#there's an entire found family here???????

[toji-girl]

part two to this + mdni 18+ content + angst + steamy stuff + suggestive

Toji furrowed his eyebrows as the door widened to reveal Shiu, who stood there in a soft t-shirt and lounge pants like it was his place.

"Gumi! Hi, baby. Are you ok?" You asked, immediately dropping to your son's height, ignoring the two men staring at each other.

He nodded and turned around to grab the sacks filled with goodies, which in turn let Toji inside turning the air into something thicker with tension as you smiled softly looking at Megumi who looked back at you with a soft smile so much like yours.

"Thank you, you are so sweet." You cooed hugging him tightly not wanting to let go of him.

It sucked every time letting your son go for the week and waiting for him to come back home.

But you could admit it was nice to be able to sleep in during the weekday and to have time to yourself, however, sometimes you missed them so much you almost called Toji to come back for the night so you weren't alone and you three could be a family again.

You gestured Megumi to take the bags in the kitchen before turning your attention to Toji. "Is everything ok?" You asked again looking at him.

His attention was still on Shiu, who observed the entire situation silently. "He missed you, said you cry every night." He murmured, his eyes now shifting to you with a glint of sadness and understanding.

You furrowed your eyebrows thinking of Megumi hearing you, and it wasn't every night, but a lot of the times your bed felt too big for just you, and it felt...odd to be alone after being with Toji for so long.

Toji wanted nothing more than to scoop you in his arms and kiss away your turmoil. "Are you two fuckin'?" He blurted in a quiet tone, his eyes flickering with anger and a deep-seated jealousy at the thought of you with Shiu together.

"What the hell kind of question is that!? It doesn't matter if I am or not." You told him in a low tone rolling your eyes just in time for Megumi to come bounding back into his arms.

Toji took hold of his hand and looked down at him with a sad smile. It was clear he wanted to stay with you, and if he let him, then it would only serve to push them further apart.

He watched Megumi pull away for a second hug bidding you goodbye and goodnight as you helplessly let go of your baby who wasn't a baby anymore with his father who wasn't your husband anymore.

Shiu stepped closer to you, his hand coming up to your shoulder, giving it a small squeeze catching Toji's attention, as did your sniffling.

But he wasn't the man you wanted or needed anymore to help balm your hurt. However, that didn't stop him from turning around to brush a tear off your cheek before he left with Megumi.

Once it was just you and Shiu, you turned around and sobbed into his chest letting him wrap his arms around you gently. "I know."

Toji's question made your stomach twist with guilt even though you and Shiu never even kissed. He was just there for you in ways you needed, as a friend, nothing more, despite the feelings that grew between you both slowly.

You've known him just as long as you've known Toji. He was even at your wedding and now he was here comforting after your husband left with your son. "How dare Toji even ask us that?" You muttered when you pulled away from Shiu to head into the living room.

He followed after and sat next to you on the couch, the air shifted from tense to something more charged as you rested your head on his shoulder. "He's jealous and feels threatened that I'm here for you. Tomorrow is going to be interesting. Will you be okay tonight?" He asked with genuine worry in his voice as he held your hand.

Shiu was right.

Monday morning you found yourself at Toji's door knocking on the door quickly before you changed your mind. Megumi was at school so you would be alone with him, and you told yourself it was because you didn't want an audience but wanted that time with him as well.

"Everythin' ok?" Toji asked with a husky voice that was rough around the edges with sleep, the sound made you think about the mornings with him when he would wrap you in his arms not letting you go even when you giggled and tried to wiggle free he'd just hold you tighter.

You pushed your way inside your old shared home, the smells of baking cookies and dinners, and the sight of pictures still hanging up made your stomach twist. "Why would you ask if I was fucking Shiu? How is that any of your business?" You spat looking at him.

He leveled your look with a slow smirk that curled his lips, the scarred side lifted. "Mhm, you came all this way to ask me that? A phone call woulda worked darlin'." Toji shot back and walked into the kitchen.

It was obvious he knew you would follow him after shutting the door trying to come up with some excuse because he was right. "I'm not your darlin' anymore so stop calling me that and you don't ever answer your phone." You hissed and watched as he made coffee.

He didn't wear a shirt and you knew his skin was warm and he smelled good, his scent was something you'd never soon forget. You ached to lay your cheek on his back like old times but you also know you two aren't meant to be lovers in the way you want to be.

It hurt like hell to know you were his soulmate but your souls barely caressed one another, like two sheets in the wind before blowing away completely. However, you still wanted to fight for your relationship with him and to hold him and kiss him again and again.

"So are you fuckin' him or not then? If not you don't want to tell me because you're still in love with me and if you did then that means you moved on. Which is it?" Toji drawled when he turned around to look at you as he leaned against the counter knowing the answer.

Your mouth opened then closed as you stammered while rolling your eyes. "It's -"

"None of my business, I heard you sweetheart but it seems you ain't hearing me."

You watched as he pushed himself off the counter to invade your space blocking out the light from the kitchen sink making the room smaller and him that much bigger he backed you into the living room until you hit the armrest of the couch falling over onto the cushions with him towering above you with a dark chuckle. "You love me still."

It was the truth, you do love him and would always. However, the relationship felt at a standstill, and sex was the bandaid that never really fixed anything. He kneeled between your legs and leaned down until your breaths mingled together in a warm fan. "I love you too."

His lips barely brushed against yours making you ache as you gripped the couch cushions feeling your pussy drool and pulse around nothing. "We can't make this work Toji, we both know that."

"I know that I love you and I don't want any other woman, and I tried but as soon as they went to touch me I couldn't do it because they weren't you." He whispered staring deep into your eyes as he slid his arms under yours letting you fall to your back softly with a smirk.

Your heart hammered in your chest, his words and actions were so smooth it made you feel like a teenager kissing her crush for the first time. Butterflies took home in your belly as you stared back at him.

The idea of some other woman touching him made your skin crawl.

But when he said they weren't you, you leaned in and pressed your lips against his for the first time in a year. Everything felt like static as he kissed you back, his tongue sliding in your mouth to slowly stroke against yours igniting that fire deep inside you.

His chest was pressed against yours as you sunk into the couch more wrapping your arms around his neck and legs around his waist.

Just when you pulled away to tell him to undress you, your phone went off, your ringtone indicated it was the school, about Megumi.

The sound broke your focus as you scrambled out from under Toji to pull your phone out, answering it. "Hello, yes, this is his mother...he did what? Me and my husband are on the way." You told the sectary.

You hung up and sighed as you felt your shoulders hike up to your ears. You called Toji, your husband, which did not go unnoticed by him judging by the smirk on his lips that melted into something else.

"What happened with Megs?" He asked, standing quickly to pull his shirt on before the two of you could get in your car and to the school.

The ride was silent, minus the soft hum of the engine.

There weren't any words said until you both got in the office with a sullen Megumi who sat hunched over in his seat. "What in the world happened, baby? Are you ok?" You asked worriedly as you and Toji sat next to him.

Your son sat still and silent, not saying anything for a moment until he sighed. "A classmate said you two didn't love each other and made fun of me for it." Each word felt like a dagger as you struggled to maintain a neutral face.

"Oh, of course, we love each other...it's just different. How about tonight we have a family dinner? You two come over to my place?" You suggested rubbing Megumi's back gently looking over at Toji.

Toji nodded in agreement as he held your hand and ruffled his sons hair. "Did you hit him first?" He asked curiously.

"No."

You looked at Toji, then Megumi, as the principal came out, was ready to discuss the situation, which thankfully got resolved.

It seemed a teacher was nearby when the other student started in on a few more kids before moving on to Megumi giving him a hard time.

Later that night, you set your dining room table when an urgent knock on your door made your pulse jump. As you approached it, you looked in the peephole to see it covered by something.

Your door was locked and chained, which rattled with their next knock, the idea of them coming across Megumi and Toji made you sick with worry.

Quickly and quietly, you walked into the living room, grabbing your phone, calling Toji.

"Someone is at my door pounding on it, covering the peephole. Where are you two?" You asked worriedly as you sat on the couch after making sure you weren't visible from any windows.

It seemed that whoever it was was gone after a few more knocks.

"We just pulled into the parking lot. No one is here, I'll bring Megumi inside and look around." Toji told you, his tone serious.

Worry ate at you as you met Toji at the door. "Thank you so much, please hurry." You ached to kiss him. Instead, you squeezed his hand. before letting him go to check everything out.

Megumi immediately ran inside and into the living room as you waited for Toji by the door, leaving it cracked with the chain on to see.

As soon as you saw him, you let him inside, then shut and locked the door. "Would you spend the night, please?" You asked softly looking at him baring your vulnerability for him to see.

You both stood by your front door stepping closer together until you were in his arms feeling safer as you nuzzled into him. "How about we just go home? Someone saw me walking around and said the same thing happened to them last night, I ain't leavin' my wife and son here alone with someone doin' that." He told you leaving no room for a no.

"Wife? We seem to both have done that today..." You murmured melting into his arms when he hugged you closer to his body.

Toji chuckled and leaned in pressing his lips against yours. "You will forever be my wife. Now let's go home."

#toji x reader #jjk x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #toji x you #jjk x reader smut

[perlelune]

All Too Well | Rafe Cameron

A tragedy in your family forces you to return to the one place you fled from years ago. Your hometown of Outer Banks.

Warnings: NON-CON, Mom Reader, Pogue! Reader, Mentions of Abuse, Blackmail, Threats, Child Abduction, Gun Use

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

You sigh as you pass the familiar town sign. Welcome to the Outer Banks. Paradise on earth.

Right, paradise on earth. Until it became hell for you.

You let your gaze wander across the coastline, soaking in the crashing waves and glittering sand. The fresh sea breeze whisks inside the car, its soft, familiar flutter over your face bringing bittersweet memories alongside it. As you take in your surroundings, you’re struck with the realization of how little has changed over the years. Same houses. Same trees. And perhaps, you ponder wistfully, even the same people…

A mix of confusing emotion flows through you at that prospect.

Most of your life was spent here, precious memories having taken place on that very beach you just passed. Lazy days hanging out with your friends, doing whatever it is you wished. Hanging out, goofing off, getting high and enjoying endless summers.

Before mesmerizing blue eyes found yours at a beach party. It’s when your downward spiral began. How sweetly things started. How sourly they turned.

You can still feel the ghost sensation of his fingers around your neck, pressing until you could hardly breathe. Yet another fit of anger. Brushed off like so many until you couldn’t bear it anymore.

Eventually you grew tired of the whirlwind of emotions, of how he always had an excuse, some sort of twisted justification for his horrible actions. How somehow nothing was ever his fault. But yours. Always yours.

And once you found out that you had more than your own well-being to worry about…the decision was made for you. Of course, you needed to run like hell and never look back. It wasn’t just about you anymore. You had someone else to protect, from his mood swings and temper, but most importantly…from becoming just like him.

A heavy breath drops from your mouth as you clutch the steering wheel. The unpleasant flashes are chased away with a sharp shake of your head. You steady your rising pulse. You promised yourself not to not sink into that hole again. That hopeless, desolate place where you’re trapped in the dark and no one can hear you screaming. You’re stronger now. He can’t hurt you anymore.

This was four years ago. All that stuff is in the past. Buried and forgotten. Thankfully.

Your son’s hitch-pitched voice tugs your focus from the backseat.

“Can we go to the beach, mom?” he says, bouncing in excitement. “Please, please, please.”

You swipe a glimpse of him in the rearview mirror. Here he is. Your entire life, on the cusp of throwing a tantrum in the backseat of your car. Your three year-old son, Parker.

Your focus shifts back to the road.

“We have to go visit some friends first, sweetie.”

“Okay…” he pouts dejectedly.

“Once we’re settled in, we can go.”

He beams at that. A smile creeps upon your lips. While raising Parker on your own has been a challenge, you wouldn't change a thing. Seeing his bright, gummy smile everyday makes it all worth it.

You make a few more turns before finally reaching your destination. You soak in the striking sight of the house as you climb out of your car. It’s a lot bigger and nicer than the ones surrounding it, an uncanny sight in the Cut. It still surprises you that JJ didn’t move to Figure Eight. With his flourishing boat renting business, he can basically do anything he wants now. And you know he’d likely get a kick out of pissing off the 

Kooks by moving to their side of the island. So you’re a bit shocked that he chose to keep roots there. 

You suppose, in the end, he will always be a Pogue at heart. 

You pick up your son from the back seat. A yawn escapes from his mouth before he wraps his arms around your neck and begins to doze off. You can’t blame him. This was his longest trip since he was born. He clings to you as you make your way to the front door. 

The door opens, a familiar blond welcoming you with a bright smile.

“Well, look what the cat dragged in,” he drawls. 

“Are you sure it’s okay if we stay? We can go to a motel.”

JJ huffs his disapproval before ushering you inside. 

“Nonsense. Why stay in a motel when we have plenty of room here?”

Your eyes dart about the place. It’s clean and though the decor screams ‘bachelor’, homey vibes ooze from the space. Memorabilia from JJ’s travels are littered across the shelves as well as pictures of him and the Pogues beneath his surfing board. Melancholy hits you again. You’ve missed so much.

You shoot him a teasing grin.

“Plenty of room, huh? Sounds like someone’s gone full Kook.”

JJ rolls his eyes at your playful taunt. “Do you have any bags?” he asks.

“In the trunk,” you reply, handing him your keys. “I didn’t pack much since we won’t be staying long.”

He takes your keys, concern flashing in his blue eyes. “Which I still don’t get. I could kick his ass for you, so you don’t have to leave again.”

“It’s fine, JJ. Parker and I have a great life in Florida. I just got promoted. I’m saving up so we can move to a bigger place in a few months. Things are good. Really good.”

“I still think you should be here with us.” You supply no answer as he strolls to your car to get your things. You know JJ would tussle with him if you let him, has tried to in the past. He’s your best friend and has always been overly protective of you. It’s exactly why you need to leave once everything is handled. You refuse to let him get tangled up in your mess. It was never his to fix. 

You pad further inside JJ’s home. Astonishment flutters through you as you find another familiar face by the kitchen counter. 

Her long blonde mane swings at her back as she rushes to you. 

“Is that my nephew?” she whispers in an attempt not to wake up your toddler.

“Sarah,” you greet cheerfully.

She bends to get a better look at him. Her expression lights up.

“He’s gotten so big since the last time.”

The sound of Sarah’s voice tears Parker from his slumber.

He rubs his eyes, a broad grin appearing on his little face when he recognizes her.

“Auntie Sarah…”

“Hey buddy,” she chimes.

He jumps into her arms and the two of them giggle as she hugs him.

“I wish I could visit more often,” she says.

You nod in agreement. Sarah used to visit the two of you in Florida on a semi-regular basis, but she had to stop once a certain somebody became a bit too curious about the impromptu trips she was taking several times a year.

“Me too, but we both know it’s not possible.”

The two of you share a knowing look.

JJ reappears with your two bags in his hands.

“Shall I show you and your offspring to your chambers, m’lady?” he says, mimicking a horrible British accent. 

You shake your head at his antics. Though you’d never admit it aloud, you kind of missed them. A lot.

“You’re an idiot, you know that?” 

He flashes you a broad grin.

“Hm, I think the word you’re looking for is wickedly handsome.”

“That is more than one word,” you deadpan.

He shrugs. “Just handsome then.”

You sigh as you follow him upstairs. Pleasant surprise courses through you at what you witness when he opens the door to the guest room. 

The interior is warm and welcoming. The blankets have rockets, moons and stars on them. There’s even a nightlight and a few toys lying in a corner. It’s a lot more than you expected and a swell of emotions mounts inside you at the sight. 

“You just had to go overboard, huh?”

His shoulders heave and fall in nonchalance.

“Only the best for my best girl.”

You plop down on the bed, drinking in the animal paintings on the walls. 

“Did you paint that yourself?”

He sits next to you, leaning back in a relaxed stance.

“I did. Mostly. Though Sarah, Kie and the others insisted on helping.”

“You know we’re not staying.”

He studies you, a small smile tugging his lips.

“A guy can hope.” JJ licks his lips, fingers dragging over the colorful blanket. “I just want you to know you have a home here if you ever decide to come back.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

Blue eyes lock with yours, silence stretching between the two of you before he speaks again. 

“I really missed you.”

“Me too,” you say. “Are you and Kie still…?”

“We broke it off a few years ago.”

Your eyes round. They seemed so into each other at the time. Though you surmise, people can change over the years. You aren’t teenagers anymore after all.

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m not. We’re better off as friends,” he states casually. He holds your gaze and smiles. “Some things just aren’t meant to be.”

“Alright Master Yoda, when did you get so wise?” you quip.

He joins his hands, his expression solemn.

“A stupid kid, I am not anymore.” You laugh and his smile widens. “Believe it or not.” He pauses, appearing lost in thought. He then offers, “You should come to the Bonfire celebration tonight.”

“I don’t know…”

Your brows knit. You returned out of necessity. Hanging out isn’t exactly at the top of your list of priorities. 

JJ gives your shoulder a light shove.

“Come on. It’s at the Boneyard, just like old times.” His expression turns serious. “Everyone’s really missed you. It’s not the same without you around.”

He gets to his feet. Your stomach knots when he retrieves an urn from under the night table and hands it to you.

Your chest tightens.

“Are those her…”

“Yeah. Her last wish was to be at sea. Maybe you could do it tonight?”

Your fingers press firmly around the curved edges of the urn, tears welling up in your eyes.

“I should have been there, JJ,” you mumble.

“It’s not your fault.”

“But if I-”

“No, you can’t blame yourself for every little thing. I won’t let you.” Noting your trembling fingers, he takes the urn from you, placing it over the night table. He cradles your face and wipes the tears spilling down your face. “She knows how much you loved her. That's all that matters.” He wraps his arms around you and you sink into his embrace, soaking his familiar sea-salt smell. It’s somehow barely changed since you last saw him. “It was an accident. No one could have done anything. Especially not you.”

You sniffle, swallowing a fresh surge of tears. You may not have been close to your sister, but you still resent that you couldn’t be together before she passed. She barely got to know her own nephew. 

She deserved a lot more from you. A lot more that you weren’t able to give, which you hate yourself for.

You just couldn’t risk it. Not when one look at him would suffice for most people to guess who Parker’s father is. Starting with those piercing blue eyes. The same as his father’s. 

Accidents are accidents. But you can’t help but wonder if being with her would have made a difference. No one even really knows what happened. Just that she was in her house - you parents’ house - and fell. Then she stopped breathing. By the time she was rushed to the hospital it was too late.

Your sister was gone. Ally is gone.

A harsh truth your mind is still wrangling with.

“I don’t know if I can come. Parker’s still so small-”

“I’ll watch him.”

Your head snaps up. You find Sarah in the doorway, your son in her arms. As soon as he enters the room, the little boy gets excited. He starts running around and grabs a toy from the pile to play with.

“Are you sure?” you ask.

“Are you kidding?” Sarah exclaims. Her gaze softens as she looks at your son. “I missed the little guy so much. We’ll have a ton of fun.”

You peer at Parker. He’s found a dinosaur and a soldier and decided to have the two apparently fight in space. You have to admit, JJ’s house is much more kid-friendly than you expected. Perhaps, you can probably release him into his aunt’s care for a few hours. You have no desire to turn into one of those helicopter moms who need their children under perpetual supervision. Parker too, may benefit from some time with Sarah. He never gets to see her after all.

“Well, I guess if you don’t mind,” you say. 

Sarah perks up at your response. 

“See? Everything’s sorted out,” JJ says brightly.

The moment they see you, Kie, John B and Pope hurtle a ceaseless string of questions your way. Your life in Florida. Your job. Your dating life. The weather. How the beaches are there. No inquiry’s off-limits, too strange or personal. They constantly speak over each other, their excitement at seeing you again clear as day. You try to answer everything in between your laughs. JJ was right. It’s good that you came. 

You needed to see them. It doesn’t hit you until you listen to Kie’s bubbly, passionate rant about the foundation she created to clean up the ocean floors. You missed the Pogues. Deeply. You were so absorbed in being a mom that you never took the time to ponder that loss. 

“Guys, you have to give her time to actually answer,” Sarah jests. 

“It’s okay,” you say, waving your hand in nonchalance. Your handle on the urn between your arms tightens. “There’s something I need to do anyway.”

Quiet falls over the group, their lively chatter instantly dying. You see it in the Pogues’ eyes. All your friends are acutely aware how it guts you to do this. 

Kie takes a step forward. She hasn’t changed a bit. Brown curls cascade at her back. Her pretty face is scrunched in concern. 

“Do you want me to come with you?”

You shake your head. This isn’t something the Pogues can help you with. You glance at JJ who stands a few feet behind her. His expression mirrors hers. You’ve used him as a crutch enough times. Too many times. 

You give a tremulous smile.

“No I…I need to do it alone.”

She nods as you stroll towards the rolling waves. Your slow steps trail prints into the sand as you soak in the flaming sun spilling over the horizon. Diamonds sparkle above the mesmerizing water, lights dancing over the infinite stretch of blue. 

You open the urn. Water licks your toes as you move forward. 

As you watch her ashes swirl to the bottom of the ocean, a strange emptiness fills your chest. None of it feels right. She should be here laughing. Or doing something stupid with the Pogues. Doing stupid shit was her specialty. 

Her sunny smile flickers in your mind. 

You don’t notice the tears until their salty taste slips past your lips. You quickly wipe them as soon as you do. You can’t let Parker see you cry. He would ask why, in that sweet little voice of his. “Why are you crying, mommy?”

And you’d be stumped, incapable of producing a suitable answer for him. 

“Princess?”

You freeze. The deep voice feels snatched right out of your worst nightmares. You turn slowly, denial still keeping you mute. 

Your heart drops. 

It really is him, you realize, dumbfounded. He looks the same as the last time you saw him, dizzyingly tall and wickedly handsome in khaki shorts and a seersucker buttondown. A very Kook getup. Not that you’d expect anything less from Rafe Cameron. 

He chuckles at your reaction.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” His smile widens. You feel sick. He points at his chest. “Shit, am I…the ghost?”

Ignoring the rising tide of panic overflowing your insides, you brush past him. 

He follows you, his long legs easily keeping up with your hasty strides. 

“I was gonna offer my condolences but…Really? You don’t even say ‘hi’ anymore?”

“Hi, Rafe.”

Your stomps are halted when he stands in your path.

He bends so the two of you are at eye level. Your breath catches beneath his stare. You somehow forgot. How blue his eyes are. And something else strikes you as you look at him. 

Those are your son’s eyes. 

“There. Did you lose your manners in…Where do you live now anyways?” He snorts but there isn’t a hint of mirth in his tone. “It’s not like I’d know since you changed your number on me.”

Your stomach flips. “It’s good to see you, Rafe. But I was just leaving.”

When you try to get past him again, he grabs your arm to keep you from leaving. 

“Wait, wait, wait. Why the cold shoulder? After all these years…this is what I get from you, princess?”

A lump forms in your throat. 

“Let go of me, Rafe,” you say. 

You try to shake out of his grasp but his grip on you tightens. 

He gets in your face, his gaze narrowing. 

“I haven’t seen you in four years. And this is how you treat me? W-What did I do to deserve that?” You turn your head, tears gathering in your eyes. His fingers latch around your jaw, digging painfully into your cheeks. “Look at me when I’m talking to you.”

Someone pulls you back from Rafe, sliding between the two of you. 

You gasp as you stumble back. 

“Leave her alone, Rafe,” JJ grits out, standing in front of you protectively. 

A derisive snicker bursts through Rafe’s lips. He glares up and down at your friend, disdain burning in his eyes.

“Still hanging out with those Pogues, I see.” He laughs as JJ crowds his space, his jaw clenching. “You tryin’ to get into something, Maybank?”

“Maybe I am,” JJ replies.

One could cut a knife through the thick layer of tension coating the air between the two men.

You wedge yourself between them. None of them looks away from the other, a nonverbal duel still occurring right before your eyes. 

You heave out a long sigh.

“Guys. We aren’t kids anymore. That’s enough,” you say. You unleash an annoyed sigh when they don’t move and grab JJ’s hand. “JJ, let’s go.”

“Still her little puppy dog, I see,” Rafe sneers. “Too bad she never gave you any treats like you wanted, huh Maybank?”

He blows JJ a mocking kiss, wiggling his fingers and openly taunting him. 

Sensing his urge to pounce on Rafe when he tenses near you, you tug JJ further away. 

“He’s not worth it,” you whisper.

“Good night, princess. I guess I’ll see you around,” Rafe yells from afar. 

“No, you won’t,” you respond, shooting daggers at him with your eyes. “Goodbye, Rafe.”

The events of the evening leave you rattled. For the entire night, you toss and turn in bed, the sound of Rafe’s voice, even deeper after all these years, invading your every thought. You thought you were safe. Freed. But frankly, one look from him had you feeling weak. Defenseless. It yanked you right back to four years ago. Back when you still hung to his every word and thought he held the moon. When you thought that, perhaps, Rafe Cameron was just misunderstood. And you, the only one capable of solving the riddle he offered. You truly were a naive teenager then. 

Guys like Rafe never change. It took you entirely too long to accept that fact. You'll never make such a mistake ever again.

In the morning, JJ leaves to run some errands, leaving you alone with Parker. You plant a kiss atop his head and stroke his blond curls. His tiny fists are curled against the pillow, his lids twitching while he lightly snores. It soothes you, the sight of him soundly sleeping. He’s innocent and happy. You would do anything to keep him that way for as long as possible.

You climb out of bed and make your way downstairs. You get started on breakfast for your son, mashing ripe bananas and oats as you follow along a tutorial online. It’s where you learnt everything when it came to caring for Parker. The internet has been a life-saver in more ways than one. 

You pause your whisking when the doorbell chimes. 

Your brows knit. You’re not expecting anyone. Neither is JJ. A delivery, perhaps? But he didn’t say there would be one today.

You flinch as the sound erupts again. 

Your heart starts to race. Something isn’t right. You can feel it. 

At first, you elect to ignore whoever’s on the other side. You’re alone with your son. You won’t let some stranger who can’t catch a hint inside the house.

But it doesn’t matter. 

The bell rings again. You’re paralyzed. You take tremulous steps to the entrance. Whoever it is, you plan on telling them to kick rocks. You suck in a wide lungful and nudge the door open by a tiny crack. Your eyes fly open in shock at who’s on the doorstep.

Immediately, you try to slam the door closed. He doesn’t let you, placing his foot against the doorjamb as his large hand curls around the wooden edge of the door to keep it open. Fear seizes your throat as he looms over you.

“Rafe? What are you doing here?” you say, trying your best to quell the tremor in your voice. 

He licks his lips and drinks you in.

“Well, we didn't get to finish our talk last night-”

Of course, this is the moment your son chooses to groggily drag his feet down the stairs. 

“Mommy, I’m hungry…” he complains while rubbing his face. 

Your heart drops to your feet. 

Rafe’s eyes grow wide. For a minute, he’s too stunned to utter a word, a million thoughts seeming to go through his mind. You use his surprise to nudge him outside. He doesn’t resist, shock still written on his handsome face. 

You close the door and slump against the wood. 

“Who’s that?” Rafe blurts out once he finds his ability to speak again. He’s pointing at the door as his breaths grow heavier. It doesn’t matter that your son is now out of view. Some doors can never be shut again once they’ve been opened. This is one of them.

Your shoulders heave and fall in feigned nonchalance.

“Nobody.”

His jaw clenches. “Don’t fuck with me, okay?”

You nod and show him the front yard.

“Let’s talk over there.”

He won’t let it go. Just like he never did with anything when you were together. You watch him pace across the yard as he grips his head. It almost seems like you’re not here, a spiral of emotions clearly sucking him in. You stand back warily. You remember those spirals, how destructive they could turn. 

“Fuck, Fuck…” he mumbles under his breath. He takes a deep breath and whirls to you. “You know what I’m gonna ask.”

You cross your arms, pulling the cardigan closer to your shivering frame.

“Rafe. I need you to calm down…”

He slaps your hand away when you try to touch his arm. 

“No you…Y-You don’t get to tell me to calm down, okay? Because it’s fucked. Fucked.” You jump as he gets louder, uncaring about anyone hearing him.  “How old is he? Three? Four? Is he my-”

“His father’s in Florida,” you blurt out. As soon as the words roll off your tongue, you curse inwards, your mistake dawning on you. Why did you say Florida instead of some other random state like Missouri or Massachusetts? You’re gonna have to move. Again.

Rafe’s jaw flexes before a chuckle of disbelief leaves him. 

“Really? You expect me to believe this load of crap? That kid in there looks just like me.”

“It was a one-night stand.”

He squints at you.

“I know you. You don’t do one-night stands. You’re not that kind of girl.”

“Well maybe you don’t know me as well as you think. Maybe I’ve changed.”

That mere suggestion seems to have his blood boiling. 

“I want a paternity test.”

Your stomach plummets.

“No.”

He gives a slow nod, a smirk blooming on his lips.

“Then I’ll court-order it, sue you for custody and make sure you never see our son again.” 

A chill creeps up your spine. Your voice quakes with fear.

“You wouldn’t.”

His face breaks out into a broad grin. 

“Try me, princess.”

You look at him. Really look at him. A determination is etched in his steely glare. One you haven’t seen in years. Not since he relentlessly pursued you until you yielded to his advances. It flattered you then. It terrifies you now.

“I’ll come back tomorrow,” he announces. “And don’t try to run away from me again, you understand? You won’t like what happens if you do.”

Your throat goes dry. When you don’t answer, Rafe’s hand shoots up and latches around your throat.

You whimper as he seethes, “Do you understand?”

“I-I understand, Rafe,” you stutter, your body shaking in his grasp.

He pats your cheek, seemingly satisfied. 

“Good. See you tomorrow, princess.”

Even as he releases you, your chest is tight with dread.

He starts walking to his Jeep. You remain glued to your spot, feeling as if a hole just opened in the ground and you were being swallowed in its depths. 

Rafe’s gaze rakes across your shuddering frame as he starts his car.

He bends over the window and smirks.

 “Oh by the way, you still look good…Didn’t get to say that last night,” he tosses flirtatiously before driving away. 

When night comes, JJ scowls at you while you’re frantically packing. Since he came back, he has tried to convince you to stay. 

But your mind is made up. You refuse to wait for him to have the confirmation he needs to force his way into your life again. You know exactly what the test will say. There’s been no guy other than Rafe. No one before or after.

He left you so bruised, so riddled with wounds that never closed, that you never opened your heart to anyone else again. And definitely not your legs. 

“You should have called me when it happened,” JJ says.

“Call you for what? So the two of you can swing on each other?”

You glance at your son, napping across the large bed. He has no idea what’s going on. No idea his father was here just a few hours ago. A silver lining amidst the dusky clouds threatening to rain hell upon your life. A life you cherish. A life you worked so hard to build. 

A life you just lost. Coming back here was a mistake. You knew it from the beginning. Had that sinking feeling all along. But you were so chock full of guilt about your sister that you didn’t have it in you not to fulfill her last wish. She deserved that at least.

…And now, you’re fucked.

“This doesn’t change anything. We can’t stay.”

“But…”

You whip your head up and whisper to not wake Parker.

“It’s his kid. You know how much sway he has now. How much he could fuck up our lives. Not just mine. But everyone else’s…including you, JJ.”

Annoyance flares in his eyes. You can tell he doesn’t like to be reminded of that. 

“But you don’t have to do this alone. I can-”

You clutch his arm and shake your head.

“No, I already involved you enough. If we go now, he won’t be able to find us, ever again. I’ll make sure of it.”

His frown accentuates. Unsaid words crowd the air. You feel their weight in his silence. Still, none leave his mouth. He heaves out a deep resigned breath instead.

“Just text me when you’ve crossed state lines, okay?”

“Of course. Tell Sarah and the Pogues I’m sorry. I’ll call her once Parker and I are safe.”

He wraps his arms around you. You sink into the embrace, committing that comforting warmth to memory. 

“I can’t believe you’re already leaving,” he says. 

You swallow the onset of tears tickling the back of your eyes. 

“Yeah…Me too.”

When you’re slinking down the road in your hatchback as stars twinkle above you, you genuinely believe you are out of trouble. You didn’t even wake Parker, just lifted him from bed and gingerly placed him in the backseat. Heavy sleeper as he is, your son did not stir. You believe the two of you are safe, sound and on your way back to Florida. That for once, you bested him. All's well that ends well, as they say.

But perhaps you escaped the frying pan to jump right into a blazing inferno. 

It is what occurs to you as you’re hailed by a cop car on your way out of town. The moment you get a glimpse of the sirens, the blood drains from your head. You can never catch a break, it seems. At first, you ponder if you should ignore it, keep on driving. You almost do it. But as the vehicle cuts right across your path, you’re left with no other option. Your nerves flare at the sight of the blue and red lights glaring in the pitch blackness, illuminating the large trees flanking the road.

As Officer Shoupe steps outside the car, your gut wrenches. He chased you and your friends across the island so many times when you were a teenager. You weren’t the most fond of him back then. Now you’re downright on the verge of soiling your car seat as he takes long, threatening strides towards your car.

He knocks on your window. You sigh and lower the glass. You place a hand in front of your face as he blinds you with his flashlight.

“Ma’am. Get out of the car,” he orders.

“I don’t understand. I wasn’t speeding-”

His hand ghosts over the holster of his gun. Your pulse quickens. The clear threat hangs in the night air, stifling your breath.

“I won’t say it again. Get out.”

You take shaky steps outside of the car, raising your hands the entire time. Your son’s in the backseat. You find yourself praying, hoping that he doesn’t wake up and see you like this.

Unspilled tears collect in your eyes.

As he speaks into his walkie-talkie, your heart stops. 

“I’ve got her, sir. You were right. She was trying to leave.”

It doesn’t even surprise you when you see a familiar Jeep arrive on the scene some time later. Of course it was all him. Of course he anticipated you running away, again.

A surge of queasiness mounts within you as his towering frame leaps out of the drivers’ seat and he stomps in your direction. You feel the bear trap closing in on you, the claws sinking deep. Inescapable.

He opens the door where your son is having an oblivious nap and barks at you, “Get Parker and come with me.”

When you refuse to move, he seizes the back of your neck and slams your face against your car window. You squeak as the coolness of the glass seeps into your cheek.

“I said…Get him,” he hisses, pressing something cold against the base of your spine. You go still. You never had one pointed at you before but you’re fairly sure you know what object is kissing your back right now.

As the muffled metallic click of the weapon ripples through the night, a stray tear skips down your cheek.

A gun. Rafe has a fucking gun. Disbelief floods your chest.

Not even your worst nightmares could you have conjured something this sick and evil.

His lips drag along your earshell as you sob. “Get our son,” he articulates. “I won’t repeat myself, princess.” As soon as he allows you some space, you rush to pick up your son from the backseat. He’s thankfully still asleep. You adjust him in your arms as you gulp down a sob, reluctantly making your way to Rafe’s Jeep. He instructs you to put him in the backseat. He then nudges the gun against your hip, quietly heeding you to climb into the passenger seat of his car. 

Your heart shrivels inside your chest as he hops into the car too and slams the door shut.

“All these years and you still haven’t learnt to listen,” he scoffs, irritation bleeding through his tone. His wrath is palpable. Sizzling, red, hot fury you feel all the way to your bones.

He hates you. Who knows what he’ll do if you provoke him any further?

Terror makes your voice slip out hoarse, hardly more than a whisper.

“W-Where are you taking us Rafe?”

The gun - the goddamn gun - is still in his hand as he pinches the bridge of his nose and slaps the steering wheel. 

“I should kill you for this, you know?” he hisses, turning the key in the ignition with his other hand. The engine revs as he turns the car around. He dives onto the road. Any fickle hope you harbored dwindles into the night. 

You lick your dry lips.

“Rafe,” you try again.

His eyes flare dangerously, the gun twitching in his hand.

“Don’t interrupt me when I’m speaking.” A mirthless chuckle bursts through his lips. “S-So what now? You take my son from me, for four fucking years…and I’m the bad guy? I-It’s somehow my fault?”

You swallow past the thick lump in your throat. Tears flow down your face as shaky words bounce off your tongue. “You scared me, Rafe…sometimes.” You glance at the gun and sniffle. “You’re scaring me now. Please just…p-put away the gun.”

He slams his hand into the steering wheel as you gasp.

“Don’t fucking try telling me what to do,” he warns. He draws a long inhale, squeezing his eyes shut. When he opens them again, there’s a peculiar determination burning in his gaze. “Here’s what we’re gonna do. We’re gonna drop off our son.” The corners of his lips curl upward. “Then Mommy and Daddy are gonna go home and have a little grown-up talk.”

A chill shoots through you.

“Rafe, please. Don’t do this. I’m sorry. O-Okay, I admit it. I lied. But please, don’t-”

“Shut up!” he roars, causing you to fall quiet. “You’ve lied to me enough. I don’t want to hear another word coming out of your lying whore mouth until we get home.”

The commotion nudges your son awake.

“Mommy…”

Your nerves thrum in panic. You bend over the backseat and cradle his face, slotting a false smile onto your lips. “Go back to sleep, sweetie,” you urge. 

“Yes, Parker, go back to sleep,” Rafe repeats, his tone veering on sarcastic. 

“Who’s that, mommy?” your toddler inquires, tilting his head.

“Just go back to sleep,” you say, singing a tremulous lullaby to lull him back into slumber. Relief sits inside your chest when his eyes close.

He makes a first stop at his friends’ house. Your heart is ripped outside your chest as you watch Rafe’s friend - Topper or something you believe his name is - take your son away. They exchange words in the dark as you gawk in horror. You only have vague memories of Topper and now he has your son. A scream scalds the back of your throat, one you’re too terrified to let loose.

When Rafe returns inside the car, he is eerily quiet. You nearly find yourself wishing he’d talk, even if it’s to yell at you again. The silence is so unlike him, so profoundly unnerving.

But not another word escapes the confines of his tight lips as he drives.

Tannyhill comes into view and your heart sinks.

The persistent threat of the gun is the only reason you follow him inside. Whenever you drag your feet, he shoves the barrel into your back even more, reminding you what you’re risking if you don’t do as he says. You’re a sobbing, weeping mess by the time you’re in the Camerons’ lobby.

He places the gun on a nearby table and removes his belt.

“So, w-what was the plan exactly? Did you plan on never telling me?” You tense as he loops the belt around his knuckles, prowling forward. 

The golden ring on his finger glints in the low light of the lobby. 

“Did you plan on having that Pogue raise my son?”

“I…”

A sinister smile spreads over his face.

“You know what? I think we’ve been apart too long. I think I gotta remind you who the fuck I am, princess.” Your blood curdles at his words. You dart across the lobby but Rafe catches you, hauling you off the ground before slamming your body across the marble tiles without ceremony. Pain explodes through your limbs. He drags your limp frame to the railings. Your insides lurch as you feel leather bite into your flesh when he ties the belt around your wrists. He attaches the belt to the railings, restricting your arms’ range of motion.

Helplessness skyrockets inside you. A fresh wave of tears rolls down your cheeks.

“Rafe, please…”

Rafe pulls his zipper down. Impatience grunts leave him as he wriggles out of his pants and boxers, freeing his already rock-hard cock. He yanks your shorts and panties down until the bottom of your body is completely bare to him. 

His pupils swell at the sight of your bare cunt, leaving only a thin ring of blue in his dark gaze. 

He lines himself with your entrance, pressing his wet tip against your dry lips. He breaches past the tight ring of muscles as you stiffen. An immediate burst of pain scatters through you. Tears dot your lashes as heavy breaths rush from your chest. 

It’s clear it’s taking tremendous effort for Rafe to force himself inside your unprepared core. Sweat collects on his brow as he pins you with his broad frame. 

When he pushes more of himself inside you, your eyes roll back. You don’t think the agony could worsen but somehow it does. 

Your bound hands clench into fists, your nails sinking into your palms. 

“Rafe, please, it hurts,” you whimper. His fingers cinch around your throat in response. Your core burns, your lips parting in a soundless scream as Rafe bottoms out inside you. Your vision blurs with tears. Pure hatred oozes off his husky tone as he starts moving inside you. “You don’t get to complain. I don’t want to hear another fucking word from your mouth, do you hear me?” He drags his cock out and slams it inside your aching walls again. “This is what you deserve so you’re gonna fucking take it. Take my cock until I’m done with you.”

You’re in hell as Rafe grunts like an animal in rut above you, uncaring of the strangled sobs leaving your throat. 

The expression on his face is downright terrifying, empty of anything but burning rage. In every single thrust, you feel the intensity of his loathing for you. How much he craves to punish you for everything. 

To your utter disgust, your cunt grows slick around him, easing his crude assault. 

As he notes your arousal coating his length, he lets out a bone-chilling laugh. “So wet already, huh?” Hand still wrapped around your throat, he bends to whisper into your ear. “I always knew you were a slut.” Your breath hitches as he buries himself even deeper, touching a sensitive spot that sends a fresh wave of pain through you. “That’s why I had to keep you in line.” He drops a soft kiss on your cheek as you tremble beneath him. “Sluts like you need a firm hand.”

You’re nothing but a ragdoll under Rafe as he uses you as a vessel for his pent-up anger and frustration. Every time you graze your peak, your body jolting uncontrollably, he pulls out of you out of the blue, pinching your swollen clit until you cry out and reminding you that you’re not allowed to come, that you don’t deserve even a sliver of release.

You’ve always known Rafe was capable of terrible things. But this…This is worse than anything he’s ever done to you. This is the point of no return.

Every time Rafe ruthlessly pounds into you, a bullet-like sensation rips through your flesh, tearing apart any semblance of normalcy, safety that you had. Hot tears skip down your cheeks. You will never feel safe or normal again. 

“Did you fuck that Pogue?” he snarls, his warmth breath flowing over your face. You’re so dazed and fucked out, on the cusp of passing out, you can barely keep your thoughts coherent, let alone speak. 

“Don’t tell me I already fucked you dumb, princess?” he sneers, annoyance and a sick dose of mirth mingling in his hoarse timbre.

When you fail to provide an answer, he bangs your head against the railings. Pins and needles drill into your skull. He wrenches your head back, pulling on a fistful of your hair until your scalp stings.

“When I ask you a fucking question, you answer,” he seethes. His voice lowers as his eyes dive into yours. “Did you fuck that Pogue?”

“N-No, Rafe,” you wheeze out, your voice weak and defeated.

The marbled floor chafes your back as he steadily ruts into you again, grabbing under your thighs to fuck you even deeper as you weep in silence beneath him. 

“Good. You’re mine and no one else’s. Do you understand? That fucking pussy was always mine…and still is.” He unleashes a drawn-out purr, lips parting as you clench around him. “Fuck you’re tight. How the hell are you so tight?” he rasps, his Adam’s apple bobbing. He lets go of your neck to focus on your hips, corralling them firmly in his large hands so he can fuck you with abandon. “God, I missed this,” he moans. His gaze narrows. “Don’t think you’re off the hook just cause you’ve got a tight pussy.” 

His thrusts grow sloppier over time. Rafe chases his high while you pant helplessly beneath him. When his warmth spills inside you, a shuddered exhale leaves you. He remains nestled between your bruised walls, his heavy body covering yours as his spent leaks between your ass cheeks, pooling beneath you. He plants a slow, soft kiss on your lips, a disturbing contrast to what he just did to you. 

He cups your cheek and strokes the side of your head. 

“You took four years from me. And I intend to make up for lost time.” A devilish grin splits across his face. Dread fills you as he adds, “Maybe I’ll even put another one in you, make sure not to miss anything this time.”

“Mommy, mommy! Look at me,” Parker shouts from astride the majestic pure breed pony his father appointed for his fourth birthday. 

He waves at you and you return the gesture with a hollow smile. 

“I’m watching you, sweetie,” you reply from your lounge chair by the pool. 

Above the Cameron mansion, the sun shines bright, the sky a dizzying shade of blue. There’s not a cloud in sight, almost as if Rafe paid them off to steer clear on his son’s special day.

Parker trots around the yard with a big, ecstatic smile on his face, his dad cheering him on nearby. The little boy requested a pony ride for his birthday so, of course, Rafe Cameron made it happen.

There aren’t many things Cameron money cannot buy. A fact he loves taunting you with every chance he gets. 

Just like the ridiculous, over the top birthday party he put together, Rafe never misses an occasion to spoil his son rotten since they reunited. Almost as if to show you what you’ve been depriving him of all these years, rub his money in your face and make you feel like a terrible mom. 

You can’t deny that it works. Every time Rafe gives Parker something you never could have provided on your own, guilt chews at you. And it’s clear that he knows it, that smug grin always dancing on his face when he catches you looking dejected. 

One of the moms in the lounge chair near yours lets out a dreamy sigh as she devours Rafe with her eyes. 

“You’re a lucky bitch, you know that? Cute son. Hot husband. What I wouldn’t give to have your life.”

Your teeth clench as you bite down every hateful word searing your tongue. From across the yard, Rafe’s icy blue eyes find yours. He beams at you. A chill travels up your spine. You look away.

“Hm…yeah. I guess I am,” you answer, casting a sour glance at the diamond ring on your finger. The gigantic rock’s shimmer is blinding as it catches the sunlight. To everyone else on Figure Eight, the fancy silver ring is a display of Rafe Cameron’s boundless love and devotion for you. It makes women green with envy. It bruises men’s egos. But you see the exorbitant blood diamond for what it is…An expensive shackle binding you to your gilded cage. A reminder that you’re trapped and there is no safe haven away from him anymore.

Rafe hasn’t failed to find little ways to make you pay since that day. Treating you like an object to satisfy his needs behind closed doors while forcing you to maintain the act of the perfect family in public. Every day you awake dreading he found another way to torment you, some fresh hell to rain upon you.

He never runs out of ways to twist the knife he buried deep within you. Again and again.

When the evening reaches its end, all the guests having vacated the house, Rafe slips behind you as you’re cleaning dishes. 

His large hands sweep over your hips and you recoil.

“Rafe…I’m…Can’t we give it a rest, just for today? I’m still sore from the other night,” you plead, desperation making your voice quake.

Before he can answer, Parker interrupts, trailing down the stairs as he yawns. 

“Daddy?” he utters drowsily. 

The little boy is sporting a brand new pajama his father got him, as he didn’t allow you to keep any of the clothes you got him over the years, calling them low quality and cheap.

He approaches your son at the bottom of the stairs and holds his shoulders, giving him a bright grin. His expression turns fond and prideful as he considers his son. The way Rafe is with his son is a sharp contrast to the way he is with everyone else. The toddler’s become the center of his universe. It nearly makes you feel guilty for hiding him. Nearly. The bruises tattooed all over your skin are a wicked reminder of who Rafe truly is.

“Daddy’s coming soon to tuck you in, okay, P?” He kisses the top of his head. “So go back to your room.”

Parker nods as he lets out another yawn. “Okay.”

“That’s my boy,” he chimes, ruffling his honey blonde curls. 

Parker hops up the stairs. When Rafe turns to you, the smile on his face vanishes.

He rushes to you, his hand shooting up to latch around your throat. His deathly grip on your neck crushes your windpipe. You look at him with wide, terrified eyes, your mouth wobbling. An expression edging on murderous decorates his handsome face. 

He snickers. “You’re sore? You think I give a fuck? I’m putting Parker to bed, then I want you waiting for me upstairs in that red lingerie set I just bought you.” He leans over you, mumbling in a low, threatening tone. “I meant what I said. You owe me four years, princess.” He licks the errant tear sliding down your cheek. “And I plan on getting every single second back.”

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron #outer banks fanfiction #obx fanfiction #dark!rafe cameron #dark!rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x pogue!reader #pogue!reader #dark rafe cameron #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron imagine

[sleepingdead96]

Prepared for Anything Part Two

Gotham was a terrible place to live.

It was great.

People weren’t overly friendly or familiar with people they didn’t know, meaning they paid Danny no mind. No one mentioned he had fangs. No one commented on his slightly pointed ears. And no one questioned his strange ability to ward off muggers and would be criminals without even having to speak to them. His ghost aura came in handy sometimes.

It also mean that rent was dirt cheap. Especially in Crime Alley where Danny had taken up residence. It was made even cheaper by the fact that Danny didn't need heating with his ghostly physiology. It cut a lot down on bills. Not that it really mattered much. As Ghost King, he had an abundance of funds that he wasn’t sure he could dry it up within fifty lifetimes, let alone his one. However immortal it was.

The downside was the old wiring. Leaving him here. Eating Mac and cheese out of the pot he’d been cooking up as he watched the fire flicker and smoke plume out the windows.

Now, Danny hadn’t been planning to flee his apartment, it’s not like he woulda been in any danger, but his neighbour, some guy named Jason, had gone door to door, ensuring everyone was following the fire drills that children learned in elementary school which were ultimately incredibly flawed. Who really believed that an entire school of children would stay calm and collected during an actual fire?

Jason was nowhere to be seen now, though. Danny wondered if he was okay, but that guy currently helping a family out onto a fire escape, Red Bird. . .Red Helmet or something, would probably make sure he was. He was apparently a crime lord, but a good one?. . . .

. . .

Gotham was weird.

Just as the red guy and the family reached the ground, a scream for help called from the second top floor. They sounded young. Danny looked up to see a little girl at a window and flames raging too close for her to go anywhere.

Well. . . that was concerning. Who had left such a young kid unattended? 

Red Dude was dashing out to the front of the building to get his bearings, looking for a way up. He wouldn’t be able to reach the girl using the fire escape. Danny took another bite of his Mac and Cheese, watching as the man’s grapple gun jammed.

Danny heaved a deep sigh. 

He supposed he would have to get involved.

Leaving the crowd of tenants that had huddled on the sidewalk, Danny trudged back across the street and into an alley. He went far enough that no one would see him and opened a portal. With one hand, he reached in, found purchase on his quarry, and turned away to drag the ladder out and behind him.

Danny found Trigger-Happy-Dude starting to scale the building. Danny interrupted him before he got too far.

He belatedly wondered where the fire-fighters and cops were.

“Oh, hey, look what I randomly found in that alley.”

Red Dude paused to look at him. Looked at the ladder trailing behind Danny.

“It’s a ladder.” Danny raised it slightly from his lazy hold, noting how much he felt like he was giving an infomercial right now. “Pretty long, huh? Long enough to reach that floor, I bet.” Danny added helpfully with an encouraging nod. “How fortuitous.”

The Red Dude was quick to drop down and take it from him, but stared at Danny the whole time as if was abnormally weird.

Which was rude. Danny was just abnormal, thank you very much.

“Uhh. . .good work.” Red Dude said, setting up the ladder with Danny’s help. The vigilante tested it for stability. 

Danny scoffed. As if he would purposefully tamper with it.

Which wasn’t too far-fetched in this city.

Red Dude deemed it acceptable. “Hold it steady for me, would ya?”

Danny nodded.

The man climbed up and Danny held both sides, pouting down at his pot of Mac and Cheese he’d had to set aside for the moment.

Ah, the sacrifices he makes.

Across the street, there were a multitude of cheers as Red Dude reached the little girl and settled her on his front like a backwards piggy-back hold.

Danny stepped aside when Red reached the bottom to pick his pot back up.

Sirens cut into the roar of flames above their heads and the loud call of the tenants that had lasted rather short, a few half-hearted cheers dying on the wind.

It was the middle of the night. Everyone was tired.

The mother of the little girl ran up to take her child and flagged down the first paramedic to arrive on the scene.

Danny returned his gaze to Red Dude who equally eyed him. Or at least, Danny assumed. His head was facing him.

“You’re that guy who punched out Joker.”

Danny paused with his fork halfway to his mouth. He slowly brought it the rest of the way. “How’d you know about that?”

“Cameras.” Hood tapped his helmet with a finger. “I saw RR and Robin’s video feed.”

Danny hummed, nodding along as he chewed. He wasn’t terribly concerned. Danny was just a random guy that happened to punch another random guy. It probably happened all the time in a place like Gotham. There was no need for further investigation into who Danny was. The vigilantes had probably forgotten all about him until this instant.

Red Dude looked at his pot. “That’s what you’re eating?” He said, somehow conveying judgement through the modulator.

“Yep.” Danny took another bite. After a moment of contemplation, he left the fork in his mouth to produce another from his hoodie pocket. He held it out to Red Dude. “Mac and Cheese?”

The dude leaned back slightly and his crossed arms gave the impression he was offended. “You just carry forks around in your pockets?”

Danny shrugged. “Ah, ya know, never leave home without a back-up fork.”

Red Dude considered him for another moment and Danny thought he’d decline. But then, he shrugged, his stance relaxing somewhat. “Sure.” He accepted the fork.

#Danny #danny phantom #Danny fenton #Red Hood #jason todd #dpxdc fanfic #crossover fic #dimension travel #I'm having fun #this fic is nonsense and I don't care

[buckys-wintersoldier]

His Angel | Bucky Barnes

Co-Written with @imtryingbuck

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 -> Avenger!Bucky Barnes x Angel!Female!Reader

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 -> Experiment for Hydra but his Angel for Bucky.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 -> (T) mention of violence and guns, panic attack, fluff

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 -> 883

𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓 -> ignore if recs are closed :3 maybe angel!reader helping bucky thru a panic attack? like he thinks when he dies hes gonna suffer in hell for the stuff the winter soldier did and we calm him down and help him? u can add smut if u want but u dont have to !! @dethspllz

𝐀/𝐍 -> Thank you for the request. Since @bucks-babe got the same request it’s linked here “My guardian, my angel, my love” which is such a wonderful oneshot and highly recommend!

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐁𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐘 𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

An Angel.

An Angel they called you, it wasn’t necessary for the wings that were attached to your back but because you had the ability to calm everything including the deadliest of storms just by your presence. You were the sweetest and most softest person they had ever met.

For three years you had been a member of the team after they had found you trapped in a high ceiling cell. You heard the gun fire and grew scared, extending your wings you flew up in hopes the vibranium chain would finally break apart and you would be able to grab ahold of the metal bars on the ceiling. For several years you had been trapped, used and abused by the members of Hydra they had put you in a cell with a hole in the ceiling, tormenting you with your freedom right there, just out of reach. The more you flapped your wings sheer desperation and fear the floor began being covered in white soft feathers.

By the time they found you, you was backed in the corner with your knees pulled up to your chest and your nearly bare wings around your shaking frame. They were shocked by the amount of feathers littering the floor. The way your voice shook when you begged them not to hurt you had their hearts aching.

From the moment they freed you from the chains you became apart of their family.

Natasha noticed you no longer hid your wings from anyone - had been to scared to show them to anyone that wasn’t your family - they were always out and you were now free from the pain in your back from keeping them in all the time.

Sam noticed how much your smile would take up your whole entire face when he asked you if you wanted to fly with him. Both of you taking off into the air, your eyes bright, your laughter filling the sky as you both flew around.

Steve noticed how your wings would get fluffier in the winter and in the summer there would be trail of feathers wherever you went.

Wanda noticed the way your wings would flutter whenever a certain brunette super soldier was around. She had asked you if you had feelings for Bucky, quickly dropping the subject when she saw the tears in your eyes and when your wings folded themselves inwards.

But it was Bucky that noticed the change in colour of your wings. “Doll…”

“Yes?”

“You’re… they… wow” you frowned at him, looking at them feeling completely confused about his reaction. It wasn’t the first time he had seen them so you had no idea why he was reacting the way he was.

“Wh-what’s wrong with them?”

“They’re turning gold…”

You turned around, and your mouth dropped open when you saw the slight gold glittering on your wings. It looked gorgeous, the way the feathers were glistening in the light of the sun. Bucky looked just as impressed as you did. He took a step closer, reaching out his hand to slide his fingers with a soft, smooth movement over the feathers of your wings.

“It looks pretty; I mean, you never looked pretty,” Bucky stuttered and smirked softly.

Your wings never changed color, but with every movement of Bucky’s fingers over the feathers and his other hand, which was touching your arm slightly, they changed even more into the gold glitter.

“T—Thank you. It never changed the colors before,” you said, turning to face Bucky.

He smirked at you, feeling goosebumps underneath his fingers. Bucky caressed your skin softly, admiring the gold in your wings.

“Doll, I—I love you,” he mumbled, looking into your eyes. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”

You lifted your arms, wrapping them around his neck to pull him closer. Your lips were only inches away from yours, and you could feel his breath on them, smiling softly.

“I love you too, Bucky.”

He smiled, then his expression turned serious again, and his body started to tremble. Bucky let himself fall down on the bed behind him, his hands running through his soft brown hair when he looked at you. You were walking closer, kneeling in front of him, your arms resting on his thighs while your hands grasped his hands and you stroked his soft skin slightly.

“What’s wrong?”

“You’re so beautiful, and you love me. B—But you shouldn’t. I don’t deserve your love,” he said, tears building in his eyes and falling down his cheeks.

“Buck, don’t say that. You deserve so much love. The winter soldier did things that weren’t the greatest, but you— you're Bucky, a wonderful man who is sometimes a bit confused,” you said, giggling softly.

Bucky’s heart warmed when you said that and when your sweet laugh echoed through the room. He breathed deeply, closing his eyes for a moment, when he suddenly felt your soft wings around him. With a soft grin on his lips, he opened his eyes, looking directly into yours, and leaned closer to kiss you gently.

There he was — home with you. Your closeness, your touches, and your skin always feel like home, and when you laugh or talk, he is sure there is nothing that could sound better than that. You’re his pretty doll.

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @kandis-mom @sergeantbarnessdoll @identity2212 @km-ffluv @lunaalovesyouu @blackhawkfanatic @armystay89 @suz7days @etherealdisneyvillainness @pono-pura-vida @randomawesomeperson102 @rogersbarber @sebastianstanisahotmf @bucky-barnes-lover @felicitylemon @cjand10 @bookishtheaterlover7 @lives-in-midgard @casa-boiardi @futurequeen2018-blog @flstrawberry @capsbestgirl77 @nervouseden @jiyascepter @princesscore-angel

#mcu #marvel mcu #marvel #bucky barnes #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes x reader #james buchanan bucky barnes #bucky barnes x yn #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x you #james bucky barnes x reader #james barnes x y/n #james barnes x you #james barnes x reader #bucky x fem reader #bucky x yn #bucky x reader fluff #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky x female yn #bucky x f!reader #bucky x female reader #bucky x reader fanfiction #bucky barnes fan fiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fluff

[sunkissedrafe]

thinking about icky stepbro!rafe who found himself jerking off in the bathroom after excusing himself from dinner.

˖ ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖

he was desperate for a release- it’d been weeks since he last got to touch you. you’ve been rambling on and on recently about how it’s “not a good idea, rafe, we’re gonna get caught eventually. as much as i want to, we… we might need to call this little situation quits.” and he knew you were right, it was so wrong. he knew he had a real problem when the entire time you lectured him about it he was imagining sliding his cock between your juicy, glossed lips, shutting you up as his cum drips down your eager throat.

at dinner he thought you were teasing him on purpose- batting your fluffy lashes and touching on his arm when you asked him to pass you a fork. your petite fingers felt like massive weights against his skin, his body hyper aware of the sensation of them dragging away slowly. he watched the way you seemed to eat messy on purpose, letting food dribble down your chin only to bring a finger up to swipe it away, slowly sucking it clean as your eyes locked onto his own.

when he can’t take the tension anymore, he slides his dining chair back from the table with a screech across the floor. he feels the stares of the rest of you sitting at the table, but in true rafe fashion he honestly couldn’t give any less fucks as he strides away to the downstairs bathroom.

his forehead is sticky with sweat as he leans over the sink, his knuckles white as they grip the counter in an effort to hold himself steady. his brain is fuzzy, dazed and swimming with thoughts of your silky legs brushing against his own, the way your little skirt was riding up as you shifted in your seat during conversations with the rest of your family. he could swear he saw a peek of your lacy panties hugging tight around your warm pussy, and, oh, what he’d give to be inside of it right now.

his breath comes out in sharp spurts as he roughly fists his length, jerking up and down while he imagines you bent over the counter, just like that one time last month. he can almost feel it- the way your velvet walls suck him in in a way that shows you need him. each thrust makes you whine and cry, your arms reaching behind you to dig your nails into whatever skin you can grab.

rafe pumps himself until he’s panting and on the edge of release, his strong bicep flexing with every quick motion. he knows he’s been in here a suspicious amount of time, he can hear the rumbling voices reverberating through the walls. his abdomen grows hot and tense, every fiber of his being tingling as he reaches his peak and shoots his load, hot ropes of cum painting the marble sink he imagines you on your knees, tongue out and ready to receive it. he wipes his brow with his sleeve and stands up to his full height to peek at his reflection and fix his disheveled hair.

with a quick swipe across the sink he coats his fingertips in his own sticky release, running the water to rinse the rest down the drain. his footsteps echo steadily down the hall as he makes his way to the table, everyone too engrossed in their meals to acknowledge his return. everyone but you, of course- your doe eyes flick over to him and a smile pulls across your plush lips as he adjusts in his chair.

“you got uh…” he brings his fingers to your chin, swiping away something you both know isn’t there, before slipping his two fingers into your mouth and across your tongue. “you had somethin’ on your face.”

the salty taste is unmistakable, and so are your burning cheeks as you watch your stepbrother return to his meal like nothing had happened.

˖ ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖

he is so icky gross :(( <3

taglist: @stepbrorafe @bunnycvnts @hewwokitti3 @pinkribboncoco @rafesgiirl @beautifuldisaster88 @mousie101 @laniirackssss @ditzyzombiesblog @brooklynadoresdior

#rafe blurb #stepbro rafe #stepbro!rafe #outerbanks rafe #rafe #rafe cameron #rafe fanfiction #rafe fic #rafe imagine #rafe outer banks #rafe x y/n #rafe x you #obx fanfiction #rafe smut #rafe x reader #rafe obx #1cky br0ther #obx imagine #obx fic #obx x reader #obx smut #obx s2 #obx s3 #obx #outer banks #tw stepcest

[thesunloveschips]

Eye of the Storm - Chapter 10: An Unfamiliar World

Summary: Nyra is one of the older Archeron sisters. Twin to Nesta. Plagued by a mysterious illness that her mortal body cannot endure for too long. And yet, it seems her curse is to see her family suffer. When the youngest of her sisters is whisked away into the land of fae, immortality soon follows for the rest of them. And as an immortal, there is more to her that she has yet to know. 

Chapter Summary: Nyra tries to recall her memories from the Cauldron which includes the silhouettes of unfamiliar people. Rhys's sister makes an appearance. Nyra confronts Nesta. Shadows are supportive little darlings.

A/N: I am immensely thankful to @stormhearty. Your friendship is something precious for the real me who is a slightly crazy woman who loves food and fictional men. Thank you for helping me with this chapter. I will continue to fangirl over characters from books and manhwa with you.

Click here to access the Masterlist of the Eye of the Storm

****

Nyra's POV

Approximately an hour was left for dinner. I was still sitting by the window in Elain's bedroom. Nesta was sitting on the armchair across me and the occupant of the room was still unconscious.

None of us were talking but I could hear the Cauldron cry as if it was in the same room. Its cries and pleas which I did not want to hear. Not after what it did to my sisters. I closed my eyes and remembered it.

It was cold and lonely in this place. The sensation on my body made it seem like I was floating. And then there was a rip. Pain shot through me. Pain unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. I could not move. Could not open my eyes to see what was going on. It started from my head, from between the eyes. And then it was there, on my chest. I felt like something was being taken from me and that my body was desperately clinging on to it.

It was exhausting. I don’t even know if I was crying. And then pain vanished. I was someplace warm now. I opened my eyes and saw the darkness around me. I was a silhouette of light. Underneath me, a body floated. My body. My weak, mortal body. I was still connected to it. A single glowing string continued to connect me.

And then there were whispers behind me. I turned around and saw other silhouettes. There were many. Each of them were standing at a different distances from me. All of them with glowing eyes. They were different in appearance—different heights, build, sex, skin colour, hair colour, clothing and so much and yet, the only thing that was common was the glowing eyes. I noticed that only one of them did not have glowing eyes. In fact, her eyes were closed. She was the one standing closest to me. A young girl with large bat-like wings.

My entire being felt a pull. I looked around trying to identify the source. It was that string connecting me to my body that floated in the abyss. I looked behind at the figures and found them facing me. Even the young girl with closed eyes. Everyone except the girl lifted their hands and a string flowed out from their palms towards me. With a bundle of strings in my hands, I let them go. The strings floated around me. I waved my hands and with knowledge I did not know I possessed, I manipulated the strings.

They weaved themselves under my guidance into something. A string from my own palm emerged and joined the creation. Whatever that was finally created, came to rest in my arms and I held it. I looked at the body below me and dropped the thing on it.

I had created a body which was merging with the mortal one that floated. The golden body and my own body were merging. I felt more strings from those behind me and I pushed them towards the merging bodies. Something happened. It seemed to help with the merger. And the final product was complete. I looked behind at the figures and they were looking at me, not with glowing eyes but with their own eyes. Approval, happiness, determination, pride—many emotions floated in their eyes. All of them giving me the nod to do something.

I looked at the girl whose eyes were still closed but this time, her lips were parted. And her young voice spoke. “You were poisoned.” I froze.

Another voice from behind her spoke. “You fought well.” It was a woman—tall and larger than women. Easily six feet.

The girl spoke again, her voice pained. “He has been waiting for so long.” And her hand darted forward to push me towards the new body that had been created.

Something stopped me from reaching my body. Some creatures. Many creatures of different shapes and sizes. They were blocking my path. I had to go. The pull was getting stronger. I closed my eyes and the next thing I knew, I was moving—fighting. Like a warrior with practised ease and strength, I was destroying the demons surrounding me.

A familiar presence was nearby. I looked around and felt the gaze of a predator. A familiar presence. I walked closer and identified that to be the one whom I shared a womb in this life. A sibling. What was their name? Was it a girl or a boy? Either way, they shouldn’t be in this place. I raised my hand when I got close enough and pushed them away. Their presence completely vanished and I was left alone with the figures around me.

My fight continued. I won. I walked over to the body waiting for me like a vessel to fill it. A pained cry caught my attention.

“Please.” It begged. And some stupid part of me walked over and helped it. It was wounded and I healed it. “I am forever in your debt.” We talked a lot and then I walked back and felt my essence enter the body.

Once I had entered the body, I looked around. There was no light, no screams, nothing. Just pure darkness. I lifted my hands and checked them. I was glowing. Energy crackled around me. Something glowed from above me. I looked up and saw a bright thread, the only source of light in this darkness. An identical thread sprouted from my chest and ascended to meet it. I watched as the two thread merge into one, as though they were never separated. And then something grabbed my wrists. It coiled around them like a rope and pulled me upwards.

The next thing I knew, I was exiting the Cauldron. People around me were screaming my name. What was it? I could not even see anything clearly. Wisps of darkness and water blurred my vision to the maximum. Something cool and comfortable was all over me. Some energy. It helped me walk and led me to the source of the shining thread. And then they laid me down and I fell a wave of comfort and relief. And I fell asleep.

There was much more to all of this than what I could comprehend right now. That girl and all the figures lined up behind her. This silence in Elain’s bedroom was too loud. I wanted to scream and run and vomit and do so much, all at the same time. The beast within me was my own self. My real self. My power. At present, she was tame; like a cat curled up for a nap. But the cat was starting to get irritated. It was on the verge of transforming into another feline creature of greater size and power should it be provoked for too long. The only thing calming my inner self was the night sky. The stars were a calming sight.

But why did I feel like this? Like a part of me was absent. And the emptiness was seeping into the rest of me. A desperate feeling of yearning was there. For what? For who? Why? To be yearning so much to the point where it was starting to frustrate me—whose absence was affecting me so? I knew it wasn't father. I did not interact with the man who had been so absent from our lives. During our childhood when we were wealthy, it was a physical absence. During our teenage years when we were poor, it was an emotional absence. When Feyre was taken and we mysteriously became rich, the physical and emotional absence became far too much that I did not bother. We talked only when it was required. With him entrusting the keys of the house to me because he was too afraid to face Nesta, who was the healthier twin.

Was it for Feyre, who had been taken from us only to return as a completely different person? I did not even recognise the girl who came back the first time. A girl with life breathed into her only to tell us about the man she fell in love with. She left to save him. And then she returned as a fae. A broken shell of the woman she had become previously. Her subsequent visits showed improvement but I did not recognise her even then. She was no longer the woman who was our sister. She was free and powerful and independent and that was good for her but my sister had died and a new woman had taken her place. Feyre was no longer our sister in many aspects. And yet she was. But I had this powerful feeling that she would not have come to us after becoming fae if it weren't for the mortal queens and the Book of Breathings.

From what Nesta told me, Elain had begged not to be drowned in the Cauldron and yet she had been the first one to be Made. The woman who went in crying and the woman who returned were two different beings. And now, she was lifeless. The only semblance of who she was could be found in the open curtains. I looked at the sleeping sister. She was pale and thin and the bones of her hand, cheek and neck were too prominent.

Nesta, who had kicked and screamed, before being thrown into the Cauldron. How did she emerge? She hadn’t told me anything. But the woman who was sitting in front of me was withdrawn. She was no longer the panther who waited in the dark before striking. She was a cat who had retired to sleep. Nesta’s claws were no longer sharp.

Then for whom was I feeling so much? This burning sensation. I think I would've cried if I hadn't averted my eyes to look at the sea. Even in the darkness, I could identify where it was after having looked at for so long during the day. So much love, it made me feel like I was bundled up in a velvety blanket. But the other emotions made me feel like the blanket would be ripped away from my body and I would have to wake up to a horrible world.

Nesta's movement began to distract me from my own inner turmoil. She had stood up, walked towards the door, opened it and peeped outside to see if anyone was there and then closed it again. She came back but did not sit down. "We ought to get ready for dinner."

"I suppose we should." I stood up and then looked at Elain. We did not speak because we did not know what to speak of. We walked over to the door connecting Elain's room with Nesta's and entered and closed the door behind us.

"Your room is ahead." Nesta pointed towards the door straight ahead.

"What do you feel about all of this?" I turned to the window. I knew that Nesta required space before she could answer difficult questions. Not looking at her meant that she would feel less pressurised and that she would have more clarity of thought.

Nesta looked outside the window. "We are in an unfamiliar world. I do not mind it much. I do not have a marriage waiting for me. But…"

"You worry for father?" I wanted to know what she felt for him. She did not despise him as much as she tried to pretend. And she would always leave the room whenever I tried to confront her about it, knowing my sick body couldn't follow her. But now I could. And it seemed like she was realising that bit too.

Nesta scoffed. "The man could barely pick himself up even when Feyre went out to hunt. You were sick. We needed the money for your medicines."

"What about you and Elain? What were the two of you doing?" This was it. This was everything. Our lives had revolved around this for so long. Feyre had continuously begged me not to confront Nesta or Elain about this and I truly found her foolish for that. Her kindness had been extended to undeserving people.

"We could never send Elain out. She…"

"Then what about you?" I asked softly. I did not have the patience to shout at her and she was no longer poised to strike. So would she answer me? "Feyre was just a child."

"I know you would've gone out." Nesta's voice was a mere whisper. "You would've done anything and everything for all of us. You're like Feyre in that aspect."

"I think I would have." I spoke. The salty scent of her tears spread around the room. "Do not try to deflect, Nesta."

I knew how much Nesta hated that cottage. That bed where mother had birthed us and died. Everything around us was a reminder of the weakness we carried within ourselves.

"And that trait of yours made you push me out of the Cauldron." Nesta looked at me, vision blurred by tears.

"What were you doing, Nesta?" I had to be more firm with her. I was rarely firm with any of them. That had costed us too much. And whenever I was, I snapped too badly.

"I was scared!" Nesta's voice rose.

"Scared of the world and in that house, only our father knew how to navigate through it." I added and hummed. "He disappointed you, didn't he? When he did not go out to find work and instead remained… hopelessly hopeful for a miracle." I moved towards the door Nesta had pointed at, the one that would lead to me bedroom and stood by the door. The door knob was a beautiful piece of wood, simple and shaped. "Our mother's lessons never included any survival skills but our father's travels did."

I remembered how Feyre had snuck into our father's office to see the maps and the trinkets he brought back from his travels. How father sat her on his lap and told her stories of the world outside. Nesta was staunchly against that. I simply smiled and encouraged Feyre to listen to father's stories. He would tell her about the different people, cultures, cuisines and adventures he had. And eventually those stories shaped Feyre into becoming the one to step outside their home to be the breadwinner.

"And even now, you love him."

"That's ridiculous." Nesta sneered.

"Why?"

"Because I am my mother's daughter."

"All of us are."

"I am more of her than any of you ever was."

"And what are we?"

"Not hers." Nesta did not say anything more but I understood that this was a partition that would remain in her mind. That Nesta would forever see herself as someone apart from her sisters.

"Is that why you never stepped out? Because our mother would've deemed it beneath her to toil for the family? And you're her daughter?" The words escaped me before I could filter them. I saw Nesta flinch. I knew I had struck well when she reacted and I did not like this. I did not like this conversation. Did not like that she was like this. Nesta would've done anything and everything for Elain and I but for Feyre, what was it?

I remembered all the times when we were young and Feyre used to look up to us. I spun my history lessons into stories and told my own version of it to put the younger ones to sleep while Nesta silently watched even though she pretended to be uninterested. Stories of kings and queens, princes and princesses and adventurers and treasure hoarders. Mythologies were the easiest to tell her.

Feyre learned words easily as she listened to my stories and Nesta's advanced speaking. Maybe that's why mother never realised she did not know how to write and read. And for a long time, I did not. Not until mother had passed. Feyre was friends with Elain in a way she never was with me. Friends who would run around the house together, paint together, garden together. To her I was an older sister, but Elain was a friend more than a sister. But Nesta?

For so long, I'd seen her hopefully look at Nesta for the love and companionship she received from us. She did pick up the fierceness from her but she never knew how to wield it. She learned it all on her own and while I was proud of her for being able to do everything on her own, why was she? Why was she the only one providing for us in a house with two more healthy women? Why was she the only one who could do anything and be useful in a house with two capable women?

I'd fed her false hopes during our childhood that Nesta would come around but I believed them to be true. I'd seen how Feyre, fascinated with the first set of paints, had created something and gift it to Nesta. The first of her creations was a gift to someone who simply took it, said her thanks and retired to her room impassively. Feyre did not know what it was called but she saw Nesta using something to mark the book from where she paused; a bookmark.

I saw Nesta keep that bookmark for years, not even allowing me to touch it. Elain did not know where that bookmark was from. The same went for her drawings. Every little scribble, Nesta kept them guarded in her drawers and never told Feyre. She never scolded Feyre for continuing to draw even when we had limited paper after losing our riches. She simply kept them when Feyre thought they were being burned to feed the fire in the cottage. Nesta was a woman of actions and words so why did she not act?

"We are our own person before we were her daughters." I twisted the doorknob to open the door to my room. The luxurious space greeted me with nothing but unfamiliarity. This was not home. "And you are no longer hers. No longer her daughter. I hope you come to accept it someday." I took a step but my other leg remained where it was. "You must apologise to Feyre for not stepping up. The both of you need to move past that."

I let the door slam behind me and began pacing the room. The fact remained that Nesta and Elain did nothing while father and I were physically incapable of going out. Feyre was the only one who did it. And I did not know why I kept defending both of them in my head. I removed the hair tie and enjoyed the feeling of my hair being free.

What did it mean to be an elder sibling? To step in for the younger ones? If that was the case, Nesta and I had done that many times before mother died. Things changed after that. Even then, I'd seen Nesta actively step in for Elain and in my sickness, for me but Feyre was someone she left behind.

I opened the closet wondering whether I needed to dress for the dinner or whether this gown would be appropriate enough. A silk gown of midnight blue grabbed my attention. I took it from where it hung and admired how it was more soft than the one I currently wore. I closed the door of the wardrobe and took the dress with me to the bathing chamber.

The bathtub sat there like the king in his kingdom. I looked away from it and stared at the mirror in front of me. A woman with incomparable beauty stared back but she was so confused. What good was flawless hair and skin and body when I could no longer identify myself? The woman in the mirror was an unfamiliar face. I was never this beautiful, never this healthy. This was definitely someone else.

This is not home. I wanted to cry at that.

The Cauldron had demanded far too much from me. It had exhausted me before I could leave its clutches. I felt it all over my body and I knew I was close to hyperventilating. I'll never return home. And all that pain. I would have died and yet, here I was.

What was the point of snapping at Nesta? We were here, no longer human. We could never return. And what was there for us in the land of the fae? There is nothing. This is not home. My home with my sisters and father. And when I inadvertently looked in the direction of the bathtub, I saw the Cauldron—black and cruel. I screamed in my head at myself to run away. But my legs, why weren't they moving? The Cauldron seemed to nearing me and I wanted to vanish into the shadows.

And as if my prayers were answered, the shadows emerged from behind like the waves of an ocean. I saw their reflection in the mirror and I crumbled as they embraced me and took me away. It was cold and calm. Only the wind remained for me to hear. I could not process anything but my own cries and tears. Where's my home? I screamed into the shadows and wailed. Tears had blurred my vision but I could see enough to identify that I was someplace dark. I sat down on the cold floor with my knees to my chest.

Home was Nesta's stubbornness, my father's hopes for tomorrow, Elain's smiles and Feyre's wildness. But I was somewhere where I could recognise none of my sisters. My stubborn sister had left everything to the youngest, who in turn lost a part of herself. My happy sister no longer smiled. And what was I?

I don’t know how long I was crying but a hand grabbed my shoulder. It was the only source of warmth. It was a large hand and I looked back. There was no one. I could not see the hand on my shoulder but I could definitely feel it. It was still there. And the shadows retreated and I was on the bathroom floor with a worried Nesta in front of me. She saw me and was saying something. She hugged me and rocked me and I closed my eyes. It was when I could hear my surroundings that I dared to open my eyes. Nesta was crying as she held me.

I moved my hand, took her elbow and tried to remove it away from me. It was a heavy arm and my movement made her release me from my embrace to look at me. Her tears were flowing and she looked so worried. “Are you alright?” She grabbed my cheeks and inspected me. “Did something happen? Talk to me, dear.”

Nesta was never affectionate unless she was worried. And that she definitely was at the moment. “I’m fine.” I whispered.

I escaped her embrace and stood up. I had yet to wash my face and I did just that. I kept on gathering cold water in my hands and splashing it on my face until I felt content. I looked up at the mirror and saw someone who I was starting to recognise. Me. The broken me. I took the towel hanging nearby and dabbed my face with it. I had to change clothes. As I was removing my clothes, I heard her call my name.

"Come to me after you've spoken to Feyre." Nesta knew what I was talking about. I wore the midnight blue gown which exposed my neckline and clung loosely to my figure. My hair was in a bun but with a few stray curls escaping here and there. We stared at each other until I made the move to leave for dinner even though I did not know where it was going to.

I walked ahead. I could hear Nesta behind me but I descended the stairs and heard the noise coming from one of the floors. I followed the voices and halted. I was suddenly reminded of the fact that I will be dining with strangers. Even though I'd met a few of them and dined with the brothers before, that was back in my own home. I saw Feyre and her family and I felt like something was attacking me. Meeting her in-laws was not how I ever expected it to be but when I saw Feyre walking towards me, I realised that I did not recognise her at all. Where the hell was my sister and who was this woman?

****

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[ybklix]

𝐂𝐫𝐲 𝐁𝐚𝐛𝐲 ♡ 𝐃𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 ₊⊹

CRY BABY .♡⊹ (( bang chan)) mdni

Chapters:

1: cry baby ((wc: 4.1k))

2: dollhouse ((wc: 3k))

ONE: cry baby.

you're all on your own and you lost all your friends, you told yourself that it's not you, it's them ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

It didn't matter how long the journey had been; when it came to reaching his hometown, fatigue and jet lag ceased to exist for Chris once his body felt the air of Australia. He had arrived at a wonderful time, with time to arrange things in his new home and visit his girlfriend.

Chris picked up his phone and sent a text to his girlfriend letting her know he had arrived and that he'd pick her up after work. There were still a couple of hours left, so he decided to order a taxi to take him to his new home. He had planned his stay in Sydney carefully and thoughtfully, considering every angle. It favored him quite a bit; his girlfriend of two and a half years lived here, he could continue working from the comfort of home, and he could pick up extra jobs that he didn't completely dislike. Indeed, for Chris, working hard and keeping his mind occupied was always better.

Everything was going quite perfectly that he couldn't help but smile. He bought his dream house a couple of months ago and had since begun his official move, moving his entire life from Seoul to Sydney. Returning, for him, was something he hadn't expected. He found it almost funny that after all his effort, he returned to where it all began, where everything started as a simple dream. But all his sacrifice had yielded excellent results since he had a steady job and stability, doing what he loved most, writing and producing music. When he announced he had to leave, his colleagues almost tried to stop him. He was quite successful and famous as a producer, but they understood that he could continue working, just not in that distant country anymore.

Chris looked at the beautiful landscapes the city offered through the taxi window. He was so excited that once he spent the afternoon with his partner, he would consider immediately go to visit his family. A long day awaited him, but he knew it would be worth it.

Buying a house in a neighborhood like this, spectacular in every aspect, suitable for childless couples, professionals, and simply for families, whose children rarely went out to play and make noise, and for retired elderly people living alone, was just what he needed, a large space just for him, even though it wasn't part of his plan; but suddenly a change in his life and routine sounded so good. Chris didn't know exactly why a house and not an apartment, to start with, as he had in Seoul; not even his own father understood it, Chris just excused himself saying he needed to own a more spacious place where noise could easily be canceled out, for the construction of his own recording studio... but inside him, perhaps there was a certain instinct that he wanted to start a family soon, he knew exactly that this wasn't his girlfriend's idea, not even as a joke, but maybe, just maybe, there was a tiny feeling like that in him.

Once entering the neighborhood, he felt the warmth of living in Australia again despite it being a slightly cool afternoon with the sun hiding behind the clouds. He never thought he would come to this place; he always believed he would live in Seoul for the rest of his life; he was so excited to start a new life but still leaving aside illusions, if something went wrong, he knew he could flee to Korea whenever he wanted... but he wasn't like that, he was never the type of guy who just run away. In fact, he thought that he left Sydney to pursue a dream, never by choice; it would be a lie to say he didn't like Seoul since it was his home for a long time... but once he could see the green grass, the well-kept roses of the people, he realized he had disconnected a bit and had lived in the noisy city long enough. This was what pleased him the most, nature, and if he wanted more buildings and noise, the city center wasn't far from his new address.

He stood there for a few seconds admiring the facade of his new home and noticed a teenage boy entering the house next door, they must be the neighbors, he thought. When he was initially given a tour of the house, as he stepped out onto the sidewalk, a woman welcomed him, told him her name but Chris didn't remember it, she mentioned that she lived with her family and other things like how much they had started to remodel and modernize that house. Still, he felt strangely safe, the distances between the houses were large enough to provide privacy, to his right was that family he supposed consisted of the teenager, and to his left was an older widow, or at least that's what the real estate agent told him.

He sighed in frustration at the sight of the pile of boxes scattered around and thought that he didn't have enough time, but fortunately, he was always prepared and a step ahead, so the interior designer would come tomorrow with her team to help her move stuff. He had to prepare as soon as possible for the start of his new job in the morning, as a professor at the university. He would teach two subjects related to music at different levels, and a few courses about Asian culture. He was nervous, but he had become a teacher in his spare time, and he felt quite prepared for whatever he might face.

He was hesitating whether to take a nap or move a few things in case Leah, his girlfriend, wanted to come; Chris ran his hand through his hair, thinking, so he opted for the second option; he cleared the living room area, tidied up, cleaned a few things, took a shower, and without thinking twice, it was time to pick up Leah.

He took the keys to his new car, really taking seriously the idea of living in Sydney and being well prepared. Ready to have a new life. He felt tense when he realized that he would be driving in Australia again and that the steering wheel was on the right side, unlike his old home where he had obtained his license from a very young age. Still, he set his GPS and left; this time, as he passed by the house next door, he now noticed it was a girl entering the house.

When he finally picked up his girlfriend, the sky was completely dark, and he noticed how tired she looked; Chris felt slightly bad and reproached himself for not thinking earlier and not bringing her a small romantic gesture of welcome, even though he was the one who had just arrived. They hadn't seen each other for a long month, he missed his girlfriend so much that it almost physically hurt not to be with her. A few seconds later, Leah's expression softened, and her serious demeanor turned into a warm smile.

—Channie —she called him affectionately by his Korean nickname, almost in a sigh, and extended her arms.

Finally, they hugged for just the right amount of time and exchanged a tender kiss. He had met her almost three years ago in Seoul; she worked in advertising for a magazine and was somewhat related to the entertainment world, so her social circle was so similar to Chris's; like him, Leah had grown up in Australia with Korean parents, the only difference being that she did have her whole life back in Oceania; still, he was captivated by her at that party, she was only two years younger than him, Leah at that time was just a beginner still in college on a trip in Seoul with her other circle of friends, and he was a recent graduate with a special gift. Despite the differences, they decided to give it a try, leading them to a long-distance relationship for just over two years, but it didn't matter now, at least not anymore for him; right now, he was with her, and he could have her whenever he wanted.

Chris, or Chan to her, caressed his girlfriend's face as he gave her a gentle kiss, breathing in her perfume one last time before pulling away and lowering his hand to her bare thigh with a smile.

—Do you want to go out to eat? Should we go somewhere...? —he spoke.

—Mm, let's order food and you can show me your house.

—It's still a bit of a mess —he warned.

Chris let out a small laugh and did exactly as Leah had suggested. She had been inside the house before, but she was always surprised at how well laid out it was in terms of space and design. He found her reaction endearing and with a smile on his face, he thought about how all of this might one day belong to her too. They both headed to eat at the small and only nightstand table in his TV room; some larger items were arriving tomorrow, so for now, that was what they could improvise with. As they ate, Leah kept talking about how stuff should be arranged to create harmony and coherence in the house. Chris listened attentively and lovingly; they talked about their respective jobs and what awaited them.

After sitting in silence and letting the food settle for a while, Leah spoke.

—Is your room upstairs...

Chris turned to look at her; not seeing her for a long time suddenly had a quick effect on him, and from one second to the next, he found her ten times more attractive.

—Yeah, do you want to give it your approval? —he replied playfully, hoping this would lead to something else.

Chris looked at her profile for a few seconds before she turned and gave him a teasing smile in response. He examined her, from her smooth, slightly upturned nose and her legs barely exposed by the skirt, to her shiny, loose silk blouse. Suddenly, every detail of her drove him crazy and made him feel like a hormonal teenager. He wanted to fuck her right there, right now.

He felt that her mischievous smile and soft gaze were enough signals for him, so he dangerously leaned in and pressed his lips against hers. He started slow and passionate, his right hand traveling up to the hem of her skirt, playing with the thin seam, unsure whether to slide his hand gently between her thighs or do it quickly in one swift motion, while the other hand firmly held her waist. Chris was gradually losing himself, his tongue slipping in, giving her a bolder, dirtier kiss; however, after a torturous session of just wet and hot kisses, Leah squirmed out of his grasp and pulled away from him slowly.

Chris looked confused, but his girlfriend's expression only worried him. With her pink, swollen lips, Leah suddenly seemed shy, with her eyes cast down. In seconds, Chris realized that maybe it was just something she didn't feel like doing right now, and he respected that... but it still seemed quite strange to him. Had she pushed him away? Since when did she reject him? Every time they saw each other, because of their painful long-distance relationship, the most intense and pleasurable sex awaited them.

Chris wanted to believe that maybe it wasn't the best situation for her, tired in her work clothes after a long day.

—It's a bit late... and we both have to work tomorrow —she said, raising her gaze and captivating Chris's gaze—. You'll do great, love —she smiled.

He knew her so well, he didn't understand why she suddenly gave him an awkward smile pretending to be kind... Had something bothered her, and he had no idea? He wanted to ask her so many things, but Leah stood up from her position on the floor and grabbed her bag.

—I really need to rest, and it's getting late. See you tomorrow? —she interrupted.

Chris quickly got up and gently took her waist.

—Of course, I'll drive you home.

As they got into the car, Chris looked at the completely quiet street, with no noise, the houses perfectly illuminated, there was no one outside except for the two of them and the mysterious girl next door coming out of her house with the cold wind blowing her hair.

During the drive, Leah became herself again, outgoing and energetic. She told her boyfriend how they should spend the short break he had as teachers in September; he just thought about how grateful he was to have a sweet moment with her and looked at her with tenderness when the traffic lights indicated he should stop... yet, he was a little hurt, deep down, slightly bruising his pride as a man that he didn't get any physical intimacy from his girlfriend that night... he had waited so long, he thought he could reward her, and when his house is no longer a mess, he would make sure to satisfy her and shower her with gifts.

—I'll see you tomorrow, Chan —she leaned in, giving him a quick goodbye kiss—. Call me.

Again, for the third time that day, she felt strange to him. It was obvious she wouldn't be the same young woman she used to be, capable of throwing a party every time they saw each other... but he felt there was something about her that she had to tell him as soon as possible, or he would go crazy. It wasn't surprising, Chris was an intense guy.

Once he returned home, he threw the keys with fury... he had tried to keep his sanity, but the more he overthought it on the way back home, the less sense it made to him. She didn't anger him, never could he be angry with her, it just, maybe, he thought, it was about him.

He went up to his room, in one swift movement he took off his shirt, feeling the cold air seeping through the small opening in his window. He checked the time on his phone, 11:43 p.m., he needed to rest, to take a shower in the morning and start his day... but he could only think about the romantic date options he could do on a simple Monday.

As he took a few steps towards his bed, approaching it, he noticed through his window how a faint, warm light, not so noticeable, managed to penetrate into his dark room. He turned his body and cursed for not remembering to put up curtains before; for a moment, he felt sorry for not realizing that significant detail, he was so used to the large windows in his old apartment in Seoul restricting the view. It was obvious that there was another room, right next to his.

Chris didn't want to pay attention, but catching the subtle silhouette of a girl sitting by his window captivated him inconsistently. She was wearing a thin white tank top despite the cold weather. He thought about how warm her room looked while giving it a quick inspection. The girl had her face buried in her naked knees, and her loose hair covered her face; her arms embraced her legs. Suddenly, she pushed her hair behind her ears, revealing just her profile. Yet it wasn't hard for Chris to see that she was crying. Her cheek was shining, wet, and he could see the small tears sliding down.

The girl by the window began to sob, causing her back and chest to contract. Chris suddenly didn't want to watch; he felt like he was invading her privacy and pain. But somehow, he couldn't stop watching her; he was so dismayed, but he was more bothered by the fact that he couldn't take his eyes off her.

He had no idea how long he had been watching her... but somehow, deep down, he thought, in the most hidden part of himself, that she looked strangely beautiful crying. The large rectangular window frame captured that girl with glowing cheeks and slightly messy hair, crying in what seemed to be a corner with books and a seat by the window.

The girl by the window closed her eyes tightly and slowly lay down, facing away from Chris's window, ending the performance completely. Finally, he reacted; she was still sobbing, her back moving uncontrollably, but it was harder to see her now.

Chris didn't know what had come over him; he almost felt annoyed that his neighbor didn't put up her own curtains. He could see everything, from his bed, which was positioned so that it faced his room directly, to his posters on the wall, to her backpack thrown on the floor.

Chris sighed and tried not to worry about his neighbor anymore. He wanted to think it was just a young girl in the age of broken hearts and not something deeper... but she was crying with such emotion that it made his head spin. He puffed his cheeks, letting out a sigh, and, retreating to the window, he took off his pants, slipping into his sheets, making sure she wouldn't accidentally turn and see him. Unlike her room, his bed was positioned sideways, his front door facing his bed, and her room's door was on the right side of the bed. Somehow, he felt like her room was more exposed, so he would have to move to avoid causing her any discomfort.

At dawn, the light bothered him, and he prayed that the girl had her curtains closed. Otherwise, he would have to get up semi-naked, and if she saw him, she might think he was a pervert. And just for his luck, some pretty white lace curtains covered her window; Chris was able to leave freely and go to wash up, taking his clothes with just a towel covering his lower half and changing in another room.

Chris looked at himself in the mirror, wondering if his outfit was appropriate: formal pants with a black button-up shirt. He wanted to think it was the best option for winter. He adjusted his dark hair before heading downstairs for breakfast, tired of boxes everywhere; he hoped everything would be in order between today and tomorrow for a better rest.

As he left, driving his car towards the university, he saw her again, walking down the sidewalk in the same direction as him; the famous girl who had been crying by her window, his neighbor, wearing blue jeans, white ankle boots, and a thin pale pink sweater. He saw her so fleetingly that he only saw her profile once again and noticed her backpack slung across her body.

And then she saw him too, just in a quick glance, driving his car, dressed all in black. She hadn't seen him completely, they hadn't even introduced themselves, but her mother confirmed it, he's a very handsome young man, he lives alone, and he bought the property outright, he must have a lot of money. His name is Christopher.

She had seen him at least twice, an embarrassing encounter in the morning when she tried to open her curtains just before leaving home, as she always did, but found his broad back naked, wearing only a towel while holding his clothes; Celeste immediately slid the curtain with embarrassment and just left her room. She hated to admit her mother was right, but the short two seconds she saw of his build weren't bad at all. And the second time was just moments ago as she headed to the university.

So that's her new neighbor, a man who emerged out of nowhere, bought that modernized house that had been empty for so long. She was so used to there being no one next to her room, now she had to be careful of walking around wearing with what she’s comfortable with.

Celeste took a couple of buses and one more subway line to reach her campus, where the first classes went by normally, and it wasn’t until brunch when the only person she talked to approached her.

—Celeste —he said to her.

She looked up from her food, observed him, gave him a smile, and invited him to sit with her gaze.

—I heard we’re finally getting a music teacher —he said again.

—Wow, it’s about time, it’s been a week —she replied.

The guy smiled at Celeste and took one of her fries.

—There’s going to be an art exhibition, you should come —he suggested.

—When? —she asked.

—Friday at 7.

Celeste raised her eyes, thinking if she had to work that day and concluded that if she asked for the day off they’d give it to her since she worked a week with no days off, she could perfectly go see Hyunjin’s exhibition.

It wasn’t new for Celeste to be somewhat… strange. She didn’t know how to explain it, but little by little, she distanced herself from all the people she once spoke comfortably with, and surprisingly, the handsome exchange student was the only one who talked to her. He was two years older than her and was studying visual arts, yet he decided to take music courses, and that’s where they met.

—I’ll be there —Celeste replied, checking the time on her phone—. We still have about 20 minutes ‘till class —she added.

Hyunjin smiled at her; he was quite handsome and popular, so a part of Celeste wants to feel human and like him like most do, if she paid proper attention to him... she could develop feelings for him, she hated the feeling part, and that feelings lead her to false illusions but she felt that in her dull life she needed to at least, have a little crush on someone. Maybe that would help distract her.

Falling in love was something Celeste didn't know, something that was out of her hands and even something she thinks is out of her reach. It's not that she doesn't want to have attention and affection... she just gave up and decided to think that maybe life is lonely for her. Her last intimate encounter and affection for a man was when she was 13 years old at a birthday party when she was dared to kiss someone, that was her last and first kiss. The rest of her years she lived normally without the opportunity of a prospect and love... that was one of the last things she thought and cried about, truly. Love.

The depression and anxiety was diminishing her libido and she remembers that maybe the last time she masturbated out of boredom was a year ago.

But Hyunjin... Celeste thought about whether she should like him, whether she should bring excitement into her life for the first time in twenty years.

She was an interesting and pretty girl, shy, but lonely, she isolated herself too much and lived absorbing the pain and problems of her surroundings; her issue was that she felt too much that sometimes she would go into a kind of self-control, on automatic, off without feeling anything, until she overloaded herself and exploded, it was always the same with her and she felt pathetic that she could never change. Her behavior led her to pull away from everyone... wondering why they didn't come back to her, maybe it's them, not me, she thought constantly.

Celeste watched Hyunjin closely as they talked for 10 minutes and the next 10 they used it to walk to the classroom. She was quite observant and took it upon herself to memorize every detail about him, his full lips, his eyelids hiding in his sharp brown eyes, the almost invisible mole under his eye, thick dark eyebrows, long hair and big hands, come on Celeste, feel something, she thought.

She wanted to bang her head against the wall, only then did she think she would come to her senses to feel something for someone as attractive as Hyunjin, besides he was an artist and the only person nice to her... she felt like a heartless bitch.

Arriving at the classroom, Hyunjin and Celeste sat together and the teacher was already inside as well. She spotted his silhouette as she passed, but saw him completely once again looked up at him... suddenly he seemed so similar, those broad shoulders and all black clothes, she shouldn't have been excited, but something small grew inside her, perhaps the intrigue that maybe her teacher is also her new neighbor? Suddenly the big city she always grew up in seemed small to her with such a coincidence.

Celeste was at least ninety percent sure it was him, she watched him a minute longer and as she felt their gazes cross, she turned to Hyunjin, embarrassed. Class started two minutes later and he finally introduced himself.

—I am Christopher Bang. Sorry for the delay of the subject by a week.

TWO: dollhouse.

places, places, get in your places, throw on your dress and put on your doll faces. everyone thinks that we're perfect, please don't let them look through the curtains ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

Celeste had lived in that house her whole life. It was only when she turned 18 and graduated that she managed to leave for a year and breathe… but due to economic reasons, she had to return. It's not that she wasn't grateful… she just needed a break from what her family could sometimes be.

Her father was an accountant who worked hard to provide his children with a home in what was considered one of the best neighborhoods in the city. At least she agreed that he did the right thing in that regard. However, he was insolent, dishonest, and unfaithful. She discovered her father's infidelity when she was only eleven years old, one June night when her father probably thought the house was completely empty since her mother usually took them —her younger brother and her— to visit their aunt… but that day was different, one of those when Celeste's puberty rebellion hit, and she refused to go with them. So, she wanted to stay in her room… until she saw them, him and his lover entering the house. She was so surprised, scared, and overwhelmed with emotions that she didn't know what to do, so she pretended not to be there. Overnight, her innocence was gone in an unpleasant way.

She couldn't live with the guilt, so a year later, she confessed it to her mother. Celeste already knew the gravity of the situation by then and had considered a million options that could happen: her mother going crazy, even blaming her daughter for not telling her, or a calm and depressive reaction… but in all scenarios, Celeste maturely considered divorce as a good option. She felt that she was no longer a child, she could live with it; after all, she had discovered that her father was not a good person and that her mother could take care of them. The only concern of poor twelve-year-old Celeste was her younger brother, who at the age of eight, for them, everything seemed like a fairytale, and having both parents was part of their fantasy world. She hated that she cared and loved him… but she was sure that the little one could overcome a divorce. She didn't want to be there anymore; she couldn't even look at her father in the eyes, she was always avoiding any encounter with him.

But her mother's reaction to the truth was… something different from the expected options. Even after years had passed, it still seemed so strange to her. They were there, sitting in the dining room, and it was three days after Celeste turned 12, on a rainy day in July when Celeste got tired of crying and wondering every night why… her birthday celebration made her angry; she didn't feel so sad and dejected anymore. She hated the way her father pretended to love her and everything was fine, the way he played with her brother and gave her mother a kiss on the cheek, she couldn't stand it anymore, so she told her mother. That time she had murmured an oh, and stared fixedly at a fixed point.

“I know, because I saw them,” Celeste said before her mother even asked anything else, but she didn't, she didn't do anything and was shocked. During the night, it was as if nothing had happened, and she served dinner… that wasn't what she expected, she wanted a scene and chaos; she wanted there to be shouts, but somehow she was grateful that there was no such behavior because of Celeste's little brother. But she was blinded by hatred and remorse towards her father.

The next day she remembers that she reproached her mother, shouting, “won't you do anything?”. She didn't answer. After that, she felt so cold and distant, her father was becoming more and more obvious with his affairs, the smell of a perfume that wasn't his wife's, spontaneous outings, and even nights without returning home.

Celeste couldn't stand pretending to be okay, and two months later, after seeing how her mother deteriorated and faded more and more, she walked to her father's small office in the house, being completely a mess, and told him the truth. “I know you have another woman, maybe mom wants to keep pretending with you but I can't.”

She remembered her father's expression, the surprise on his face and its paleness. Celeste didn't expect a response from him, so she was about to leave, but back then her father acted quickly, getting up from his chair and questioning her. “I saw you, don't try to deny it.”

The following years were him trying to fix it and build a bond with her but it was in vain; suddenly her little brother wondered why his father was too lenient with his sister. Celeste lived through her remaining teenage years trying to be someone normal until she finally got lost in music; she didn't want to spend time at home so she tried to enroll in all the extracurricular courses at her school that didn't involve physical effort like sports. Months later after her horrible confrontation, she found a passion for the piano, all her following school years were based on music, being in recitals whose events she never invited either of her parents to, playing for the drama club, being in the literature club, debate club, creative writing club… until she enrolled in her chosen university dedicated to that one thing she was passionate about.

At first, she knew she would annoy her parents with her career choice, but it was the perfect time to blackmail her father to pay for her institution. She wasn't anywhere near forgiving him, but the psychological damage somehow had a price: getting out of that house. Celeste had a busy life, after rehearsals, she started having part-time jobs since she was sixteen with the dream of living in her own space near the university.

She was so busy, she would come home around 10 or 11 at night and what she found at home was devastating. Her mother was a secretary who became a housewife after her second child was born, a boy named Blake. She dedicated 12 years to taking care of her children until she found out about her husband's infidelity. Cecille gradually became an alcoholic.

Celeste had to see it every night when she came home from work. Her wasted mother lying on the couch with the TV on and a strong smell of alcohol. Celeste had tried everything, her aunt's intervention, enrolling her in support groups, but her mother didn't seem to cooperate.

When she turned fifteen, she begged her father to divorce her mother, but she refused to accept it.

Every now and then she had to go check on her brother, to make sure he didn't turn into a complete idiot like his father, or simply into a bad person, related to what was he seeing at home. But even in that, both dysfunctional parents were lucky, Blake was a shy boy, four years younger than Celeste, who grew up with a passion for physics and mathematics; unlike her, he did go out in the afternoons with his friends and lived a life outside of his home. He didn't care how bad things were, as long as he had somewhere to live and his own space he was more than okay, even when he was fourteen he managed to steal alcohol from his mother to go try it at a friend's house later, not everything had to be so bad, or at least that's what he thought… sometimes Celeste wanted to be like him and try not to worry too much. Little by little, both of them grew up without showing affection, Celeste thought that maybe that's why it wasn't something she sought in other people, her perception of love and respect had been so damaged since she was young but she couldn't accept it. She never felt anything when she saw her classmates holding hands, seeing the cheesy actions of strangers showing affection, a hug was something she only remembered fleetingly from her childhood.

When she finally turned eighteen, she found a roommate and rented a dorm room on campus; that place wasn't her dream, the floor was noisy, full of extroverted theater kids, but it was all she had. She had lived like that for a whole year, with no communication to her parents, working and studying at the same time, only communicating with her brother to wish him Merry Christmas and New Year, and in May, to wish him a happy birthday. It all fell apart in her second year of school when her roommate told her she was moving out and Celeste couldn't afford the full expense, she already had an academic scholarship and her parents were still paying for her institution.

Celeste did it, she called her brother on a normal day that wasn't a holiday, her little brother advised her that she could go back home, that's what he would do when he entered college, since it would only take him routes and buses to get there. “I'll let mom and dad know,” he told her over the phone before abruptly hanging up. Celeste couldn't answer, she couldn't say don't do it. And she insisted by text that she would manage on her own. That day her heart broke when she read the text from her fifteen-year-old brother saying: why do you hate them? come back home for me the uni is literally half an hour away from home

She had no choice, she had everything, she wouldn't pay rent, her payment at the university would continue, she would only work to buy her own things and take care of Blake. She never thought he would feel abandoned. She thought about how much it must have sucked to come home alone, with an absent father and an alcoholic mother.

When she told her roommate that she would return to her home in Woollahra, her expression was incredulous, “you've been living there all this time? Why would you want to live in an uncomfortable dorm?”. Celeste wondered if she was being ungrateful.

And then she returned, her father couldn't be happier, and even her mother's dull face lit up at having her only daughter back. She would go back to being the same, practically just going home to sleep.

If she had everything… why did she feel so empty. Her room was still the same as they had decorated it since she was eight, covered in pale pink and white shades. The years passed and she continued to support her brother, going to academic competitions he attended, and for the first time, she asked him to come see her perform at a recital in her university's auditorium.

And so her life remained, until now that she felt stuck once again, in her third year of university. She felt like she was repeating her high school years and it was suffocating her. If she could leave with Blake she would, but she was just a simple university student with anxiety attacks in the school bathrooms.

—You should ask the new guy next door if he has a girlfriend, seriously, he's cute, Celeste. You've never had a boyfriend, right? —her mother mentioned, leaning on the kitchen counter.

Celeste looked at her incredulously, wondering since when her private life mattered to her, and if she had a boyfriend, it wouldn't be something she'd inform her about. She was about to leave for university, she didn't want those kinds of conversations at 7 in the morning.

—Ew, isn't he like thirty? —her brother added, eating a spoonful of his cereal.

—Age can just be a number, Blakey, we want your sister to find love.

—I have to go —Celeste sighed, escaping the conversation.

She couldn't stop thinking about it. Once again, she was right, why couldn't she find love? Her only friend, whom she rarely contacted, moved in with her mother in Melbourne after finishing high school. And now socializing at university where classmates change and come and go, it was so difficult for her to establish any kind of relationship with anyone. The only person she talked to was… an exchange student who shared only one class on Mondays, Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. Celeste couldn't help but wonder if she should start flirting with him, just to try to feel something in return.

Every time she examined him more… she realized how cute he was, should she approach him? Anyway, he would leave at the end of the semester, no one could die trying.

When they sat together in class, she couldn't help but be distracted by thoughts that tomorrow she would dress up more for Hyunjin, fix her hair more, wear more makeup… the idea of being liked by someone made her so nervous.

And when she looked up, she saw her new teacher, who she could swear was her new handsome neighbor.

As the class began, she remembered her mother's voice saying he was handsome, and without realizing it, a slight mocking smile appeared on her face as she analyzed her new teacher's appearance in detail. Slightly tanned skin, short, dark brown hair semi-wavy, his intense gaze beneath his slit eyes, prominent nose, and thick lips… and his voice was strong, commanding, and nasal, and his build was… Celeste thought… was this what imagination was like when dealing with the sudden rush of hormones?

She had the idea that maybe she wasn't the only one so surprised and delighted by the assignment of the new teacher. She discreetly turned her gaze to the sides, to her other classmates, and noticed how they looked at him intensely without taking their eyes off the man giving the class, Celeste felt foolish, had she looked so obvious? Had Hyunjin noticed?

Once the class ended, Chris said:

—Before you all leave… —he approached his desk and quickly and gently picked up a paper from his desk— Is Celeste Burton here? —he looked up searching among the students.

Celeste frowned and timidly raised her hand, Hyunjin quickly glanced at her friend and then at the teacher, it also seemed strange to him but he didn't pay attention to it; Chris finally managed to perceive her and added:

—Can you come up for a moment to talk?

His gaze fixed on hers, Celeste nodded gently and began to gather her things, suddenly she was feeling nervous and not understanding why.

—The rest of you, I'll see you tomorrow —Chris concluded.

With a nervous smirk, Celeste was about to approach but a warm and large hand holding her wrist made her turn, Hyunjin was so close to her face that she couldn't even react.

—I have to go to the arts campus now, but I'll see you tomorrow, Cel —he informed her with a smile, almost feeling his cool breath.

—Sure.

She limited herself to answer, she was so overwhelmed by the situation's overload, Chris wanted to talk to her and suddenly Hyunjin was approaching dangerously, she couldn't process it. Celeste returned her gaze to Chris, who had his eyes fixed on Hyunjin until he left the classroom, after feeling Celeste's soft gaze, he cleared his throat and looked at her, waiting for her to come closer.

Celeste walked to his desk and the last two students had already left the classroom, leaving only the two of them; she didn't want to appear nervous, she didn't have to be.

—You signed up during the academic break as an apprentice to some teacher at the beginning of the school year —Celeste quickly processed the information while he made eye contact with her—, well Burton, I'll be your mentor, is that okay?

—Oh, sure, I didn't know I had been selected… it's a pleasure, Professor Bang.

Chris gave her a smile and observed her, her still and straight posture with her hands together against her jeans.

—Yes well, the other students applied for classes with other teachers, but you were selected as my apprentice, I heard you're the best in the class.

Chris raised his eyebrows waiting for a reaction from her to his last comment and suddenly he realized that he was starting to ramble, he didn't understand why he did it. He shook his head slightly and tried to refocus.

—I want to discuss schedules. Wednesday is general rehearsal, so I like discipline, how about Monday to Friday excluding Wednesday, from 1 to 4? It'll be in the music room, for tomorrow.

Chris looked at her intently and Celeste began to think… she would have to shorten her work hours if she said yes, she couldn't miss the opportunity, it would be so beneficial to her resume, she wants to believe that he is a good teacher in terms of his knowledge and being his apprentice could lead her to expand her mind. But she would have to sacrifice a few hours of work; despite being sunk in sadness, she liked the little things like makeup, clothes, going to nice cafes, visiting the cinema alone, all without having to ask her parents for money at her twenty years old, so being his apprentice would only mean a little less pay, and working with him, or for him, for free.

Celeste thought for a second about how young he looked to be a mentor, she wondered if he was really qualified.

—You can’t…? —he interrupted her, expecting an answer.

—Oh, sure, yes, I'll be there. Thank you.

She smiled at him and Chris returned the gesture. Celeste was about to leave when the female desire to play a little took over.

She was steps away from walking through the door, but she turned, with a playful smile she searched his gaze, Chris was drawn to her sudden movement thinking that maybe she had forgotten to say something.

—By the way, Mr. Bang, did you just move to Woollahra? —he looked at her with a slight furrow of his brow and she continued— Oh, I didn’t want to sound weird; I just think we're neighbors now too. So, welcome.

Her tone was so sweet and innocent yet somehow wicked; Chris recognized the slight intentions of approach.

She left and left him sure of one thing, that it was her, the pretty and poor girl who cried through her window the night before. Chris swallowed, she's even prettier up close, he thought.

--------------------------

₊˚⊹ ᰔ TAGLIST: @forklesschowder @bubblebisk @calisnewworld @sunarins-whore @bangchansslut6 @snowyquokka @chansbabygirlsstuff @athforskz @heeyboooo @chrizzztopherbang @yerijaksel @moonlightndaydreams @readr1221 @skzswife

lmk if u want to be add 2 the taglist☆

2nd divider by chilumitos, i dont rmber by who the first one oop

#skz #stray kids #skz x reader #skz imagines #skz scenarios #skz bang chan #bang chan #skz fanfic #skz smut #hyunjin #bang chan x reader #bang chan smut #christopher bang #stray kids fanfic #bang chan x female reader #bang chan stray kids #bangchan fanfic #bang chan fic #bang chan fluff #bang chan imagines #stray kids smut

[yanderecxre]

Yandere!Cult Leader/Priest × gn!reader

Summary: Mason Blackwair always knew you'd be his. His sweet little dove, kept peacefully by his side, it's such a shame you've gotten so disillusioned with the teachings, but that's fine. It just gives him the opportunity to keep you with him forever now, willing or not.

CW: gaslighting, stabbing, cults, abuse of power, pet names, religious themes/wording, breeding, disassociating (reader), non-con, dycraphilia, dubious consent, loss of virginity, threats & as always if you think I missed anything just pm or say anything!

Note: peeks in and waves hi! Hope you guys like this one if you want a part 2 let me know!! ~ bunny

You are a member of your family's cult. Recently, you've begun to doubt your faith and the cult members found you guilty; as punishment, you were chosen to sacrifice yourself in the name of God.

At night you came to your priest, Mason Blackwair cell to ask him to mitigate your punishment. Mason sits quietly and calmly, his face illuminated by the light of a candle, his thin long fingers running over the pages of the Bible. Finally, Mason notices you standing in the aisle and smiles brightly. Despite the certain joy in his face, it is obvious that his smile is fake and here just for the sake of politeness.

“Hello, my dear dove. What brings you here?”

Mason doesn't let you answer and interrupts you with a little laugh.

“Ah, wait! I think I got it, little dove. Did you come here to talk about your punishment? I am sorry to tell you this, but I cannot influence the sacrifice in any way. Soon I will become the leader of our beautiful commune and that is why I need to maintain the reputation of a strict and fair manager…”

For a second, something like annoyance and sadness flashes in Mason's eyes and he quickly turns away.

“My advice is… To open your heart for salvation, little dove. Perhaps our Lord will hear your request.”

"The same Lord who wants them to tie me to the altar and cut me until I'm cleansed?”

You demanded softly, teary eyed as you looked into his eyes, the eyes that once belonged to your childhood friend. The sweet boy who used to pick flowers with you and run around the commune, now turned into nothing but a stranger.

Mason pauses for a moment, his eyes scanning your face as if he is trying to find something in your expression. Finally, he stands up from his seat and walks towards you, stopping just inches away from you.

"My dear dove… Do you know what this sacrifice means? It doesn't mean that they want to kill you. They want God to purify your soul by shedding your blood.”

Mason puts a hand on your shoulder, smiling gently at you.

"Look at me, little dove. You know how much I care about you and the commune's faith. But it doesn't mean that I am blind to the human side of things. I will talk with your father and see what we can do for you."

At this point, there is a sincere and caring note in Mason's voice.

"But remember, our Lord has a plan for all of us, even when it seems like He is leading us through dark paths."

You just shook, rage and fear in your veins. You quickly turned away and left him behind, crying now. It broke his heart to see you so upset, he reached out for you but only touched empty air as you exited with the final parting words.

"I'm retiring to my prison.”

Mason watches you retreat silently, his expression unreadable. Once you are out of sight, he sighs deeply and picks up the Bible again. He flips through its pages, frowning at whatever it is that he sees.

After a few minutes of brooding in silence, Mason closes the book and walks towards the door of his cell. Before leaving, he turns back to look at the empty room with a sad smile on his lips.

"I hope you'll forgive me someday for what I'm about to do."

He murmurs softly before blowing out the candles and leaving it behind, retiring to his bedroom.

You spent the entire night crying your eyes out, lamenting that all you'd see tomorrow was the crazed looks of the people you once thought of as family, your weak pathetic cries echoing around your cell.

You stood still as your parents led you to the altar, your father offering soft whispers of apologies as he and your mother tied you down, a knife lay beside the altar. You looked up at the ceiling, teary-eyed.

As you lay tied to the altar, your family gathers around with solemn expressions. The room is dimly lit and there's a faint smell of incense in the air.

Mason steps forward, his robes rustling as he walks towards the altar. He stops at the edge, looking down at his dove with an unreadable expression.

"Dear little dove…" Mason says softly, reaching for one of your hands. "You are about to become a vessel for our Lord's power. Do not be afraid.”

Mason picks up the knife from beside the altar and holds it gently in his hand.

"I will be performing this sacrifice myself," he adds. "May God have mercy on your soul."

With that said, Mason places a gentle kiss on your forehead before raising the knife above his head with both hands.

"Do not resist," he whispers to your ear. "Receive His love."

You closed your eyes and sobbed, refusing to let that sick yet soft look in his eyes be the last thing you saw.

Mason hesitates for a brief moment, his grip on the knife faltering slightly as he hears you crying. A flicker of emotions crosses his face before he quickly regains his composure.

"Dear dove," Mason says softly, almost pleadingly. "Do not be afraid. The pain is temporary but the glory you will experience afterward is eternal."

With that said, Mason slowly lowers the knife towards your chest.

"May our Lord have mercy on your soul," he whispers as he plunges the blade into your flesh.

The sacrifice lasts only a few seconds - it's short, but terrifying- and everything becomes blurry to you, as if you'd been transported out of your body and that someone else was experiencing this torment instead of you.

When it's over you feel weak and faint.

When you awoke, you were back in your bedroom, your mother sitting on a chair beside you. She reached out to touch you and you flinched terrified, letting out a loud sob.

As you awaken in your bedroom, you see your mother sitting beside your bed on a chair. She reaches out to touch you, but flinches when she sees that you are terrified of her and immediately backs away.

"Shh… it's alright," Your mother says softly, trying to comfort you. "You're safe now, my dear.” you want to scream ‘LIAR’ at her as she speaks, saying you were safe. You felt horrible and terror filled your body.

Mason enters the room and stands at the foot of the bed with his arms crossed over his chest, watching silently as your mother tries to calm you down.

"You did well today," he says coolly. "Thanks for receiving His love."

Although his words are praised-like, they do nothing to produce any emotion or feeling from him. He watches you, shaking and looking like a terrified animal, like a lamb who barely escaped the slaughter. He wants to say more but knows nothing he says will help you.

It was like seeing a ghost, his little dove no longer did as they usually did. There were no more sweet smiles or hymns sung as chores were completed, no more treats baked with trays especially reserved for Mason. Instead his dove was shut away, in their room, only going out for meals and sermons or whenever their parents coaxed them out.

Mason notices the change in your behavior and it bothers him deeply. He cannot help but wonder if he's partly responsible for what happened to you.

One day, he decides to visit you in your room. When he enters, you are sitting alone by the window staring out at the sky. You look up when you hear him come in.

"Little dove," Mason says softly as he approaches you. "I'm here to talk with you.”

There's a slight tremble in his voice - an unusual vulnerability that shows that even someone like him has feelings.

"I know that things have been difficult for you lately," he continues, taking a seat beside you on the bed. "But I want you to understand that everything we do is for the greater good of our commune and our faith."

He places a hand on yours and looks into your eyes with deep concern.

"You can always talk with me if there's something troubling you."

You stared blankly back. "I am fine. I've been cleansed by the knife.” You whispered softly and finally looked at him with vacant and distant eyes.

Mason nods slowly, sensing that there's something you're not telling him.

"I see," he says quietly. "But I can see that you're still hurting inside. And I want to help you."

He takes a deep breath and continues, "Little dove, I know that the sacrifice was traumatic for you. But it was necessary for our faith. You were chosen because we believe that your spirit is strong enough to endure it."

He pauses for a moment, his eyes searching her face.

"But if you're still feeling lost or confused… You can talk to me about it. Remember: Our faith is in everything."

"I used to play the piano. Right? Or did I sing? My memory is confusing.” You looked up at him, sadly. Shaking slightly as you stared at nothing. “I don't know who I am anymore, Mason. I'm scared.”

Mason furrows his brow slightly, unsure of what you are trying to say. He doesn't remember you ever playing any instrument.

"I'm not sure what you mean, little dove," he says with a frown. "What are you talking about?”

"I don't remember who I was before the sacrifice. Who was i? Who am I now? I'm scared Mason, so scared. Who was I before you drove the knife into me?”

Mason freezes at your words, his mind processing what you just said. He stands up from the bed and takes a few steps away from you, his face contorted with shock. He thought you'd forgotten he'd been the one to do it.

"What are you talking about?" he asks harshly. "I never drove the knife into you, little dove."

His voice is cold and hard, and there's a hint of anger in it.

"Who told you such lies? You are mistaken. Your mind is playing tricks on you dove." Mason mutters as he knelt between your thighs, grasping your hands in his and squeezing them. “Fret not little dove, your mind will get better.”

"May our Lord have mercy on your soul." It's spoken in a mockery of Mason's voice. You looked at him slightly confused, "That's what you spoke, right? Unless um, I misheard… but it sounded like you-”

Mason's eyes widen in realization as you speak. He takes a step closer to you, his expression softening.

"Oh, little dove…" he says softly, placing a hand on your shoulder. "I'm sorry you had to go through this."

He pauses for a moment before continuing.

"You are right… It was me who drove the knife into your heart. I did it because our Lord told me so in a vision - it was His will that you be sacrificed.”

Mason cups your face gently and looks into your eyes with compassion.

"But please believe me when I say that everything we do is for the greater good of our faith. Your family has devoted their lives to serving Him."

“Y-you did? But- w-why? It hurt- a lot-” You were working yourself up into a panic before he gently pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Hush, little dove, you're recovering, do not strain yourself, you know why. In order to cleanse you, now enough of this. Rest and cease thinking about such things further.”

Mason looks away from you for a moment, his eyes full of sadness.

"I know you're not thinking clearly right now," he says quietly. "But I still feel responsible for what happened to you. I know that you must hate me now… But please understand that it was never my intention to hurt you."

He takes a deep breath and continues, "All I wanted is to protect our faith and people from the evil in this world. Sacrifices are painful, but they purify our souls and make us stronger - so we can better serve Him.” Mason murmured and hugged you tightly to his chest.

"I f-feel upset. You're supposed to protect me, yet you drove a knife into me and now that- that everyone in the commune saw it- i- I'll be alone forever and my parents won't find me a spouse.” Your lip wobbled and you sniffled slightly, clinging to him. You were unable to see his cruel and satisfied smile as he held you, petting your hair softly.

Mason listens to your words with a sinking heart. He knows that it is true - he did drive the knife into you, and that decision has caused you so much pain.

"I… I had no choice," he says quietly, almost to himself. "It was His will."

Fake tears glisten in his eyes as Mason looks at you, finally realizing the weight of his actions.

"You're right," he says softly. "I should have protected you, not hurt you. I cannot change what happened now… But I promise you this: I will do everything in my power to help you recover from this. Starting right now.”

Mason gently kisses you, his lips pressing against yours as he speaks. “I'll remedy this immediately, you and I shall marry. That way you won't be alone.” He doesn't give you a moment to speak, already pressing you against the bed, kissing you deeply now.

You let out a muffled noise of confusion and panic, squirming underneath him and pushing at his chest. His lips finally move away only to seek your neck and leave bites and bruises upon it as you gasped and whimpered. “A-ah! M-mason- wait- p-please hold on- i-”

His head lifts up, looking at you with his eyes blown wide as he grunts an acknowledgement to your words, “Yes my dove? Sh, it's alright, who better to take responsibility than the one responsible for your misfortunes? Relax, or would you rather this happen at the altar later? Where everyone, will see and hear you?”

You trembled slightly the idea of that happening terrifying you to your core yet feeling slightly exhilarating. Mason grinned, feeling you relax and continued making his way to your waist.

Mason kissed down until he reached your entrance, humming softly as he placed his hands firmly on your squirming thighs, grunting loudly as he forced them open. “Enough of that, do not do that again or I will have to tie you down. Understood little dove?”

You nodded, or tried to as you gasped softly and whimpered out a moan at the feeling of his tongue licking and sucking at your entrance, no one had ever touched you there. “Mhmph! M-mason! Hng- t-too much!”

Mason puts a comforting hand on your thighs. He pulls away from between your thighs, face covered in his own saliva and your fluids that ran down your inner thighs.

"I understand that it can be scary, little dove. But I promise you, nothing will harm you here with me."

He gives you a reassuring smile. Breathing heavily as he speaks, his fingers finding their way to your still quivering entrance which he circled a finger around.

"Besides, my love for you is as pure as the intentions of our God. All we have to do is make love and everything will be alright.”

Mason's finger breached your entrance, slick with something that made it easier to handle, slowly thrusting his finger in and out. He gave you plenty of reassurance and pressed kisses to your thighs and stomach.

“Dove, you must relax, you're still clenching up and tensing up. You'll hurt yourself more than me if you don't relax.” With those words he sunk another finger inside, his free hand pinning your hips down to the bed when he felt you buck upwards.

Mason grunted as he felt your tight heat around his fingers, if you were this tight around his fingers you'd never be able to fully take all of his cock. He didn't want to hurt you more than necessary, not yet at least.

“Sh, sh dove, easy there we go, good little pet.” He murmured as you whimpered and moaned, feeling his fingers hit something inside of you that had you unable to breath. You heaved slightly and looked down at him through tearful eyes.

“M-mason- please- ngh! That feels….. mhm! Good-” You moaned out and let your head drop against the pillows, falling into a dream-like state as you allowed him to continue. “M-more…. Please give me more-”

Mason grinned at your words, a sinister gleam in his eyes before he cooed and slid his fingers out, shushing your confused whines with a simple kiss before he undressed himself and tore your remaining clothes off.

"As our Lord wishes," he whispers between kisses, his voice reverent yet filled with desire.

Mason aligned his cock with your entrance, sliding it through your messy thighs first to coat it before he spread your legs and slowly sunk in.

“P-please, please be mhmph! Gentle, please Mason?” You whimpered softly, eyes locked on him as he looked down at you, mouth drying when he saw your flushed and tear stained cheeks.

Mason looks down at you with tender eyes, his hand running up and down your side soothingly.

"I will take care of you, little dove," he says softly. "I promise."

With a gentle but firm motion, Mason fully enters you, slowly thrusting in and out of your body. His movements are gentle at first, but soon become more passionate as the intensity increases.

As he fucks you, Mason whispers religious phrases to you: "pray to me", "I am your God", "repent for your sins". He continues kissing and caressing every inch of your body, making sure that you are comfortable throughout the entire ordeal. Even as he feels you twitching around his cock, your own fluids covering both his cock and your thighs and stomach. How many orgasms had he wrung from your body? Five? Ten? You lost count.

He's filled you up more times than you can count, you thought he was trying to breed you and knock you up the way he came and came. You couldn't move as you moaned and whimpered, unable to speak much less move and do something about him fucking your sensitive body.

When he's finished, Mason pulls himself out and lays down beside you, holding you close to him. The room is silent except for the sound of breathing as you both catch your breath after Mason seemed to fill you up so much a slight bulge could be seen, you shifted trying to get comfortable yet only felt his cum leaking out your spent hole.

"Sleep now, little dove," he whispers softly into your ear. "We have obeyed our Lord's wishes. Soon enough tomorrow, we will marry and you'll live with me, my perfect little dove who won't have to do anything but obey and listen.”

You fell asleep, cuddled into his side as he looked down at you, a possessive look in his eyes. He'd deal with the consequences of your parents finding you two together in the morning for now, he'd happily hold his little dove and admire the marks he gifted them.

Mason stays awake, holding you close to him throughout the night. As the sun begins to rise and light filters through the window of your private quarters, he kisses your forehead again before getting up.

"I must leave now, little dove," he says quietly. "But know that I am always here for you."

As he dresses in his priestly vestments, Mason turns back to look at you, a hint of sadness in his eyes.

"Now go back to sleep and rest as much as possible. And remember what we did was pure love. Our wedding will be soon.”

He leans down and places a soft kiss on your lips before making his way out of your room and back into the world outside.

#yandere #yandere fic #bunny yaps #yandere oc #priest kink #yandere priest #cult leader #yandere cult #yandere oc x reader #gn reader #gender neutral reader #bunny writes #yandere x reader

[moonbiscuitsims]

Naruto Deco CC Collection (DL below)

Decals are BGC, the rest require SE. See in-game pics here

🍜🍥ICHIRAKU RAMEN SET🍥🍜 (requires SE and CCMESH)

Only the decals are base game compatible, found with the rest of the naruto wall decals. The light and curtains require SE pack. The curtains ALSO require this @channel4sims mesh (called curtain 1), which you can also find in requirements section. I needed at least five squares to spell 4 "Ramen" katakanas and the Ichiraku kanji, so I used their addon 6 square curtain, for the last square i just put different ramen pictures.

🍥Noren Curtains Sets (requires SE)

Get plain coloured curtains with no symbols in the Addon section. I don't remember the price but I left it the same as the snowy escape ones.😅💜There is a large four square and a small two square curtain of everything.

🍥Misc Naruto Symbols

In order: Naruto bijuu seal, Naruto 6 paths sage mode, Sakura's crest (uchiha ones are with uzumaki package), ANBU, Land of Fire, Akatsuki, Gaara's love tattoo, Sage of 6 paths, sealed orochimaru curse mark. 🍥Konoha Clan Symbols

Uzumaki + Uchiha (including police force symbol and the blue and white ones above 🍥Ino-Shika-Cho / Nara-Akimichi-Yamanaka clan symbols. There were 2 for Akimichi 🍥Sarutobi Clan, Senju Clan 🍥Hyuuga Clan Symbols 🍥Inuzuka (Kiba) I don't know if this is actually the clan symbol 🍥Aburame Clan

🍥Otsutsuki Clan Symbols

Again I found so many that I just made them all, I don't remember the lore about the main or branch family and found many symbols online. I think the one with all the circles is their earth clan symbol and the moon and sun (2 versions) are the two branches)

🍥Hidden Villages Symbols

Konohagakure (Hidden Leaf)🍥Amegakure (Hidden Rain)🍥 Otogakure (Hidden Sound)🍥Sunagakure (Hidden Sand)🍥Iwagakure (Hidden Stone)🍥Kumogakure (Hidden Cloud)🍥Kirigakure (Hidden Mist)

🍥Naruto Wall Decals (Base game compatible)

The decals include the ramen ones to match the Ichiraku set. The Uchiha decals are in their own separate package from all others, included bright, muted, worn/dirty swatches. All resizable, only minor issue is if they are thin black lines or sized down too much then when you zoom out they disappear a bit. They cost 0 simoleons and can be found in wall deco category. 🍥FILES INFO: Uchiha curtain symbols are with uzumaki clan symbols in separate package not in the misc or clan ones, the curtains had too many swatches so I divided them up; Otsutsuki also separate package; the names of the files are self explanatory if you wish to pick and choose, if you want the entire collection there is a merged file with everything, don't forget the mesh, don't install merged with anything else or you'll get duplicates) 🍥REQUIREMENTS ❗❗❗ Decals require nothing. All Noren Curtains require Snowy Escape. Ichiraku Set also requires SE, but apart from that requires this MESH by @channel4sims-cc (I mentioned above but forgot here, it is in the set called curtain 1)

🍥ABOUT THE SYMBOLS/DESIGNS: I included: misc symbols (Akatsuki, Gaara's love tattoo, ANBU, orochimaru curse mark with and without seal, Naruto's bijuu seal, all main konoha clan symbols (Sarutobi, Senju, Nara, Yamanaka, Akimichi, Aburame, Hyuuga, Inuzuka, Haruno, Uzumaki, Uchiha), Land of Fire symbol, the main hidden villages (Konoha/Leaf, Kumo/Cloud, Kiri/Mist, Oto/Sound, Suna/Sand, Ame/Rain, Iwa/Stone), Otsutsuki and 6 paths symbols. In cases where there was more than one online or I wasn't sure which was the main symbol I just made various different ones, sorry if I got anything wrong, all images were found online. I tried to use colours that matched the colour schemes used in the anime for characters clans and villages. (Also didn't mention but the curtains further to the top are only brighter because of the lighting, they are all the same though, sorry I suck at the photos)

🍥ADDON: PLAIN CURTAINS

If you want MATCHING PLAIN CURTAINS in the same colours with no symbols, you can download them HERE.

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🍥Please respect my TOU and do not:

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[gallifreyanhotfive]

Random Doctor Who Facts You Might Not Know, Part 48

The Eleventh Doctor and the Fifteenth Doctor once worked together in an attempt to free a woman named Nora Wicker from a time bubble, but before they could do so, Nora confided in the Eleventh and told him she wished to stay. (Audio: The World Tree)

The first alien planet Rose went to was Justice Alpha. Before that, she had only been to space stations and ships. (Novel: The Monsters Inside)

The Eleventh Doctor keeps the Second's recorder in his pocket sometimes. (Novel: Shroud of Sorrow)

Chad Boyle frequently tormented Ace as a child. At one point, he almost hit her with a brick, but he was stopped by an older version of Ace. If he had hit the younger Ace, he would have killed her. (Novel: Timewyrm: Revelation)

There are several academic cities on Gallifrey, including Prydos, Patrexi, and Arcalia. (Novel: The Garden of Evil)

The Oldharbour Clock is a really old clock near the Capitol on Gallifrey. It is intricately decorated with little figures that dance with every chime of the hour. These figures, however, gained sentience and are actually the most intelligent beings on the entire planet. (Novel: The Infinity Doctors)

Lake Abydos on Gallifrey is home to singing fish. Romana's family spent a lot of time here, and she used to swim in the water when she was young. (Audio: Neverland)

After being resurrected, the Celestial Intervention Agency allowed the Master to read up on the Doctor’s past, making him aware of what happened to Lucie, Tamsin, and Alex. (Audio: Masterplan) This also means the Master is probably aware of any major events in the Doctor’s life from before that time as well.

The Doctor once saved Peter Capaldi from a Mandrel and Peter Davison from a Krynoid. (Comic: The Girl Who Loved Doctor Who)

The Eleventh Doctor said that the TARDIS has a GPS with the voice of Davros. (Audio: Trouble in Paradise)

Leela had a sister named Ennia, who was killed by Horda at three years old before Leela was born. Their mother killed the Horda with a knife, the same one Leela carries. (Novel: Eye of Heaven)

Ophiuchus was a Time Lord healer who managed to overcome the regeneration cycle limit on thirteen incarnations. For this, the High Council declared him a renegade, claiming that he had to do things such as vivisection to extend the lives of Gallifreyan criminals. (Comic: Ophiuchus)

Some Time Tots keep rovies as pets. (Audio: No Place Like Home)

Susan was 97 when she applied to Coal Hill School. (Novel: The Time Lord Letters)

Jane Templeton was a trainee Time Lord attending the Academy. She got stranded in Ancient Egypt and lost her TARDIS, which had taken on the appearance of a shabti figure. By the time she found her TARDIS, she was in her thirteenth incarnation, and her TARDIS was so degraded that the Seventh Doctor said it should be euthanized, which would involve flying it into the heart of a star. Since she had impersonated the god Thoth, she was guilty of class 2 intervention, the punishment for which is vaporization. Instead of letting the Doctor save her, she slipped into her own TARDIS and died with it. (Audio: False Gods)

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#doctor who #dw #dr who #classic who #new who #big finish #big finish doctor who #big finish audios #dw eu #doctor who eu #doctor who expanded universe #eleventh doctor #fifteenth doctor #seventh doctor #rose tyler #second doctor #ace mcshane #romana #the master #lucie miller #tamsin drew #alex campbell #leela #susan foreman #davros #peter davison #peter capaldi

[sorceresssundries]

A Scandal In Sorcery

Chapter 1

Pairing: Gale x Fem Tav

Summary: A Regency era/Baldur’s Gate crossover. Set in an Alternate Universe, containing familiar faces and key events in new light.

It is, predominantly, a love-story which will contain explicit content as the slow-burning bond between Gale and Tav deepens.

(This is also published on AO3)

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N: This story is set in an Alternate Universe. Though there may be echoes of sound and flickers of light from a well-loved place, please bear in mind this is a new path in a familiar forest.  Take comfort in the familiarity and care into the unknown.  Some things are destined to come together in every universe, just as others are doomed to fall apart.

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single suitor in possession of high standing and good fortune, must be in want of marriage.

It was the peak of summer, and Tav found herself yet again stifled by the dull formalities and repetitive dances of a ball in the Upper City. How she hated being dragged along to these pointless parades, where she always ended up feeling more like a peacock than a wizard. She had been corseted and primped to within an inch of her life; all to be displayed at an event which to her was a total circus. She longed to escape to the sanctuary of her study, where parchment and quill awaited, and where her fingers could be adorned not with jewels, but with the comforting stains of ink.

By the number of couplings announced in the weeks following these illustrious events, one could argue that the whole affair was more of an auction than a party. Despite the early hour, the incessant chatter was already filled with discussions of betrothals and alliances. Frantic parents and guardians would inevitably spend their entire time flitting from suitor to suitor, engaging in pointless small talk in an attempt to veil their matrimonial intentions—although most of the time, their efforts were in vain. Her father, unfortunately, was one of those frantic parents. She could see him now, talking to one of the many Lord and Ladies. No, not talking, conspiring . She understood his frustration, since her mother’s passing their place amongst the elite had been teetering on a cliff edge - and one delicate misstep could send them spiralling downwards and lost to the pull of untiring and pitiless tides. It was exhausting.

Tav’s mother, Estrea Olyn, had been a wonder of a woman. A gifted sorcerer, Slayer of Bhaalspawn, and hero of the gate. She had risked the shunning of the society she occupied when she eventually settled and married a humble merchant. Luckily, her charm, beauty, and famous heroics meant she was destined to be the pearl in the oyster of every social event the Upper-City could shuck. But the privileges welcome to Estrea did not pass over to her grieving family in the wake of her death.

So here Tav was, years later, at another ball, in another set of restrictive robes, being paraded around another room full of suitors in an attempt to reclaim some of the prominence which had been stripped from her family. It was pointless, really. She had made it perfectly clear to her father she had no intention of marrying. She was set on furthering her studies at The Blackstaff Academy and reigniting their good name by becoming a wizard of unparalleled renown. She knew she had it in her, she just needed the chance to prove herself. But, until her position there was accepted, and her future secured - she was destined to go along with the charade. It kept her poor father’s mind occupied and saved him from being swallowed up by the grief which chewed at him from morning to each sleepless, heart-wrecked evening. It had been many years since the death of her mother, yet grief’s grip suffocated just as relentlessly as the day she had left him. 

The magnificent room was scattered with groups of people arranged in predictable constellations. And she, as always, was a lone star. She sighed and adjusted the dark tendrils of hair which kept slipping from the crown of curls fixed atop her head, and settled into the dimmed corner she had found to mentally prepare for more inane chatter from disinterested suitors.

Relief eventually found her in the form of Wyll Ravenguard. Her friend and fellow auction item who had been catalogued and tagged alongside her for the season, although she was well aware the value attributed to him was far higher than her own. He was devilishly handsome, perfectly mannered and most importantly, the son of the Grand Duke. There wasn’t a man or woman in the Upper-City who wasn’t completely enraptured in his presence. 

“You know, no-one will ever ask you to dance if you skulk away in dark corners.” He said as he approached her hideaway. He looked beautiful as ever, in robes of emerald which complimented the richness of his dark skin. His hair was freshly braided, and he smelled comfortingly of cedar and cinnamon. As always, his eyes sparkled when he spoke. 

“What?!” She replied clutching at her necklace “I thought I was presenting myself as the enigmatic and elusive damsel in desperate need of a marriage proposal? I must try harder, Saer, but I am eternally grateful for your ongoing education.” She bowed low, and he gestured to her secretly in a most ungentlemanlike way.

“You are a nightmare in a too-tight corset” His voice was a low chuckle.

“And you are a delight who will never see it undone.” She teased.

Wyll had been her friend since childhood. He had been kind to her when others had not, a generous skill he had only refined as they grew older. Despite their closeness, and many a rumour, Tav and Wyll had never entertained the notion of matrimony. Her father's clumsy attempts to suggest them as a suitable match to Wyll's father were met with resolute indifference from Ulder Ravenguard. His aspirations for his son transcended that of a marriage to the wild, ostracised girl of a lowly merchant. This came as a grateful relief to both Tav and Wyll. 

There had been confusing, romantic feelings at one time - but only during the blur of adolescence, where love could spark, flourish, and burn out within the space of a few heady weeks. Some people would call it a crush, but to Tav her feelings for Wyll had been the first bud of spring; hesitant, and ultimately too immature to flourish into a full-summer bloom. 

Still, inevitably, there had been awkward, hormone-driven exploration between the two of them. The unavoidable result of two teenagers spending too much time together, sunbathing half-naked on secret rooftops and stealing away dusty bottles of Arabellan Dry to be passed between wine-stained lips in intimate hideaways. He had been her first kiss. Her first fumble. The first person she had dared open that little, forbidden box of sexual discovery to, and he had always treasured it fiercely. He was her friend, and she loved him dearly.

“I’ve heard Jacques Huntington is itching for a dance with the young Lord Ravenguard.” She nudged his shoulder with hers and nodded her head towards a tall, thin, blonde gentleman who kept throwing nervous looks in their direction.

“How have you heard that? You’ve barely spoken to anyone.” Wyll scoffs. 

She shrugged nonchalantly, “It’s easy to eavesdrop on conversation when people pay no attention to you. I may as well be sipping on a potion of invisibility, it is a most enviable position to be in. I highly recommend it”

“Well, I'm not dancing with him again after last time. His breath was foul. I’ve had to bat away a house-call from him three times already this season.” 

Tav’s eyes scanned the room once more, and settled on a young woman whose empire-waisted dress could barely contain her breasts. “Marianna, then. I swear she must bathe for hours in that fragrance she wears, the scent of her could rouse a bugbear from its slumber. You would have no fear of smelling her breath over it.” 

“Absolutely not. She presses herself far too close, I feel as though she’s trying to mount me each time we dance.” Tav laughed loudly, earning herself a glare from a group of grim-faced guests not too far away. Gods, everyone was so stiff. 

“Well, your pickiness will have to end eventually. The two of us are becoming the withered grapes on an otherwise flourishing vine. Soon no-one will want a taste.” She was secretly glad of this bleak reminder her father would often throw at her, maybe soon she would be left alone entirely. 

It was then that the entire ballroom seemed to switch from incessant chattering to a soft hum. For a brief second, Tav thought someone must have cast ‘Silence’ over a large part of the congregation, before her eyes caught up with the focus of their attention. 

Two men had just entered the room. One was probably the palest man she had ever seen. Undeniably a high-elf, with perfectly coiffed and curled white hair. He moved with such delicate grace that it would have been no surprise to learn he was spun from silk itself. His clothing was the most eminent of everyone there, deep red with gold threading so intricate he practically shimmered as he moved through the crowd of people. His mouth was carved into an unwavering smile, which alone would be pleasant, but combined with the glint in his piercing blue eyes, gave him an unsettling, roguish quality which set Tav’s hairs on end. 

The man who followed behind him was an entirely different story. Clad in robes of silver and amethyst purple, he exuded the quiet confidence of someone settled in their own skin. He was that infuriating, effortless kind of beautiful that made heads turn and hearts flutter with no struggle at all. Where the pale elf looked as though he had spent hours preening himself in front of a mirror, this man looked as though he had thrown his hair into a half-bun, placed upon himself the first set of robes he could find, and still turned up looking tempting as sin itself. His skin was bronzed, eyes dark, hair dappled brown and silver, and the expression on his face said he wanted to be here almost as little as she did. He was a bright tonic amongst the evening’s bitter artifice.

“A handsome couple” Her eyes followed them as they made their introductions. Well, as the pale elf made their introductions. The man in purple seemed to hang back during each interaction, letting his companion do the talking - and the flirting - by the way he would sway as he spoke, leaning towards each target in an overfamiliar fashion. 

Wyll snorted at her observation. “They are no couple, dear Tav.” He took a sip of his wine as he appraised them himself. “You’ve heard of one of them, surely?” Her eyes flicked between the two men, trying to discern if she recognised them from one of the many, many books cluttering her study. “That, my magical friend, is the illustrious Gale of Waterdeep. The Chosen of Mystra herself.” 

Of course. As he said it, the twinkle of the silver eight-pointed star earring nestled in the darker man’s hair caught her eye. Mystra’s symbol. She had heard of him. He was a  Waterdhavian child prodigy, and stories of his prowess had featured occasionally in her studies. 

Tav herself was no stranger to the whispers of prodigy. From a tender age, she had possessed the rare gift of being able to channel the Weave at her whim. As a child, the fabric of magic had been her playground, her evenings spent in solitary exploration as she wove illusions and breathed enchantments into the toys that nestled under her bed. Magic fizzled in her blood. She was born with the same sorcerous gift as her mother, and she had buried herself in painstaking study to ensure its total understanding and control. She would be its master, and would not die to it the same way her mother had.

Tav had no love for Mystra. The death of her mother had led to the shunning of the Goddess completely. She placed blame upon the Mother of Magic for not protecting Estrea from her own divine gift. It had seemed desperately unfair, cruel, and most of all confusing. The combination of Tav’s anger and studious intent had left her ostracised by most of her peers, and so she had spent her time alone with her spellbooks in the lonely shadow of her dead, heroic mother. Still, Tav refused to be defined by the whims of fate. Magic would be her legacy, earned through sweat and toil rather than inherited by birthright alone. She would carve her name into the annals of history, and she would do it without the pomp and privilege of being some arrogant, naive chosen. She may have the spirit of a sorcerer, but she was determined to be the greatest wizard of the age.

She regarded Gale of Waterdeep intensely, and for a split second he straightened as though a cold wind had slipped across his skin. He turned, and held her heated gaze across the room. His eyes were a soft, comforting brown, but they were not enough to melt her from the icy pillar she had become. He was Mystra’s mouthpiece, and she would not hear any of him. 

She snapped her eyes away from him and turned back to Wyll, who was appraising her with soft amusement. 

“Now, now. As much as a fight would liven the party up a bit. Let’s keep your magic  contained, shall we?” He gave her hand a comforting squeeze and felt her skin jolt as her power tried to escape. With practiced focus, she contained herself. A burst of emotional magic, although entertaining, would probably cause her poor father a heart-attack.

“What is Mysta’s chosen doing among this tedium?” She enquired of Wyll, whom she knew was always privy to the best gossip the city had to offer. One of the benefits of being likeable, she supposed. 

“Apparently she has granted him temporary leave to return to the material plane.” Tav rolled her eyes. It sounded as though he was some pet she had released into the garden to relieve itself. Wyll leaned in a little closer  “I hear, he is also her lover.”

This was not a total surprise to Tav, it seemed to be a habit of Mystra’s. And, she thought to herself and she risked another glance at the handsome Wizard, she supposed the Goddess had good taste. 

The music in the room suddenly lulled into silence. “Oh, here we go. Time for the speech from our illustrious and enigmatic host himself.” Wyll’s tone was laced with disdain. As much as he flourished at these parties, it was no secret that he held no respect for the man who tended to host the majority of them. 

Enver Gortash ascended the grand staircase and settled himself at the balcony overlooking the festivities below. His gaze swept over the assembled crowd, a subtle smirk playing at the corners of his lips as he prepared to address them.

Standing just behind him was his ever-present bodyguard, a flame-red Tiefling woman whose imposing stature and muscular frame were poorly hidden behind her tailored suit. Her golden eyes were sharp and watchful. She was his sentinel, and Tav noticed Wyll couldn’t seem to keep his eyes off her. 

Lord Gortash was a figure of both respect and trepidation, his influence extending far beyond the confines of his sprawling estate in the Upper-City. His reputation preceded him, a shadowy figure who was powerful and mysterious in equal measure. He was respected by many, and unnerved by most. No one who received an invitation to one of his glittering events ever dared to turn it down. 

“Welcome! Dear friends, noble patriots of Baldur’s Gate.” His voice was low and almost hypnotic. “What a delight it is for you to once again grace the home of a humble, and grateful, servant of this city.” Tav noted how his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I am entranced by your company as always, and I am looking forward to spending this evening… In fruitful conversation.” At this, he flashed his eyes directly at Tav and her whole world stopped. His eyes were so dark they were almost black, and she wasn’t sure why but her blood suddenly turned icy. It only lasted one, practically imperceptible moment and then he dragged his gaze away from her to continue his speech on the importance of camaraderie and the ongoing development of their great city. 

He finished to a round of applause, and Tav had decided she had had enough of all of them. She wanted to go home. 

“I’m going to find my father, Wyll.” She looked round the room to see which unlucky person her father had trapped in conversation now, but she couldn’t see him anywhere. Wyll remained silent next to her.

“Wyll?” 

“Hmm?” His focus returned, and Tav had a fair idea of where it had floated off to.

“I’m going to retire for the evening” She gave his hand another squeeze “I apologise deeply for leaving you alone, but perhaps there is other company you could find sanctuary in?” Her eyes flashed with mischief. “I hear Lord Gortash’s bodyguard is quite entertaining.” 

Before he could retort, she turned and left, her eyes once again frantically searching for her father. This led her to bump directly into Gale of Waterdeep, who had been attempting to gravitate towards her for quite some time.

“Ah, my apologies my lady.” He bowed his head as he took a step back from her. “I’m usually better at this.” 

“At displaying manners?” She remarked. 

“At introductions.” He tried not to smirk to himself at her annoyance. The potent aura of weave he had sensed around her from all the way over the room, seemed to intensify at her irritation. Fascinating, he thought. “I am Gale of Waterdeep… and you are Ostavia Olyn.” He said with infuriating confidence. 

She did not fall for the flattery of him obviously having asked about her. “Usually one is granted the privilege of being able to offer their own introduction” She said. “Has your time away from mortal company caused you to abandon all decorum?” He did not answer her question as he sensed, quite correctly, that she was not done.

“I’ve never met a Chosen before. Should I refer to you as Saer?” Her tone was now slightly mocking. He was enjoying her immensely. “What title would Mystra prefer?” 

 “Mr.Dekarios will do just fine.” He took in the flame of her eyes, and the dark hair which had started to spiral loose down her neck, and suddenly he found the evening much more enjoyable. “Please would you do me the honour of partnering me for a dance?”. He offered an elegant hand to her. 

And for some reason she couldn’t quite understand, she took it. 

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #gale x tav #gale fanfiction

[tropes-and-tales]

Bound to You: Prologue

Poe Dameron x F!Reader

WC:  2012

Other Pieces:  This is part of a larger miniseries that can be found here.

CW:  Arranged marriage trope.

Poe Dameron rose quickly through the ranks of the Resistance.  General Leia Organa trusted him, and more to the point, he always got results.  Always.

Rare intel into the First Order’s movements?  Recruiting missions to convince disgruntled members of the New Republic to join the Resistance?  Errands to build relationships with allies in the Outer Rim?  Poe did it all with his own unique panache and ineffable charm.  Being a handsome bastard with an appealing smile didn’t hurt. 

Sometimes, admittedly, his charm failed him and he found himself in…uncomfortable situations. 

Like now.

Leia had dispatched him to a planet in the Core, a technological powerhouse that built state-of-the-art spaceships.  The goal was to get a deal for new crafts.  The problem was that the Resistance had little money (read:  no money) and even fewer prospects for more.  This planet, however, seemed to prefer the benevolent neglect of the New Republic over the authoritative grip of the First Order, and they had suffered under the Empire, so there was hope that a deal could be made.

Poe’s tricky situation came from two obvious facts.  First, the planet was run by a King and his attendant family – a very rich, very powerful man.  His wealth lay in his shipbuilding facilities – the technological know-how, the expertise of his engineers, the pride in superb craftmanship that left nothing unattended.  His wealth also lay in his vast progeny:  he had three wives and, well, countless sons and daughters.

The second fact of Poe’s tricky situation was that this planet, this king, his multitude of children and wives – the entire populace, in fact – was ruled by a very stringent, very precise set of rules.  There were rules for everything:  how to shake a hand (hand-on-forearm for no more than five seconds), how to sip the strong tea they served (from a lacquered cup, but only after the host sips theirs first), how to open negotiations (after precisely one lap around the King’s pleasure gardens and after saying, three times, that General Organa sends her well-wishes and highest regards).  How long to hold eye contact, how to smile, which color shirt to wear to signal certain feelings in certain situations.

Poe would have likely always ended up messing up the negotiations.  There was no way for a single person outside of that culture to learn all of their fussy, particular little rules.  Of course, Leia had tried to send C-3PO along – the droid had tried to explain all those rules - and Poe had waved her off. 

“How hard can it be?” he had said, flashing her a cocky grin.

How hard was it?  Well, it happened like a slow-motion explosion.  First, Poe had held on a beat too long with the opening handshake.  Then he glanced away while the King’s advisor was giving him an exhaustive tour of the King’s sculpture garden.

The worst, though, was when Poe inadvertently insulted the King’s second wife.  He wasn’t even sure how it happened – there was a huge dinner, and he used the wrong fork at the wrong time, wore the wrong shirt and looked her in the eye too long, and it devolved into Poe being tersely removed to sparser quarters which, it turned out, was just a prison.

And then, there was a trial (of sorts) which just involved the King’s advisors and astrologers and high priests, who all consulted their histories and star charts and rule books.  Poe would have laughed at how ridiculous it all was, except the guards who held him carried top-of-the-line blasters along with wicked-looking scythes, so he wisely kept his laughing to himself and tried to look contrite, though he wasn’t sure where contrite looks ranked with the King.

At last, it was decided (though Poe would never quite be sure if it was due to a historical precedent or some alignment of this system’s dual stars) that Poe would be released and gifted a cruiser, along with a promise of twenty premium gunships. 

The cruiser was a wedding gift. 

For Poe.

“The laws of our people demand an allyship in blood,” declared one high priest, and Poe’s heart clenched at his implied sacrifice.  Then, the priest added, “so you shall marry one of the King’s daughters.”

So the sacrifice wasn’t implied after all.  Poe was to be sacrificed on the altar of matrimony.  His heart seized up even more, but….a cruiser and twenty gunships?  The Resistance desperately needed it, and he could always get a marriage dissolution afterwards.

The slow-motion explosion continued, and if Poe thought he’d at least get to pick his wife (the King had eleven daughters), he was sadly mistaken.  Not that it mattered:  the women of the royal court (and many of the men) were bound to the strict dress codes of their strange laws.  Long hair bound and woven into intricate designs.  Long, enameled fingernails.  Faces and hands painted in delicate filigrees of designs.  Dresses with so many layers that the person’s original shape was lost.  It made the Queen of Naboo look like a fishmonger on Quila.

The day of the wedding, Poe found himself sick to his stomach.  He’d been given his own clothes back to him, clean and pressed, and his fingers shook as he buttoned his shirt.  He raked his fingers through his curls and tried to size himself up in the mirror in his room.  He looked wan underneath his tan.  Like a man on the way to his own execution.

Him, married.  He’d had plenty of casual flings, a few girlfriends, but nothing even veered close to long-term dating or marriage.  He was too devoted to the cause of eradicating the First Order from the galaxy, and that’s what he told himself he was doing now:  securing those ships, building an alliance for more.  He gave himself a nod in the mirror, as if to reassure himself. 

All that opulence and elaborate court gesturing, and the guards led him not to a large ballroom or hall, as Poe expected.  Instead, he found himself in a small antechamber with only a few people present:  an advisor, a high priest and priestess. 

And a young woman.  Poe’s intended.

You stood placidly a bit apart from the others, and though you weren’t as elaborately done up as others Poe had seen at court, you were still hidden under layers of paint and brocaded cloth.  Your hands were folded in front of yourself and that probably meant something in your culture, but you kept your eyes carefully fixed on the floor in front of you.

“Is this it?” Poe asked, incredulous.  He couldn’t quite believe that a wedding would have less pomp than the palace’s afternoon ceremony for tea and biscuits.  He glanced over at you, and you seemed to cringe at his words.

“She is the third daughter of the third wife,” the advisor said dismissively.  “The occasion of her marriage does not warrant more than this.”

So that was the other side of the equation, Poe realized.  A cruiser and some gun-ships to offload an unwanted daughter.  He tried to look at you a closer, but you seemed to sense his gaze and shrank even more from it.

The occasion of your marriage amounted to a few muttered words by both the high priest and priestess, and then first you and then Poe signed an official looking document on thick, heavy paper.  The advisor folded it carefully, then tied it with a white ribbon, then handed it to Poe.

That was it.

No exchanged vows or promises of love.  No rings placed on fingers or hands bounds together while prayed over.  Not even any eye contact – every time Poe glanced over at you, your eyes were focused elsewhere.

And afterwards?  There was no celebration.  Not even a goodbye from your parents or any of your multitude of siblings – you and Poe were both ushered away from the palace and onto the promised cruiser.  The craft that Poe had arrived on was safely stowed on said cruiser, along with your dowry (some jewelry, some personal effects, and enough gowns to outfit the entire fleet of pilots in the Resistance).

After you were cleared to take off, Poe did just that.  He marveled at how well the ship handled, and he practically twitched in anticipation for those gun-ships.  Leia would be so happy.  If Poe returned with a wife in tow, well…that was the price to pay.  He could take care of that situation later.

He set the coordinates for D’Qar and felt the ship ease into hyperspace so smoothly he almost missed the streaks of lights that flew past.  He was only two days away from being home.  No, not just he anymore.  You and he. 

Poe stood up from his pilot’s seat and stretched.  He felt the weight of the past few days slide off of his shoulders, and he felt like he could sleep until the ship exited hyperspace.  But there was a new weight laying on him, and he left the cockpit now to go face it.

You were still sitting in the galley, exactly where he had left you to take off.  You gifted him with the barest glance before you returned your eyes to the floor. 

You were, like everyone else in your court, off-putting.  A human with no shape under the leagues of fabric encasing you.  A person with a face so painted that there was no room for expression.  And, possibly, a person who didn’t talk.

“I’m Poe,” he said slowly and loudly, and he kicked himself internally at how the bark of his voice echoed off the shiny new walls of the space craft. 

He swore he saw the corner of your painted lips twitch – a smile maybe? – but your face resumed its placid surface before you murmured quietly that yes, you knew his name.  Of course - he had signed it beside yours on the marriage contract.

“Do you have a name?” he asked, a little gentler.  “Or are you just numbered off by birth order?”

That did bring a smile to your face, and you lifted your eyes to meet his gaze for a brief second before returning to watch the space on the floor between you and him.  You told him your name in your quiet voice.  “Or you could call me number eight, if you prefer,” you added with a hint of a smile in your words.

The eighth child.  Third daughter of a third wife.  Poe had no idea what you really looked like, and more to the point, what you liked.  What you didn’t like.  What you’d think of D’Qar and its rough-and-tumble, scrappy quarters.  What you’d think of the people in the Resistance.  How much you’d stick out in your elaborate gear, how the hems of your sharply pleated skirt would be muddied within seconds of walking through the forest. 

Poe could have sat beside you and tried to get to know you.  There was some time, after all, and you likely hadn’t asked for marriage any more than he had.  But he was keen to get ahold of Leia and report his success, and he wanted to discuss his next mission, which they had already talked about beforehand – finding her brother, Luke Skywalker.  Apparently there was someone on Jakku who had a map, and that mission pushed every other thought out of his mind until Poe quite forgot about you. 

So when you landed on D’Qar, Poe sprinted ahead of you to find BB-8 and Leia, leaving you behind to fend for yourself. 

As you descended the craft, you watched the retreating back of your erstwhile husband.  Poe Dameron left you behind.  Other women of your court might throw a pretty tantrum or pout winsomely, but you were the third daughter of the third wife.  You didn’t rage or pout.  You were used to being left behind and forgotten.

So you did what you did best:  you squared your shoulders, steeled your spine, and prepared yourself for a new life in this strange world. 

As Poe Dameron’s wife.

#poe dameron #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron imagine #poe dameron x you #star wars #tropes and tales

[madrigaljail]

Abuelitas

My newest google doc is called "Abuelitas" and assuming I actually write it it's gonna be about Dolores going to all of her abuelas shortly before her wedding, to learn traditions, receive gifts, and get marriage advice. But playing the odds and assuming I don't write it, here's how it would go in order of solid ideas in my head:

Alma will accompany her to pick up the wedding candle. Lots of talk about the candle, how wax from it was used in Pepa and Julieta's candles, how losing that is another way the family is forging a new way forward. Alma confessing she wasn't married for long, and being unsure if she has any helpful advice for Dolores. They do talk about Pedro, and "to love at all is to love entirely" comes up, it's bittersweet.

Mercedes is gracious enough to invite her to her private room, and has a gold coin for her to put in her shoe, as is traditional. She tells Dolores her wedding day will be the one day of her life she feels the most special and beautiful, and shares a photo from her own wedding because of course she has one. The facade crumbles a bit, and she concludes that Dolores' fiance will be a better husband than her Mariano had been.

Josephine, Felix's mother, unfortunately has dementia. She's preoccupied with tidying her room for when her Albert comes home, and hopes it pleases him. He's been so busy trying to find work, and sometimes it's not good work but he does his best for his family, and she hopes Dolores' husband will do the same. It's hard, finding a good man, and sometimes bad things happen to good men, and one needs to be prepared for that. (Albert has been dead for over forty years.)

Beatriz, Abuela Bea, gifts her Bisabuela Sofia's wedding veil. Unfortunately I don't have much planned on how the conversation would go, something about the joy of knowing you found The One, of persevering, of not letting him get by on charm and good looks, and- oh! They can talk about children, what makes a good father, family, la familia <3

#encanto #dolores madrigal #encanto fic ideas #the madrigal in-laws #sedaverse

[nunalastor]

Dark found family

(3 am brainrot got to me please help)

we’ve established that Charlie kinda does figure out that this is wrong and stuff, and there’s a fairy tale quest with the overlords getting all the keys throughout hell. And the overlords get to the hotel and each and every one of the hotel gang (Angel Dust, Vaggie, Husk, Niffty) just gives up their key because they know that this is WRONG. What if Charlie does the same thing and that’s what gets the overlords to kinda sorta forgive her. (But then they did an entire quest for nothing! NOTHING!) cue song apology (this is actually a recap of all their (Charlie and Lucifer’s) war crimes) (I feel this would be cannon for Charlie) (maybe not) so yeah. They go to the DOOR™️ and instead of inserting all the keys together because that would take a while and time is of the essence, they do Charlie’s instead. Because the DOOR™️ was probably made by Lucifer, and he’s probably (most likely) want to know if it was being opened with a key. So he has this feature where the DOOR™️ tells him if it’s being open, and if so, who’s key? Well, he’d definitely gonna know if the overlords are there cause who else is gonna use 20 different keys to open the DOOR™️??? Not him or Charlie! SO ANYWAYS (I’m getting off track ;-;) they use Charlie’s key cause A) it’s faster B) “Charlie” (the rescue group) visiting alastor is most likely normal behavior for her so Lucifer wouldn’t really suspect it.

So they enter the room and I see like three options here:

A) Alastor isn’t there.

Lucifer figured it out somehow (I don’t know how yet) and took Alastor away, probably to the royal palace to the ROOM™️ of that one ask where Lucifer takes Alastor to a room without windows or doors and there was a pantry with all the food he needs and the ceiling of the ROOM™️ is a false sky. ANYWAYS main takeaways here is that Lucifer knows, took Alastor away, and there is big boss fight right here right now. I don’t think they would win, so either Charlie talks him out of his decision or she doesn’t. Either way, people get hurt, just a matter of whether Charlie can convince Lucifer to let them live. (He’s killing them all for the crime of trying to take away his Alastor) (gods that felt wrong to type) I don’t think Lucifer would kill Charlie though, she’s a part of his family (family in italics to show importance) he would kill the overlords and anyone else tho. (Didn’t I already kinda allude to that?)

B) Alastor is there.

They see Alastor and it’s really heart breaking how detached he is, he probably doesn’t even realize they’re there (I don’t know anything about severe mental catonia) (is that how you spell it???) ANYWAYS (I’m so off track) perhaps there is an arguement with Charlie because while they knew what was happening, (maybe they didn’t know the full extent, after all, they only know that Alastor hasn’t been out in a while, and whatever Vox can scrape up in that one ask where he calls an overlord meeting with a giant cork board with red yarn and ANYWAYS) it’s different seeing it up close. I think they might spend valuable time arguing (mainly just everyone going after Charlie and Charlie doesn’t really have anything to defend herself) until someone stops them. (probably Zestial or Carmilla, they are maybe most likely to keep a level head in this situation, but then again, they really cared about Alastor, and I think this would break them to see him this way) They stop the arguing (verbal attack) against Charlie because they don’t have a lot of time and they should be using it getting Alastor out of here. I think they (those who can) try to teleport out but they can’t because Lucifer knows that they are there by now (the arguing was so loud, and he’s not the type to leave his beloved alone for long (possessiveness)) and did some sort of magical magic spell. Cue fight. (Look up at A) Alastor is not there for details).

C). Alastor is dead.

they were too late in trying to get to him and they see his dead body just lying there.

👀

#hazbin hotel #alastor #nunalastor asks #dark found family #chill lute fuck #dark forced family

[lucysarah-c]

What do you think about Levi not mentioning Farlan and Isabel throughout the anime? They were literally his first real friends and family. Even in their deaths he was frustrated. But strangely we don't see any flashback scenes about them or Levi talking about them. It's obviously disturbing to me.

I have an Oc an underground childhood friend that I ship with Levi in particular and I didn't write their story down, but it makes me think that if my character was in danger or if she died with Farlan and Isabel or if she ended up dying long after their deaths, Levi would never remember her or talk about her, just like Farlan and Isabel's deaths, and that bothers me.

I know it's a bit strange to get this kind of analysis-like question since you are a Levi writer's blog. But since I love your writings and I really liked and found comfort in your answer to anon's question about whether Levi likes weak people. Because I am also a person who gets caught up in rumors and doubts whether Levi will like us or not haha.

Anyway, I don't want to deviate too much from the subject and make it too weird. You can answer question if you want.

Hi, sweetie! Oh, I see. Yes, I understand where you're coming from. First of all, I'd like to thank you for saying that you love my writing, and I'm so happy you found comfort in my answer about Levi and a "weak person." It's alright that we get lost in what the fandom discusses too frequently; it has happened to me too. And do not worry, rest assured, I don't find these "analysis questions" weird at all. Though my analysis will never be as good as my close friends', like my friend Sushi who used to have a meta-analysis blog of SnK or Cosmic! They are beyond amazing.

But to answer your question, before I get lost in my thoughts, long story short, Isayama is extremely bad at writing emotional connections in my humble opinion. In my personal group chat with my SnK close friends, we discuss this in great detail at least twice per week haha. In my opinion, Isayama is a writer or a storyteller who struggles to find a balance between keeping the plot going and creating a cohesive society and interrelationships between characters. I personally think that the story was always advancing so fast, full gas, no stop, that we hardly got any real details about the characters that made them human beyond their mere roles in the story.

I always use as an example, if one chapter in the manga or anime started with different panels of the veterans getting ready and sitting down all together for a meeting, we could have seen how their personal chambers were, how their interactions were not only between them aside the presence of the cadets, but we could have also seen how they confront early mornings, if they had paintings of loved ones, flowers on their desks, etc. It would have taken ... 5-10 pages at most, and we could have learned so much. It's something I even keep in mind while planning my own stories; I have an entire notebook of "backstory" for all the characters of Holy Ground, canon or not. So when the time comes around, I can drop little details of their lives here and there because... Let's be honest, has someone ever sat down next to you and said "here, let me tell you my whole life"? No, usually, you get to know someone organically, and that's also what, in my opinion, should happen in stories.

Now, going back to why Levi doesn't talk about Farlan and Isabel. Well, my best answer to you is, sadly, another question. Tell me one scene in the whole anime or manga where Levi was having some quality time with someone he felt comfortable enough to open up and talk about fond memories, be vulnerable, or even crack a joke about some silly hormonal stuff he did as a young man with Farlan. Tell me, I will wait... Haha.

Levi doesn't talk about Farlan or Isabel because he doesn't have screen time to talk about almost anything besides the plot moving haha. I would put my hands on a burning fire and swear that Farlan and Isabel are still extremely important to Levi! And so would be your OC! Don't let Isayama's literary limitations fence your story. That's my best advice; explore feelings that he didn't have the production time for (perhaps he wasn't allowed to write about it because of financial stuff) or he simply wasn't good at it.

Hope that helps!

Love ya!

#levi ackerman #aot #attack on titan #levi #snk #shingeki no kyojin #captain levi #levi aot #snk levi #attack on titans

[hx4x4enthusiast]

your papa prime head cannons are spot on! Though I wonder what papa prime would do if and when he realizes that his autobots/kids are like his sparklings (btw I love your writing style!)

Aww, thank you for the kind words. I love this so here a short story about how I think he would discover that he is running sire protocol aka

Optimus realizes he is now a dad.

Optimus fluff

Words: 817

It was a quiet day in the base, the entire week was for the bots relatively peaceful the cons didn’t try to destroy the earth yet again and the kids were out using the holidays to go visit family. Miko was in Tokyo visiting her parents and catching up with friends, Raf and his family went to Mexico for his cousins Quinceañera and to catch up and even Jack and his mom went on a trip to Canada to visit Junes Sister.

The bots used the rare tranquillity, in different ways, Arcee went out more training her parkour skills, Bumblebee visit the Griffin Rock stationed Rescue Team. Meanwhile Bulkhead joined Wheeljack on a “space adventure” and even Ratchet allowed himself to rest more and work on some project of his. Truly a perfect time to relax before the storm comes again and the efforts to end the war start anew.

And yet Optimus could not sit still, since the beginning of the week his frame has been acting up. It started with the itching of his plating as if nanoticks are biting into his mesh, then his fans and vents acted up leaving him sometimes unable to move from the cold or borderline delirious from the heat. When parts of his frame started to move, like his right leg transforming, making him stumble into his work desk he had enough.

“Old friend, could I ask for your expertise?”

“Oh? What a rare occasion to find you willingly come into the medbay. To what do I owe this pleasure of your visit Optimus?”

“My frame has been acting up in various ways and I can not fathom on what may have caused this.”

“Well then let’s get you checked out come on take a seat.”

Optimus did as instruct while Ratchet readied the scans to run a complete diagnostic on his frame. With the last scan complete a frown made its way onto Ratchets face plate.

“Well Optimus physically there is nothing wrong with your frame, everything is in working order, energy levels are good. But what concerns me is your spark activity, normally it is in a very calm even lower compared to the others due to the influence of the matrix, but your current scan shows a hyperactivity, like you’re in a high stress situation.”

“Curios, I have never felt like this before.”

“Hmn, well let me run a protocol diagnostic scan maybe one of your battle protocols activated or is damaged. Lay down, go into power-down and I’ll see what I can find.”

“Very well, Ratchet.”

Laughter is what rose the Prime out of his power down, as his optics finally onlined he was met with the sight of Wheeljack laughing, Arcee getting a packet of rust sticks from both Bumblebee and Bulkhead and Ratchet standing on the side shaking his head in disapproval, before realizing Optimus woke up.

“Well Optimus, I have found the cause of your well, functioning problems, so I ran the protocol diagnostic scan and in good news all of your battle protocols are in perfect working order, matter of fact all of your protocols are working fine.”

“Then what would cause my flare-ups, old friend?”

“Well like I said all of your protocols are running fine and well-“

“Ha, your running sire protocol Prime, oh I never thought I see the day. Oh this is too good.”

“WHEELJACK!”

A very angry shout followed by the sound of a wretch making contact with a piece of metal, the piece of medal being Wheeljacks helm. Letting out a puff of air through his vents, Ratchet turned back around to face Optimus.

“What he said is true though, your sire protocols are running and that on overdrive.”

That day, at that time, something happened which has never happened before and will probably never happen again. Optimus was lost for words.

“But this doesn’t seem plausible I am not with a sparking neither have…I…adopted…one…”

A look of realisation crossed over the Primes features.

“The children.”

“Yes, Optimus your spark has formed a spark bond with each of the children and seeing the effect it has of you they, though most unknowingly, accepted it and with that you as their sire.”

“When are the children coming back?”

“Soon Optimus, Raf is as far as I know already on his way back, they will arrive tomorrow.”

“And Miko told me she takes the plane from Tokyo tomorrow.” Bulkhead added.

“Jack and his mom should arrive either today late in the night or tomorrow morning to noon.” Arcee mentioned offhandedly.

“Well I believe it is in the best od interest to wait until all of them arrive and see how we will proceed from there. I will excuse myself then I will see you tomorrow.”

With that Optimus exited the medbay not seeing the knowing smirk on his medics faceplate.

#transformers #transformers prime #maccadams #tfp #fluff #optimus prime #macaddam #papa prime #bulkhead #tfp ratchet #miko nakadai #raf esquivel #jack darby #tfp arcee #bumblebee #Wheeljack #arcee