get closer to you.

"Does that feel good? Yeah?" you teased, chuckling and watching his expressions in awe. “Aw, cute… I can feel it twitching.”

"It's so... M’so… Hah, fuck…"

His words failed him. He couldn't even form a sentence. The touch of your hand between his thigh was pure pleasure, and he was unable to keep himself composed. His hands were still pulling on the ropes against his arms, wanting more—so much more. His hips, driven by his muscles flexing and tensing in fervent and rhythmic thirst, pressed against you insistently. Suguru's breath, once controlled, now grew increasingly irregular, as he whined between gasps.

"Please... S-so good," he groaned in frustration. "Oh, please, fuck, I need to… Need to–"

“Yeah? What is it, darling?”

He nodded frantically, his ability to articulate lost in the whirlwind of moans and whines escaping his lips. The sensations between his thighs, guided expertly by your hand, were undeniably addictive. His hips rocked in response, a desperate rhythm that mirrored the instinctive urgency of his body, pushing into your touch with fervent desire.

As your lips met his, Suguru melted into the kiss, every nerve in his body ablaze by the sensation. The rhythmic movements of his hips intensified, a testament to the depth of his longing. Each kiss drew out desperate whimpers, his body writhing in pleasure. Yet, beneath the surface, a palpable tension hinted at the intense need he harboured.

He could envision it—the way he would fill every inch of you, the intoxicating stretch that would make your body slick with sweat. The sounds—the hitch in your breath, the loud moans escaping your lips as pleasure surged through both of you. Your legs would wrap around his waist, craving him closer, more deeply. He would moan, his cock twitching inside you, a testament to the exquisite torture of the denial. Yet even in fantasy, you would smile at him wickedly, using him all for yourself.

You felt the rhythm of his movements, the desperation evident in how roughly he fucked your hand, and you knew the depth of his arousal. Breaking the kiss, you murmured, "You close?" into his mouth.

A wave of pleasure swept through Suguru's body as your whispered words hung in the air. His attempts to speak were stifled by the overwhelming sensations, reduced to a series of groans and gasps. His eyes remained tightly shut, lips trembling, and his chest heaved with each shallow breath.

His hips, driven by instinctive urgency, pushed into the air, need pulsing through him. His cock stood flushed, dripping, and achingly hard, the anticipation etched into every twitch.

Your actions, guided by a blend of desire and control, only deepened his yearning. The precum drooled from his slit, messy and exactly how you liked it. Your saliva-slicked hand teased and pumped him, each movement accompanied by an embarrassingly loud wet sound that resonated with his whimpers.

Just before he could cum, you withdrew your hand, and his body quivered in response, slipping through his fingers like grains of sand. The abrupt absence of your touch left him gasping for breath, words caught in the throes of long-gone ecstasy. His eyes fluttered open as you pulled away, panic contorting his face. 

"No, no, please…! Please don't..." he whispered, his plea hanging in the air as he longed for the return of the sensation that had brought him so close to release.

As you pressed your lips against his, a surge of warmth radiated through the touch, your fingers coiled around the taut rope of his shoulder, the lit fuses of lust. The conflict made him beautiful—a part of him, a mere whisper amid the cacophony, yearned to resist, to reclaim control. Yet, that struggle was seared away by the overwhelming touch, by the overwhelming you, making resistance a distant and feeble notion. The texture of the rough fibres kept him tethered to the intensity of the kiss, a dance of lips and tongues that became him.

Your teeth sank into his bottom lip; his response was visceral—a loud, involuntary moan—the sound of surrender. His lower lip quivered beneath the sharp pressure, a tangible sign of the white-hot desire surging through his veins. His surrender, the white flag, was taken into your heated hands and scorched to black, to lust. With closed eyes, his world narrowed to the victor, to you.

Breaking the kiss, a glistening strand of saliva lingered, connecting your parted mouths. With a mischievous smile, your hand rose, and your thumb found its place in his parted lips. The wet heat enveloped your digit, his tongue swirling sensuously around it. His eyes, heavy-lidded with arousal, met yours. A groan hung in the air, caught in the rawness of his throat as he eagerly sucked on your offered digit, his tongue curling around it.

"I wanna… Mmmf…! I wanna..." His voice, laced with restrained desire, faltered as he bit down on your thumb, the words teetering on the edge of a plea. "More, more..."

You leaned in, your face tantalisingly close to his, a playful smile dancing on your lips. "More, huh?"

Withdrawing your thumb from his heated mouth, you directed your attention lower, teasingly inching it between his legs once again. The soft pad of your thumb, a gentle torment, caressed the sensitive contours of his length, drawing circles on the leaking head, smearing pre from the slit along the prominent vein of his shaft. He let out a strangled moan, his hips involuntarily frotting into your hand as he gasped for air, unable to respond beyond the primal sounds escaping him. His body shook and his hips bucked desperately.

The hand wrapped around the ropes tugged him nearer, and you rested your forehead against his, the candlelight flickering in the inky black depths of his eyes like a torch in the night.

"You're beautiful," you whispered, “You’re mine.” 

Blushing under the weight of your words, his eyes widened. Your breath, a sweet and intoxicating scent, mingled with his. He shuddered, a soft whimper escaping him. Desperate to contain the rising chorus of pleasure, he bit down on his lower lip, the delicate dance of pleasure and restraint evident in the way his hips instinctively rocked. His body trembled under the tender torment of your touch.

"Please," he begged, soft and needy.

"Tell me that I'm the only one for you, the only one to make you feel this way," you murmured, a sly smile playing on your lips.

His brow furrowed with the exertion of pleasure. Your words, a catalyst of praise and affection, wielded a power that rendered resistance incapable. His attempt to deny, to resist your influence, was a futile battle:

"You're... You're the only one," he whispered, surrendering to the truth. 

His eyes fluttered shut, teeth gritted, and his hips moved with an urgency that betrayed the depth of his craving. Each thrust forward sought the contact that momentarily eluded him, and a plaintive whine escaped when your touch lingered just out of reach.

“Tell me you want me."

"I... Oh, God, I want you. I want you so much right now. Need you so fucking badly right now."

His admission trembled through the charged air, a declaration of desire that hung heavy between you. His body quivered, and he clamped down on his lips, a valiant effort to withhold further vulnerability. Yet, the pull of your tease and touch unfurled the neediest corners of his soul, a rekindled lust that had nearly withered in the grip of isolation.

"Please…! Please touch me... Please, please touch me again..." 

Your question hung in the air, a subtle challenge:

"You feel this?" 

The room echoed with a ravenous moan as your hand reached down, cupping Suguru's balls. If the intensity wasn't overwhelming enough, you chose that precise moment to massage his ballsack between your fingers—swollen and heavy with cum, aching to be released. The sudden, deliberate contact jolted him into a realm of heightened sensations, his eyes snapping open to reveal the surrender etched across his face under the spell of your grip.

No words found refuge on his tongue, eclipsed by a primal symphony of moans and the hungry, needy whispers that escaped his parted lips in response to your touch.

"Please..." A quiet whimper, a plea, an admission of craving.

"This is mine now, alright?" you declared, asserting yourself with a subtle squeeze.

Wide-eyed, breath caught in his throat, he found himself ensnared in a web of possession. Your grip, both firm and tight, elicited a soft whimper, his hips instinctively pushing into the touch, yearning for more. The declaration wrapped around him,the reply spilt from him, a desperate cascade of surrender and longing—a willing captive to the depths of your lust:

"Y-Yeah... Y-Yours, fuck…! Oh, God, yours. Your touch is mine, yours... Just yours... Only yours, I want you, need you..." 

Your words, a melodic coo, dripped with a seductive assurance. "So obedient, you're learning.”

As your touch found a firm rhythm, a seismic shift surged through him. His body, a canvas for the symphony of pleasure, responded with unrestrained fervour. Fingers curled tightly around the ropes, a desperate attempt to anchor himself amidst the rising tide of need. A guttural moan escaped him, his tongue lolling out involuntarily as breath hitched in his throat.

Rocking forward, every movement strained against the constricting bonds, ropes carving into his skin, a painful reminder of desire, control, captivity. Pleasure, a white-hot current, coiled in the pit of his stomach, setting his nerves ablaze with an intensity that bordered on exquisite agony. But your words, a cascade of praise and affection, were the one craving of his you satiated. He needed you now. He needed you.

You.

A cry, raw and hoarse, reverberated through the room. Tears, involuntary witnesses to the overwhelming ecstasy, streamed from his eyes. His legs tensed, a quiver coursing through them, and his whimpers escalated into squeals. But as you withdrew your touch, a pang of longing seized him, a hurt he hadn't anticipated. Fervent pleas spilt from him, his body squirming in your grip. 

"Please…! Oh, fuck… No, no, please…! Please touch me again..." His words, infused with desperation, hung in the air, a plea for the return of the exquisite torment you provided.

"You wanna feel more? Do it yourself," you drawled, a burst of mocking laughter accompanying your words.

Suguru's sob, a raw expression of frustration, mirrored the internal turmoil. Tears blurred his vision, but the silhouette of your smug grin etched itself in his mind. A blend of desire and frustration mingled in his plea, "Please-please-please-please... Please touch me..." The imploring gaze sought your hands for solace.

"Please, darling. For me,” you taunted.

Eyes pleaded, and his body trembled once more as he reluctantly began to move, the tight grip of the ropes emphasising the solitary nature of the act. Sweet, pearlescent tears gathered on his lashes, welling up in those gorgeous eyes, and rolled down his flushed cheeks. They shimmered, streaking his face, as baby hairs stuck to his sweaty forehead. Brows knitted together, frustration etched across his features—what a sight he was for you.

Each thrust into the air was met with a loud whine, but despite the physical effort, it could never replicate you. You were incomparable. Another cascade of tears leaked from his eyes, tracing damp trails down his cheeks. A hot ache coursed through him—that familiar aching bliss.

"It doesn't, ah, feel like you... Like you..." The room hung heavy with the echoes of Suguru's whines.

"Oh, my darling. C'mon, keep going. You're so close now, aren't you?"

His eyes opened, a flush of embarrassment painting his face as he met your gaze. Head shaking in protest, he struggled with the solitary act, his voice trembling, and breaths shallow. The effort, while valiant, felt insufficient, a stark reminder of the absence of your touch.

"I'm... I'm fucking trying…!" he whispered. More whimpers escaped him, the absence of your touch haunting the moment of indulgence.

A groan emerged, lips parting in surrender to pleasure. Your encouragement became his guiding force, pushing him closer. Moans echoed, his eyes rolled back, and his back arched in response to the steady grip of the ropes on his shoulders. Pleasure consumed him, his body wracked with its intoxicating embrace, yet the struggle to contain the sounds persisted.

You seized his jaw, holding his mouth open, a witness to his contorted face—shame, pleasure, fear—those uninvited guests. His body writhed, torn between the desire to escape the situation and the undeniable arousal that tethered him to your command. Feeble protests echoed in the room, his resolve crumbling beneath the weight of your influence..

As his hips accelerated in their erratic movement, a violent shudder seized his entire body. Streams of thanks spilt from his bitten lips, a testament to the overwhelming release that surged through him. Suguru's orgasm, a crescendo of heat and pleasure, shook him violently, the length of his cock now coated in warm, sticky evidence of his climax, thrusting into the air with feverish need.

"There you go, my darling. Good boy, you've done so well," you said affectionately, creating a momentary reprieve, a gentle acknowledgement of his surrender.

The room held the lingering echoes of Suguru's release, his body still trembling as he kneeled there, caught in the aftermath of the fireworks that had set every nerve ablaze. A pyre to pleasure, his chest heaving with each laboured breath—a testament to intensity.

Blissful heat. 

As his eyes stayed closed, fingers wrapping around the ropes that bound him, he grappled with the profound impact of the experience. A spectrum of feelings—humiliation, frustration, repulsion—warred within him. Yet, an undeniable satisfaction lingered, a product of the attention you had lavished upon him.

“How many people will do anything for the one they love?”

The weariness clung to Suguru's teary eyes as he fought against the heaviness, attempting to blink away the exhaustion. The world blurred with each slow blink, his eyelids closing reluctantly, weighed down by the fatigue that permeated his entire being. Your hands released the ropes, the final tethers of his consciousness, and he teetered.

"Honestly, Suguru, you’re lucky to have me," you chirped.

The metallic scrape of the knife being lifted off the floor, a sound that would have sparked alertness in any other circumstance, barely registered in his fading awareness.

"If it were anyone else, I wouldn’t have been so lenient."

Eyelashes, once vibrant, seemed burdened by the weight of exhaustion. Each blink, a futile attempt to stave off sleep, betrayed the struggle.

"Then again, you’re my one and only, and I’ll do anything for you, ‘cause I love you. Anything."

Lines deepened on his forehead as the battle against fatigue intensified. Finally, his eyes fluttered open, meeting your smiling face.

"Even when you don't know what's best for yourself. Don't scream, okay?" you murmured gently.

He felt the cold press of the knife.

a/n: well. there we are, then. lol. this was a really fun thing to write icl... i should do more yandere stuff in the future :3

this work belongs to STARRIERKNIGHT . please refrain from plagiarising any of my works and do not repost/translate/modify/copy onto any platforms.

#꒰ ✎ ꒱ — tongues in trees #꒰ ✑ ꒱ — they kiss consume #꒰ ☠︎︎ ꒱ — the serpent under't #꒰ 🝮 ꒱ — kt 23 #sub!character #dom reader #dom!reader #sub character #sub!jjk #sub jjk #jjk fanfic #jjk smut #sub geto suguru #sub suguru geto x reader #sub getou suguru x reader #sub getou suguru #sub suguru geto #jjk x reader #sub jujutsu kaisen #jujustu kaisen #jujustsu kaisen x reader #gn!reader #gn reader #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru x you #geto suguru x y/n #geto x reader #suguru geto x reader #geto x you #geto x y/n

[chvoswxtch]

sorry

pairing: frank castle x fem!reader

summary: is your savior really here to save you? can what is broken be mended?

warnings: swearing, angst, mentions of death, blood & violence

word count: the full number of words on this one is 4,444 and I just thought that was really fucking cool

a/n: I wanna thank y'all for being patient with this slow burn. i'm excited to say things are really about to start heating up moving forward. ;) as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

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“Sweetheart.”

All the raging chaos that had been wreaking havoc on every single one of your nerve endings had suddenly stopped, like the clouds had abruptly parted, sending the perilous hurricane right back into the sea right before it could reach you. As if Death had decided not to knock, but wave a white flag of surrender instead to the only mortal being it seemed to fear.

To him.

The door knob creaked slightly when it was twisted from the other side, the lock still in place providing a barrier between you and the carnage on the other side of it. A deep sigh was muffled through the wood, and your ringing ears barely caught the low volume of that familiar gruff voice.

“S’just me. Open the door for me, sweetheart.”

Frank.

Ephemeral relief shot through your bloodstream, and the shard of glass lodged into your palm was immediately released, shattering into a thousand shiny pieces in the pool of merlot that was still flowing from your hand. Salty tears blazed down your cheeks and slipped past your trembling lips when you whispered his name.

“Frank?”

“Yeah, m’here. Open up, honey. C’mon.”

The relief that the safety of Frank’s presence brought was fleeting and very quickly overshadowed by uncontrollable rage remembering how you had wound up in this situation in the first place.

If he hadn’t left, none of this would’ve happened.

Bloodied fingers slipped over the lock and you swiftly flung the door open like a mad woman to reveal his large figure. The second that Frank tried to take a step in your direction, you shoved at his chest with the surge of adrenaline still coursing through your veins.

“You son of a bitch!”

Frank stumbled backwards in surprise, eyes widening slightly in shock at your unexpected outburst. When his lips parted to speak, you shoved even harder at his chest, letting your fists rain down in a frenzy against his chest like furious daggers. 

“You left me! How the fuck could you leave me like that?!”

He didn’t even put up a defense as you pounded away at his chest and screamed at him, allowing you to force him backwards with every devastating blow you threw in his direction. There was a light furrow of remorse creasing between his dark brows, and if you hadn’t been so blinded by your own anger, you might have caught the guilt-ridden expression that tugged his features down.

“You fucking selfish asshole! I hate you!”

The sharp sting of your wounded palm striking against Frank’s cheek in a harsh slap didn’t even register in your brain. You couldn’t feel any sting but the one of betrayal, and the searing wrath that threatened to consume you entirely. He didn’t even flinch when you slapped him across the face. He just took it. 

He let you take it all out on him; the fear, the anger, the disappointment, the hurt, the treachery, all of it.

Frank accepted every single verbal and physical lash you struck him with until you ran out of steam. As soon as the ferocity started to disintegrate into the lingering and overwhelming emotions of terror and panic, the red mist of outrage started to clear from your vision, and out of the corner of your eye you saw Walker’s dead body surrounded by a puddle of deep crimson near the foot of your bed. A choked sob caught in your throat and you covered your mouth in horror as the reality and severity of the situation started to soak in. Frank instantly tried to pull your body into his arms, and when you weakly fought against him, he moved to block your view of Walker’s lifeless body to shield you from the bloodshed. His large hands grabbed onto your arms and held them down to prevent you from moving, dipping his head to catch your gaze.

“Hey…hey, listen to me. I need you to listen real carefully. We gotta go, alright? We gotta go now. It ain’t safe here, and we ain’t got much time. We gotta go right now, alright?”

Frank didn’t give you a moment to hesitate before ushering you out of your bedroom quickly, tucking your face into his chest to prevent you from seeing the evidence of his slaughter. Your mind was a whirlwind of disarray and confusion, emotions and thoughts coming down like a tumultuous hailstorm that you couldn’t take shelter from.

He adjusted the sling on his rifle to keep one hand on it and one protectively over your head while leading you out the front door. When the sharp chill of the night time breeze swept across the glaring cut in your palm, it seemed to snap you of your clamorous haze, and you gripped onto Frank’s bicep tightly with your good hand to pause his guidance.

“Wait! My phone-”

“Leave it.”

“No, I can’t. I got them confessing on tape. I need-”

When you went to turn around, Frank clamped down onto your shoulders a little forcefully to stop you. The firm force behind his hands and the surprise from his actions stopped you right in your tracks. There was a stern look of inflexibility in his eyes as he looked down at you.

“You ain’t goin’ back in there.”

“Frank-”

“I’ll get it. Where is it?”

The clipped tone of his voice was one you were all too familiar with. It was the one he used when he wasn’t in the mood for an argument, or when something wasn’t up for debate.

“Behind the coffee machine.”

Frank gave a curt nod and handed you the keys to his truck, gently pushing you towards that direction with his palm flat against your lower back.

“Get it started. There’s a first aid kit in the back. Wrap that hand to stop the bleedin’, I’ll take care of it later.”

As Frank disappeared back into your home, you sprinted towards his truck, keeping your head on a swivel for anyone suspicious or anything out of place. Now that the adrenaline was starting to wear off, you could feel the pain starting to lick at the torn wounds in your hand and across your fingers. Fresh tears welled up in your eyes, both from the throbbing affliction in your palm, and from how incredibly overwhelmed you were. A sharp hiss left your lips when you started to wrap your hand in gauze, the agony only growing louder in volume the tighter you wrapped it. You didn’t know much about first aid, but you knew enough to know to keep pressure tight on an active bleed.

The sound of the truck door abruptly opening had you jumping in your seat, and Frank shot you a look of concern at your reaction. Quickly looking away to focus on your hand, your vision started to become blurry again with warm tears, and you bit down on your bottom lip harshly to will them away. Frank set your phone down in the middle console, eyeing you warily.

“Lemme see.”

“It’s fine.”

Frank pursed his lips at your snappy response, reaching his hand over towards the first aid kit in your lap.

“Here-”

“I got it.”

“Sweetheart-”

“I said I got it.”

Frank let out a deep exhale of frustration when you raised your voice at him in another terse quip, dragging his palm down his face in agitation before putting his truck in drive and peeling off down the street. The pain in your hand was almost unbearable by the time you finished wrapping it up, and there was already a maroon bloodstain forming in the center of the crisp white material. A few stray tears slipped past your waterline when you closed your eyes, and you swiftly wiped them away, turning your head to look out the window so that you didn’t have to look at Frank.

Letting out a shaky breath, you attempted to try and control the cyclone of emotions devastating you from the inside out. There were two dead men in your home right now, and it suddenly dawned on you that Frank had killed them. A shuddering breath left your lips when you finally had a moment to process that epiphany, and you swallowed the sob that threatened to escape your throat.

“We have to call the police.”

“No.”

Snapping your head in Frank’s direction, your eyes widened in bewilderment as you stared over at him in complete disbelief and confusion.

“Yes. Frank you just…killed two police officers. They’re dead, in my home, and you weren’t exactly quiet about it. We can’t just-”

“They were gonna hurt you.”

Frank’s jaw was set harshly, making the outline of it appear even sharper. He kept his hardened gaze ahead on the dark road. The cold and detached tone of his voice stunned you silent for a moment. There wasn’t a visible shred of guilt on his face or in his voice about what he had done, and you didn’t know whether to be horrified by that or not. 

When Frank’s eyes flickered over at you, the palpable anger on his face softened into something that resembled regret, as if he could see on your face how you felt about him in that moment. He urgently looked away, unwilling to see that reflection of himself in your eyes. Loosening his grip on the steering wheel, he let out a deep exhale through his nose.

“They were real cops, ran their badge numbers. We can’t call it in cause we don’t know if they got anyone else in their precinct workin’ with ‘em. I got a friend in Homeland, I’ll call her. She can handle cleanin’ up the mess and start lookin’ into ‘em, maybe find a lead.”

A layer of perplexity nestled on top of your trepidation at Frank’s words. All of a sudden, a thought emerged from the back of your mind about the whole situation, and you stared at him curiously.

“How did you get their badge numbers that quickly? And how did you know they were even there?”

Frank glanced over at you, his own face twisted in puzzlement as if you had just asked the most obvious question in the world.

“Put cameras ‘round your place when I got assigned to ya. I get alerts whenever there’s motion ‘round ‘em. Saw ‘em comin’ up on the camera and ran their badges, but then I heard ‘em say somethin’ ‘bout ‘needin’ to do it quietly’ and figured that meant trouble.”

After a minute of silence, he let out another deep exhale and ran his hand through his unruly dark hair in clear frustration, shaking his head slowly while he looked back at the road.

“You never shoulda opened that door.”

You clenched your hands into fists at his accusatory tone, glaring at the side of his face while your panic swiftly subsided into defensiveness.

“They were cops, Frank.”

“Didn’t mean ya had to open the door. Cops ain’t always the good guys, you know that. You shoulda known better than to open the door for anyone-”

“You shouldn’t have fucking left me.”

Frank immediately went silent and tensed up. You watched as a muscle feathered along his strong jaw. Scoffing dryly at his reaction, you slowly shook your head in annoyance while glancing out the window, brows knitting together in agitation while you tried to figure out where you were.

“Where are we going?”

“My place. We needa lay low for a bit.”

The anger poisoning your bloodstream left no room for the excitement you would’ve felt under normal circumstances about getting to see Frank’s home. It was something you had admittedly fantasized about after several glasses of wine, imagining scenarios in which Frank would take you back to his place, and you would get to experience the real him in more ways than one. But at the moment, you weren’t sure you even wanted to be around him at all.

»»———　　———««

You don’t know what you were expecting Frank’s place to look like, but it was certainly far more empty than you anticipated. The walls were completely bare, void of anything personal, and that seemed to be the running theme. The furniture was scarce, a modest couch and simple coffee table accompanied by a minuscule wooden stand with a small tv. Apart from Frank’s black denim jacket draped over the back of the couch, his rifle on the island, and a backpack in the corner of the room, it didn’t even look like anyone lived here.

Frank had silently gestured for you to take a seat on one of the plain metal stools at the kitchen island. You hissed when he disinfected the cut above your brow, carefully placing a thin white bandage over the tiny cut, and you prepared yourself for what was next.

The alcohol swab burned, even with Frank lightly dragging it over the cut in your hand and across your fingers as quickly as humanly possible, and you swore it would’ve hurt less holding it over an open flame. He might as well have been performing open heart surgery on your palm with the way he was meticulously pulling tiny glass fragments from the cut with tweezers.

You watched intently while Frank carefully and expertly stitched up your palm. He didn’t have anything to give you for the pain other than a bold shot of whiskey, and you winced with a noise of discomfort every time the needle pierced your irritated torn flesh, weaving the jagged edges back together with the thick black thread. Frank mumbled a quiet apology whenever he heard your noises of affliction, doing his best to keep his touch light and delicate. 

The silence surrounding the two of you was deafening, but you didn’t want to be the first to break it. Frank had yet to explain himself from this morning, and you were still incredibly pissed off at him for leaving. On top of that, you were also uncertain of your feelings about his nonchalance towards killing Walker and Cavella. The logical part of your brain rationalized the fact that Cavella had threatened to kill you, and he might have if Frank hadn’t shown up when he did. But Frank seemed completely indifferent about executing them.

He hadn’t even glanced at Walker’s body when he led you out of your room, like it wasn’t even there. The only shock that had been evident on his features was from your outrage towards him. There wasn’t an ounce of penitence detected in his tone when he voiced his justification. They were gonna hurt you, so he hurt them first. It seemed that simple to him, and in his black and white reasoning, there wasn’t a stitch of gray regarding repentance.

As Frank finished up the final stitch and wrapped your wound up properly, one of his large hands reached for your wrist, his thick fingers coiling around it completely. He lightly pulled your hand towards him, your fingertips barely grazing against his gray henley while he inspected his own handiwork. Frank paused for a moment, seemingly lost in thought while he stared down at the gauze placed over your palm silently.

“I’m sorry.”

When your eyes flickered up towards his face, Frank was already staring at you, and his eyes were back to that warm chocolate brown that you adored. They seemed to be glowing with remorse under the dim amber light above the island. His plump lips were downturned at the corners in a frown, and you could see the guilt tinting his entire face. The heartwrenching look in his eyes nearly knocked the wind out of you. It sent a pang echoing throughout your chest, and all you wanted to do was surge forward and hug him, to do anything to make that look go away. 

But you needed answers.

“Why…”

You couldn’t even finish your sentence. Your voice broke off towards the end, and you had to look away to keep the onset of tears welling in your eyes from slipping. Frank carefully tightened his hold on your wrist, tilting his head to the side slightly as he followed your movements to try and catch your eyes.

“I shoulda said somethin’ before I left. Shoulda told ya I was gonna try and work somethin’ out. I’m sorry I didn’t. I…I was angry ‘bout the file-”

“Frank, I didn't read it. Okay whatever was in there that you didn’t want me to know about, I still don’t. I don’t know where it came from, and I’m sorry I never told you about it, but I would never do that to you. And the fact that you think that lowly of me-”

Frank let go of your wrist and leaned in closer to wrap his strong arms around your back, pulling you into his chest once your resolve broke. He cradled the back of your head with one of his large hands and held it against his chest protectively, pressing his lips in a soft kiss to the crown of your head as he shushed you quietly. Once the floodgates opened, you couldn’t stop them, and every emotion that you had experienced in the past twelve hours was pouring violently out of you.

“Hey, hey…s’alright. S’alright, I’m sorry. I shoulda listened to ya. I shoulda believed ya. I’m sorry, sweetheart. I just…I fucked up, alright? I fucked up, and you got hurt cause of it. This…s’all on me. M’gonna fix it, yeah?”

Frank gently ran his fingers through your hair while he held you in a tight embrace, letting you wring out all your tears into his shirt, providing the safe space you needed to navigate and expunge all your emotions. He didn’t say anything while you cried, he just held you and did his best to comfort you with his apologetic touch. You don’t know how long you sat there with him like that. It felt like every drop of moisture in your body had been depleted from your eyes, but for the first time all day, your heart didn’t feel so heavy in your chest.

Once you felt a sense of calmness after your cathartic release, you slowly retracted from his embrace so that you could get a good look at him. Frank looked absolutely desolate, and it broke your heart. There was a faint red mark burning on his right cheek, and the corners of your mouth melted downwards in shame when you reached your hand up to lightly trace beneath it with your fingertips.

“I’m sorry I hit you.”

“Reckon I deserved that-”

“No, you didn’t. You saved my life-”

“After I put you in danger cause I was bein’ an asshole.”

You could see the evident self-condemnation in his eyes, and you felt guilty for contributing to those feelings of shame that he felt about himself. Frank didn’t flinch away from your touch, and you swore you felt him subtly lean into it. His sorrow filled eyes hadn’t torn away from yours once, and you couldn’t look away from him if you tried.

“I don’t hate you.”

You could see his body visibly relax at your words. All the tension in his broad shoulders and lingering in the crevices of his features seemed to evaporate, and his evident relief was illuminated in his eyes. There was the most miniscule of a smile skirting over the edge of his mouth, and you would’ve missed it if you didn’t know him so well. 

“Wouldn’t blame ya if you did.”

“I don’t.”

Frank stared at you silently while he processed the unwavering tone of your candor. You could see the conflict clearly on his face, and you wanted to prevent him from losing whatever war he was waging against himself. Letting out a soft sigh, you reluctantly dropped your hand from his cheek to run it through your hair, glancing around the nearly empty apartment before looking at him again.

“What now?”

Frank sat up a little straighter when he finally let go of you and reached across the kitchen island to grab his phone.

“Nothin’ ‘til I get ahold of my contact at Homeland. ‘Til we talk to her, you stay here. And you can’t talk to no one, alright? Not Ellison, not your friends or family, no one. Can’t trust nobody right now, you got that?”

A slight furrow formed between your brows as you stared at Frank in confusion.

“Frank, someone had to have heard those gunshots. I wouldn’t be surprised if cops were all over my place right now, and two dead cops are gonna raise a lot of attention. It’ll probably be on the news. And if Ellison sees it and can’t get in touch with me, he’ll probably report me missing.”

“Better people think you’re missin’ ‘til we figure this out. No one can hurt ya if they can’t find ya.”

“But if anyone checks those cameras, won’t they know I’m with you?”

“No ones got access to those cameras but me and Russo, and I cut ‘em off soon as I pulled up.”

The mention of Billy’s name abruptly caused more inquisitions to bubble around in your head.

“Why haven’t you called Billy for help?”

A look flashed across Frank’s face that you didn’t recognize, and it was gone before you could decipher what it was or what it meant. He gave a light shrug of his shoulders as he pursed his lips.

“Got his hands full right now.”

“What…what about Steven? Aren’t you supposed to be-’

“Fuck Steven. He’s someone else’s goddamn problem right now.”

You bit your lip to contain that smile that threatened to spread seeing the face Frank pulled at your question. He spit those words out as if they tasted bitter, his large nose scrunched up in a sour expression, and for some reason that spread heat in your lower belly.

“So, you’re not his bodyguard?”

Frank arched one of his dark brows and gave you a pointed look hearing the amusement lacing your teasing tone.

“You really think I woulda agreed to that?”

“I don’t think he would have. He’s scared of you.”

Frank’s eyes seemed to sparkle with delight at that, and the faintest of smirks tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Then maybe he ain’t so stupid after all.”

A knowing smile fought its way across your lips, and a sense of relief spread through you when he mirrored it. Frank stared at you for a moment, as if there was more he wanted to say, but he quickly glanced away and grabbed his phone while standing up.

“You should get some sleep. Take the bed.”

“Frank, I’m not-”

“You ever gonna stop arguin’ with me and just do what I ask?”

Frank tilted his head to the side as he looked down at you in pure entertainment, eyebrows lifted slightly in question with a light smirk on his lips. Glancing away with a light smile, you crossed your arms over your chest, shaking your head slowly before looking back up at him with a tiny grin. 

“No, probably not. But your couch seems a bit small for you.”

Frank chuckled lightly, his eyes flickering over to his couch before landing back on you.

“Appreciate the concern, but I’ve slept in far worse conditions. I’ll be fine. Go on, get some sleep.”

»»———　　———««

When you awoke the next morning, you felt more refreshed than you had in months. It was hard to fall asleep initially, brain still buzzing with the cataclysmic events of the day, and the knowledge that Frank was sleeping just on the other side of the thin wall. Being on good terms again filled you with a rush at the thought of sleeping in his bed, and you may have clutched one of his pillows to your chest pretending it was him. Frank’s bed was nothing special in theory, but there was something about being nestled in pillows and sheets that smelled just like him that lulled you into a peaceful and serene sleep. 

Frank was already awake when you walked out into the living room, and you could tell by the look on his face that something had happened while he had been waiting for you to wake up. He immediately stood up from the couch when you entered the living room, giving you a once over as he motioned in your direction with his chin.

“Sleep alright?”

“Uh…yeah. What’s going on?”

Frank eyed you for a moment, seemingly contemplating his next words carefully. He let out a soft sigh, turning his phone over in his hands and glancing down at it before looking back at you.

“Got a lead. There’s a location upstate the rest of ‘em might be hidin’ out at.”

That one sentence instantly sent a jolt of electricity through you, and you were suddenly wide awake.

“Where? When do we leave?”

Frank’s brows pulled together as he looked at you in puzzlement, shaking his head lightly.

“No, not we. You’re stayin’ here.”

Your lips parted as you stared over at him incredulously.

“What? No. I’m coming with you-”

“It could be dangerous-”

“More dangerous than being left alone? Do I need to remind you what happened last time you left me by myself?”

Lifting your wounded hand up as evidence, Frank clenched his jaw as his eyes flickered between your hand and your face. 

“No one knows you’re here. You’re safer here-”

“I’m safer with you.”

Frank pursed his lips into a dissatisfied pout as your words hung in the air. You could see the hesitation lingering in his eyes, and you quickly pounced on it, walking over to stand directly in front of him. You stared up into his eyes with a pleading expression, shaking your head slowly as you spoke in a calmer voice.

“You can’t leave me again. I’ll stay out of your way. I’ll do whatever you say, I swear. No arguing. No pushback. Just…don’t leave me alone. Please.”

He seemed to visibly soften hearing the vulnerability laced in your voice, and when he let out a deep sigh of exasperation, you knew you had won. He gave you another pointed look, his voice dipping into a more serious tone.

“You do what I ask, when I ask. This shit goes sideways, I needa know you’re gonna listen. You got that?”

“Yeah, I got it.”

You could see that Frank wasn’t pleased about the thought of you joining him, but you knew you were safer with him in a potentially life threatening situation than you were on your own. If anyone could take these fuckers down, it was Frank, and you wanted to be there when he did.

tags: @twoshields @day-dreaming-goddess @messymissy @itwasthereaminuteago @strawberry1042 @queenofthenoobs @wanda2themax @xcastawayherosx @ferns-fics @stevenknightmarc @ponyosmom35 @babygal-babygal @wellwwhynot @oldermenaremyreligion @combustiblemeow @tired-night-owl @fairykiss32 @danzer8705 @calkissed @fxckahs-blog @lemon-world1 @yeah3459 @collaps3r @polskiperson @imperihoe @v4leoftears @harperdoodle @spideyvibez @joalslibrary @cherry-berry-ollie @annalism @sorrowfulfragmentation @kdogreads

#frank castle #frank castle x you #frank castle x y/n #frank castle x reader #frank castle x female reader #frank castle x fem!reader #frank castle x f!reader #frank castle fic #frank castle series #the bodyguard series #bodyguard!frank castle fic #bodyguard!frank castle series #bodyguard!frank castle x reader #the punisher #the punisher fic #the punisher series

[mauselet]

The Influencer - And All Is Not Fine

This story is for @ask-the-rag-dolly's blog, specifically The Influencer AU. Honestly, loving the blog so much. Huge thanks to Mod Bee for creating it and if you haven't already, go check out her blog.

Big thanks to WanderingDragon and Foolscap Hamato for helping with the fic.

Yes, the story is named after Entropy by Awkward Marina lyrics. Also, the anon/s that speak in orange and red, you got a reference in there cause it felt fitting.

Well, I really hope you enjoy this story!

Story includes: Ragatha X Pomni (but can be taken as platonically), angst, hurt/comfort

TW body horror, possessive behavior, possession, anxiety/panic attack, haphephobia/fear of being touched, questioning sanity, self-neglect

It's been a few weeks since Pomni found out that there were currently hundreds of voices inside Ragatha's head. Wow, and after all this time it didn't sound any less insane. From what Pomni understood, those voices were a virus that had infected the circus and latched onto Ragatha. They couldn't tell Caine about this because he'd likely kill them and Ragatha refused that. For some reason, she wanted to protect them which seemed even crazier than the whole situation. Some of them were friendly, sure, but others…

They attacked Jax, causing him to glitch out. They taunted Ragatha by plaguing her mind with the worst cases imaginable or calling her names or taking her too literally. They spawned that stupid paper shredder!

Oh, how Pomni hated that thing! The next time she sees one, she’ll personally smash it into pieces.

In short, the voices–all of them–stressed Ragatha out. And who could blame her? Sometimes even your own voice in your head can drive you mad. Pomni was actually impressed that the doll hadn’t reached her breaking point yet with these “anons”, as they called themselves, constantly following her.

Of course, it wasn’t all that bad. Sure, they led to Ragatha temporarily losing her arm, but it was also thanks to them that she worked up the courage to speak to Pomni again. The thought of that always brought a smile to the jester’s face.

She was glad she could talk to her. Not only because Ragatha was nice and overall pleasant to be around, but it was also good for the ragdoll; especially now that she avoided the other circus performers to prevent another Jax fiasco or a possible infection.

The redhead’s absence was noticed by the others and to Pomni’s surprise, they were concerned about her. When Pomni first arrived, she was too busy spiraling down her anxiety to see it, but these trapped souls were friends. They cared about one another, even if it’d be in their own strange ways. So Pomni decided to reassure them all with daily reports on how Ragatha was doing.

And that was usually the extent of her interactions with them. Until Caine’s adventures forced her to stick around the whole day. Sometimes she was able to avoid them, however, there were times when she just couldn’t no matter how hard she tried. Unfortunately for her, adventures like these stacked over the course of the last few days, making it basically impossible for Pomni to check on Ragatha.

By the third or fourth day, Pomni was getting anxious. Throughout the adventure, her fingers were constantly convulsing while stuck in an unnatural position, her eyes turned into scribbles and her thoughts were as far away from the game as possible.

Ragatha must’ve been lonely. It’s been days since she’s interacted with anyone. Well…since she’s interacted with someone who meant no harm to her. Hopefully, she was alright…

Pomni suddenly jerked and snapped out of her thoughts as a gloved hand waved in front of her eyes. Her head shot up and she saw Kinger, Zooble and Gangle who announced to her that they found a way to replace her in today’s adventure and that she could go see Ragatha. If she had to be honest, she didn’t even know what the adventure was, but if she really wasn’t needed there…

She gave the three of them a quick smile and dashed to Ragatha’s room as fast as her short legs could carry her. As soon as she arrived and caught her breath, she rang the bell, waiting and…

Waiting.

Pomni felt a pit in her stomach. No, no, no. She shook her head. Everything’s fine, it’s just taking a bit. She rang again.

“R-Ragatha? It’s me, Pomni. A-are you in there?”

But she was still left waiting.

“Ragatha!” she raised her voice, yet still no response.

Oh God, three days… Three whole days with nothing but those voices. That must’ve been a nightmare for the doll and Pomni left her dealing with that alone. She left her again…

“I’m coming in!” she announced and reached for the doorknob. Her body froze as she held it, overwhelmed by worried thoughts, but also by a sense of déjà vu. She chuckled darkly at the memory of desperately wanting to know what was behind a door she shouldn’t go through and then opened.

A wave of relief washed over Pomni as she wasn’t instantly met with a glitching blob with a thousand glowing eyeballs. She walked in and closed the door behind her.

She looked around the room and her heart skipped a beat. Ragatha was there, sitting on her bed, sewing what appeared to be a suit. She was so focused on her work; maybe that's why she didn't register the bell. Pomni can't actually remember if she'd ever seen her this focused, but she looked surprisingly calm and, the jester had to admit, quite pretty. 

“Um…Ragatha?” the short woman started, walking over, “I'm sorry for barging in, I was just worried when you didn't answer.” But the ragdoll didn't respond; it was as if she didn’t even notice that Pomni was in the room talking to her.

Was she ignoring her? Was she mad? Did she…hate her? All of those thoughts sounded really ridiculous considering that this was Ragatha we were talking about. She doesn’t even allow herself to hate Jax, someone who’s caused more than enough harm to her, so there is no way she’d ever hate Pomni. Right…? Yet all those thoughts, as unrealistic as they might’ve seemed, felt like real possibilities to Pomni.

Somehow despite Jax putting her worst fear in her room, voices constantly screaming at her and hurting her and Caine forcing her into some of the most dangerous scenarios, not being there for her seemed like the biggest crime of them all.

Well, there was only one way to fix it.

“I’m so sorry I took so long,” Pomni let out, her steps slowing down, “I tried to check on you, but Caine’s adventures-”

“Oh, it’s alright, dear,” hearing that gentle voice, Pomni stopped. It was nice hearing her again, but something felt off. Sure, Ragatha occasionally used pet names like hun or sweetheart or even dear–oh geez, Pomni felt her cheeks heating up just thinking about it—that wasn’t the issue. She sounded more nonchalant than reassuring.

That didn’t matter right now. She wasn’t mad and that brought a smile to Pomni’s face. However, that didn’t last long as the doll finally raised her head.

Pomni’s face turned paler than usual if it was even possible, the pinwheel eyes shrunk, making them nearly invisible and her smile vanished as if it was never there.

Oh %$!#... Oh %$!#! No, no, no, no, no, no, no, NO! This wasn’t… This couldn’t have been real!

She wasn’t just staring at a black void with two colorful eyes where Ragatha’s button was supposed to be. She wasn’t just witnessing her friend slowly abstracting in front of her! She wasn’t… She wasn’t…

This wasn’t real!

It… It was just one of the digital hallucinations that Caine mentioned. Yeah! That’s it! That’s…That’s what it…was…

But those eyes, that void, they were still there, no matter how much Pomni convinced herself about the opposite.

Caine. She had to go get Caine! As Ragatha said once, maybe there was still time to fix this.

“Stay here!” Pomni blurted out, “I’ll be right back!” She quickly turned around and ran to the door. She’s going to come back this time. This time she won’t let Ragatha suffer.

She reached for the doorknob, but before she could grab it, arms wrapped around her and she was pulled back. One of the arms held her abdomen while the other was around her neck, not too tight yet still uncomfortable.

Feeling the fabric arms against her skin made her dizzy and itchy. She could sense every single pixel touching her, causing goosebumps to spread over her body.

“Where are you going, dear~?” she heard a whisper in her ear. It was Ragatha’s gentle, calming voice- No. It sounded different and…wrong. The voice was demanding and rough.

Pomni’s breath hitched. Was really something wrong with Ragatha? Or was her mind just messing with her? Well, the physical contact didn’t exactly help her think clearly as her body was plagued with this disgusting sensation.

“Don’t leave me~” For whatever reason, those words made the black-haired woman sick.

The doll’s embrace tightened. The touch of the fabric felt so venomous and paralyzing. It felt sickening. It felt wrong.

The jester wanted to escape that trap. She needed to escape it, yet no matter how much the voice in her head screamed at her body to move, it wouldn’t budge an inch. She was frozen in such a predicament with nothing but her racing heart, uneven breath, and voice stuck in her throat.

She attempted to take a deep breath, only to leave herself coughing.

“Are you alright, dear?” That voice again. It made shivers run down Pomni’s spine.

She sucked in another breath and let out a very weak and broken “Ragatha”. She repeated this a few times until she made a sensible sentence: “Ragatha… Please, let go…”

“Let go?” the doll wondered innocently, “why would I do that?”

“Please…” the jester mouthed.

“It’s not like I want to hurt you.” The grip tightened even more. “I would never hurt you. I would never-” The taller woman went silent. She felt the pale jester in her arms trembling and her heart dropped.

“Pomni…” Ragatha let out softly and her embrace loosened, “y-you’re shaking…” Rather than talking to Pomni, however, she seemed to have told it to herself. Reminding it to herself as if just physically feeling it wasn't enough to make it sink in. 

Even some of the voices were yelling at her to let go while the others objected. Was it the good or bad ones? What even made them good or bad? Were there even any bad voices? Were there even any good voices?

The voices that objected weren’t yelling, but whispering yet they were somehow much louder than the yells.

“Don’t listen to them–” “You can’t let go–” “You can–!” “She’ll find Caine and tell him about us–” “She wouldn’t–” “It’s too great of a risk–!” “If Caine finds out about us, we’ll be–” “What would happen to Rags–?”

“Ragatha, don’t you care about us? Don’t you care about what happens to you?!”

She flinched, instinctively tensing her hold on Pomni. In no way did she help the situation, with the jester’s body convulsing out of control.

“What is it, dolly? Are we too much for you to handle? Are we too loud? Can you even tell the difference between us and your own thoughts? Is there even a difference at this point?”

Oh God, her knees felt weak, her head was spinning, and tears filled her eye. She felt like she was about to collapse at any moment, but there was something forcing her to stand. Something kept her body like this against her will despite her exhaustion.

“Oh, dollface, do you feel the abstraction crawling under your skin? Or well, fabric? Did we do it? Did we f̴i̷n̴a̵l̸l̴y̸ ̶b̷r̸e̶a̵k̷ ̶y̷o̴u̵?̸”

All the voices then started shouting over one another again. Ragatha couldn’t even make out what they were saying as it all blended into an incoherent mess. With so much noise in her head, she wanted to join them. She wanted to scream at the top of her lungs; let out all her frustration not just with the voices, but with her whole body. It would be a beautiful relief, but even that was a luxury. Her body wouldn’t let her. They wouldn’t let her.

She’d swear that in the middle of all the noise she heard things that made her want to throw up. She hoped that it was just her imagination and her brain tried to give those noises some meaning, however… That would mean it was her own thoughts and that creeped her out even more. Strangely, some of those words weren’t anything bad, they were just…words. Yet they all sounded so disgusting. So wrong. Every last one of them.

Every last one…

Every last–

“Please…” One voice silenced all of them despite how weak and broken it was. No… No, it was loud and clear. It was…real.

It hit her like a truck. Everything that just happened in the span of a few minutes. How Pomni walked into the room, apologizing. How terrified the jester was when she saw her. How she stopped her when she tried to leave. How she was holding her this whole time despite the pain she was clearly causing Pomni.

Ragatha jumped back, letting go of the jester, allowing her to collapse to her knees. The small woman was sitting there, swinging back and forth, hyperventilating. She reached her hands to her arms as if to brace herself, but she didn’t touch. Instead, she grabbed her hat and pulled, her eyes shut. The bells one would associate with joy and fun now sounded distorted to both of the performers. The bells were… unnerving.

“Oh my gosh…” Ragatha let out as it all sank in. She covered her mouth and a tear ran down her face as she stared down at the black-haired woman. Her heart was breaking at the sight. “Oh my gosh…”

She did this… No, no, no. The voices did. Right…? She…She wasn’t in control, was she?

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry,” she mumbled, although, she wasn’t sure if Pomni could even hear her, “I-I lost control of them.” She cried more. “I messed up. Ragatha, you idiot… You %$!# idiot! You scared her. You hurt her! Why would I…? I would never-”

She felt tears rolling down her right cheek too, but that wasn’t possible. She wiped the tears with her hand and when she looked at it, her fingertips were covered by dark liquid.

Her heart stopped, realizing what that was. The dark void was leaking. The voices were right…

The bells on Pomni’s head rang again, causing Ragatha to snap out of those thoughts. There was something more important she had to do than pity herself. Her emotions could wait. Her abstraction could wait! She didn’t matter right now. She didn’t matter at all! Pomni did.

Despite her own breakdown, she rushed over to the jester, kneeling in front of her. She was in tears, barely thinking straight, potentially on the verge of abstracting, but Pomni mattered more.

Ragatha reached her hand towards the pale woman but flinched when she realized it wasn’t the brightest idea considering what caused this in the first place. She instead laid her hands on her own knees so Pomni could see them.

“Hey, Pomni?” she spoke up, her voice trembling. That sure was reassuring…

C’mon, Ragatha! Get a hold of yourself! Pomni needs you! Don’t freak her out.

She took a deep breath and ran her hand through her yarn, brushing it over her right eye to hide it. She curled her hands into fists and calmed her breath before speaking.

“Pomni, hun?” She was doing her best to keep her voice stable this time. “Look at me, please. Hun, look at me.” Pomni cringed, her body still going back and forth. “It’s okay, it’s just me. The real me, I promise,” Ragatha continued, “I just need you to look at me.” The big eyes slowly opened, showing scribbles, and looked up. “That’s it.” Ragatha smiled at her brightly. “Good job, sweetheart. Good job.”

The smaller woman was still trembling, still pulling at her hat, still swinging back and forth, still not controlling her breath. 

“Alright, dear-”

Pomni flinched at that, tears streaming down her face as she looked away. 

“O-okay! Okay,” Ragatha said in an unintentional panic. She cleared her throat. “I’m sorry, I didn't mean to freak you out. I won't call you that again, I promise. I promise. You’re safe now.”

Still in tears, the jester stopped pulling at her hat, yet the bells kept ringing. Each sob was accompanied by a happy metallic chime as her body jerked. Ragatha had to admit that it made her wails quite adorable and each little jingle seemingly made a voice in her head disappear each time. But she wished more than anything that they'd stop.

“Pomni?” Ragatha knew she had to keep trying. “Hey, Pompom, hun… Can you look at me again?”

The smaller woman didn't seem to listen. She then choked on her sobs as they didn't mix well with her rapid breathing. Seeing this, some of the voices panicked, but Ragatha had to stay calm. She instinctively lifted her hand from her knee, however, thankfully stopped herself from touching Pomni. 

“Please?” the ragdoll’s soothing voice asked and Pomni couldn't deny it. The black-haired woman turned to her, scribbles in her bloodshot eyes. 

“Good job.” A smile of relief and reassurance formed on Ragatha's face. “Now, honey, you're having another episode, but that's okay. It's okay, I'll help you through it. I’m not going anywhere. We'll get through it  together, okay?”

Pomni nodded slowly, choking on her sobs again. 

“I need you to breathe with me,” Ragatha told her, “four seconds in, hold and six out. Four, hold, six.” She waited for Pomni to nod again before she took a deep breath that the jester immediately followed, yet struggling. They held their breath, but sniffles broke them. Then they exhaled together. 

“Now, let's try again.”

And as Ragatha said, they did. Breathing was much easier for Pomni this time around. 

“You're doing great,” the redhead praised her, “are you able to go on your own?” She watched as Pomni nodded and took another deep breath with her eyes shut. “Good, keep going. You’re safe, hun. Focus on me, okay?”

When Pomni opened her eyes again, they were back to their pinwheel look. Ragatha also noticed that she stopped shaking and the swinging slowed down. Her smile widened in relief.

She kept talking to Pomni while the jester calmed her breath. They were like this for a few more minutes until…

“R-Ragatha…?” Pomni finally spoke up and the ragdoll gasped quietly.

“Welcome back, sweetheart,” Ragatha greeted her, “you feeling any better?”

“A little…” Pomni’s voice was still pretty weak, but she had much more to say. She held her hands together, rubbing her thumb with the other. “But I should be the one asking you.”

“What are you talking about?” Ragatha shook her head. “I just helped you through a panic attack-”

“And I’m forever grateful for that,” the jester blurted out, “but, Ragatha… You’re on the verge of abstracting!” They both flinched at the yell and Ragatha covered the black void on her face despite being hidden behind the hair. “And it’s all because of me.” Pomni shifted her eyes away. “Because I left you when you needed me. Again!”

“Pomni, you can’t blame yourself for that. It wasn’t your fault.”

“‘Can’t blame yourself?’ You’re the one to talk,” the pale woman scuffed. She then took a deep breath. “Sorry.”

“No, you have all the right to call me out.”

“Did it happen because of… them?” Pomni glanced at the taller woman, her eyes narrowing at the last word.

“I think so,” Ragatha replied and noticed Pomni inhaling to speak, but she quickly interrupted her, “that’s why you can’t tell Caine.”

“But, Rag-”

“You promised.”

“And you said you wanted this to stop,” Pomni reminded her, raising her voice, “I understand you don’t want them to die, but think about what they’re doing to you. Stress? Mental breakdowns? Abstraction?!” The doll lowered her head in shame. “Rags, you’re suffering and I can’t bear to watch. You care about the people around you and I appreciate that, but for once in this digital life think about yourself first.”

“No need to worry, darling,” Ragatha said calmly, looking up with a bright smile as if the topic was just a casual small talk, “the anons are actually what keeps me from abstracting, otherwise I’d be in the cellar by now.” Pomni cringed at every word due to how cheerfully the doll said them. “We’re also really, really sorry for touching you. We were so afraid of you telling Caine that we had to stop you somehow. Sorry we hurt you.”

Pomni was just staring at her, an unsure expression painted on her face. This all felt wrong and Ragatha’s next words didn’t ease that feeling.

“I’m fine, really. I’m sure that I can join in on the adventures again soon.”

No, that wasn’t right. She just said she’s afraid of Caine finding out, why does she suddenly want to take part in his adventures? And that wasn’t the only thing off.

“What happened to staying in your room to prevent infecting people with the virus?” Pomni wondered, “don’t get me wrong, the others would be happy to see you and they’re definitely worried about you. Heck, Zooble, Gangle and Kinger helped me get out of an adventure to check up on you; it’s just…”

“You’ve been spending so much time with me and you’re not influenced,” Ragatha pointed out.

Well, Pomni couldn’t argue with that. There were still many other issues with this seemingly spontaneous idea, but the more she thought about them the less sense her reasoning as to why they were even issues made. It was as if her mind was getting blurrier the more she tried to use her brain. She must’ve been tired from her previous meltdown.

“I guess you have a point.” She let out a sigh and smiled at the woman softly, but then… Did Ragatha have that wide grin on her face before? That didn’t matter right now; she needed some rest.

“Look, I know I haven’t been here in a while, but I should really go into my room and take a nap,” she explained.

“Oh, no worries, d̶e̶a̸r̴,” Ragatha replied, “have a nice sleep.”

“I’ll try. Thanks.” Pomni stood up and headed to the door. She grabbed the doorknob and turned back. “And I mean it, try thinking about yourself. It isn’t hard to care about you; me and at least three other people can agree on that.” Her smile widened as she opened the door. “And Ragatha? …I… Thank you for helping me through the attack, I really appreciate it. You’re a great friend.”

She then closed the door and stayed in the room. 

She originally planned on finding Caine the moment she was outside. She was well aware that Ragatha didn't want that, however, Pomni was willing to do anything to help her stop hurting. She didn't care if Ragatha hated her for it–she was sure she would–she just wanted her friend to be safe.

But as much as she wanted that, she couldn't bring her body to go through with it. It was as if it didn't obey her. 

“Don't leave me,” she remembered the doll's words. No, it wasn't a memory; it felt like someone just whispered in her ear. 

That's crazy. It was just her imagination. Nothing else. 

“Pomni, please. Don't leave,” Ragatha's voice begged her. It sounded so real. But there was no way Ragatha's whispers could reach her, right?

The more she thought about it, the more her mind was filled with white noise, static. And the longer that went on, the more that noise made sense to her as if it spoke to her. 

“I'm scared,” one noise was much louder. Ragatha's voice.

Pomni's not leaving her again.

She let go of the doorknob and turned around to see the ragdoll still sitting on her knees, showing Pomni her back. 

“Actually, can I stay here?” the jester asked, “I don't want you to be alone and…I'd also feel more comfortable with some company.”

“Why of course,” the doll replied, the huge grin remaining on her face. She got up and headed over to her bed. Reaching into her hair, she pulled out her bow and used it to tie her hair up in a ponytail.

“You can take a nap in my bed,” she said. 

“Oh.” Pomni blushed a little, not only at the offer but also due to the redhead’s sudden hairdo change. Whatever it was, it had some strong influence on Pomni. "Thanks."

Once at her bed, Ragatha picked up the suit she was working on when Pomni first walked in. It was nearly done. It truly was clothing worthy of someone as powerful as her; someone with influence stronger than the ringmaster himself.

#[ the influencer ] #the amazing digital circus #theinfluencer!ragatha #tadc ragatha #tadc pomni #fanfiction #tw body horror #tw panic attack #tw self destructive behavior #tw self-neglect #ragapom #buttonblossom #jesterdoll #pomni x ragatha #but like can be platonic #tw possession #tw possessive behavior #the others are mentioned but very briefly #I love writing my favorite characters being possessed #angst #hurt/comfort #The Influencer really said gaslight gatekeep girlboss guiltrip #let me know if i need to tag anything else

[sadnymi]

「 ✦ midnight .✦ 」

[Lorenzo Berkshire x reader]

Summary: Enzo had been distant, a shadow of his usual charming self. But nothing prepared me for the sight of him at midnight, bloodied and pleading, at my window.

Warning: none-fluff

Words:1.5k

A rhythmic tapping jolted me awake. Disoriented, I fumbled for the lamp on my nightstand, blinking away sleep. The tapping came again, this time insistent, from the direction of the balcony window.

Sitting up, I rubbed the crust from my eyes and squinted through the glass. A dark figure stood there, silhouetted against the moonlit night. Panic surged through me, a primal fear taking hold.

"Enzo?" I whispered, my voice barely above a squeak. The figure shifted, revealing a mop of dark hair and a face I recognized all too well. Relief washed over me, battling the rising tide of concern.

Hurriedly, I unlocked the balcony door. "Enzo, what are you doing here?" I gasped, my voice edged with worry.

He offered a weak smile, his face pale in the moonlight. A crimson stain marred his eyebrow , sending a fresh wave of panic crashing down on me.

"Marlin!" I yelped, reaching out to touch the wound. He flinched away, wincing in pain.

"I'm fine, darling," he whispered, his voice raspy. "Just... needed to see you. Please."

He grasped my hand, his fingers cold against my skin. Before I could question him further, he pressed a quick kiss to my knuckles, sending shivers down my spine.

The blood on his face screamed otherwise. "Come on," I urged, ushering him towards the bed. "Sit down, let me clean you up."

He hesitated, his grip tightening on my hand. "No, no, I'm alright. Just stay."

Reluctantly, I let him settle onto the edge of the bed. My fingers brushed his hair, pushing it back from his forehead. "I'm not going anywhere, okay? I'll be right back."

He offered a weak nod, his eyes never leaving mine. My mind raced as I hurried to the bathroom, grabbing everything I could think of: bandages, antiseptic wipes, a washcloth. The image of Enzo, bloodied and vulnerable, fueled my every move.

Back at the bed, I knelt beside him, the urge to cradle him in my arms a constant battle with the need to treat his injuries first. "Alright," I murmured, my voice laced with concern, "let's see what we're dealing with."

My hand trembled as I began cleaning the blood on Enzo's face. Each swipe of the damp cloth revealed a fresh horror. The source of the bleeding became clear – a nasty gash above his eyebrow, and a deep gash across his temple already turning a frightening shade of purple, the source of the blood. Panic surged hotter with each new detail.

"What happened, Enzo?" I forced the words out, my voice choked back with a sob I desperately tried to contain.

He winced, his breathing shallow and labored. He met my gaze for a fleeting moment, then quickly looked away. The silence stretched, thick with unspoken pain.

"It was a fight," he finally mumbled, his voice raspy. "I almost killed the other guy. When his friends came looking for payback, I… I let them I didn’t even fight back."

My heart plummeted. Anger, frustration, and a deep, gnawing worry coursed through me. "I know you get into fights, Enzo," I said, my voice surprisingly steady despite the turmoil within. "But there’s something else you have keeping from me, something that landed you in this state..."

He reached out, his hand trembling slightly as he cupped my cheek. "I'm sorry, darling. I know you’re mad"

A stray tear escaped, tracing a warm path down my cheek. I brushed it away with the back of my hand, forcing a smile. "I get mad because you hide things, Enzo. Because you put yourself in danger. But I'm never mad at you. Never."

He leaned into my touch, a flicker of relief crossing his features. "It'll sting a little," I warned softly, picking up a bottle of rubbing alcohol and a fresh gauze pad. "Hold my other hand if you need to."

He squeezed my hand tightly, a weak smile playing on his lips despite the blood staining his teeth. "Okay," he rasped, his voice barely a whisper.

I began cleaning the wound on his eyebrow, wincing at his sharp intake of breath when the alcohol hit the raw flesh. He squeezed my hand even harder, his knuckles turning white. Through it all, he kept his eyes on mine, a silent apology reflected in their depths.

"Almost done," I murmured, leaning in and pressing a quick, gentle kiss to his lips. The taste of blood and something deeper, a metallic tang mixed with a hint of mint from his usual gum, ignited a spark of protectiveness within me.

Finishing with the cleaning, I plastered a bandage over the wound and leaned back. "There," I said, planting another kiss on his cheek, then his forehead. "All patched up, you big goof."

"Here," I said, tossing him a black t-shirt I recognized as one of mine. "Change out of this bloody mess. And just so you know, I'm stealing it back."

A playful glint returned to his eyes, a flicker of his usual cocky charm. "Anything for you, darling."

I locked my bedroom door with a decisive click. Turning back to Enzo, I met his gaze with a raised eyebrow. "You can stay the night," I said, my voice leaving no room for argument. "But nothing else. Papa's home."

A wry smile spread across his face. "Fine by me, beautiful. Think I can handle a night just cuddling."

Hurrying to the bathroom cabinet, I grabbed a bottle of water and a couple of aspirins, praying they would be enough to ease the throbbing pain evident in his face.

"Here," I said, offering him the medication. He took them with a grateful nod.

Putting the first-aid kit away, I bundled his bloodied clothes into the laundry basket. He stood by the nightstand, swallowing the pills with a grimace.

My heart ached for him. With open arms, I beckoned him closer. "Come here," I whispered.

A smile, hesitant but genuine, spread across his face. He crawled onto the bed next to me, the warmth of his body a welcome comfort. I wrapped my arms around him, burying my face in his neck, showering his cheeks and forehead with kisses.

"Alright," I murmured, "tell me everything. What's been bothering you these past few days?" My fingers gently traced circles through his hair, a calming touch.

He took a deep breath, his eyes locking with mine. "I had a fight with my father," he confessed. "The first one ever, I think. And then he said..." his voice trailed off, a tremor running through it.

I squeezed his hand in encouragement. "Said what?"

"He said he's afraid I'll turn out like my mother," he blurted out, his voice laced with a mixture of anger and hurt. "He apologized later, of course, but I can't stop thinking about it. This whole 'charming rogue' role feels so suffocating. What if he's right? What if I am like her deep down?"

My heart ached for him. "No," I said firmly, placing a hand on his cheek. "You're not a replica of your mother. Your father just loves you so much, he worries. And yes, she's your biological mother, but that doesn't define you. You and Mattheo, you're nothing like her. I heard stories," I continued, weaving a comforting narrative. "She wasn't always like that. Things happened, rough times that people deal with differently. But you, Enzo, you're braver, smarter, and stronger than she ever was."

A flicker of hope sparked in his eyes. "I love you," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "And I promise I'll always try to be good. For you."

Cupping his face, I leaned in and kissed him, pouring all my love and reassurance into the touch. "You don't have to promise anything," I murmured. "You're already good. And I'm so lucky to have you."

He returned the kiss, his hold on me tightening. "When I hit that boy earlier," he confessed, his voice shaking, "and saw the state he was in... I thought I killed him. It wasn't like me. The thought of that... of having that darkness inside me... I let his friends hit me. I guess I deserved the pain."

Tears welled up in my eyes, but I forced them back. "No, you don't deserve any of that," I said fiercely. "It's okay, Enzo. It's okay now. You heard me, right?"

He nodded silently, burying his face in my neck. I held him close, stroking his hair, a silent vow forming in my heart. I would be his anchor, his light in the darkness.

"One day, I'm going to marry you," he mumbled, his voice muffled against my skin.

I chuckled, unable to resist a playful jab. "Oh, I know," I teased. "You can't live without me."

He pulled back, a playful glint in his eyes. "Actually," he countered before I could continue, "no, I can't."

The seriousness in his gaze sent a shiver down my spine. "Now," he continued, a hint of mischief in his voice, "about what happened tonight? We can't let Matteo find out. He wouldn't understand. He'd go after those boys and leave nothing but dust."

I burst out laughing. Knowing Mattheo, it was absolutely true. "Don't worry," I assured him, wiping a tear from my eye. "Your secret's safe with me."

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

#slytherin boys #slytherin boys x reader #slytherin boys x you #fluff imagines #lorenzo berkshire imagine #lorenzo berkshire x you #lorenzo berkshire x reader #lorenzo berkshire #lorenzo berkshire fluff #louis partridge

[bluerosefox]

Misunderstandings and Miscommunications

Back at it again with some

✨️ Shenanigans ✨️

Brain rot.

Here goes.

So Danny finally tells his parents the truth (Phantom Planet not happening in this AU) and due to his anxiety and fear takes their disbelief and horror and yelling (not mad or angry but like worried yelling) as rejecting him.

They had rejected Vlad a few weeks ago when he had been caught as Plasmius but they only rejected him because they had found out he had been trying to kill Jack in order to get to Maddie and had been hurting Danny behind their backs while also trying to get him to denounce Jack as his dad, it had nothing to do with him being part ghost.

They do love Danny and are just horrified their invention had killed their baby boy and that they had been trying to hurt him for a last few years because they didn't know he was Phantom (but the clues, oh the clues were staring at them in the face now, how blind they were to it oh.)

Due to Danny's panic he runs off into the Infinite Realms in order to hide with one of his ghost friends but.... he runs into some trouble (Skulker? Walker? idk pick any) and gets tossed in a random portal that had opened up.

And finds himself in the DC verse.

Danny accidentally falls into a huge battle as well and when he spots the heroes trying to protect the city he fell into from some huge evil villain he helps out despite his own emotions (it helps distract him from what he 'thinks' happened between him and his parents)

And once he's done helping he books it cause he need to process everything and doesn't stop when the hero he helped out called out to him, and phases out and turns invisible if the hero tries to stop him to talk. It isn't long until Danny is in a new city and finds some more people to help from villains and evil, and he starts using it to distract himself.

Basically Danny aimlessly wanders around and starts helping anyone to keep his mind off the thought of never being able to go home again.

Meanwhile his parents are PANICKING about not being to find Danny after he runs. They try calling his friends, but the moment they hear the Fenton's say they know about him being Phantom they too jump the gun and think Danny was rejected. They both yell, not letting the Fenton's say anything, and let slip Danny most likely is hiding in the Infinite Realms (aka the Zone) if hes not in Amity.

Tucker and Sam immediately hang up and call Jazz, whose at college, before the Fenton parents could and tell her what happened. And Jazz isn't happy.

Despite being so smart and willing to give their parents so many chances to change their views on Ghosts, she's not a child anymore and isn't going to let them hurt Danny (they don't want to). She starts making her way home to give her parents a piece of her mind.

But by the time she gets there, driving all night, her parents are missing and she finds a video message on the computer from Tucker explaining they had snuck into the house to go into the portal to try to find Danny only to see the Fenton parents suiting up and going into the zone with the Specter Speeder and Boo-o-rang keyed to Danny. "No doubt they're going to hunt Danny down, we're going to try to slow them down and find Danny before they do Jazz! We left an extra Boo-o-rang behind keyed on Danny's signature come help us when you get this message! Take Danny's Specter Bike I made sure the keylock is off!" (Let's pretend Tucker tinkered with the design of the Specter Speeder and made some bike versions, with Danny and funnily enough Johnny 13's help, it was fun bonding thing they all did)

Jazz is even more livid after that. Takes a few things and heads to the portal as well, hopefully to find Danny first before her parents.

By the time Jazz finds the portal that opens to the DC verse she's in Gotham, runs into Red Hood (and helps take down some gang goons but in the process her Boo-o-rang gets busted in the scuffle) and basically they talk. She asks if he's seen any runaway blue eyed black haired young teens around and Jason jokingly says "Nope but we better find him before the Big Bad Bat takes him and turns him into a Robin."

Jazz is very confused.

MEANWHILE

The Fenton parents are of course making a menace of themselves... They're driving around (which is a warning enough if Jack is behind the wheel) trying to find Danny to explain that they do love him and to come back home, and when they do find Danny he freaks out and starts booking it again (right as he actually stopped to talk enough with a hero too). The heroes of the DC verse whose meet Danny and those that heard about some young 'meta' teen whose been helping out and is very powerful, take note how scared and panicked he looked when facing the two and things get worse when they take note how... careless they are going after him (cause we know the Fenton's get a little extreme) and add the fact they look like mad scientists too (they haven't been sleeping well since Danny ran off)

So the DC heroes start assuming the worse for the young teen hero...

It gets even much WORSE when Tucker and Sam, who are hot on the Fenton's heels as well, show up and eventfully tell them what happened (or what they think happened) when they gain their trust.

Basically, a lot of miscommunication happens.

Danny thinks he needs to be on the run from his parents and is helping out in the DC verse to keep his mind off his own breaking heart from the rejection (if you wanna make it serious maybe have his actual core in danger from the rejection or something). And is nearly adopted by every hero who see's this sad ghost kid.

His parents are labeled mad scientists (kinda are) who are hunting Phantom down to end him or experiment on him but they actually DO love him and just want their son come back home. (due to being Fenton's they do kinda accidentally cause a lot of mayhem in their wake)

Tucker and Sam are trying to be amazing friends and stopping the Fenton's from hurting their best friend but much like Danny they are a bit too caught up in their emotions to realize the truth of what happened and may or may not alerted the JL and JLD why Danny is on the run in the first place. (when they had down time to find out where they were they found out about the meta protection laws and is kinda using that to get Danny help)

Jazz is in Gotham, has no way to track Danny down at the moment, is talking with Red Hood (coughAngerManagementcough) about finding her brother and saving him from her parents before they do anything to hurt him. Cue Red Hood (and maybe with the help of the Outlaws) helping Jazz go find her brother.

This can be serious but I mostly see it being silly with nothing but shenanigans and a lot of miscommunication.

#dp x dc #danny phantom #crossover #blue rambles #writing ideas #danny fenton #danny phantom dc #random idea #jazz fenton #tucker foley #sam manson #jack fenton #maddie fenton #Danny is a sad and powerful ghost teen that is helping others to distract himself from heartbreak #a lot of DC heroes wanna take him in #Looking at you Batman #Superman does too because he helped set him straight with his thoughts about despite Kon being his clone he is now his own person #Martian Manhunter also wants to take him in cause Danny's is VERY interested in what he has to say about Mars and listens #The Fentons are good parents that want their son home #but they keep making it worse cause they keep causing their brand of chaos so they get labeled as the bad guys #Sam and Tucker are Danny's best friends but also make it ten times worse cause they are angry on his behalf and don't know the full story #Jazz is on a warpath looking for her parents to give them a piece of her mind #kicking butt and taking names all to find her baby brother #Jason finds that hot tbh amazon tall red haired goddess doing everything in her power to protect her sibling from their terrible parents #He's swooning

[lesbianpepsi]

Meant To Be Yours

pairing: amber freeman x fem!reader

summary: amber has tricked you into killing one student, you refuse to be tricked again; something amber doesn't like.

words: 2.165k

warnings: canon scream stuff, death, description of murder, knives, violence, blood, swearing, toxic!amber, manipulation, bad writing

authors note: a double whammy tonight for y'all. i have no regrets.

"All is forgiven, baby. I promise I'm not mad about what you said to me." Amber said through the call making your jaw clench as you shake your head, not believing a word that comes out of her pretty mouth.

"Stop calling me, Amber." You told her in the most demanding voice you could muster up, covering it up with your growing fear as your eyes glanced around your living room. "I've not forgiven you so just leave me the fuck alone." 

Amber scoffs through the device. "Why are you saying these things, Y/n? You've practically thrown me out like I'm fucking trash!" Her voice became more gruff as her anger quickly replaced her fake kindness.

"Because you are, Amber, you're fucking trash. You tricked me." You remarked as you ran a hand through your hair, staring intently at the dark corners of the room. 

"Is that what you think? That I tricked you?" Amber asks you in an overly heartbroken tone making you roll your eyes. "You did trick me, Amber, you manipulated me into doing something vile."

"Baby, you know I'd never manipulate you, I love you too much." She says her voice is becoming quieter. 

Tears swelled up in your eyes as you shook your head, your jaw still clenched tightly. "You manipulated me into killing, Wes." You whispered through gritted teeth, your heart beating erratically in your chest. "You said it was going to be a harmless prank to scare him."

"It was harmless." She defended, the sound of her shuffling around being heard on the phone. "Wes was a bitch boy anyway."

You scoffed as you stood up from the couch, your anger towards your girlfriend and the grief and guilt of Wes's death making your blood boil in a disgusting way.

"Fuck you." You whispered before hanging up on her, turning your phone on silent mode before tossing it onto the couch. 

It was only supposed to be a prank; that's what she told you. 

Wes was notorious for his hatred towards horror movies, especially Amber's favourite Stab. 

Amber suggested to you that you and her should play a little prank on him after he was "too touchy" with you as Amber said.

The prank being you and Amber would dress up in the famous Ghostface costumes and give him a little scare.

You were reluctant in the beginning but after Amber's persuasive words you eventually agreed.

Amber had already planned it out and told you how the prank was going to play out. 

You would call him as Amber would sneak into his house and scare him before taking off her mask and showing her friend it was a prank.

That isn't how the prank went. 

You were in Amber's car on call with Wes as Amber sneaked into the house late at night in the Ghostface attire.

In the beginning it was going smoothly, even funny to you at times. Then in a blink of an eye everything changed.

As you uttered the iconic line "What's your favourite scary movie?" you didn't get a panic response or even get hung up on; instead you heard fighting.

Screams so loud and guttural you had to pull your phone away from your ear.

Immediately you ran into the house to see what had happened to your absolute horror. You saw Wes on the floor covered in blood as he gargled on his own blood, his throat cut lightly, as if Amber was teasing him an easy and quick death. 

You didn't even know how it was possible that Amber could hurt him so much in less than thirty seconds. 

His eyes met yours as he whispered out his final words, a look of betrayal on his face.

"Y/n?" 

Amber killed Wes, and you helped her. 

You screamed at Amber as she gazed at Wes's dead body, taking off her mask as a look of pleasure swirled in her dark eyes.

She was proud. 

When you threatened to tell the police what she had done her proudness was replaced with smugness as she waltzed at you, a bloodied knife still in her grip. 

"You're an accomplice to my crime, baby. You call the cops on me and we both go down." 

Her words hit you like a wrecking balls with reality. You were an accomplice to her crimes.

The Bonny to her Clyde.

You didn't know what to do - you still don't know what to do, confess the truth to the police and go to prison or keep the entire killing an unsolved mystery; let your best friend become an unsolved case.

One thing you have been doing is avoiding Amber, hell, you've been avoiding everyone. You haven't left your house in days as you rotted away; the guilt slowly killing you.

Sighing, you ignore the vibrations from your phone as you move towards the kitchen, going to make yourself a glass of water in a weak attempt to calm yourself down. 

Grabbing a glass you headed towards the sink to fill up your glass. As the cold water slowly filled it up your eyes were focused on it as your thoughts were plagued by Wes.

You didn't even notice the person standing in the corner of the kitchen.

"Y/n."

You gasped as you dropped the glass making a loud clatter as it landed in the sink. Turning on your heel to your horror you see Amber standing a few feet away with a soft smile, the one that used to make your heart swoon. 

"Don't run." She asks you as she takes a step forward. 

Without hesitation as you do the exact opposite of her words, sprinting away as you headed towards your front door.

"I said don't fucking run away from me!" Amber yelled as her heavy footsteps were heard right on your heel.

Using all the strength and speed you could muster you force yourself to run even faster, but it wasn't fast enough. 

Amber's foot trips yours making you collapse to the ground as the view to the front door just reaches your eye sight.

You whimpered in pain as you tried scrambling back up but was stopped by Amber jumping forwards and standing in the hallway heading towards the door, blocking you from escaping the house; blocking you from escaping her.

She sighs as she runs a hand through her hair, looking down at you. "My love, please stop being like this. We're in this together, you can't leave me alone." 

Her soft spoken words wither into your heart as your glare softens, staring up at her as you slowly stand up. 

"Why are you here, Amber?" You demand as you take a wary step backward, your eyes focused on her body the entire time.

Amber's eyes gleam as she smiles crookedly at you, taking a singular step closer to you. 

"You left me, Y/n." She whispers, taking another step closer as you take another one back. "I fell apart without you and you've fallen apart without me."

You shake your head as you glance back at the stairs that would lead you to your bedroom before back at Amber's innocent looking face.

"Don't lie to me, sweetheart, you and I both know we can't live without each other. It's what made me realise something." Amber whispers, taking another step closer as you don't take another step back, breathing heavily as you stare at her.

She smiled sweetly as she reached you close enough to place her hand in your cheek, caressing it gently.

"We're meant to be." She insists.

You smile back at her as you lean into her touch, Amber visually relaxes as her smile softens.

"No we're not." You say before punching her in the face with all the strength you had in your body.

Amber stumbled back in shock as a small ooze of blood began spilling from her nose. One of her slender fingers touches the blood before pulling away to examine it.

Her jaw clenched as her eyes connected with yours, a look of pure rage in her black eyes.

You swiftly turn around as you run up the stairs as you head towards your bedroom, the only place you know has a lock and a secret weapon.

"Y/n!" Amber yells as she chases after you, right behind you as she tries grabbing you, her fingers skimming over your back. 

Scrambling towards your room you unlock it and throw yourself inside before slamming your body against it, shutting it as you locked it. 

Amber's fist pounds against the door as she screams your name.

"Y/n, don't lock me out! I was meant to be yours, we were meant to be one." She yells through the door, her palm laying flat against it.

You jump towards your dresser where a small pocket knife Amber gifted you was hidden.

Tears are free falling from your eyes speedily but you paid no attention to them, your only focus being on your life.

"You were meant to be mine." Amber growls from behind the door, banging against it once again. 

You flinch at the sound as you flick the blade out of its pocket, backing up against the corner wall as you sobbed quietly.

"I'm all that you need, Y/n, me. Not Liv, not Chad, not even fucking Tara; but me." Amber insisted in a raucous voice as she yelled. "You carved open my fucking heart, Y/n, you can't just leave me to bleed!" 

Your heart is going a hundred miles per hour as your hand becomes shaky, the small knife with Amber's and your initials on the blade shakes.

"Y/n!" She screams in a guttural rage, leaning her forehead against the door from the other side. "Open the door, please." Amber whispers but is loud enough that you hear it.

"Y/n, open the door." She begs again in a pleading voice, her own voice becoming shaky.

You frowned at her hurt voice as you unconsciously took a step closer to the door.

"Y/n, can we not fight anymore, please?" Amber whimpers, making your heart crack at her voice. 

You shake your head as you try to force yourself to stop getting closer to the door. You know she's only doing this to make you open the door, yet you still can't help but feel bad. 

"Please, baby, can we not fight anymore? I get that you're scared and that's my fault, and I'm so sorry, Y/n." You don't say anything as you remain frozen in the middle of the room, not knowing what to do.

"I've been there, feeling the guilt, I was there with you, remember? Do you really think I haven't been feeling horrible about it too?" Amber wailed from behind the door, her voice cracking.

Amber has been feeling guilty about it? You thought she didn't care?

"I can set you free, Y/n. From all the guilt and pain. I know how to." Amber states making your eyes widen in hope. She could make you feel better?

You're silent as you try to process her words, something Amber sees as a sign of rejection.

"Y/n, don't make me come in there." Amber says, her voice becoming louder and angrier the more she spoke. "I'm gonna count to three and if you don't open this fucking door I won't help you." She yells banging the door once again to emphasise her point.

You don't want that, you want Amber's help, if she wouldn't lie to you again, would she?

Wordlessly, you quietly walk over to the door, unlocking it as fresh tears still flow down your cheeks.

Amber immediately opened the door as her eyes locked with yours, her furious expression fading away. 

"You opened the door." She says breathlessly as she takes a step closer to you, her eyes averting  from yours to the knife in your hand.

You nod your head slowly as you drop the knife, your heart beating for Amber and Amber only now.

"Will you help me?" You croak out in a strangled voice. Amber nods her head as she smiles at you, placing a hand on her cheek just as she did earlier, the blood under her nose dripping onto her shirt but she didn't care.

"I'd do anything for you, baby, you're mine and I love you with all my soul and heart." Amber says as she uses her free hand to grab yours, interlocking your fingers together. "We're meant to be." She insists with her crooked smile.

You look down at your hands noticing the bruises on Amber's knuckles along with a few healed cuts. 

God, you caused that. You might've hated Amber but you also loved her. 

"Say it." Amber asked as she tugged your cheek making you look at her with tearful eyes. "Say you're meant to be mine." 

You swallow nervously as you gazed into Amber's dark eyes, blinded by her beauty and soft words.

"Meant to be yours."

#amber freeman x reader #amber freeman x female reader #amber freeman x fem reader #amber freeman x y/n #amber freeman x you #amber freeman #amber freeman angst #mikey madison x reader #my fanficiton #my writing