#this is what i imagine its always like when they divide up the rooms by gender

[candycandy00]

The Doll House - A Sukuna x Reader Fanfic Part 2

Covered in scars and left totally numb by your abusive previous owner, you’re considered an “unsellable doll”. That is, until the Doll House takes you in and Sukuna becomes your trainer.

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

Read Geto’s Part Here!

Read Toji’s Part Here!

Read Nanami’s Part Here!

Read Gojo’s Part Here!

Read Choso’s Part Here!

Note: Please remember that these stories don’t take place at the same time, or even one after the other! Consider each one its own timeline. So if you see Geto and Toji with other dolls, don’t be alarmed lol. I had to do it this way because if I don’t, by the time I get to the last trainer, there won’t be any other trainers left to interact with!

AU! Each trainer will get their own story! This is Sukuna’s. If you’d like to be tagged in future parts, let me know! You must be an adult to be tagged! Any feedback whatsoever is adored! I’m not keeping the same tag list as before, since this part deals with darker themes. I will resume the tag list after Sukuna’s part is finished! So if you want to be tagged in this one, please specify!

Note: Consider these parts AU’s within an AU. So you might see Geto with a different doll from the reader in his part, but just consider this an alternate timeline lol.

Smut. 18+. Fem Reader. BDSM. Erotic Torture. Bondage. Clamps. Electric shocks. Reader is covered in scars. Everything that happens between Sukuna and Reader is consensual but there is mention of abuse by a previous owner. Divider by @benkeibear!

You’ve been numb for three years, but right now, your body is alive with sensation. This always happens when you’re having a training session with Sukuna, and after a week of being in his “care”, you’re still not quite used to it. You don’t know why you can feel the things he does to you in these moments, or why you return to being numb once the sessions end, but right this second, you only want to enjoy feeling it. 

Chains coil around your body as you sway slightly, suspended from the ceiling. Your arms are behind your back, sore and bruised. Your feet are curled up behind you, almost touching your hands, your thighs held far apart by a bar at your knees. You don’t have a stitch of clothing anywhere on you, but you’re “covered” in an entirely different way.

Fierce, heavy metal clamps hang from your nipples and your clit, biting into your most sensitive places. The chains dig into your skin, leaving purple and black stripes where they wrap around you. And you’re covered head to toe in Sukuna’s cum. 

He’s fucked every hole you have numerous times today, always pulling out and shooting his seed onto your body, letting it slide and drip down your flesh until it has completely coated you. You can feel it in your hair, all over your face, in your mouth, pouring over the painful clamps. A few times he’s left the room, left you hanging naked and filthy and bruised in the dark, letting his cum dry and cake on your skin, only to come back and give you a fresh coat. 

Several times, he removed the clamp from your clit, rubbed and pinched the aching bud mercilessly until you came, then put the clamp right back on while you were still trembling from your orgasm. 

Presently, he’s fucking your mouth again, holding your head steady by your hair, his enormous cock slamming into your throat. Your face is covered in various fluids - his cum, your tears, and your saliva. You’ve never been such a mess before in your life. 

You have both a safe word and a safe hand gesture you can use if you need to. But you can’t imagine ever using them. All these sensations wracking your body make you feel so very alive. You can’t get enough of it. 

There’s a big difference between the pain you experienced at the hands of your previous owner, and what Sukuna is doing to you now. There’s an artistry to the way Sukuna alternates between giving you pleasure and giving you pain. You’ve already had more orgasms in this one week than you’ve had in your entire life before coming here. And unlike before, you have some measure of control. You can stop this at any time, even switch trainers if you wish. 

You wouldn’t think of it. You’re already addicted to these feelings. 

Sukuna’s grip on your hair tightens as he shoves his cock as far in as possible, choking you as he cums down your throat. You swallow it as fast as you can. You’re parched and you want every drop. 

When he pulls out, he tucks himself back into his pants and begins removing all three clamps from your body. They somehow hurt worse coming off than going on. You wince and whimper as his fingers rub the places where the clamps were, the numbness slowly beginning to spread through you again. He unchains you, his strong arms holding you up, not letting your feet touch the floor. 

He carries you to the bathroom, where a hot, steaming bath is waiting for you. He eases you down into the water, then hands you a loofa as well as some shampoo and soap. “Can you do it yourself?” he asks.

“Yeah, I can,” you answer, reaching for the shampoo. You’re tired, but the soreness you felt earlier is completely gone. 

He nods and steps out of the room. 

********************

Sukuna is cleaning up after the latest training session in his room, putting away various items and setting some aside to be washed. He prides himself in keeping everything neat and clean, even though he thoroughly enjoys making messes. 

His idea for today worked perfectly. If his doll could only feel during a training session, then why not just have the training session last all day? So he kept her in that “training” mindset, kept her chained up since this morning. No previous doll he’s trained could withstand this, could last so long and take so much punishment. But this one can. Is it because she’s so starved for sensation? 

Back in the bathroom, the doll is now standing in the shower, rinsing off. Her body still intrigues him, both because of her unusual condition and because of those scars. 

“How did he make those?” Sukuna asks her, pointing to the most prominent scarring pattern that stretches from her face down to her hip. 

She’s not the least bit shy about being nude in front of him, and he finds that refreshing. She casually glances down at her side and says, “He made me strip and then poured boiling water over me. Well, over the left side of me.”

“That must have been agonizing,” Sukuna says, his eyes shining. 

“Not really. It was one of the last things he did before I was removed. I was already numb by then.”

“Do you know why he did it?”

She lowers her eyes as she reaches for a towel to dry off on. “I accidentally spilled wine on his shirt while pouring a glass for him.”

Sukuna can’t help laughing at how pointless the cruelty was. The doll looks at him curiously, but doesn’t say anything. If she’s offended by his laughter, she doesn’t show it. 

“What about those?” he asks, pointing to a series of scarred lines across her abdomen. 

“Oh, these? It’s hard to tell since half of them blended in with the burn scars, but he carved words into me.”

Looking closely, Sukuna can see letters. He can make out the first few of two different words: “whore” and “cunt”. 

Sukuna chuckles. “He wasn’t very creative, was he?”

“No, he wasn’t,” she says. The corners of her lips move up slightly. Did she almost smile? She finishes drying and drops the towel into the nearby hamper, then pulls on one of his older shirts that he laid out for her before heading out of the bathroom. 

She had no luggage, no belongings, when she was brought in. She’s been wearing his shirts when she’s not naked, which Sukuna doesn’t really mind. There’s something appealing about the way his clothes look hanging off her body, the fabric rubbing over her otherwise bare skin. But she needs some of her own clothes. 

“What do you like to wear?” he asks her as she sits down on his bed. “I’ll pick up some clothes for you.”

She looks mildly surprised by the offer. “Oh, um… just jeans and tshirts mostly.”

Boring choices, but he supposes someone with her background had no need for anything formal. Maybe he’ll pick up something a little more sexy while he’s at it. “I’ll go out tomorrow. Do you need anything else?”

“No, nothing I can think of,” she says, her voice small and quiet as usual. Then she looks at him as she adds, “Thank you.”

He doesn’t think it’s anything worth thanking him for. He’s bought clothes for the dolls he’s trained in the past, usually because he ruined the clothes they brought with them or they simply were not dressing to his standards. But her little expression of gratitude seemed so sincere, so strangely heartfelt for someone who could barely feel emotions anymore. 

“I take it your previous owner didn’t buy you many gifts,” he says. 

She shakes her head. “He only ever took from me. I had one possession that I cared about, a silver locket my mom gave me before she died, and he tore it off my neck the first day I was there.”

Her stories do not pull at Sukuna’s heartstrings. He’s not even sure he has any of those. But he does find them interesting. In fact, he finds every part of her interesting, which is far more than he could say for any of his previous dolls. It’s a strange feeling to him, actually wanting to know more about someone. 

After having some tea and some warm food, she curls up in the bed and falls asleep almost instantly, no doubt exhausted. 

****************

The next morning, you wake up to find yourself alone in the room. You climb out of bed and stretch, even though you don’t feel stiff or sore. It’s just a habit, some phantom muscle memory. 

Strangely, you can still feel hungry or thirsty, even if you can’t feel a stomach ache or a dry throat. You’re aware that your condition is related to mental blocks you’ve subconsciously placed on yourself, but you don’t really understand how they work. 

Right now, you want some breakfast, so you open the door and head out into the hallway. You’ve never been outside the room since the day you arrived, but Sukuna told you there’s a kitchen and a dining hall further down the hall. He always brings back food for you, but he’s never told you not to go yourself. So you walk until you reach what must be the dining hall. 

It’s empty, probably too early for anyone else to be there. There are several tables with chairs set up around the room, along with a very long table on one side. There’s no food there, but there are stacks of plates, utensils, napkins, and other such items. You can smell food cooking somewhere, perhaps through the door behind the long table. 

Beyond the dining hall, you find a small kitchen that you assume is there for the trainers and dolls to use, separate from whatever kitchen prepares the main meals. It has the basics: a stove/oven, microwave, coffee maker, toaster, refrigerator, sink, and a few cabinets. You open the fridge to check out the contents and find a mesh bag full of small oranges. Is it okay for you to take one? Do they belong to a specific trainer, or everyone? Shrugging to yourself, you reach in and take one from the bag. Just as you close the fridge door, two men walk into the kitchen. 

One of them is very tall, with messy white hair and dark round sunglasses. The other has long, silky black hair. They were talking as they walked in, but when they spot you, their voices trail off. Both of them stare at you silently for a moment, then the one with long hair says, “Oh, hello. Who might you be?”

You’re standing there in the unfamiliar kitchen, holding a possibly stolen orange, wearing nothing but one of Sukuna’s shirts (which thankfully covers enough of you to be decent). “I’m a doll. I’m being trained by Sukuna.”

The two of them glance at each other, then the one with white hair removes his sunglasses and looks you up and down, obviously taking in your various scars. His expression changes from surprise to horror. 

“Oh my God, you poor thing! What has he done to you?! Do you need us to hide you? Blink if you need help!”

“Satoru,” the long haired man says, “you’re being rude. Those scars are clearly old. Sukuna didn’t make them.”

The white haired man looks more closely at you, then exhales in relief. “Sorry, I just assumed the worst and… wait, did you just blink?”

“Uh, I tried not to,” you say. “I don’t need any help though. I’m fine. Thanks for offering.”

The long haired man gives you a pleasant smile. “You’ll have to forgive us. We don’t normally see Sukuna’s dolls unless we catch a glimpse of them as they’re arriving or leaving.”

“Really? He never told me not to leave the room, so I figured it was okay. I got hungry. Do you know if it’s okay to take an orange?”

The long haired man looks at the orange in your hand. “It’s fine. There’s plenty left.”

The white haired man is looking at you somewhat suspiciously. “Are you sure you don’t need help? I mean we all hear the screaming.”

“I’m sure,” you tell him, forcing a smile. “It’s the good kind of screaming.”

“Okay, but now you’ve got me real curious,” he says. “What is he doing to-“

“Hey, stop harassing my doll,” a voice says from the doorway. All three of you look over to see Sukuna standing just inside the kitchen. 

The other two men look slightly uncomfortable. The one with long hair smiles again, though it seems like a fake smile. “Hey, Sukuna. You’re out early today.”

Sukuna grins. “I had to go buy her some clothes. Unlike you freaks, I like for my dolls to dress normally from time to time.”

Before the other two can respond, Sukuna takes your hand and leads you back to his room. After he shuts the door behind you, he notices the orange in your hand. “Got hungry?”

You begin peeling it with your fingers. “Yeah. Was it okay for me to go to the kitchen?”

“You can go wherever you want in this house, aside from the other trainers’ rooms. Why?”

“Those two guys acted like you never let your dolls out.”

Sukuna scoffs. “They’re all morons. My dolls leave my room all the time. They just never go to the dining hall during regular meal times. By choice. Have I ever told you not to go?”

You shake your head, chewing a bite of the fruit. “No.”

“Then whether you stay in here or go out there is up to you.” 

After finishing the orange, you look through the shopping bags sitting on the bed. There are several pairs of jeans, in various colors, and more tshirts than you’ve ever seen in one place. They all look expensive, and they’re all in your size. 

Digging deeper into the bags, you find underwear, socks, three different pajama sets, and finally, a dress. It’s short, black, and silky, with no straps. It’s beautiful, but you can’t imagine a reason for you to ever wear such a thing. 

“All this for me?” you ask, holding one of the shirts up to your body. 

“You’re going to be here another five weeks. Might as well have something to wear,” he replies. 

You feel something then, a fluttering in your chest, a bubbling of some emotion. Is this happiness? You’re not sure, but you like it. 

**************

Later in the day, Sukuna begins another training session. The doll is strung up from the ceiling, in a harness. Her arms are tied above her head, her knees up near her chest, leaving her spread eagle, naked, totally at his mercy. Just the way he likes his dolls. 

He loves watching her numb body come alive, the way she goes from having no reaction whatsoever to moaning, quivering and trembling beneath his touch. When her nerves are awake, she feels everything so acutely. She becomes far more sensitive than even she realizes.  

Sukuna always starts with pleasure. It’s the best way to get her nerves working and get her in the right mindset. So his fingers are delicately stroking her wet clit, being oh so gentle. She’s shaking in the harness, gasping out short little moans as she cums. 

Immediately after, Sukuna pulls out a device he very much enjoys using on dolls, at least the ones who are into pain. It looks like a square metal box, with various thin cables connected to it. At the ends of the cables are small clips, which he attaches to her nipples and clit. She looks at him silently, a glint of excitement in her eyes. Whatever he’s going to make her feel, she’s looking forward to it. 

The device sends currents of powerful electricity through the cables. Apparently some places in the world use it as an actual torture device. Online, someone described it as feeling as if you’re being snapped with a thousand rubber bands all at once. And that’s on the low setting. Sukuna has never turned it higher than that before, but he believes this doll can take more. So he sets the device to medium power and pushes the button to turn it on. 

The doll’s body jerks as if she’s been punched in the gut, her eyes wide, her hands clenching air above her head, her mouth open as shaky screams leave her. She twists in the harness, the motions making for a truly erotic sight, all of her scarred beauty on lewd display. 

He lets the currents assault her sensitive flesh for a good ten minutes before turning it off. She’s left twitching all over, her breaths catching in her throat, tears freely pouring down her face. He can’t hold back anymore. He quickly opens his pants as closes the distance between them. Before she seems to realize what’s happening, his cock is already buried inside her. She moans as he thrusts into her, hard and deep, hitting her sweet spots. 

He watches her face, notices the way the tears make wavy trails over her scars, and he can’t resist licking them. After running his tongue over the marred skin, he looks at her again, and there’s an expression on her face that he’s never seen her wear before. Is she… blushing? She turns her face away from him, as if embarrassed. But this strangely emotional reaction from her is simply too delicious to ignore. 

Sukuna grabs her face with one hand and turns it back to him, then parts her lips with his thumb. He kisses her, sticking his tongue into her mouth, muffling her moans as he continues fucking her. It’s more intimate than he usually gets with his dolls, but he can’t resist drawing more emotions from her. He doesn’t break the kiss until after they both cum, him pumping her full of his seed and then quickly pulling out, letting it drip from her pussy and make a mess on the floor. 

She’s panting and shuddering, unable to do anything else while tied up in the harness. While she’s still in this state, raw both physically and emotionally, Sukuna steps back over to the device, sets it to high, and pushes the button. 

The screams alone are enough to get him hard again. 

Hours later, after baths, cleanup, dinner, and trying on new pajamas, the two of them are lying in bed. She’s on her side, facing away from him. Perhaps she’s already asleep, but he’s noticed her being oddly shy this evening. Out of curiosity, to see if she reacts, he reaches over and runs one hand down her unscarred arm. She seems to shiver, and rolls over to look at him. 

“I… I felt that,” she says, wide eyed. Her feeling has never lasted this long after a session has ended. She sits up in bed. “It’s weird, I can’t feel the fabric of the sheets. All I can feel is…”

Sukuna grins. “My touch.”

Again, there’s that look on her face, as if she’s embarrassed. He finds it cute. He pulls her back down, then closer to his body, wrapping his arms around her. She gasps at the sensations, but then sighs as she curls up against him. 

Sukuna feels some unfamiliar emotion when he looks at her, when he listens to her quiet breathing, when he feels the warmth of her body. He doesn’t know what it is, and he’s not sure he likes it, but it’s there all the same. So he drifts off to sleep, planning the next training session. 

Tag List: 

@akaotv @khaleesihavilliard @issracollen @maflorex @dabislittlemouse 

#sukuna x reader #Sukuna #ryomen sukuna #sukuna smut #x reader #jjk x reader #jjk smut #ryomen sukuna x reader

[mrs-illyrian-baby]

The Old Gods and The New - Chapter 8

A Prayer in the Fog | Loki x Reader

A furious Loki requests Val's help in searching for you, but with Asgard's guards so recently depleated he is forced to turn to the Avengers for support. Meanwhile you contend with you captors, all of your captors.

Warnings: 18+, reader has been kidnapped and imprisoned, flashbacks, Loki throwing things around (only sort of a warning), Avenger arguments.

Divider by @firefly-graphics

Series Masterlist | Loki Masterlist | Masterlist

“What do you mean there’s no sign of her,” Loki shouted, body bending inward with anger, a protection against the burst of magic he released sending a table flying across the room, behind him Brunnhilde’s books were swept from the shelves, swirling in a whirlwind of green magic that consumed its master. 

Loki’s first burst of anger had been calculated and controlled, an effort to ease the pressure that was mounting inside of him, screaming at him. But his patience was gone. Objects crashed from the shelves, Brunhilde’s glass trinkets and picture frames smashed into shards on the hardwood floor and cut into the soles of Loki’s shoes as he paced like a caged animal. In one hand his magic shimmered, gold and green, aching to be set free. In the other he grasped his dagger, fingers curling around the handle for comfort.

“Loki, calm down.” Brunhilde put her hands out in front of her, gesturing for Loki to sit again, she moved him backwards until his knees hit the armchair and he fell, slumped and defeated. 

He would be sorry in the morning. Loki liked Brunhilde, a simple emotion reserved for so few of his acquaintances. He respected her and he knew he would regret taking out his fury on her home.A curl of ink black hair fell across his forehead and he tipped his head back in exasperation.

“How can I calm down when she is lost? My ásynja was supposed to come back to me, she wouldn’t just leave. She has to be here, she has nowhere else to go!” Loki ran a hand through his hair, already messy from the week he’d spent searching up and down the coastline. “She wouldn’t go anywhere else, she only knows us and those idiotic superfriends.” He fell back again, closing his eyes against the horrible idea that you might have returned to them. 

It was an unbearable thought, but one that had crossed his mind, that you had run away to escape him and return to the almost hermetically sealed world of the Avenger’s Compound. He had been so sure you’d hated it there as much as he did, so sure he was doing the right thing by bringing you to the fresh air and freedom of Tonsberg.

When you hadn’t come back to his cottage that night, Loki had gone out looking for you. He’d planned to take you for dinner, perhaps walk along the harbour again and discuss what you’d been able to discover with Brunnhilde. And then he’d imagined taking you back to his home in Tonsberg to show you the spare room he kept, that even if you didn’t want to be with him there’d always be a safe space for you there if you wanted it. He’d imagined you’d be happy there, together, however you wanted. But that was the unbearable thought wasn’t it. That he could ever be happy, ever have something, someone, for himself to hold and cherish and dote upon. 

He had even found your bracelet by the harbour, still glinting even without light, magically imbued to always shine for you. But there was no other trace that you’d even existed outside of his desperate, lonely, imagination.

Brunnhilde called in help from the village to search for you, but they had been badly depleted on their journey to Midgard and there were few guards or soldiers left who were skilled enough to help. Those that did join the hunt were mostly the very young or the very old, those that had been protected by the fierce warriors of Asgard. 

The only lead Loki had found was that two older members of the village had also disappeared, no one knew them well, only that they were at least as old as Odin himself and twice as reclusive as the volatile king had been. The grouchy men kept to themselves, mumbling in the pub about Asgard’s protection and Odin’s orders, much to the quiet amusement of the younger patrons or, more often, hiding in the small fisherman’s cottage on the wharf. No one had seen their lights on since the night of your disappearance and they were the only villagers to be unaccounted for. 

Brunnhilde had sent two of the newer guards to track them in the vain hope that being young and eager would help them. But she’d insisted that Loki remained in the village, you might return at any moment and, more than that, he was volatile in his current state. 

Loki had paced the living room, certain he’d wear a hole in the carpet before he dared to rest for a moment. And the two guards had returned, their leads as empty and hollow as Loki’s heart. 

“I’ll ask Thor to speak to them, okay?” Brunhilde let her hand fall slowly to Loki’s slumped shoulder and patted him gently, unsure whether his temper was controlled or merely simmering below the surface. 

Loki slumped from the chain onto the floor, leaning back against the armchair, his energy drained. Somehow he could feel you still, and it was these sensations that he clung to as he waited for news knowing that if he could feel you, you were alive, even if you weren’t safe. 

The sensation had changed that morning, triggering his new bout of fury. You were awake, for the first time since he'd lost you, and there was a fire burning inside of you. He could feel its warmth, but also its rage, white hot and powerful, and he told himself you were fighting back. Soothed himself on the prospect of your anger carrying you through whatever ordeal was being thrown at you. Proud that you were harnessing your magic to escape. 

Suddenly the feeling vanished, as if it'd been ripped from him and you were gone. No lucid dreams, not even nightmares. Just darkness. 

If you had returned to the Avengers and his reading of your emotions were correct, they would pay dearly. 

In the darkness you felt a tiara, nestled on the top of your head, it's intricate, itching weight familiar in your dreams. Your dresses were clean, decorative, but not practical as they were on Asgard. A doll, on display for the court, just as had been ordered. And as you touched your hand to your face, feeling the soft skin beneath, the jewels that encrusted your fingers scratching the sensitive skin, you allowed yourself a tear. 

“Stop crying for that pathetic boy” a harsh voice snapped next to you. 

“He’s not a boy, he’s a Prince,” images swirled in your mind as you tried to claw back your consciousness. Childish play, stolen kisses, your last week in Asgard and the secret, forbidden acts that you'd indulged in, revelled in, with Loki. Loki. Loki…

You woke up in the dark, hazy slumber grasping around your consciousness and dragging you back. Sleep, wake, dream, suffer. Your hands bound behind your back, ankles bound to your chair legs. You could smell the sea still and see light coming through a high window, it cast a small shadow around you but not quite enough for you to study the details of the room. 

You had seen enough documentaries when you were cooped up in the little flat to know that any sensible person wouldn't have allowed you a window at all, even without the powers you had been honing. 

There would be a way to send a message though the window and then Loki would save you. You were sure of it. You just had to get free. 

 “Are you awake Princess?” A croaky voice asked from the darkness. You tested your bonds for the first time. Rope, that was it, simple rope, all you had to do was create enough heat to singe the fibres and pull them off. 

 They didn’t know what you were capable of now, but then, you thought, you weren’t overly confident either. Playing with fire was not a skill you'd worked on properly, perhaps you could burn the ropes. Perhaps the flames would take you too. The risk was high.

“Yes.” You answered, sharply, shifting imperceptibly so you could attempt to make your hands smaller, slipping them against the ropes in the hope you could break free. 

“Good. You know you’re not meant to run Princess.” The old man bowed painfully, his back creaking at the movement, “His Majesty, the Allfather, The King of Asgard, the God of War and Wisdom-” the man coughed and began to straighten, “the God of the Heavens, behold-” he opened his arms towards the door as if expecting Odin to step into the room before looking blankly at the empty space and turning his bleary eyes back to you. 

“You know they're all dead, don’t you?” You tipped your head to the side looking for a light source around the crooked figure of the man. A small lantern flickered in the hall outside, you could see the light through the glass at the top of the door. Focusing on the thought of it, warm under your touch, taking in the salty air, eating the oxygen, consuming the wick, it flared giving you a good look at the room.

The man was old, as many of the Asgardians were, but he truly looked it. Wrinkled face half wrapped in cloth, back bent by time and feet hobbled by his dutiful pacing. A gold helmet slipped about on his head, his sunken cheeks no longer supporting the plates, his white hair sticking comically from the edges.

“Pardon, Princess?”

“They're all dead, you fucking idiot. Who gave you these orders, who told you to take me?” You tried to muster as much regal courage and venom as you could, thinking of Loki in his Asgardian leathers, how they made him look impossibly taller, and you channelled that feeling of divine importance into your expression, eyes narrowed at the old man and lips tight.  

“His Majesty.” The man insisted. 

You rolled your eyes, but if he wanted to play by courtly rules, surely you could too? You thought back to the scant memories you had of the Asgardian palace and the time you spent there. Most of your memories seemed to centre on the gardens, rather than the halls and rooms, perhaps the old man could be persuaded to simply let you leave. 

“Would his Majesty mind if I took some air in the gardens?” You offered, fluttering your eyelashes in the most royal way you could muster.

“Come, Princess,” he sighed as if this was a daily discussion, “you know you must stay here-” But he didn’t seem sure. Perfect, you thought, he can be manipulated.

“Ah, as you say - uhm - noble guard of….”

“I have the honour - the honour,” he coughed again, doubled over with the effort, “of being Odin’s personal guard, he has sent me here to collect you, Princess, for protection of course.”

You slipped your hands one last time and felt the rope go slack, blood rushing back to your pinched fingers. You hooked the rope around your fingers, hiding your freedom behind your back. 

“For protection? I don’t feel very protected?” You looked pointedly at the ramshackle room. 

The old man wagged his finger, “it is not for your protection that we must keep you, Princess. The Allfather says we must protect Asgard.” 

The man must be deep in his memories, you thought, to still talk of Asgard in this way. Even you knew that Ragnarok had consumed Asgard months before.

“And what does Prince Loki say?” You needled, hoping he’d slip back into this former version of the world and at least indulge you with some tales of Loki. 

“You must not speak to Loki!” The man was angry suddenly, throwing himself forwards into your space, the change in his demeanour frightening. He smelt like musty old blankets and you hated it, wrinkling your nose in disgust and turning your face away. 

A few short months ago you might not have noticed, too used to the trapped air of your apartment. But you had become accustomed to a new way of life, not just because of the lavish surroundings of the compound, but also because you knew that Loki would never had allowed this man to get so close to you. The thought of his protection thrummed inside of you, shoring up the knowledge that he would come and rescue you from this awful place.

 Your pity waned and bile rose in its place, your nose wrinkled. 

Channelling your deepest memories you took a deep breath, “how dare you tell a Princess what to do!” You thundered, the flame in the hall flared again, licking up the wall and sending eerie patches of dark and light flying up the walls. 

“I, Your Highness, my apologies.” 

The man threw himself at your feet, grovelling and snivelling on the filthy floor and you looked down for the first time. Ignoring the disgusting spectacle before you, you turned your attention to your bare wrist. The bracelet was gone. It felt light as air when you were wearing it, but the loss of it was heavy, your heart sank. What if Loki found it and thought you’d abandoned him? 

You contemplated your next move, trying to ignore the continued snivelling of the man at your feet, when the door swung open again. 

The man who entered was as old as his friend, hunched and twisted with age and war, his sword dragged along the floor where his scabbard had become lose and his joints compacted. 

“What are you doing?” He wheezed, “get up you idiot.” 

Instead of climbing to his feet, the man instead crawled to the corner of the room and appeared to fall asleep, slumping forwards into the wall. 

“Here, child, food.” A bowl was unceremoniously tossed onto the table, the gruel inside making a sludgy trail up one side of the chipped ceramic before falling back into the bowl. 

“How am I meant to eat that? Who’s the idiot now.” You scoffed, keeping your chin up at the haughty angle Loki favoured. Perhaps if you acted the part they would treat you better. 

Your second captor gave a sigh and moved behind the chair to loosen your hands, but instead of allowing him you tossed your body back into the chair and knocked him into the solid wall behind you. He made a wet thump as his head connected with the stone and then fell to the floor. 

Pushing the ropes from your arms and legs, you freed yourself from the broken chair. Hazy, unseeing eyes attempted to focus on you as you stood, brushing dust and debris from your clothes, but you ignored them, attempting to summon any magic you could to clean your clothes and light your way to freedom. 

The old man looked up from his prone position on the floor and gasped in shock, scrambling away from you. His fear, the belief in his eyes that you could hurt him now sparked inside and your magic flooded you. 

“Goodbye.” You waved at the two men, confidently striding towards the door playing with the magic between your fingers, flames climbing the walls in the corridor outside as your concealed rage took over, knocking the door from its hinges before you even touched it. 

“Not so fast,” a voice growled in the gloom.

From the shadows a young man appeared, his hair was tied back in the newer style favoured by Loki and Thor, and his clothes were similar too, draped and colourful where her other captors wore blacks and greys, the patterns were different though, as too was his accent. 

You stopped mid stride, mind reeling. 

“Estrid. You must stop using your magic. You’ll draw attention to yourself.” He barked, but it wasn’t unkind. For a moment you were entirely confused, clawing back at your memories to try and find why this person made your mind itch and your eyes burn. 

A carriage ride through lush green land, a secret meeting, your mother and another man, so bright you could barely see him, and this guard, watching and waiting, holding the carriage door for you. 

Although the memory filled you with warmth, you couldn’t trust him. Hadn’t you experience many memories of Asgard, just for Odin’s men themselves to take you and bind you in that forgotten room.

Your trust was too precious to waste. 

“I think you’ll find I do whatever the hell I want these days. If you want to drug me you’ll have to do better than that,” you pointed at the porridge splattering the tiles. Instead you conjured an ice cream, with a chocolate wafer and sprinkles. “I’m going to look at the sea, we are near the sea aren’t we? Enjoy the view for a while until Loki finds me.” You started to the door, licking the strawberry drips as the made there way over the cone and tried your best to ignore the boring eyes of the new guard. 

“Stop. Using. Magic. Do you want to draw attention to yourself?” The man followed you, his leather boots thumping along the stone flagged floor and echoing in the dark hallway. 

“Yes, obviously. I want to be found.” You rolled your eyes, calling to Loki in your mind. 

“You’re a fool. We’ll have to move you again.” He grabbed at your arm but you pulled it back. 

“No, you won’t, I’m not being caged anymore, get out of my way,” you fluttered your hands. A fork in the corridor appeared as you strode around the corner, stairs on both sides. “Now which way is out. I’ll make you an ice cream if you tell me?” You offered an attempt at a smile playing on your lips. Once this man had been kind to you, and although you didn’t trust him entirely, he had at least two daggers and a sword at his hip that he hadn’t used. Even when he’d touched your arm he hadn’t hurt you. 

“I warned you to stop. Follow me.” The man made a grab for your hand again, but you dodged out of the way and picked a route, but it was blocked. You could see through but couldn’t get further than the first step without coming up against another stone wall. You huffed and your ice cream vanished back into the ether while you tried to figure out a way through. 

The man looked at you, snapping sharply, “you’re the one who brought magic into this, let’s go.” 

With your escape blocked, you were compelled to follow him, keeping a step behind at first to try and gauge his path. 

“Hey, hey, wait!” You jogged to keep up with the man, his strides long and the heels on your boots clicking against the stone. “Why the hell should I trust you, anyway?!”

He turned to face you, his eyes flaring as he reached up and grabbed your arm again, scanning your face, “how do you not remember?” He sighed, you had expected anger but he was disappointed, despondent, when he spoke again, “put the cloak on. Quickly.”

“I don’t have a cloak,” you stopped in the corridor, taking the opportunity to absorb the details of your surroundings. It was still dark and the smell of the sea still permeated the thick stone walls, but there was a fresher smell as well, like wet grass after the rain.

“You can’t walk around like this,” he gestured at your outfit, black jeans and boots, a thick aran jumper.

“What’s wrong with my outfit? It’s cold out there.”

“We can’t use magic here. When we can, I'll find attire suitable for your station.”

“My station. As a Prisoner? No way. Let me go shopping,” you twirled and batted your long lashes teasingly, hoping to distract or annoy him enough that you could make an escape. Although you couldn’t use your magic consistently, you had been learning, very quickly, that some of your talents, like Loki's, were just innate. You didn’t require a spell to irritate a man.

“As a Princess, a Queen in waiting.” The man was furious now, he took your arm and dragged you along until you squealed dramatically and tried to make yourself as heavy as possible until he was forced to slow his pace.

“Do Princesses normally get dragged about? If you don’t like my outfit I can change.”

Mentally you started flicking through all the clothes you could remember. Dresses, skirts, jeans, suits, pyjamas.

“Stop!” The man shook her shoulders “Do not use your magic!” And then there was a flash of light and you fell to the floor.

Thor was fairing no better than his brother. He’d been expecting to crash their romantic dinner with both stories of war and anything he could remember to embarrass his little brother in front of the lady he was so obviously pining for. But there was no mirth in his heart when Loki revealed you’d never returned from Valkyrie’s cottage and he’d joined the search immediately.

When nothing was revealed he offered to return to the Avengers compound in an effort to secure their help, much to Loki’s chagrin. 

 Now, with his head in his hands, he sat in the living room of the Avengers compound and appealed to them again. 

“There must be some system you possess, Stark, to track her? She has magic now and will be using it. Can’t you track that?” He asked. 

“And what does magic use or emit that I could track? Radiation? Pollution?” Tony answered, waving a screwdriver in the air before returning to the small circuit board he was tinkering with. 

Thor looked thoroughly confused. “It’s just magic. Loki’s is green, Estrid appears to have a blue and silver sedir, track the colour.” 

Tony sighed, exasperated, and didn’t answer, keeping his eyes focussed on his work. 

“Are we going to address that you and Loki have been keeping all of this from us?” Steve interrupted, arms crossed. 

Natasha nodded her agreement, “I knew she could shift, what else can she do that you’ve been keeping secret?!” Natasha asked. 

“Oh Romanoff, you know, girl magic like Loki, silly things. She changes her hair and clothes.” Natasha narrowed her eyes at ‘girl magic’, but kept quiet. Thor shrugged, he’d never been that enamoured with Loki’s magic, it seemed frivolous to him to spend hours making little potions and writing runes. He was more interested in the armoury and his personal assortment of weapons. 

“We know that, what else?” Natasha grit her teeth, frustrated. 

“She makes little trinkets, jewellery and gems and such. Like I said, girly things.”

“She can manifest things? How?” Banner sat forwards, his elbows on his knees, fascinated. “Can she teach us?” He turned to Tony and nudged him to rejoin the conversation. 

“What? No. I don’t know. Loki taught her. Anyway, she can control flames and I think I saw her grow a plant once.” Thor was bored of this part of the conversation and went back to sipping his mead to steady his nerves. He thought back to Loki’s face as he left, his sunken eyes, devoid of mischief. Time to change tactic, courtly ways were never Thor’s strong point, but he knew enough not to labour a point too much. “Anyway, I brought some new things for you to try Steve, should you be interested in -”

“No not anyway we needed to know these things and you kept it from us. Why the hell should we help you now?” Tony waved the tiny screwdriver again, a magnetic screw dangling precariously from the end. 

Bargaining. Thor could do bargaining, he’d seen his father and Loki use it to various effect enough times. “What if… I got them to help you. Natasha said she needed someone inconspicuous for your next mission, what about someone who can shift?” 

The assassin mulled over the prospect for a moment, “it would help me a lot, it's a simple B&E really but they know all our covers. Loki would be perfect.” Natasha looked at Thor, hopeful.

“Perfect! You come to Tonsberg and find Loki’s beau and I will ensure Loki is most helpful on your mission.” Thor held his hand out to Natasha to shake, but Tony poked it away with the sharp end of his screwdriver. 

“Not so fast. I want Loki and the girl and I want her to stay behind afterwards.” He levelled his stare at Thor. 

“Loki and the girl, it’s a deal.” 

“Fine, fine. We can send two agents. I’m done with this. You can’t keep things from us and then expect our help.” Tony groused. 

“Loki won’t be happy with two agents.” Thor shook his head. 

“I honestly don’t give a fuck what Loki wants,” Steve stood, uncharacteristically angry amidst the growing tensions, “he isn’t on our team. We brought her here and owe her some safety. But after this mission she needs to make a real choice. Is she in or is she out?” Steve stalked off to the gym slamming the door behind him.

There was silence as the other members slowly dispersed until only Tony and Thor were left. Thor followed Tony to the bar set into the wall of the living space, pouring another round of mead into his large cut crystal glass. 

“Candidly, Stark, she has the ability to be quite annoying. My hope is whoever has her let’s her go. But we will need more than two agents.” Thor tipped his head back, swallowing loudly. 

Tony smiled into his drink, he could understand annoying, he didn’t mind annoying. “What makes you so sure she was taken and that she didn’t just run away.”

“Oh, that’s easy, she is in love with my brother.” Thor smiled at the thought of Loki’s dopey, lovelorn expression, “I’m not sure they realise they are in love with each other so deeply, but,” he shrugged, “such is love.” 

Tony raised an eyebrow. So he had been right, Loki had been flirting with you and you did seem to prefer the Trickster God’s company, spending a good deal of your time together. But love? Loki?

“I’ll go with you. If she loves Loki she’s a strong woman, we could use some of that.” Tony tipped his head to the side and nodded as he spoke. “But it also means she’s an idiot and can’t be trusted. You understand that, right?”

“Oh yes,” Thor didn’t even look offended. “My brother is terrible and the two of them together? Incredibly vexing. But we must find her. I do not wish to discover the breadth of his wrath and vengeance should she be missing indefinitely.”

“And they’ll work the mission?”

“I’ll endeavour to keep them in line.”

Tony sighed he supposed that was the best he could hope for, dealing with actual gods.

“Wake up,” a new voice echoed in your sore head, waking you from your dreamless sleep. This room was different to the last, rather than rope your hands were now bound with heavy iron shackles etched with runes. 

Your gaze was cloudy, confused, but you still tried to channel your magic into altering the weighty shackles. Maybe you could make a bracelet like the one Loki gave you and simply slip away. But your magic fizzled before it could manifest. Not even a spark, though your head throbbed terribly at the attempt. 

“No magic when you behave like a brat." Your captor spat. 

“You’ll regret calling me that.” You bit back, yanking at your chains. 

His mocking laugh echoed in the early morning gloom, the door slamming shut in the dark and then you were alone again with your thoughts. 

Manoeuvring your heavy hands you sat at the foot of the bed, tucking your feet underneath you and away from the cold floor. With a deep intake of breath you tried to clear your mind and then exhaled, searching for him, for Loki. You prayed, attempting to send a vision of not just your thoughts, but your whole self to him, what you could see and hear, the smell of the sea and the call of the birds outside. You thought of Loki, implored him to save you, sent your thoughts floating into the air as you breathed your plea to him. 

In your prayers you reached out to him through the fog and touched your fingertips to the stone and in return, you were sure you heard him calling your name. 

<<Part 7

Part 9>>

#Loki #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki/reader #Loki x Reader #Loki fanfic #Loki series #loki marvel #Loki x you #Loki/You #loki fanfiction #Loki smut #The Old Gods and the New #Loki fluff #loki x female reader

[cherienymphe]

When The Party’s Over XX (Rafe Cameron x Reader)

Warnings: NON-CON touching, DUB-CON, ABUSIVE RELATIONSHIP, DOMESTIC VIOLENCE, forced pregnancy, toxic relationship, violence, jealousy, stalking, underage drinking, drug use, manipulation, corruption, public sex, innocent reader, Heyward!reader

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies​ | divider by @silkholland​​

➥ series masterlist

summary: Manipulated into a secret relationship with Rafe Cameron, you’re finding it much easier said than done to do the right thing and walk away…especially when he refuses to let you.

~

“…and there’s the heartbeat.”

You stared at the screen, your own heart beating in time with that of the baby’s in your stomach. You swallowed, gaze roaming over the monitor and feeling…weird. You knew you were pregnant, had known for weeks, but being confronted with the evidence in such a glaring way made your head spin more than expected. The sound of its heart was so loud in the otherwise quiet room, and Rose softly gasped.

You had not wanted Rafe in the room.

At all.

It had sparked a disagreement that was only settled when Rose stepped in.

“Rafe, if she doesn’t want you there then she doesn’t want you there,” the older woman had said. “She’s carrying your child. Let’s pick our battles, okay? She doesn’t need any stress.”

Rafe’s entire visage had clouded over, and you had ignored the feel of his cold gaze all the way to the doctor. You blinked at the monitor, surprised by how your eyes watered, and you struggled to swallow.

“Oh, honey,” Rose said, grabbing you a tissue.

“Sorry,” you tearfully apologized, wiping your eyes.

You didn’t even know why you were crying. Surely that whole hormone thing couldn’t start this early. All of it was just so overwhelming. You’d thought about motherhood a lot growing up, always knowing you’d want to be one someday, but you’d never imagined like this. You never imagined this early, and with Rafe of all people.

This was a moment that should’ve been happy, and it was in a way, but it felt wrong to think. Let alone even say. Rafe had raped you, had cornered you into going through with this, and as awful as the circumstances were, you couldn’t deny how almost excited you were to have a baby. The excitement, however, was more than dampened by everything revolving around the situation.

“Do you want to know the sex?”

You looked up at the doctor in wonder, eyes wide as you thought it over. It was no secret that your families were dying to know. Rose and your mom wanted a little girl so badly. Your dad seemed impartial, just wanting the baby to be healthy, while Ward on the other hand… You hadn’t missed the way Rafe’s jaw had clenched at his dad’s verbal desire for a boy.

The why was no secret.

He wanted a boy that had the capacity to turn out better than Rafe.

Truthfully, you didn’t know what you wanted, and you hadn’t spoken to Rafe about it either. You didn’t talk to him much at all if you could help it, and even from what you knew about him, it was still hard to try and surmise what he hoped for. You didn’t need to look at Rose to know she was disappointed when you shook your head.

“I don’t think I want to know yet.”

“That’s okay!” the doctor assured you, and you wondered if your uncertainty was written all over your face. “Plenty of people want to be surprised, or they simply aren’t ready yet.”

You returned her comforting smile, letting out a breath of relief. The rest of the appointment was spent making sure you were healthy and that the baby was developing as it should too. Rose was an odd comfort, a soft touch on your back as you both walked out of the room. Rafe’s face was hopeful when you finally neared him, and you said nothing as Rose spoke.

“Y/N doesn’t want to know the sex yet.”

You could feel his gaze on you, and you pointedly ignored him.

“Why the hell not?”

“Rafe,” his stepmom scolded.

You brushed past him on your way out, but he was quick to walk in time with you.

“Why don’t you want to know the sex?”

“…because I just don’t.”

He pulled you to a stop once you were outside, and you narrowed your eyes at the way he stared you down.

“First you tell me you don’t want me in there with you, and now you’re taking this from me too…”

“Rafe-.”

“The baby is mine too.”

You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest and looking away. Rafe moved closer, and you felt the cool air of his breath as he exhaled through his nose.

“I know that just eats you up inside, but I have just as much right in these decisions, so you really need to get over that,” he spat.

You could hear Rose scolding him again, and your eyes landed on his face again just as a sneer fell onto his lips.

“So, if you don’t want to know the sex, fine, but you’re going to wait here while I find out.”

He was taking off before you could stop him, and you roughly exhaled as your eyes met Rose’s. It bothered you that Rafe spoke about this baby like it was a mutual decision between you two. If you had it your way, Rafe wouldn’t be involved in the pregnancy at all. His determination to make you both one big happy family was unnerving more than anything else.

…because Rafe had an infuriating habit of getting what he wanted.

“Oh my God,” Bunny breathed as she held the sonogram Rafe gave her, lips parted in shock.

Cam sat next to her, both of them staring at it with wide eyes. Part of you felt bad for hiding this from them for so long, but you’d needed time to process it all yourself. Plus, there was the added weight of hiding the true nature of your relationship—or lack thereof—with Rafe from them.

It felt like forever since you’d seen them, and Ward and Rose took no issue with inviting them over.

“I feel like the biggest idiot in the world,” Cam said, shaking her head. “You were fucking Rafe this whole time, and I didn’t even know.”

You threw her a sheepish smile when her gaze met yours.

“Not even Kelce knew, so…”

“Yeah, but they’re guys. We’re girls,” Bunny cried. “We tell each other everything.”

The blonde pouted at you as Cam took the sonogram for herself, marveling at it.

“I didn’t want anyone to know,” you quietly confessed. “Pope, you know.”

Bunny nodded in understanding, Cam humming.

“…but you guys aren’t together anymore,” the redhead sadly mused. “…and you’re still going to have it?”

You sighed, nibbling on a snack that Rose had made you as your thoughts ran. You knew what they were thinking because it was the same thoughts you’d had before your abortion. You’d had no intention of being with Rafe, and he’d shown you that he wasn’t a promising father. Not to mention, you hadn’t wanted him to use the baby against you. It hadn’t made sense to keep it.

It didn’t make sense to keep this one either, but you were cornered.

Still…ignoring Rafe, you wanted this baby, and that was what you’d told them.

“What about school?” Cam wondered.

“One more year off isn’t the end of the world,” you assured them. “Online classes are a thing, and…I don’t know. Once the baby reaches a certain age, I could go in person…even if only for the experience.”

You’d talked about it in passing with both your parents and Ward. You hadn’t missed the way Rafe’s gaze had lingered during the conversation. His gaze lingered a lot lately, and you knew it was in part because you wanted nothing to do with him.

He watched you a lot when you walked, eyes focused on your steps and movements. He stared when you ate too, taking in what you ingested and how much. You weren’t stupid. You knew why, of course, but a part of you didn’t want to accept that Rafe was just looking out for the mother of his child. You didn’t want to acknowledge that beyond all of his awfulness and troubled mind, there was a part of him that existed that did care about you and this baby in his own way.

You didn’t like the area of grey.

Like now for example.

“You can’t forget these,” he told you as you ate, sliding the prenatal vitamin across the table.

Your shoulders sagged for several reasons, mostly because you hated that you kept forgetting while Rafe didn’t. He never forgot everything you were supposed to take and how much you were supposed to be eating and how much rest you were supposed to be getting. It ate you up inside, and you weren’t too proud to deny it.

Bitterness settled in the pit of your stomach.

You knew that you were just overwhelmed, and due to the circumstances, Rafe had much more control over the situation than you did. Even still, you couldn’t help how it made you feel like Rafe, of all people, was going to be a better parent than you. You knew that wasn’t true, of course. You could start smocking crack, right now, and you’d still be a better parent than him.

Rafe just had much more invested in this baby than you did.

Maybe you’d just subconsciously internalized that. You did want this baby, but if you lost it, you’d be sad…but not forever. You’d grieve, of course, but you couldn’t deny that a part of you would take it as a sign, a blessing in a weird way almost. You would be sad…but you would be free, and Rafe of all people understood that more than anyone.

So, he was overly invested in making sure everything went right with this pregnancy.

He couldn’t risk losing the baby because he couldn’t risk losing you.

“I guess I’m going to have to write it on your forehead every night…”

Your eyes met his, and the corner of his lips curved upwards into a cold smirk.

“…or shove it down your throat.”

You looked away, picking at your food.

“If I didn’t know any better, I would think you were trying to intentionally ruin this pregnancy.”

You glared at him at that. You both knew that wasn’t true, and you felt insulted that Rafe would even think that of you.

“You twisted my arm into this whole situation, and now you complain when I’m not perfect at it,” you told him. “I’ll do better.”

You took the vitamin, swallowing it down with some water under Rafe’s watchful eye.

“I know you can be stubborn…but you really plan on doing this for the next eighteen years?”

You swallowed down a sigh, sparing him a brief glance.

“Doing what, Rafe?”

“You know what.”

You hated that smirk dancing on his lips, chin resting in his hand as he stared at you like…like some child. It was the smugness that really made your skin crawl. The unshaking certainty that you’d come around and Rafe would really just get everything he wanted.

“Plenty of people coparent without being together all over the world, Rafe. I don’t see why we can’t…”

“This isn’t all over the world, beautiful. It’s Kildare.”

You rolled your eyes at his tone.

“…and Rose already hates it enough that we aren’t married. I’ll never hear the end of it when you actually start showing,” he grumbled.

“Well, maybe you should’ve thought of that before you forced a baby in me.”

His face fell at your words, and you held his gaze. Sarah was in the living room, not one to leave the two of you completely alone, but you didn’t care if she heard or not. She already knew, anyway.

“You didn’t give me much choice…now, did you?”

You scoffed at him, looking away with a shake of your head.

“You tried to drown me, Rafe,” you reminded him, watching the way his jaw ticked. “What did you expect me to do?”

“I said I was sorry-.”

“That’s not something that can be fixed with an apology. It can never be fixed.”

“I-.”

“You hit me, you raped me, and you think any of that is supposed to make me want to be with you? You had to get me pregnant just to keep me tied to you, Rafe. What does that say?”

You were grabbing your plate and standing before he could respond, but you weren’t surprised to hear his chair scraping too as he followed you into the kitchen. His hands came down on either side of you at the sink, and you shrunk in on yourself at the feel of his chest grazing your back. He leaned in, and you shuddered when his nose grazed the top of your ear. He sighed, and you felt the action against your back.

“I want you to understand something…okay…?”

His voice was hushed, and you did your best to lean away from him to no avail.

“Baby or no baby, you were never getting away from me,” Rafe purred, and you flinched when his hand trailed up your frame, coming to rest on your stomach. “This was just the easy way, and you think you’d appreciate that.”

You pushed your body against his, trying to get from in between him and the sink, but Rafe’s hand was quick to circle your wrist. When you looked at him, his blue eyes were hard, no hint of humor found on his face. He leaned in, and you worriedly leaned back.

“This is me being nice…because you’re pregnant, and you don’t need the stress…”

His other hand came up to touch your cheek, and your lips trembled as he ran his gaze over you, slowly taking you in.

“…but do not let that get to your head.”

You stared at each other for what felt like a long time, and you jerked when Sarah’s voice reached your ears.

“Rafe! What the hell are you doing?”

The disgust in her voice was clear, and you swallowed when her brother threw her a crooked smile, reluctantly letting you go.

“We’re just talking,” he evenly told her, looking at you again. “Baby stuff.”

He tapped your chin before brushing by you, and you wiped your face, having not even realized that your eyes had started to water.

You let out a breath, staring at the pastel green crib with parted lips. It was so big and pretty and unexpected. When Sarah had taken you out, you hadn’t thought anything of it. Returning to the Cameron’s to Cam and Bunny in your room was a surprise, and the pretty crib was an even bigger surprise. You didn’t miss the gender-neutral color, and you blinked at them.

“Rafe told Kelce and Kelce told me,” Cam said with a shrug. “It’s perfect for…whatever you hope you’re having.”

You couldn’t lie and say your curiosity wasn’t piqued. After all, you hadn’t forgotten the look on Rafe’s face when he’d finally joined you and Rose in the car that day. It was strange, seeing him so happy, and that happiness sparked by something so innocent and genuine.

“Do you like it?” Bunny wondered with a hopeful smile.

You dazedly nodded.

“Yeah,” you breathed, slowly approaching it, placing your hand on the wood. “It’s so pretty.”

With every passing day, this pregnancy became more and more real. In less than a year, a little baby would be sleeping in this thing, and you blew out a breath. You and Rafe would be parents, and you briefly closed your eyes.

“Are you scared?” Bunny suddenly asked.

When you looked at her, she looked like she was for you. All three of you were so young, after all, and you were having a baby. You were starting a portion of your life that wouldn’t even be thought about for another decade for them, if at all.

“Yeah.”

It was an honest answer, but just not for the reason you led her to believe. You weren’t scared of this baby or being a mother, but instead of Rafe. You were scared of the power he held, and would hold, over you. You were scared of eighteen plus years of having to deal with him and his antics and his unwavering determination to keep you under his thumb.

You were afraid of Ward and his money and how difficult your family’s life could be should you ever decide to stand up to Rafe for the whole island to see. You were afraid of Rose’s excitement to have a baby in the house, what she might do or turn a blind eye to all for the sake of looking like a perfect family.

You didn’t say any of that though.

“What if I suck?” you wondered, recalling your thoughts from the other night. “I mean, Rafe of all people, has to remind me to take my prenatal vitamins. What if he’s better at this than me?”

“I can barely imagine Rafe as a dad, and he’s literally going to be one,” Cam scoffed. “You’ll be a great mom, don’t worry.”

“Plus, you’ll have so much help! We’re here, and Rose and Sarah, and Kiara’s going to help too, right? She’s dating your brother,” Bunny reminded you.

It was true that you would have help. You were sure you’d need it, and it did relieve you some, and you looked at the crib again. It looked so nice in the room, oddly in place, and you were thinking about waking up in the middle of the night to check on the baby or watching them sleep. You were still staring at it when Rafe finally returned.

You knew because you heard him knock something over downstairs.

It was late, very late, and truthfully, you hadn’t been all that concerned about where he was. Your curiosity, however, was piqued when you heard Ward’s voice. It became clearer when you stepped out of your room, nearing the stairs.

“Y/N is upstairs, carrying your baby and getting the rest she needs, and you’re out drinking?”

It wasn’t surprising to hear, not even disappointing. You’d come to expect everything of Rafe, and you peeked around the corner, gaze landing on the two of them at the bottom of the stairs. Your ex did look drunk, hair mussed like he’d been running his hands through it, and your eyes fell to the large bag in his hand.

“When you came to me to take responsibility for your part in all this, to tell me about the situation, I had hope, Rafe. I still do, but this? I don’t like this,” the older man scolded.

“You can relax, alright? I was just at Topper’s. We just had some beers-.”

“…and then you drove here.”

Rafe didn’t say anything to that, and when you glanced up again, you found his drunken gaze on you. Feeling embarrassed at having been caught, you backed away and made your way back to your room. You could feel your stomach turning, mouth salty, and you grimaced, rushing to the bathroom. Truthfully, you weren’t sure why they called it morning sickness when you found that it sometimes lasted all day.

When you finished rinsing your mouth out, you were stumped by the sight of Rafe in your room.

You opened your mouth to say something when you paused, taking in the way he stood over the crib. You studied the way he seemed to study it, blue eyes drinking in the color and size, and you watched him reach up with his free hand to brush his fingers along the smooth surface. He didn’t acknowledge you right away, just drinking it in, and his throat bobbed.

“Cam and Bunny bought it,” you finally said.

Again, he said nothing, and you sighed.

“Rafe, I need to sleep. You can look at it tomorrow-.”

“No.”

You frowned at him, frown deepening when he moved to sit down on your bed. You folded your arms over your chest, opening your mouth when he drew your attention back to the bag he’d been holding. You watched him dump everything out onto the bed, and it was hard to describe the feeling in your chest as your eyes ran over everything.

It was all baby stuff.

Blankets, onesies, diapers. You sharply inhaled, so conflicted at the sight of Rafe simultaneously trying and fucking up. You let out a bitter chuckle, thinking to yourself to leave it to Rafe to get drunk and drive home with a bag full of things the baby would need. You dropped the blanket, unsure of what to say. You felt like you should thank him, but you weren’t going to thank Rafe for doing what dads should.

Providing for this baby he was forcing you to have was the least he could do.

“Ward said you’re drunk…”

Rafe heaved a sigh, rolling his eyes towards the ceiling, but he didn’t deny it. He shook his head, running his hand through his dirty blond strands, and standing.

“Topper and Kelce can’t believe I’m doing this, you know,” he slurred, and you eyed him. “They think I’m crazy…but they don’t get it.”

“Look, all of this stuff is great, Rafe, but I think you should-.”

“I fucking love you.”

Your stomach churned at that, and you couldn’t hold his gaze when it met yours. You didn’t believe that for a second, and it scared you that Rafe genuinely did.

“I do,” he drunkenly continued. “…and you might hate me, now, but you won’t forever. You can’t.”

“Rafe,” you sighed.

“…because that baby will know. Our child will see it, and they’ll hate you.”

Your heart skipped a beat as Rafe stared you down, and you swallowed.

“Our son will hate you.”

You froze, eyes widening at Rafe as he revealed what you didn’t want to know yet. He watched your face as you processed the knowledge that you were having a boy…another Rafe, and by the look on Rafe’s face, you could see that was where his mind had headed too. You stumbled back, and Rafe let out a soft chuckle.

“We’re having a boy…and I’m going to treat him better than my dad ever treated me,” he practically sneered, your eyes meeting his again. “He’ll never have to beg for my attention, my love, my approval.”

You turned away, staring at the crib and the pastel green color, mind racing.

“He’s going to fucking love me…and you will too because he does.”

You shook your head, and Rafe continued.

“You will too because he’s mine,” Rafe whispered, moving closer, now. “You’re going to see me in his face and his laugh and his God damn smile.”

“Shut up, Rafe.”

Your voice cracked, and you hadn’t realized until now that you’d been hoping for a girl. You tried to tell yourself that it didn’t matter to you, but in this moment, as Rafe taunted you with everything you wanted to pretend wasn’t true, you realized it mattered a lot. Seeing Rafe in your son was going to elicit one of two reactions.

You were either going to hate the sight of him and everything he reminded you of, something you couldn’t imagine…

…or he was going to make the next eighteen years very trying in ways you didn’t even want to think about.

“I told you I didn’t want to know,” you choked out. “Do you ever respect anything I say?”

You pushed past him, moving to clean everything off of your bed when you felt Rafe at your back. You reached back, pushing at him, but Rafe wouldn’t budge. He wrapped his arms around you, and you felt his face in the crook of your neck.

“Rafe-.”

“We’re having a boy,” he drunkenly murmured, lips brushing your neck. “You’re giving me a son.”

When you turned around, you pressed your hands to his chest, but Rafe dropped to his knees before you could stop him. You gasped when his arms tightened around you, his face pressed to your stomach, and your hands were suspended in the air, unsure of what to do.

“Rafe, get up,” you harshly whispered.

You tensed when he pressed his lips to you, lifting your shirt, skin meeting skin.

“Rafe, stop-.”

You cut yourself off with a gasp when his teeth nipped at you. He kissed his way up your body, lips meeting yours before you could stop him. You pushed against him, noises of protests leaving you as he moved his mouth over yours. Rafe’s hands pressed into you, digging into your skin and preventing you from moving.

Your heart started going crazy in your chest, and you worriedly looked towards the door.

“Rafe, stop,” you hissed against his lips, shoving his shoulders.

He ignored you, shoving you down onto the bed, and in your panic, your hand clasped onto some random baby toy he’d bought. You swung it at his face before you realized it, eyes widening as he pulled away with a loud hiss. The corner of the box it was in had cut his face, and you watched him reach up to touch it. Your lips parted when he looked at the blood on his hand, and you fearfully moved back, tearful eyes focused on him.

When his blue eyes met yours, his entire face hardened, expression taut. He came at you again, and you swung your arm, his hand catching your wrist just as the door opened. You both flew apart with impressive speed, your tearful gaze landing on Ward as he looked between you two. You didn’t miss the way his gaze narrowed the more it lingered on Rafe.

“Y/N needs rest, Rafe. You know that.”

The blond swallowed, running his hands through his hair with a nod.

“Yeah, yeah, I just… I was just showing her the stuff I bought.”

You could tell that Ward didn’t believe him, and when it became clear that Ward wasn’t leaving until he did, Rafe reluctantly moved away from you. You looked down when he glanced over his shoulder at you, only looking up again to watch the way Ward roughly grabbed his shoulder, guiding him out as he shut the door behind them.

You wrapped your arms around yourself, throat tight as you looked over everything Rafe had bought. You were fighting to calm your heart, realizing how close Rafe had been to having his way with you. You were shaking, and you furiously blinked back tears, hand coming to rest on your stomach. A mini Rafe was growing inside of you, and to make sure he didn’t turn out like his father, you worried that you’d might have to lose yourself in the process.

#dark!rafe cameron x reader #dark!rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron #obx fanfiction #obx #obx fic #Outer Banks #outer banks fanfiction #rafe cameron fic

[sapphic-gardn]

Willow | joel miller x f!reader | pt. 2

part 1

Summary: Patrol with Joel is proving to be more difficult than you originally anticipated. Joel says some things he regrets.

(no use of y/n)

Warnings (18+ mdni): mentions of loss/grief, weapons/violence, swearing, age gap (reader is 23, Joel is in his 50s), angst, one-sided pining, no physical description of reader, will specify with each chapter

Word Count: 2.9k

a/n: hiiii! this is the second part to my joel miller fic and wowza i am so excited to share!!! all the love on part one is surreal. i can’t believe people are enjoying my writing—it’s insane to me. i love you ALL so much. i also love all my moots who have welcomed me with open arms into this lil community. happy reading! let me know your thoughts!!!! 💓

credit to @cafekitsune for the cutie divider <3

During the first week of patrol with Joel, you found yourself questioning why you harbored a crush for the man in the first place. He barely spoke, and when he did, it was to scrutinize you. It was an exhausting game of who could hurt the other one more.

When the second week of patrol rolled around, you were determined to evade conflict. The morning played out as usual—a short greeting at the stables and mumbled groans from Joel. The ride out was wordless yet tranquil. Until…

You came to a halt at an abandoned cabin, one you both had passed on patrols before, because something caught your eye. You dismounted your horse and tied her to a tree nearby. Joel got wind of your sudden detour and scoffed.

“What’re you doin’?” Joel’s voice cut through the silence and you quickly signaled to him to stay quiet with a finger to your lips. He reluctantly followed suit and sauntered behind you after securing his horse.

What had captured your attention was the door to the cabin. In passing on every patrol, you noted that the little wooden building and its worn door had been closed—the door was always closed. However, today the door was open. Wide open. A portal to another realm it seemed. Ominous as the darkness beyond it taunted you.

Come and get me.

A challenge presented to you in the form of danger. The windows were boarded up, the only light inside of the cabin coming from the spaces between the wood. You moved swiftly around the perimeter, peeking in the slits before wandering beyond the threshold. With your gun and flashlight at the ready, you skulked through the first room on your right. Clear. As you made your way to the second room, you misjudged your step and tripped on a splintered floorboard. You caught yourself before you could fall but regained your footing with a loud thud.

Click. Click. Click. Click.

Your body froze in place. Instantaneously, a blood curdling screech emerged from right behind you. Before you could think, you spun around and fired two bullets into the clicker’s skull. Shit. You scolded yourself. Your mind was going a hundred miles a minute and you couldn’t decipher your surroundings. You lowered your trembling hand that held the gun and looked down at the thing that once was a person. Blood was pooling under your feet and you concluded that the infected man must have been bitten recently. He must’ve broken into the cabin to isolate and wait for his demise. Your stomach sank as you imagined what the man’s life might have looked like before he was bitten. Another casualty amid a monstrous war.

Joel quickly emerged in the doorway, interrupting your spiraling thoughts. Sheer panic washed over his face. “Coulda gotten yourself killed! Gonna get us both killed with the sound’a that goddamn gun!”

With that, Joel hastily made his way to you, grabbed your upper arm, and guided you out of the cabin to the tree where your horses were stationed. You broke free from his firm grip and mounted your horse promptly, still feeling the burn of his touch under your sleeve in the minutes that followed.

Once you both retreated to a safe distance you decided to swallow your pride and apologize, “I-I’m sorry. I should’ve grabbed my knife. I-I should’ve—I was—“

“Damn right you should’ve. Meant what I said when I called you a little girl. That’s exactly what you are. Never thinkin’ before doin’. Think you’re so tough goin’ into that cabin by yourself? Not tellin’ me what the fuck you were up to?” Joel’s voice rumbled with a deep anger that made you shiver. He was fuming, but his tone held a note of worry. Was he scared? Was Joel Miller afraid of losing you? It didn’t matter. His words were a stark contrast to the sentiment.

“Fuck. You.” Those were the only words you could conjure up because…he was right. Of course he was right, but you refused to give him the satisfaction of succumbing to his cruelty. You squeezed the sides of your horse and sped up ahead of Joel from your place beside him. With your back facing Joel, tears rimmed your waterline and flowed freely down your cheeks. The salty taste of tears bleeding onto your lips brought you back to the moment Maria found you, vulnerable and tremulous.

Growing up during an apocalypse rendered the gift of resilience. The way you saw it, words were nothing but sound waves mingling with air as they escaped a bodily vessel. Harsh words deflected off of you like a bullet to fiberglass. But Joel knew exactly how to penetrate that protective shield you so carefully curated.

Before life in Jackson, you had always felt inferior. Viewed as a damsel in distress by the men in your life. But you were so far from it, gathering the courage to leave the Seattle QZ at sixteen to find your parents who disappeared on a smuggling job. Surviving on your own for two years and teaching yourself how to be self-sufficient. You quickly picked up on how to use weapons as well as raid buildings without getting caught (not your best moments). Independence came easily to you and you would be damned if you let some old grump tell you otherwise. Clearly, all he saw in you was a naive little girl.

You return to the stables before Joel. He makes his way in just as you turn to leave. In passing, you glare into Joel’s eyes and hastily shove him with your shoulder on your way out. You’re pretty sure he notices the redness around your eyes from crying. You can see a glint in his eyes that exhibits a look of sorrow. Even if he is sorry, he can’t take it back. He can’t take back the feeling of sheer humiliation that is seeping into your bones. He can’t take it back.

You traipse through the town center, in no rush to get home and sit alone with the voice of doubt in your ear. The smell of pine invades your olfactory senses and the string lights twinkle above you like stars in the night sky. It reminds you of Christmas, before the world ended, sitting criss cross in front of a fireplace with a steaming cup of hot cocoa. And your parents are there. They would buy every toy on your Christmas list just to see you beam up at them and wiggle with glee. You miss them, you never got closure when they vanished. You didn’t find them, you have no knowledge of how they died—or if they even died. You can’t help but wonder if they left you on purpose. You caused trouble in the QZ—always trying to prove a point to someone in authority. Getting kicked out of FEDRA school was the last straw for them, they barely acknowledged your existence after that. But of course you still loved them, they were your parents. You still love them, they are your parents. They were good people before it all, before they became desperate.

The sound of your own sniffle pulls you back to the present. You find yourself on a bench, staring mindlessly at a family of three.

“Hey, you alright?”

A brown haired girl emerges in front of you. She has a look of sympathy painted on her features, yet she speaks so casually. She follows your eye-line to the family in the distance. You recognize her. She is the young girl who is attached at the hip with Joel. Apparently she isn’t his daughter, but technically she is, given what they’ve been through together…Tommy made it all too confusing when he explained it to you.

“I’m okay, yeah, I’m alright. Thanks.” You dismiss the loaded question with a wave of your hand. When your eyes meet hers, your features soften and you see a tinge of something behind her brown eyes. Maybe it’s hurt, or fear, she seems guarded, similar to yourself at that age.

“I’m Ellie,” She eagerly extends her hand and you take it in a firm handshake. You introduce yourself and make room on the bench beside you. She reluctantly takes the spot and sighs, the shape of her breath visible against the contrasting cold air. The first few minutes are silent, neither one of you are keen on breaking the calm air that surrounds you.

“So,” Ellie finally breaks the silence, “rough day, huh?”

You snort, a small smile emerging on your lips, “I guess you could say that. What about you? Aren’t kids your age usually running around the commune finding trouble?” You look at her out of the corner of your eye when she giggles.

“Not much to do around this boring ass place. Plus, my best friend is hanging out with some dude I fucking hate. Count me out on that third wheeling bullshit.” Her vulgarity takes you by surprise, but you find it quite funny.

After awhile, you two fall into easy conversation. She asks you so many questions…so many. It almost feels like an interrogation but you know she’s just curious. It’s endearing, the way she perks up when you answer her questions about life before the apocalypse. You were young, so you barely remember anything, every memory is coated in black and white hues, lacking details, nonetheless, she holds onto every word.

The sun is mostly gone from the sky, which is your cue to start walking home. You and Ellie decide to make the trek back to your neighboring houses together, still entwined in your storytelling the whole way there.

You arrive at your gate and bid your farewells to Ellie with a small wave and a promise to her that she can come over whenever she feels like it.

“He talks about you, you know…Joel. He asks Tommy way too many fucking questions about you too.” Ellie’s words bounce around in your brain and leave you short-circuited. That’s the second time today you’ve been rendered speechless. First by Joel and then by his (kinda) daughter. Ellie reads the dumbfounded expression on your face and sighs, “I just—I know he’s a fucking pain in the ass, but I think he cares about you. Sure as hell doesn’t ask questions about anyone else in this fuckin’ place,” she stares at the ground before she speaks up again, “Uh…look…I-I didn’t mean to trip you up or anything…uh…I’m gonna head home now. I’ll come by tomorrow? Yeah. See you then.” With that, Ellie’s ramble ends and she swiftly makes her escape to her home. The home she shares with Joel. Joel, the man who cares about you? The thought actually makes you laugh out loud.

Joel’s best trait is hurting people. He reads you like a book, he pinpoints every insecurity you harbor, and uses it to push, push, push your buttons. The stone cold exterior you display is merely translucent to someone like Joel. He’s seen it before, every time he looks in the damn mirror. He feels drawn to you, a moth to a flame. If he gets too close, he might get burned. What happens when you set his heart aflame? Maybe you already have.

The front door opens and closes and Joel hears Ellie padding her way to the kitchen where he sits at the table, nursing a tumbler of whiskey. Ellie plops down on the chair across from him.

“What’s got you in such a bad mood today, old man?” Ellie leans over the table and playfully nudges Joel with her fist.

“Not right now, kid. Don’t feel like jokin’ around,” Joel’s eyes flicker to Ellie’s for a moment before refocusing on the amber liquid in his glass.

Ellie throws her hands up in surrender, “Alright dude, just don’t drink yourself to death—that shit would be far more embarrassing than a clicker getting your ass.” She lightheartedly laughs and leaves the kitchen with a pat on Joel’s shoulder, exiting through the back door to her makeshift bungalow in the yard.

Joel figured that a few whiskeys in, the tight feeling in his chest might loosen up. But he’s five glasses in and he can’t stop picturing you. The inconsolable expression on your face as you left the stables haunts him every time he closes his eyes.

His mind takes him to the moment he met you. You were crouching over a patch of vegetables—carrots, maybe? Your bottom lip was caught between your teeth and your brows were furrowed in concentration. When Tommy called your name and you looked up, Joel felt the wind get knocked out of his lungs. You were…angelic. Smeared dirt covered your forehead, and beads of sweat gathered at your hairline. Even in your unkempt state, your allure was ever so present. Joel couldn’t bring himself to look at you, even as you reached a hand out to introduce yourself. Then, your witty remark. Something inside of him shifted in that moment and he knew he had to leave. A young, bright woman like you wouldn’t want anything to do with an old, damaged man like Joel. So he did what he does best, he pushed you away, created a distance so you would learn to hate him.

Joel’s outburst on patrol earlier today took it too far. He knows that—but he was terrified that something might’ve happened to you. When he saw you, standing in that abandoned cabin, shock dripping from your expression, with a lifeless clicker on the floor below you, he became angry. Angry that you would be so careless. Angry that you didn’t ask for help. Angry that he cared about you so damn much even when he tried his hardest not to.

On his sixth whiskey, Joel curses to himself as he meanders to his front door. His brain is devoid of all thoughts that don’t include you. Your smile, he wants to make you smile. He wants to be reason you smile, not the reason you cry. He twists the doorknob and forces himself out onto the front porch. Your lights are on. It’s late, why are you still awake? Thank god you’re still awake.

His steps are calculated when he saunters up your walkway. He hesitates, his fist is hovering over your front door. He lightly knocks on the thick wood, but regrets it immediately and turns on his heel to leave. With his back facing away, he hears the click of a lock unlatch and a sliver of light emanating from your open door casts a warm glow on the porch.

“Joel? What are you doing here? Do you need something?” Your voice is barely above a whisper. With the sweet sound of his name spilling from your lips, he turns to face you. The door is now fully open and you are leaning against the door frame. The light coming from inside the house outlines your figure like an angel descending from heaven.

He clears his throat, “‘M sorry, darlin’, is nothing. Get some rest.” Despite his words, he makes no move to leave. You step out from the threshold and lessen the distance between the two of you. Joel searches your eyes, looking for a hint of something, anything that isn’t pure hatred. All he finds is affliction.

You scoff, “C’mon, just spit it out already. I ain’t waitin’ all damn day,” you echo his words from the morning of your first patrol together. Joel notices and he chuckles before regaining his composure.

“‘M sorry. I wanted to come over here and tell ya that. I was fuckin’ scared shitless. I didn’t mean a word I said back there. I trust that y’can hold your own.” Joel’s words catch you off guard. You stutter, all coherent words evade you and your bottom lip starts to tremble. You quickly avert your gaze to hide the imminent tears pooling at your waterline.

You sniffle, “Thanks, Joel. That was probably hard for you, apologizing and all. You can go home now, I forgive you. Just forget it ever happened, m’kay?” You sound defeated and it fractures something within Joel.

He takes your chin between his thumb and forefinger, “Hey. Look at me,” you meet his gaze and simply melt. The tears fall freely down your cheeks and a small gasp escapes you, “I’m sorry. You don’t gotta let me off the hook, I jus’ gotta tell you ‘m sorry.”

Suddenly, you become hyper-aware of the situation. Mere inches separate you and Joel. He is studying your face, so close you can smell the whiskey on his breath. A mixture of lust and hate stirs somewhere within your lower belly.

“Okay,” is the only word you can conjure up. It’s a whisper, barely audible. Joel’s hand cradles your cheek and he swipes a tear away with his thumb. His eyes flicker between your lips and your bewildered gaze. His breath hitches, seeing your beauty up close is otherworldly. He feels himself leaning in, closer, closer, closer. He is a hairbreadth away from grazing your lips when you turn your head. Your buttery voice dances through the air, “Please, Joel. Just go home. I can’t do this right now.”

You turn on your heel and slink back into your house, before closing the door, you breathe a weak, “Goodnight, Joel.”

You don’t know if he says it back.

a/n: ty for reading. ilysm <3 i hope this part lives up to the last one :,) i am so nervy to post this EEEEEK!!

taglist: @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @alejaa-a @cool-iguana @littleshadow17 @planet-marz1 @alyhull @joeldjarin @lizzyervs @casa-boiardi @loveisacowboyyy @thegrlwholivedd @ashleymsnodgrass @ilovepedro @dilfspitdrinker @bastardmandennis @breakfastatjoels @gracieheartspedro @chaotic-mystery

#joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x female reader #joel miller the last of us #joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller apologist #jenispunk

[deathblacksmoke]

Dramamine—Part 9

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x Nick Ruffilo

Series Summary: Cynical, brooding bartender Nick meets too-earnest, pretty boy singer Noah when The Rabbit's Foot starts hosting an open mic night.

CW: a little bit of angst and self-doubt, a little bit of backstory, self-serving pretty flowery apologies, and i made the boys kiss again

*Content warnings are updated by chapter*

Word Count: 1.7K

dividers by @cafekitsune 💐

He’s about ready to own up to it when Autumn walks in, admit what he’s done and face the consequences. He’s pissed her off before and survived — he doesn’t doubt he can do it again.

She sidles up beside him at the register and he’s going to tell on himself when she says something that makes his eyes widen. “Nick texted you?”

His mind reels, wondering how she knows. When he glances over, he’s expecting anger in her expression, or at the very least annoyance. Instead he finds her smiling at him, expression soft.

“How did you know?” he inquires, wracking his brain for an explanation but coming up with nothing. His stomach turns when he envisions Autumn pounding on the door of Nick’s house, or barging into the bar, berating a stranger for something that shouldn’t be her problem. Autumn, as always, coming to his rescue when he can’t do it himself.

He feels sick.

“Do you remember my friend Jasmine?” Autumn offers, and there’s a beat when he questions the relevance of the question. He remembers her vaguely — she and Autumn were friends while Noah was living in Baltimore, a coworker from the university. They’d met once, when Noah came home for the weekend, but he didn’t stick around. It just didn’t feel like home anymore. He was happy that she had someone like Jasmine to fill the void he’d left when he vanished.

He distantly wonders why they don’t see each other anymore before his heart drops, remembering what happened to her. He sees her face, his mind traveling to the photo on the end table in Nick’s living room. Her pretty dark hair, her kind smile.

He doesn’t know how he didn’t connect it, and he feels painfully foolish. Not knowing what else to say, he nods.

“He’s a good guy, Noah,” Autumn utters, a sigh on the edge of her voice as if she hates to admit it. He knows that she’s right, and just recently he would have done anything for her to think so, but right now it makes him feel like he’s out of people on his side. He still needs her on his side. “He’s been through a hell of a lot, but he wants to fix this.”

He imagines how the conversation might go tonight. His mind conjures the image of an apology, at Autumn’s instruction, but yet another letdown. It isn’t the first time someone hasn’t wanted him, and he’s sure it won’t be the last. Already, he’s itching to disappear again. Asheville might be nice this time.

It already took everything in him to come back here. It took even more out of him to open his heart again, and he really thought he’d picked the right one this time — it felt right, didn’t it?

His mind shifts suddenly back to the last time something felt right, the overwhelming joy he’d felt, and rapidly to the look on Aiden’s face when Noah had the nerve to ask if he wanted to get married, to the bellowing laughter and the pity painted across his face that read oh, you poor thing. When he got home from work the next day, half of the apartment was emptied out. He didn’t see him again, but every inch of Richmond stunk of the 3 years of memories they made together.

He knows what it’s like to want to disappear. He knows how hard it is to come back. It isn’t the same, but he knows how it feels for your life to stop dead in its tracks.

It’s a little past 8 already, anxiety bubbling up in his gut as he’s pacing back and forth across his living room. There’s a part of him hoping that Nick doesn’t show, leaving Noah to fill in the blanks on his own, fizzling out slowly and painfully but without a direct and detailed hit to his ego.

Autumn and the guys have gone out to give them privacy, and the thought of being left alone for even a moment after Nick shatters him all over again makes his chest ache. He doesn’t want them to be here to watch it happen, but he still wishes they’d stayed. He can’t be by himself.

His spiral is interrupted by three knocks in quick succession.

He’s nauseated, shaking with nerves, but he can’t deny that he misses Nick. He misses his face, his voice, the way his lips spread into a smile seemingly against his will. At least he’ll get to see him one last time before he disappears from Noah’s life for good, another black mark on his romantic history.

When he swings the door open with shaking hands, he finds himself unprepared for what he sees on the other side. Nick, looking more timid than Noah’s ever seen him, with a hastily put together bouquet of flowers and the most hopeful expression in his eyes.

It’s not at all what he expected.

“I’m sorry I’m a little late, I—” Nick starts, unsteady on his feet and jittery. Noah won’t let himself get his hopes up, but the urge to reach out and touch him is almost unbearable. This was a terrible idea. “I didn’t ask Aut what flowers you like, so…I hope you like hydrangeas.”

He envisions Nick at the shop, agonizing over which flowers to choose to let Noah down easy. He imagines him speaking with a kind stranger who passes by behind him, asking for advice, hurriedly placing together blue hydrangeas, baby’s breath, eucalyptus leaves, and hoping for the best as he rushes out. It’s a lot of effort to put into a heartbreak.

And Noah does love hydrangeas. An awfully pretty flower to sit in a vase on his coffee table to taunt him as he agonizes through his loss.

He guides Nick inside and tries not to let his mind drift backwards to their last encounter on this couch. It’s a struggle every time he’s in this room, not letting himself relive every moment, the floating feeling to the sinking, empty nothing.

They should have done this somewhere else. He’s not looking forward to adding another painful memory to the living room’s history, especially if he wants to stick around after this one.

Each second Nick spends fiddling with his hands instead of making eye contact and getting on with it drags. The bouquet sits sadly on the coffee table and he wonders if he should busy himself with putting them in a vase with water, a distraction from the impending whatever, but he doesn’t want to waste the water. He should probably throw them out.

“You can rip the band-aid off, Nick,” Noah starts, and he isn’t expecting the surprised and hurt expression that casts itself across Nick’s face. His eyes get so sad, concern obvious, and it’s only then that Noah wonders if this might be a different kind of visit altogether. Even through the overwhelming feeling of dread, he feels awfully soft for him. “It’s okay, Nicky, I’m listening.”

“I’m so sorry that I made you feel like I didn’t want you, or that you weren’t making me happy,” Nick starts, and Noah feels as the weight begins to lift off his shoulders, as the tightness in his chest loosens. Nick takes a few deep breaths, a sort of shaky breathing that Noah recognizes. He doesn’t want to let himself have hope, but he watches as the nerves he recognizes in Nick take a different shape than he’d expected. “I haven’t been that happy in a long time, Noah, and I didn’t think it was something that I deserved. It scared the shit out of me.”

It’s against Noah’s own will when the tears start falling. There’s a tiny but clawing part of him that still thinks this is bad—that these flowery, pretty apologies are just an elaborate setup for a letdown that makes Nick look good at the end of it all. When Nick reaches out to place a shaky hand hesitantly on Noah’s knee, still speaking but Noah can’t make out a single thing through all the whooshing in his ears, Noah feels hope for the first time. He forces himself to focus.

“I’m sorry, I’m listening,” Noah says, and the smile Noah loves shows itself for the first time this visit—a wide grin spreading across Nick’s face although his nerves are still so blatant. Nick reaches out to touch Noah’s face, and he almost wants to shy away but doesn’t. He lets Nick trace a thumb over his cheek, wipe away his tears, just in case this is the last time he can have this.

“I know I still have a lot to do to make it up to you, but you deserve to be really happy, and I want to be the one to make you happy,” Nick says, and there’s such sincerity in his tone that it’s unmistakable. There are tear tracks down his cheeks, too, and Noah knows he means it. “If you’ll let me give it a try. I may not be any good.”

It’s something they’ll have to talk about further. They’ll have to spend a lot of time working through it, and Noah will have to give him a lot of shit, but his focus narrows in on one thing. And that’s having him.

He scoots himself closer to Nick, watches him relax as Noah places a hand on his cheek. 

“I would never ask you to unlove her,” Noah says, to which Nick is quick to nod. “Just talk to me. Make a little room for me.”

“I promise I will,” Nick responds, placing a hand over Noah’s on his cheek and the poor thing is still shaking. Noah hasn’t felt so steady in a long time.

He pours his heart into the kiss they share, finding himself praying that they can keep this. That for once, he can get what he wants. He feels that hope grow just that little bit bigger when Nick’s lips move to his cheek, a sigh of relief pressed into the skin of Noah’s face.

“No boy has ever bought me flowers before,” Noah whispers, feeling Nick’s grin spread once more, pulling Noah ever closer.

tags: @concretenoah . @circle-with-me . @darksigns-exe . @ladyveronikawrites . @agravemisstake . @monotoniscreaming . @cookiesupplier . @bngurngheart . @jiizzy . @screamsinsilver . @iknownothingpeople . @anameunmusical . @sitkowski . @baddestomens . @itsafullmoon . @collapsedglasshouses

#bad omens fic #bad omens fanfiction #bad omens rpf #noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian rpf #nicholas ruffilo fic #nicholas ruffilo fanfiction #nicholas ruffilo rpf #nick ruffilo fic #nick ruffilo fanfiction #nick ruffilo rpf #noah sebastian x nick ruffilo #noah sebastian x nicholas ruffilo #deathblacksmoke works #fic: dramamine

[ladamedusoif]

Christmas Tree (Professor!Ben x OFC!Lydia)

A Merry Fic-Mas - December 22

Part of A Merry Fic-Mas: A Pedro Boys Holiday Fic Calendar - click for masterlist.

Follow my writing blog @ladameecrit and turn on notifications to keep up to date with my fics!

Pairing: Professor!Ben (Mr Ben AU) x OFC!Lydia 

Word count: 908

Rating: Mature; 18+ MDNI

Warnings: Allusions to smut; mild swearing; established relationship; references to Christmas but secular.

A/N: A little imagine from the Visiting universe - this isn’t a flash forward, because Visiting is as-yet unfinished and still seeking a resolution, but I wanted to write for these two in a Christmas setting again. (And I couldn't resist that gif from The Bishop's Wife!)

MDNI banner by @cafekitsune

You draw the living room curtains and step back to survey your handiwork. Your first Christmas tree together, and you’d wanted it to be just right. 

Ben stands in the middle of the doors that divide the living room from the dining room and kitchen, oohing and aahing at the tall tree shining with hundreds of tiny lights that reflect off the many baubles you’ve hung from its branches.

“Hit the lights, baby,” you ask, “you can’t really see if the lights look right unless you have darkness.”

He does as he’s bid, and the living room is illuminated only by the cosy glow of the stove in the fireplace and the warm white of the Christmas tree. You screw up your eyes to assess the overall effect, using a trick your grandfather had taught you years before. 

“You think it’s okay, Ben?” You turn to face him, smiling at the way the gentle light of the tree picks out his handsome features and the twinkle in his eyes as he takes it in. 

“It’s…perfect. You are so talented, Lyddie.”

You beam at his praise. “It’s just a case of working out where everything needs to go. And we can add to the baubles over time - I know most of these are from my original collection, but soon there’ll be ones that are ours, with our memories attached to them.”

There’s no response. You turn back to see if he’s still there, and notice that he’s fiddling with the stereo system in the dining room, carefully placing a record on the turntable and setting the stylus to the right track.

The intro begins, and Ben spins to face you with a mischievous look on his face. He starts to dance in your direction as the familiar opening of the song plays from the speakers.

“Baby, what is going on?”

He wraps an arm around your waist and takes your hand, pulling you to him and leading you into the rhythm of the song. As the vocal begins, Ben joins in, mimicking Bruce Springsteen’s New Jersey rasp:

“Merry Christmas, baby

You sure did treat me nice

Merry Christmas, baby

You sure did treat me niiiiice

I feel just like I’m liviiin’

Livin’ in para- shit, Lyd, I can’t sustain that, sorry.”

You throw your head back and laugh, wrapping your arms around his neck and swaying your hips in time to the music. “Just dance with me, darling man.”

Ben’s coffee-brown eyes shine, cheeks flushing a little. He brings his hands to your hips and moves with you, his body flush against yours. He can’t help join in again, in his usual voice, for the bridge:

“Santa came down the chimney

Half past three

With lots of nice little presents for

Lyddie and me”

You both giggle as he reaches again for your hands, twirling you around and under his arm before bringing you back into hold. He looks so beautiful in the soft light from the tree and the fire: like pure comfort and love distilled in human form. You can’t help but nuzzle in to his chest as the song enters the final bridge and chorus.

“How’d you get to be so good at dancing, Ben?”

He kisses your hair and you can hear him smile. “My parents. They always used to dance together in the house during the holidays, they’d go dancing at weekends sometimes - it was their thing.” You feel him pull you a little closer. “My dad had moves. And when I was a little kid, I asked him to teach me.”

You chuckle, humming happily against his broad chest, clad in a soft, dark blue plaid flannel shirt. “So you’ve been working on your moves since you were a little kid?”

He laughs in agreement. “Kinda. I think I just looked at them and thought I’d like to have that, someday. Someone to dance with you, no matter if it’s just at home.” He pulls away slightly and looks at you. “I dunno, it just seemed so…loving.”

As the E Street Band plays the final bars of the song, you lean in and caress Ben’s handsome face before kissing him. “It was loving. It is loving.” You can’t help but run your hands over his back and down to the waistband of his jeans, hooking your fingers against the denim so you can bring him tight to your body and walk him over to the couch.

His lips find yours again as you lie back on the sofa, Ben’s warm body between your legs and your fingers working to unbutton his shirt as he slips his hands under your oversized denim shirt and reaches for your breasts, pulling a whine of pleasure from you. You move one of his big hands to the waistband of your leggings, encouraging him to tug them down as you fumble to unbuckle his belt and unzip his jeans.

He pauses for a moment to take you in: the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, without question. If he said this now you’d roll your eyes and brush it off, pointing to your bare face and wrinkles and wobbles and greys and the slightly schlubby clothes you’re wearing for putting up the tree - but here, now, about to make love and with the lights from the Christmas tree sparkling in your eyes so full of love and affection, he thinks you might just be at your most beautiful.

#a merry fic-mas #holiday fic calendar #visiting fic #mr ben #mr ben snl #mr ben AU #professor!ben #mr ben x OFC #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal

[tamurilofrivendell]

Beauty and the Beast | Chapter 23

Previous Chapters [1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22] Read on AO3 [x]

Pairing: Thranduil/Fem. Reader Summary: A Beauty and the Beast inspired tale with Thranduil the Elvenking and a human reader from a nearby village Taglist: @captainchrisstan​, @rebleforkicks​, @yjrevolution​, @majahu​, @honey-wine, @accio-boys​, @achromaticerebus​, @solomonssimp​, @tired-ass-show-girl​, @dreamlessnight​, @daddy-long-legolas​, @sleepyamygdala​, @coopsgirl​

Three days passed in a fairly similar, comfortable way. You divided your time between the library, your room, exploring the halls or the gardens, and enjoying the company of those around you. Your main connections were Thranduil, Myleth and Legolas. Elros, Tauriel and Galion were often not too far behind, though Galion was often so busy with the king, being his personal butler. He had a lot to keep him busy even when he was not personally attending to the king himself. Indeed, with the upcoming festival you had found out about, it seemed most everybody was suddenly very busy. The whole kingdom seemed to buzz with activity and excitement.

You found yourself intrigued as you learned what you could about this elven festival. You had learned some of the customs of the elves during your time here and found yourself increasingly curious with each passing moment. Elves were nothing like what the people of your village had always assumed, the horror stories that had been passed down through the generations. The Mirkwood elves being the only ones that your village had come close to in all its years of existence, which was still not very, imagination had easily run wild.

The truth, you had discovered, was far lovelier. You’d found yourself thinking about how you could not wait to tell everyone just how wrong they had been but, of course, it had then hit you that you would never get the chance. You were not leaving these halls. Still, you wondered if perhaps you could bring up the idea of writing your father a letter eventually. You couldn’t see why Thranduil would deny you the joy of letting your father know you were safe and happy. Happy? The word had caught you off guard but you were quick to dismiss it, distracting your mind with a book of Elvish, which you were currently attempting to learn.

You woke one morning and readied yourself for the day ahead. You had been taking most, if not all, of your meals with Thranduil and Legolas now. However many times you found Legolas suspiciously absent, though whenever you would bring it up with him, he would wave it off as having been busy with his princely duties. You accepted it but you were not entirely sure if you believed him. Still, why should he bend the truth with you? You could see no reason, especially about something so trivial.

After dressing, you turned and left your room, trailing down the corridor in the direction of the royal chambers. When you reached the door to the dining room, you slipped inside and were surprised to find nobody there. By now, Thranduil was usually already up and sitting at the table waiting. In fact, usually breakfast was sitting on the table already but today there was nothing. You lingered for a moment, listening, but there seemed to be no noise or movement coming from anywhere. Turning, you left the room again and retreated back down the corridor.

As you walked you spotted Tauriel about to turn a corner ahead of you, looking mildly concerned, and you hurried towards her. “Tauriel!”

She turned at the sound of her name and offered you a smile. “Oh, good morning.” Tauriel said, continuing on. “I am afraid I cannot stop and talk.” She seemed a little scattered.

You shook your head. “No, that’s okay, I was just... wondering if you knew where Thranduil was.” It was out of the ordinary and off schedule so you were, admittedly, a little thrown.

Tauriel’s footsteps faltered then, which you found a little strange because nobody seemed to bat an eye anymore when you referred to the king by name, and she turned to look at you. “Oh. I am afraid I cannot say, My Lady.”

Frowning, you tilted your head and regarded her curiously. “What do you mean?” Surely, as the king, Thranduil’s whereabouts would be rather well known. “Do you mean he has left the halls? Did he slip past the guards? Is he in the forest alone?” You were beginning to feel a slight panic starting to take hold of you as all sorts of scenarios filled your mind. Though you knew Thranduil was a skilled fighter, you could not help your worry.

Tauriel gave you a confused look before she caught your meaning and shook her head quickly. “Oh, no. There is no need for concern, he is quite safe. I mean I simply cannot say.”

Your frown deepened as you blinked back at her. “You cannot?”

She shook her head, turning to start walking once again, eager to get where she was heading. “I am sorry. It is the King’s orders.”

You stopped walking and watched Tauriel’s retreat as she turned a corner and disappeared from sight. Did Thranduil not want to see you? Had you done something wrong? Still frowning, you trailed away down to the dining hall, moving inside and hoping to catch sight of somebody you knew. Myleth immediately saw you from the table she sat at and waved you over. “Oh! I should have come to fetch you, how silly of me.” She shook her head as though she had made some sort of mistake and tapped her fingers against her forehead. “No matter, you are here now. Are you hungry?”

You shook your head at her. You had lost your appetite but you were also confused by what she had said. “But... you know I usually eat with Thranduil, why should you come and fetch me?”

Myleth looked at you. “Oh, dearie, did the King not tell you?”

“Tell me what?” You were beginning to get frustrated as the answers you sought continued to linger beyond your grasp.

“That he would not be able to break his fast with you today.” Myleth continued, unperturbed by your irritation. “I am sorry, I assumed he would have informed you and I suppose he probably assumed I would have come to your chamber before you left it. Miscommunications all around.”

You were still confused as Myleth turned to pour herself some tea from the pot on the table. “But... why is he unable to dine with me this morning?” You couldn’t help but ask, needing to know if something was wrong.

“He is unable to dine with you all day, My Lady.” Galion stated as he took his seat across the table, glancing at Myleth only briefly but you caught a secret sort of look pass between them that only frustrated you further.

“Will somebody please tell me exactly what they mean and stop talking in riddles.” You sighed heavily, looking from one to the other. “Have I done something to upset him? Is that it?”

“No!” Myleth was quick to jump in, hastily shaking her head. She had absolutely no desire to let you sit with the idea of the king being upset with you, especially not now she had witnessed just how much the two of you seemed to bring out this light in each other where before only darkness had lingered between you both. “Of course not, no. Oh, dear, do not worry. It is only today. Now, come on, let’s discuss the festival. I think I have found you the perfect dre--”

“Then why?” You cut her off, unable to just let it go. You felt like something was being kept from you and you wanted to know what it was. You glanced at Galion, noticing the warning look he shot Myleth when she turned to him for help.

“Come on.” You said, firmer this time. “Somebody better start talking.”

Myleth sighed and turned to look at you, ignoring Galion’s sound of disapproval. “My dear... it is a difficult day for the King... and for his son.” She murmured and you realised that you had not seen Legolas yet that morning either and it was quite a bit later now.

“In what way?” You asked carefully, looking at Galion who was engrossed in a teacup in front of him, acting like it was the most interesting thing in the world despite the slight scowl that had appeared on his face.

There was a long silence and then Myleth spoke again. “Well, it... it is the Queen’s begetting day, my dear.”

From what you could understand, a begetting day was the day on which someone was conceived which was what the elves tended to celebrate as opposed to actual birthdays. You hadn’t really understood why that would be important until Myleth had vaguely explained the conception and birth rates of the elves and it had started to form a fuller picture.

However, elves lived for so long that they often did not tend to celebrate at all, or at least not every year. However, with the queen... gone... the king had taken to truly taking this day to remember her. Or, more aptly, truly drown in his grief. He would shut himself away in the West Wing and Legolas would go into the forest with his bow, unable to stay in the palace when his father was like this.

The reason for Thranduil’s sudden disappearance on this day was only ever officially known by a select few staff members, who were under orders not to further discuss it, or his whereabouts, with others. Though, of course, rumours would have flown over the years, especially with everybody knowing that the queen was so off limits.

Your footsteps carried you in the direction of the library, intending to shut yourself away for the day as well, but your gaze fell upon that red curtain that concealed the staircase up to the West Wing and before you knew it, you had slipped behind the heavy material and were climbing the stairs.

Your last two visits to these chambers flashed through your mind. One horrible, one not so horrible. You weren’t sure which this would be but you felt as though it didn’t really matter. You were set on this course already and no amount of fighting with your own mind would get you to turn back.

You passed the portrait of the queen once more, looking up at the destroyed image of her as you did. She was so beautiful. She had such kind eyes, you thought. It was a shame that she seemed to have suffered such a horrible fate that nobody could even speak of it. Your curiosity was sky high but you turned your focus towards finding Thranduil, peeking into rooms as you passed. Moving into what was clearly a bedroom, you found an opened drawer of items had been upended, the jewellery and beautiful, intricate headwear all scattered across the floor. Images of Thranduil losing his temper to his grief and sending his wife’s jewels flying across the room in a rage flickered into your mind.

You felt sad.

Turning, you moved to the doors that led out to the balcony. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed a blackened rose in the middle of a glass case. Moving over, you ghosted your fingers across the glass with a frown. As you turned your head towards the window, finally catching sight of Thranduil down in the garden, you realised this dead rose was one of the Starfire Roses. More specifically, the one your father had plucked and killed. The one that seemed to have started all of this in the first place. Thranduil had kept it, giving it something of its own little memorial display case.

The sight hurt your heart.

Carefully, you moved towards the doors and pulled them open, slipping out onto the balcony. Thranduil didn’t look up, he simply continued to caress the roses. You could see them moving. Even they seemed sad today.

Biting your lip, you turned and moved carefully down the stairs and began to cross the grass. Your heart was practically in your throat as doubt began to creep in and you started to think that this may not have been a good idea after all. Would Thranduil just be angry with you? Perhaps your coming here uninvited, sticking your nose in where it did not belong, would set the two of you back after coming this far.

“This had better be important.” Thranduil’s tone was cold and he didn’t move, not so much as turning his head at your approach. His attention remained upon the roses. “I was very clear that I wish not to be disturbed.”

You stopped walking, your heart sinking into your toes. “Oh, I... sorry.” A soft frown crossed your features and you turned to make yourself scarce once more.

Thranduil turned around then. “Wait.” He called, looking at you with a frown of his own. His voice was softer now and you turned to face him again. “I thought you were somebody else.” He admitted, having assumed Galion had come to bother him with something. He looked at you for a quiet beat before he held up his hand and gestured for you to join him.

Tentatively, you moved across the garden and took a seat beside him on the little bench that stood beside the Starfire Roses. You glanced down and reached out towards one, watching as it turned its attention to you. Smiling softly, you turned your gaze to Thranduil. He was watching the flowers again. Your smile faded away as he glanced up and met your gaze, attempting to offer you a smile of his own but it fell short and he simply looked... sad. It was the only word you kept coming back to, to describe this entire situation.

“Myleth forgot to tell me you would not be at breakfast...” You told him quietly, not sure what else to say. You didn’t want to overstep and make him feel worse.

Thranduil closed his eyes briefly, shaking his head in a way that made it look like he was feeling guilt or regret. “I am sorry.” He sighed, opening his eyes. “I must admit, it did not cross my mind to tell you.”

“There’s no need for apologies.” You assured him quickly. You understood, how could you not? “I really didn’t mean to bother you, I just... wanted to see if you were alright.”

Thranduil blinked at you for a moment, finding that it surprised him... the fact that you had thought about how he would be doing. That you would want to seek him out, especially considering the way he had acted in the past. He knew that you had both become closer, that you had even gone so far as to call him a friend a few days ago, but he still found himself surprised by it. By the changes that had occured during your time here. By the way you seemed to... care... for someone such as him.

It touched him and Thranduil found himself reaching out for your hand. “Thank you. I...” He turned back to the roses with a sigh, watching them curl towards each other. “I will admit, I find this day to be... especially difficult.”

The two of you lapsed into silence for a few moments. You did your best to ignore the butterflies that the touch of his hand gave you, swallowing down the annoyingly present feelings that you simply could not seem to shake.

“Tell me about her?” You ventured, glancing up at him. You were quick enough to see the brief flicker of surprise flash in his eyes as he turned to look at you again. He covered it fast enough, however, his face becoming the marble mask you had become so accustomed to.

Thranduil was quiet, scanning your face as if he were trying to ascertain whether or not you were being serious. When he found no insincerity in your eyes, his gaze softened slightly.

“Her name was Caleniel...”

Legolas returned from the forest early that evening and set his bow back in its place, moving towards his chamber so that he could bathe and change. He was exhausted, but it was mostly due to the emotional whirlwind his mind had been in for the entire day.

It happened every year and it never got any better. He would wake frustrated and retire in the evening the same way.

This day was always such a dark one in the kingdom, it had been for centuries. Which was saying something when he thought about how generally dark a lot of things in this kingdom had become over these years. Despite every single shred of his mother being removed and forgotten and forbidden to even be discussed, the heavy shadow of her was ever present. Legolas barely remembered her but he remembered his father’s grief. It had been a constant for practically his entire life.

He trudged through the hallways towards the royal chambers. He just wished for this day to finally be over once and for all. It would come again the next year far too quickly. One year was such a drop in the ocean to an elf, it always felt as if no time had passed at all.

Legolas was surprised to find himself waylaid in the corridor by Tauriel. She looked normal at first glance but Legolas could see a slight flush to her cheeks and she looked a little more wide eyed than she usually did. “You have to see this.” She told him, fingers clutching his arm as she pulled him back down the hallway.

Legolas allowed her to lead him but his feet stilled as they came to the staircase up to the West Wing. He shook his head. “Tauriel, I cannot, my father...”

Tauriel shook her head, practically dragging him up the stairs. “Come on.” She urged and his feet allowed him to follow. “He always retires to his own chamber after dinner, you know this... but he did not come and Galion was concerned.” Tauriel pulled him down the corridor in the direction of the large bedroom. “So he came up here to look for him, to see if he needed anything...” Huddled at the window were Galion and Myleth, both turning to look at Tauriel and Legolas with expressions he could not decipher. Legolas was frowning now, too drained for games, just wanting to retire. He could not understand what the fuss was about. If his father wanted to stay up here all night moping then he could do just that.

He came to a stop at the window, taking in the sight of you and his father down in his mother’s garden.

“She went missing during breakfast.” Myleth said to Legolas, watching him for a moment before she glanced back outside to you and the King. Thranduil was talking and you were solemnly hanging off his every word. “She was nowhere to be found but I did not imagine that would have come back up here...”

“Since breakfast?” Legolas could not hide the shock that coloured his tone as he turned his gaze on Myleth. He glanced from her to Galion, who nodded, and then looked back outside. He watched his father talking and you listening. He wondered what you were discussing and probably would have paid a troll’s body weight in gold just to be able to listen in on one single moment.

For all these years, his father had been a black hole of grief and anger. Not one soul had been allowed up here. Not one soul had been allowed to utter his mother’s name or talk about her tragic demise. Not one soul had managed to get his father to simply spare them but one moment on this day.

Until you came.

Now, here his father sat. Talking with you in his mother’s private garden, on this very difficult day, beside her beloved Starfire Roses. He did not look angry. He looked a little sorrowful but the weight that always sat so heavily and obviously on his shoulders this day almost looked, to Legolas, a little lighter than it usually did. He could hardly believe what he was looking at but the scene made his heart soar.

“Come... we should leave.” He said softly, ushering the others out of the room and back down the stairs. As big a turning point as he had just witnessed, Legolas was still fairly sure that his father would not take kindly to all of them lingering at the window like spies this time around.

#thranduil x reader #thranduil x you #thranduil fanfiction #thranduil fanfic #lotr x reader #lotr fanfic #lotr fanfiction #hobbit fanfic #hobbit x reader #beauty and the beast

[leaderoffestivals]

Poltergeist Chapter 7

Madara: Are those kids, like, SCPs or somethiiing?

Scenario Writer: Akira Season: Winter Characters: Mikejima Madara, Sakasaki Natsume, Aoba Tsumugi, Narukami Arashi

 <An hour later. >

Tsumugi: First off, after discussing with the on-site staff, it's been decided that we'll start by helping out with simple tasks around the place, such as tidying the rooms and washing the dishes.

Uh, by the way, it seems a little late to bring this up now, but it looks like the position of leader has fallen naturally to me due to my past experience in this line of work. Is everyone okay with that? 

This project was originally designed with you in mind, Mikejima-kun, so if you'd like to take on the leader's role, I can step aside and let you have it.

Madara: Nope, it’s fine. I believe in letting those best suited for the job take the lead. Quite frankly, if I were in charge, I wouldn't have the slightest clue about what to do here!

Arashi: I agree. I can only imagine how that would be like pouring gasoline over the raging fires of an already chaotic situation.

Madara: Ohhh, what's this? Aren't you supposed to be halfway home by now, Arashi-san?

Arashi: Seriously? What kind of Onee-chan would I be if I abandoned Anzu-chan here and escaped by myself?

There's no way I could leave Anzu-chan behind in this dangerous nest of demons, especially not when all the men here don't seem like they'll be of any use at all! 

Natsume: AhahA. Your opinion of us is truly scraping rock-bottOM, isn't iT?

Tsumugi: Well, NEWDI has always been completely dependent on Knights for its survival up till now~, so it probably can't be helped if we're seen as somewhat unreliable. 

Anyway, let's get back to the topic at hand. There are five of us from ES and thirty children here. How about dividing them up into five groups, with each of us taking charge of one?

It would be a lot more manageable than dealing with all of them at once. 

In addition, by focusing on smaller groups, we're more likely able to nurture a closer relationship with the children—

—which would make it easier for us to capture the heartwarming moments needed for the show. 

Madara: Indeed. The window available for us to get the footage for the show is reeeally small. The best strategy for us would be to focus on building connections with smaller groups of children in that limited time frame since—

—any plan to win over everyone at once would probably take wayyy more time than we have.

Natsume: That's a strategy one might use in a dating sim or a gal gaME (1), wouldn't you sAY?

Tsumugi: Yes, it is~. By the way, I casually asked the staff here for a summary of the children's profiles, and based on that information, grouped those who seem likely to present lower risks together.

In the worst case scenario, we would be able to use the footage from the cameras following those groups of children for the show, right? What do all of you think?

Madara: I agree. The footage from the auditorium incident earlier definitely can't be used for the programme.

It's only because the kids are, well, children, that the incident could be handwaved as a childish prank, but if they had been adults like us, it would've been considered a malicious act.

Natsume: We would have had a major on-set incident on our haNDS.

Back to the topIC; could you give specifics on how the groups are actually dividED?

Tsumugi: To start, I made a rough first cut by gender.

Some of the children are of an age where they can't go to the bathroom alone, and that could become problematic if they got paired with someone of the opposite gender, despite the fact that all of them are children.

For the girls, I've designated the group which poses the higher risk of danger as the 'Rafflesia (2) Group', while the relatively safer group is called the 'Sunflower Group'.

Madara: Ahaha. It’s almost like you're classing dangerous creatures according to the level of threat they pose!

Tsumugi: Fufu. I'm thinking of assigning Narukami-kun and Anzu-chan to be in charge of these two groups. However…, who will be the one to take up the more dangerous group, though?

Arashi: … … I don't want to do it, but I'll be the one to take charge of the riskier group.

Natsume: HeH~. As one would expect of a gallant Knight; you have to protect a lady from danger at all coSTS, don't yOU?

Arashi: That’s part of the reason, of course, but when you come down to it, Anzu-chan isn't an idol. 

We can't let the Producer-san, who's helping us out of goodwill, do anything dangerous that could result in an injury, right?

We, as idols, signed a contract that included a hazardous duty clause, and we were briefed on the risks involved when we agreed to take on this job. However, that's not the case for Anzu-chan.

Tsumugi: Yes. That is indeed where we differ, in this matter. 

Arashi: Also, although the 'Rafflesia group' might play vicious pranks which might result in totally unusable footage—

According to the staff working here, the girls are generally much more docile than the boys. 

Tsumugi: Yes. And for the boys, who aren't docile at all, I've also grouped them according to the level of danger they pose. From the lowest to the highest risk, we have the 'Rabbit group', the 'Lion group', and the 'Kaijuu (3) group'

Madara: Oh myyy? You've actually resorted to naming some of them after fictional monsters now. Are those kids reeeally so terrible that real-life animals aren't adequate to describe the level of risk they pose?

Tsumugi: That's right. The kids in this 'Kaijuu group' are truly challenging, it seems.

They appear to be problem children in every sense of the word, and the staff have been repeatedly emphasising the numerous precautions one must take when dealing with them. 

Madara: Are those kids, like, SCPs (4) or somethiiing?

Tsumugi: I couldn't say… My sensing of the situation is that the staff here are exceptionally apprehensive of the children, which bothers me a little—

Or—rather than saying the staff are fearful of the children, it feels like they're actually treating these difficult children with the utmost caution.

Natsume: WeLL, they’re dealing with childREN, after aLL. In today's world, where any form of corporal punishment can lead to immediate dismissal from one's jOB, I guess they're strictly following the policy of "not inviting trouble if one wishes to avoid iT".

Tsumugi: I guess that must be the case… … Now then, let's decide on the assignation of the boys' groups, shall we?

I can endure any situation as long as it doesn't kill me, so I'll be in charge of the riskiest Kaijuu group, alright?

Madara: Hmmm~… … No, I think you should leave that group to me.

Natsume: OhH? What's with the sudden change of heART? Why are you so motivated all of a suddEN?

Madara: It's not that I'm becoming motivated or anything, but I've been travelling all over the world while letting my idol career slide, and gaining aaall sorts of experiences in the meantime.

As things stand, I'm in great physical shape, and I'm tough too. That's why, when you consider the fact that the kids here hate adults to the point of attacking them, then—

Tsumugi: —You'd probably be a better choice to deal with those dangerous children than I would, right, Mikejima-kun?

Madara: Yep! Even if they were to physically attack me, I should be able to subdue them without causing them harm—

And if they were to set a trap that would kill Tsumugi-san instantly, I believe I should be able to spot it in advance and stay clear of it.

Natsume: Good griEF. Why does this conversation sound like it should be from a party of adventurers planning to tackle a dungeon full of dangerous monstERS, rather than a conversation among nursery school teachERS?

—————-To be continued——————-

Chapter 6 / Chapter 8

Translator’s Notes: 

Dating sims are otome games (乙女ゲーム) where there's one female protagonist and multiple male love interests. Gal games (ギャルゲー) are the opposite, where there's one male protagonist and multiple female love interests. 

Rafflesia is the world's largest flower, spanning up to 120cm wide. It is a parasitic plant and gives off a smell like rotting flesh. Pretty much a monster flower.

Kaijuu (怪獣) is a Japanese term, referring to giant monsters or creatures, e.g. Godzilla and Mothra which are commonly featured in science fiction and monster movies.

SCP, or Secure, Contain, Protect, is a collaborative creative writing community (Akira is part of it, having written a novel for the fandom.) Subjects of the stories mostly focuses on bizarre humans, monsters, diseases, phenomenon, or artifacts. The SCP Foundation, a fictional organization, detains and researches these entities, assigning them unique case-numbers (which have reached over 7000.)

#ensemble stars #enstars tl #mikejima madara #sakasaki natsume #narukami arashi #aoba tsumugi #mam #new color #poltergeist #Pop culture reference #SCP #SCP fandom #Kaijuus

[nothingkillsyoulikeyourmind105]

“GoodBye Sunflower”

Part 2

Part 1

Keegan x Fem! Reader

TW-Mentions death, depression, stress, slight fluff.

Artwork Credit - @ave661

Credit for dividers - @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

I hope you like this @simplecole18

Previously in Chapter One

Eyes red and swollen he couldn’t shed anymore tears. Looking at her beautiful face. The stitches and bandages that covered her face the lips that held the most beautiful smile her laugh that made his worries all disappear and her warm touch that healed his aching, broken body. All of this will be gone with a pull of a switch.

“If that’s what she wants then…….I will always love you my Sunflower”

The doctor walked over and sighed and flipped all the switches off and he left Keegan alone. The beeping sounds of her heart monitor kept beeping. Keegan closed his eyes.

Waiting for her the monitor to flatline once again.

“Doctor!”

The sound of the nurse running out of the room. Keegan looked up to see that his Sunflower was breathing on her own and her heart beating strong on its own. But her fingers twitched in his grasp.

“Sunflower baby stay with me. I’m right here. You’re strong pull through for me baby. I’m right here I never left your side.”

🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻

“You’re my wildflower”

“Come back to me”

-Two Weeks Later -

🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻

“Keegan we have to head out.”

“Hesh give me a few more minutes.”

Hesh sighed heavily patting his back. He walked out of the hospital room. Hesh held back his tears.

“Sure thing”

“Sunflower, I know you can hear me…please wake up. I know you squeezed my hand and moved your fingers but come back to me please.”

“Please wake up.”

“I can’t imagine my life without you.”

“Open those big beautiful (y/e/c). I miss you getting mad at me when I pick on you and when you call me an asshole and Mr. So Serious.”

“I’m gonna be away for a few days. Wait for me. I promise you wildflower I’ll come back. Just come back to me and wake up. We can have the life you want.”

“I know you want ducks so I uhh I got you this.”

Keegan pulls out a stuffed animal. He holds the little green duck in his hand tucking it under hand.

He wiped his tears from his cheeks and pulled his balaclava over his face. Kissing his hand he placed it on her lips. Lifting her hand he kissed her softly.

Keegan picked up his gear and walked towards the door but he looked back at her to memorize her beautiful face.

“Sunflower”

Looking down at his black boots he sniffled. Blinking his eyes repeatedly he walked out and down the hall his heart ached. The pain of leaving her behind in her vegetative state weighed heavily on his mind.

He jogged to the tarmac where everyone waited he nodded to them. Keeping to himself he sat in his seat strapped in holding her bracelet. The small dainty little bracelet that had small bells and small sunflowers on it.

“Sunflower, you have my heart in the palm of your hand. Please wake up.”

The feeling of the turbulence shook the helicopter and Keegan stared off into oblivion thinking about his wildflower.

“Keegs, she’s gonna pull through she’s strong.”

“I just know she is. She isn’t gonna leave us. And especially not you. Someone has to be here to pick on you.”

“I know. It’s just hard to imagine my life without her. I can’t sleep or eat without thinking of her. But the doctor said she had a higher chance of waking up but it’s a matter of when.”

Locked away in her own hell she searched and searched for the light. (Y/n) ran through darkness holding her small paper lantern. She ran and ran looking for the small ball of light that would lead her back to the present.

“Keegan where are you? I’m so alone and scared”

“Please come back. Call out to me so I can find my way back to you.”

Sitting down she dropped the lantern holding her face she wept in her hands. But I’m the distance she heard her lovers voice.

Quickly standing up she listened again picking up her lantern she called out to him.

“Keegan!”

“My love!”

“Keep talking!”

She ran towards the sounds of his voice. The more she ran the more her will to live grew. Little by little her small frail broken body tried to break free from its prison.

“Sunflower, I know you can hear me…please wake up. I know you squeezed my hand and moved your fingers but come back to me please.”

“Please wake up.”

“I can’t imagine my life without you.”

“Open those big beautiful (y/e/c). I miss you getting mad at me when I pick on you and when you call me an asshole and Mr. So Serious.”

“I’m gonna be away for a few days. Wait for me. I promise you wildflower I’ll come back. Just come back to me and wake up. We can have the life you want.”

“I know you want ducks so I uhh I got you this.”

She felt his warm sweaty hands touch her cold hands. She smiled with tears in her eyes she ran towards his voice. Her lungs burned her legs grew tired but she pushed on to the sounds of his voice.

She gently squeezed the stuffed animal.

The smell of the disinfectant spray that they used to sanitize the room filled her nose. The feeling of the soft sheets on her legs and feet. The feeling of something soft at her fingertips under her right hand.

She took a deep breath in filling her sore aching lungs. Her eyes fluttered open.

The blinding bright fluorescent lights burned and stung her sensitive eyes. Struggling to sit up she managed through the soreness, stiffness in her frail broken body.

“Keegan”

Her low raspy voice cut the silence. She shifted in her bed tugging on the cords that connected her to the machines she pulled them off and the IV lines out one by one. Looking around her eyes burned, tears fell down her face as she realized where she was.

“Keegan?”

Her low raspy voice called out to her lover. Her throat was dry. Swallowing thickly she rubbed her eyes. Wincing at the pain she touched her face as she looked around searching for a mirror that was nearby. The feeling of butterfly tape and bandages that covered her face and neck shook her to her core. Tugging at the cords around they prevented her from moving she peeled back the tape from her arms ripping the pads that were taped to her chest and sides. The monitors going off. Blood rushed down her arm as she sat up straight. Her legs shifted to the edge. They dangled there for a moment. She leaned forward but her legs didn’t react in time. She fell forward landing on the cold white tile floors.

“Doctor!”

The nurse ran into the room helping (y/n) off the floor into the nearby chair. She winced at the pain in her body as she sat down. The nurse rushed to get the doctor.

“What happened?”

“Where’s my Keegan?”

“I heard his voice in the darkness I tried to find him, where is he?”

“(Y/N) you’ve been in a coma for a short period of time but allow me to examine you. You have extensive bodily injuries and the beatings you took to your head that left you with a concussion. Let us examine you and I’ll answer all your questions and concerns as we proceed with this exam.”

“Okay”

She looked up to the doctor biting her lower bruised lip. Fighting back the tears that were threatening to fall she sighed and whimpered. She thought about what happened before all the images of the torture came rushing back to her.

Closing her eyes she huffed in pain. Holding her head. She remembered what happened but she remembered hearing Keegan cry for her.

“Water”

“Yes, but drink this slow okay. Here you go Hun. Just sips. Your body could go into shock if you drink it too fast.”

The nurse kneeled down in front of her catering to her. While sipping on her water she spoke again to the nurse.

“Where’s Keegan?”

The nurse sighed and clicked her pen and looked down at her hands and looked up to her holding her hands she spoke softly to her to break the news.

“He’s on a mission. He’ll be gone for a few months at most. They extended the mission a few mins ago.”

“When will he be coming back?”

“They can’t say? I’m so sorry dear”

Breathing softly she stared at her small cup of water her heart heavy from the news but she held out hope he would come back to her soon. She wanted to feel his warm calloused hands in hers. Her bones aches for his embrace.

“(Y/N) we can start your exam now”

Nodding her head she looked to the doctor and nurse who wheeled in a wheelchair for her.

3 Months Later

“Sunflower, if you’re reading this, that would mean I didn’t come back from my last mission. They either KIA me or MIA. But know this I never stopped thinking about you.”

“You brighten my life when I saw nothing that was worth living in the moment for, but you changed everything for me when we met. I always thought of you when I was at my lowest. But sunflower you were always on my mind when you went to sleep and never woke up. So if you don’t get the chance to read this then Hesh or Logan is reading this letter you as you lay sleeping.”

“My wildflower your beauty can’t be described in words.”

“So if you’re still sleeping. Don’t wake up”

Sitting in her room her hair overgrown. She slept for days not eating only drinking water from the sink. She lingered in her room. Logan was pulled from the water. He recovered soon after they found him but he doesn’t remember what happened and that it’s all a blur.

Looking around the room she sat on her bed holding the letter. Rereading the last line.

“Don’t wake up”

Her heart had bled dry. No tears or pain could comprehend that loss she felt. No amount of tears and bargaining could bring him back.

The sounds of someone knocking on her door breaks her out of her trance.

“Go away!”

“(Y/N), it’s Logan can you open the door. Please”

“Go Away Logan!”

“Please, I know you’re hurting but you need to eat something.”

“LEAVE ME ALONE!”

She grabbed the nearest object beside her and she flunked it at the door. The loud crashing sound echoed the halls of the building. Soldiers that were in their rooms peeked their heads to looking out to see what was going on.

Logan looked down with tears in his eyes. He sighed and bit down on his lower lip holding back his emotions he stood in front of her door holding an envelope. Sliding the envelope under the door he walked away silently.

The sounds of paper scraping the floor she looked at her door seeing an orange envelope under the door she crawled over to open it but decided against it.

Deep down she knew what it was.

Death certificates and maybe just maybe a copy of his tags. And other paperwork that needed some signatures.

No funeral was to be held. Keegan wasn’t the sentimental type of man. He didn’t care if a vigil or service was to be held for him. All he cared about was his job, friends and his gun but his top priority was his Sunflower.

Days turned into months then a year later she sat in front of his tombstone. Holding sunflowers she always brought them with her. Every morning and evening she sat by his tombstone. Talking about her day what was new and what he would’ve hated. All these trips back and forth had become a routine for her.

Due to her injuries she sustained she was honorably discharged from her service. She lived out her earlier retirement with her benefits and the wealth that was left behind from her parents. She lived in the house in the mountains only in the fall and winter. She became very reclusive after Keegan’s Death.

During the summer and spring she owned an apartment in the city. She would wander the streets mindless searching for him. Hoping one day he would show up in her life again. But that was never gonna happen. Death isn’t something that is inevitable. Especially in the line of work they both did. She got lucky she narrowly escaped deaths grasp but Keegan didn’t. The debt needed to be paid and Keegan took that burden from her.

The seasons started to change. The summer heat started to cool then eventually the leaves changed. The cool winds replaced with freezing gusts of wind that swept the entire city and mountains.

Knowing Keegan he would’ve moved mountains and sacrificed the whole world just for her to keep her at his side. And he would do anything to keep her happy. But this wasn’t happiness.

This was a nightmare.

“Keegan I miss you. I miss you so much it hurts everyday you aren’t here with me. I promise you I’ll take care of myself and try to live my life.”

“I’ll be in the mountains for the fall and winter. I’ll visit you when spring comes around. I love you Keegs”

She kissed her fingers pressing them against the tombstone. Her warm hands touch the cold rough stone.

Tears filled her eyes. This was the hardest part she couldn’t bring herself to leave the cemetery. Her heart longed for his love.

Looking back (y/n) chewed her inner cheek holding back her stifled sobs. She looked back hoping that one day death will take her away.

Her bones aches for his embrace. Not feeling his warm touch on her face her body. That feeling of being deprived from it hurt worse then a gunshot wound and the torture she endured.

The scars of her face served as a reminder she was stronger then the men that inflicted these wounds on her face and body.

She build a fire in her cottage and sat down on the floor watching the fire crackle and dance. The orange glow warmed her but couldn’t replace Keegan’s warmth.

Watching the fire dance in the fireplace she fell asleep.

The fire died down in the early morning.

The sounds of someone knocking on her door woke her up. She sat up on the floor her body ached and her joints cracked as she stood up. Rubbing her eyes she stumbled a bit trying to center herself. Looking around she looked at her watch reading the time 5:08am.

A thin blanket of frost covered the ground outside. But who was outside.

Stumbling to her door she hissed in pain as she made her way to the door. Grasping the handle she sighed heavily for whoever was at the door they were in for a surprise. She yanked opened the door only to be met with shock.

“K k Keegan”

“Sunflower”

“You fucking asshole!”

Jumping into his arms he fell back off the steps holding her close. Inhaling her scent feeling her body against his as he fell.

Hitting the ground knocked the wind out of him but the feeling of having her body pressed against his was the feeling he longed for.

“Sunflower, I’m so sorry I hurt you. And I’m sorry you were alone all these months and having a year pass by you have no idea how much it hurt me. I had to Sunflower.”

“I’m real and this isn’t a dream”

“I missed you so much it killed me the day they served me your papers and signing your death certificate.”

“You made it hard Keegan. I hate it but I love you so much.”

Caressing her face he pulled her in for a kiss. He longed for her warmth and touch. But his touch was something else.

Keegan took his time with touching and undressing her watching all the goosebumps raise. Caressing her stomach gliding his calloused fingers over her stomach. Watching her moan, her back arching begging for more.

Pinching her nipples through her black laced bra. Running his finger over her dampen lace panties. Feeling her wetness made his cock quiver with anticipation.

Watching her become undone under his touch was a like orchestrating music. The sweet lewd moans he could pull from her was music to his ears. The sweet nectar that drips between her legs. He so badly wanted a taste. But this moment was about her not him.

“Sunflower use your words”

“Touch me, finger me, something Keegan I need to feel you. I missed you so much.”

Standing up beside her unbuckling his pants dropping them to his ankles. Stepping out of them he palmed himself through his boxers watching her beautiful face turn many shades of pink her mouth watering. The way she bites her lips turns him to putty in her hands.

“Sunflower open up”

“Okay”

Keegan pulled his boxers down pressing his thumb down on her tongue as he pulled her forward to him. Her hot breath on his cock made his body shudder. The hot wet sensation of her mouth he had almost forgotten lingered in his mind.

“You take what I give you Sunflower. Swallow when I’m finished with you my wildflower.”

“Yes!”

Keegan placed his cock into her mouth. Thrusting forward in her mouth caused her to gag. Slow soft thrust into her mouth down her throat he sighed softly gripping the back of her head gently as he fucked her mouth.

Her eyes watered up as his pace quicken. Her gag reflex no longer reacted. Swirling her tongue around his rather large cock. Drool seeped down his balls dripping between his legs she sucked up the saliva that made a mess on her lower lip.

Licking the red sensitive tip caused him to groan and thrust harder into her throat.

🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻

Meanwhile

“Hesh, Merrick it’s good to see you guys again.”

Logan walked up to the property owned by (y/n) they parked below the hill alongside the road.

Hesh and Merrick did the same as well to surprise (y/n). Hesh carried flowers and a small box of chocolates for her.

“Logan brother it’s been too long since we seen you guys”

“Guys we were supposed to bring gifts”

Logan shook his head with hands on his hips laughing softly feeling a lot embarrassed. He waved it off. Hugging his brothers they talked outside for awhile.

“Russ said he’s here but so far no one has greeted us.”

Hesh walked up to the door before he could knock he stopped immediately and walked away. Looking down he looked like he seen a Ghost.

“We should get the trucks and part up here.”

“Might want to give them some privacy.”

Hesh started to walk down the hill with the flowers and chocolates in hand he marched down the hill quickly.

“Oh? What do you-? Oh?!”

Logan nodded and Merrick questioned Hesh but realized what he meant. They all quickly walked down the hill quietly and quickly.

“Yeah”

No one dared to say anything.

Just the lewd moans and gasp was all Hesh heard aside from the sounds of Keegan’s praising, but the sounds of skin slapping and the wet lewd noises. The sounds of moans muffled and Keegan stern commands.

🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻

#keegan russ angsty #cod keegan russ #call of duty keegan #keegan russ fanfic #keegan russ x reader #cod keegan #keegan x reader #keegan p russ x reader #keegan p russ #keegan russ

[jojikawa]

𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝘽𝙧𝙞𝙙𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝘿𝙞𝙤: 𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙍𝙚𝙙 𝙒𝙚𝙙𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙜 | 𝙋𝙖𝙧𝙩 𝙁𝙤𝙪𝙧

WICKED HEARTS

MASTER LIST

Author’s note: This is a POC FRIENDLY blog. I am a black girl and I want to write more fics that don’t leave the reader racially ambiguous. This is self-indulgent and I’m just sharing it with you. Jojo is far from realistic. So, I don’t need to be either. Please don’t leave hate! Thanks!

This is a DARK romance so there will be toxic relationship themes, NSFW themes, descriptions of violence, and gore. There will also be unintentional sexism and racism from the characters toward the reader. The reader is canonically black in this AU but it is written for people from all walks of life to enjoy.

dividers by delishlydelightfuldividers

WORD COUNT: 4.7k

An awkward silence filled the room. You were sitting at the vanity dresser from before, as still as a statue. You were unable to bring yourself to move. You pondered on your situation. Out of everyone in this world, why did you have to be the one in the eyes of Dio? Not in a million years you would have predicted such an outcome. Without even realizing it, you acknowledged your appearance in the mirror. Dio’s rose was still in your hair, which you removed. You lifted your upper lip, inspecting your new fangs. The fangs you penetrated Dio with. 

“What is your name?” You let go of your lip and spoke to the terrified girl in the corner of the room. She was supposed to be helping you into a wedding dress Dio had come across but she was too scared. You didn’t make her help you. Not that you needed any at all.

“A-Aya.” The little girl answered nervously. Her voice was still firm as she tried to hide how scared she was and failed spectacularly. “How did Dio get to you, Aya? Why were you not inside? Did he take you from your home?” You tried to manage your hair, moving as slowly as a snail. This situation was hitting you so hard. What was the future supposed to look like for you? You’re getting married to Dio and there was nothing you could do about it. A part of you felt like he would only be more destructive if you refused. He’s never raised a hand to you but he had no remorse for taking his frustrations out on innocents as a means to an end. 

“I-I was looking for my little brother, P-Poco. He’s always missing curfew and my father asked me to go find him.” She choked out, another cry was coming on. 

You sighed. “Well, Aya, it’s safe to assume that Poco is probably dead.” You bluntly stated, not thinking at all about what you were saying. It was harsh and inconsiderate. This only pushed her to cry. Once you realized what you had done, you stopped trying to fix your hair. You sighed again, getting up out of your chair.

Aya noted that your aura and demeanor didn’t feel as threatening as Dio’s. You looked beautiful in your dress. The fabric was a deep red that made your skin look amazing. The color was as if Dio harvested it from the blood of his enemies. Your hair wasn’t perfect but its messiness almost looked to be intentional. Your soft nature clashed with the razor-sharp teeth that only showed themselves when you talked. “I’m sorry.” You looked at her with half-lidded eyes. “Poco could’ve gotten away or hid. I’m just…bitter.” You informed her. “Now, can you help me get this corset on, please?” You asked politely, voice still laced in sorrow. Aya didn’t need to be a body language expert to see that you weren’t happy at all with your situation. She instantly knew this marriage was forced. 

The girl sheepishly nodded, gaining the courage to finally stand and help you. She assisted with your corsets and layers of fabric. You always imagined yourself being married—just…happier. After spending a long time with Dio when you were young, the only man you could imagine yourself marrying was him. You also imagined yourself wearing something purer like a bright white. Aya helped bring your hair up into a neat updo style, you tucked the clip of the red veil into your hair.

During this whole process, you didn’t speak. Not much or even loudly for that matter. Your replies and directions to the girl were always hushed and hurried. Your body was adjusting to your vampire transformation. Some lights were too bright. Even the light of the moon. Your ears were noticeably more sensitive and you found your eyebrows always being subtly knitted together as your mood became permanently annoyed. The same way one would get when they feel a headache coming on. 

Aya had only just finished helping you before the silence broke. Dio entered the room, his outfit not at all different from before. Perhaps, he felt as if he didn’t need to dress for such an occasion. 

“My goodness. You look so much more beautiful than I could have ever imagined.” Dio made his way towards you, pushing Aya to the side as if she were a peasant getting to close to his trophy. You stayed silent, not at all greeting your soon-to-be husband. He grabbed your face, tilting your head upward so that his lips were only inches away from yours. You held onto his arms as he held you like glass. The man wanted nothing more than to kiss you right here. Oh yes, the idea of kissing the woman he’s been deeply in love with since he were a boy. He knew that women would claw each other’s eyes out to be with someone like him but he wanted you. He thought himself an honorable man for being so loyal during a time he didn’t have to be. 

You averted your eyes, too saddened and nervous I receive his “loving” stare. “I-“ You opened your mouth to speak when he quickly presses his lips to yours. Even with your new vampire strength, Dio still proved to be stronger than you, holding you close and not at all allowing you to resist his love. Almost abruptly, he let you go before licking his lips. “Much more savory than I remember.” Is what he would’ve said if he hadn’t seen the sullen look on your face. It gave him flashbacks to the day the two of you “broke up.” 

Why did you look happy? You’re getting married to him—you should be happy. Overjoyed even. 

“What is wrong with you?” He narrowed his eyes at you. “Don’t you love me?!” He blurted out, startling Aya who was already making herself small in the corner. 

“I do love you do. Or, at least I did.” You whispered sadly. “I barely even know what’s happened to me but I already know it’s permanent.” You removed your hands from his arms, having them retreat back into your body as you hug yourself. “You betray your own father and turned yourself into a monster. You stole my future away from me by turning me into a monster too. Now I’m stuck with you.” Your face began to burn with distress. The air you exhaled was hot like fire as you fought back tears. 

Dio took offense to your words, seeing it more as a plain insult rather than an expression of what he was doing to your psyche.

“Stuck with me!?” He repeated, putting so much emphasis on “stuck” like he was disgusted with your choice of words. “I’ll have you know that any girl born to slave parents would be honored to-“ 

slap!

Dio held his cheek in awe. If one didn’t know any better, they would’ve thought Dio had been stabbed in the heart just now. Never in a million years would he have thought you’d raise a hand to him. You were always so kind, so gentle and so, so very patient with all the vile things he would conjure up in his mind. 

“Don’t talk about my parents.” Your voice cut him like swords and your eyes burned holes into his body, stronger than any amount of Hamon ever could. All Dio could do was stare at you, his eyes were now doe-like, reminiscing at how you used to be and what you could’ve been if it weren’t for him. “If it weren’t for my father, you wouldn’t even know me.”

Dio only knew a little bit about your father. You rarely spoke of him, but he remembered the story you told him all that time ago. Your parents were slaves. Your father wanted a better life for his pregnant wife and worked himself to death, buying her freedom. Even then, it still wasn’t enough. The Pendletons took you off the streets.

“You will NOT do that again.” Dio declared. It was hard for him to be angry because he was beginning to realize that he liked it when you would raise your voice at him. “You are lucky that I am above hitting women.” He hissed before turning on his heel and leaving the room. When his presence was gone, you sighed. It felt like you had been holding your breath forever. You didn’t know what came over you. You didn’t want to be like him and react with violence. You also forgot that Aya was still in the room. “Aya, after the wedding, I will get you out of here.” You suddenly said. “Now, come.” You directed her to take the long end of your dress and hold it as you walk. The girl obeyed. 

As you exited the room, waiting for you was a disfigured creature. It meekly held a bouquet of flowers. You took it from…it before continuing on your way to find Dio. He disappeared rather quickly. “Wh-Where is your master?” You questioned it, trying not to show the fear you harbored for its appearance. 

“Lord Dio waits for you.”

Its voice made you sick to your stomach, reminding you that you were speaking to something that was no longer human and craved flesh specifically. “Take me to him.” You replied lowly, trying to match Dio’s energy and commanding them the way he would. You turned to Aya before saying “Stay in the room. I will come and get you as soon as I can.” You promised her with pleading eyes. The girl shuddered and grimaced at your request. The girl reluctantly nodded. She didn’t like the idea but she had to trust you. 

The creature did as you asked. As you followed, you thought of all the possible ways you could get Aya away. You didn’t want a child slave. No child should be a slave at all, let alone a slave for you. You knew what it was like. Going along with Dio’s marriage was your only hope of bringing some clarity to this situation. Perhaps, as his wife, you could talk some sense into him? Let the girl go, you’d tell him. Get rid of these monsters, you would say. 

But it was all just your way of coping. There was no way to get ahold of Dio. 

As you entered the room, your heart felt like it was frozen as you held your breath. Your mind was still back in that dark room, combing your pretty hair with your pretty white dress. 

Or was it red?

“I always knew red would make a better color on you.” 

His sly voice reached your ears, pulling you back to reality. Within a second, Dio was only inches away from you. His hands inspected your curves. The tips of his claws brushed the thin thread that held your corset together. They traced up to your bust where, again, your chest was practically bursting in the small corset that you were given. “This looks tight.” Dio growled at you with a grin. “I must loosen it for you.” His claw tugged at the ribbon that held your top together with your bottom. You narrowed your eyes. “Dio.” You placed a hand on your chest, preventing him from going any further. “Let’s just have the wedding.” You said quickly.

The room wasn’t elegant enough for a wedding and nor was the castle. The fire burned bright in the corners of the room but it was nothing compared to the moonlight that illuminated your features in the night.

“Eager to be my bride? You never cease to amaze me.” Dio took your hand in his. He imagined himself as the ultimate prince—no, God, finally claiming what would be his forever. “I’ve given you a gift no man ever could. Your beauty will forever be eternalized. What we had as children can transcend the bonds of time…”

You listened to Dio ramble about his “love” for you. It was hard to believe this was even real. You kept hoping that you’d wake up and then scold yourself for sleeping for so long. Then you would ponder on why you’d have such a vivid dream. 

“But I have one more question. You must answer honestly if you intend on being my wife and carrying my seed.” Dio brought his index finger and thumb to your chin. He made you look up at him, baring his fangs at you. “What is it, Dio?” Your eyes began half-lidded. Your mind almost left the conversation again before he spoke.

“Were you in love with Jonathan at all?” 

Your eyes narrowed. “Wha-“

Dio’s voice deepened. “Did you ever love him?” You looked into his eyes. He was serious. Was he…jealous?

“No, I was never in love with Jonathan. Nor was he with me.” You answered, honestly. “He was always in love with Erina.” You added. Dio let go of you. He remembered the time Jonathan let it slip that you had taken care of him after his fight with him. He saw you come to his football game, cheering for Jonathan of all people. Hanging off of his arm as if you belonged to someone else. 

“As you say.” Dio took a step away from you. “Bring me our rings,” Dio commanded the fused monsters around him. A disfigured zombie with no jaw and rotting skin brought Dio the two small pieces of jewelry. “Who did you steal these from?” You asked innocently. Your goal wasn’t to offend him but it was Dio. He was always offended. “I didn’t steal them. I had them made. What do you take me for?” Dio slipped the ring onto his finger. You purse your lips, preventing yourself from retaliating any further. Talking to him was…so hard now. It wasn’t the same. It could never be. 

Dio hesitantly reached for your dainty hand. He rehearsed this moment in his head for such a long time, even before the mask. He wanted nothing more than to finally have. Words couldn’t describe the euphoric feeling that ran through him. The anxiety that once would get when first confessing their love. It was something that was so foreign to him, yet so pleasant. His thumb rubbed the back of your hand only for a moment before he gently placed the diamond ring on your finger. It sparked in the moonlight and could even glow in the shade. Though his wedding band was dull, Dio did not care. As long as it was clear you were taken.

Your absentmindedness came to a halt when Dio saw that you were closing the distance between the two of you. You avoided eye content, keeping your gaze downward as you motioned him to bend down. His height on you would always cause an issue for you. When he complied, you meekly pressed your lips against his for a chasté kiss. The thoughtful act only lasted a moment before you pulled away, but Dio wanted more. All he wanted was more of your love. His arms trapped you, bringing you into another kiss. It was like your lips were candy, but these could’ve been his imagination. Your lips were better than any candy he’s ever had. 

Suddenly, the only door in the room was forced open. Dio gasped—jumped at the sound. He let go of you, bringing his full attention to the intruder. It was…

“Jonathan?” You called out softly, utter shock filling your body. Dio blocked your vision with his huge body. “I’m back from my time in hell, Dio.” Jonathan invited himself inside. It wasn’t until then he noticed you. “(y/n)?! You’re alive!” Then the man furrowed his eyebrows. “Damn you, Dio!” He cried. “Let that fair maiden go! I thought she was dead because of you! All of London thinks she’s dead!”

“Still as loud as always, Jonathan.” Dio forced his cool demeanor to now show weakness. “You dare not speak to her, as I am her God now. The world is better off not looking for her.” He grinned at JoJo. “I see that you are also alive now, that’s curious, isn’t it?” Dio stepped towards JoJo. A batch of creatures dropped from the ceiling, surrounding you so that Jonathan has no quick way of getting to you. “But I suppose that indicates that you’ve defeated my two knights.”

“Dio!” Jonathan growled, preparing himself to finally fight this cursed man. “No! Jonathan! Don’t come any closer!” You warned. “These creatures are undead! Dio is a monster!” You tried to push your way past the hellspawn but they seemed to have orders from Dio to keep you from leaving. 

“Don’t worry, (y/n). Jonathan is mine and mine alone. I’ll kill JoJo and you’ll finally see him for how pathetic he really is.” Dio’s smirk faded. “But I will take no pleasure in doing so, as we were raised under the same roof. But before I do, I must ask you one question.”

For a moment, Jonathan looked perplexed. He was not the smartest JoJo, but even with critical thinking, he couldn’t think of any reason why Dio would want to ask him something at a time like this. 

“No, Dio-“

“At any point, did you ever have feelings for someone other than airheaded Erina? (y/n), perhaps?” Dio cupped his hand around his ear, pointing it towards Jonathan as he waited for his answer. This only made JoJo much more angry!

“The only woman I’ve ever loved is Erina!” He shouted, clenching fists as Hamon sparked out. Jonathan wasn’t completely oblivious; he knew Dio was always jealous of his friendship with you. 

“Do you know what I think JoJo? I think you’ve lied for the last time.” Dio crossed his arms. “When I look into the eyes of my beloved, I see the truth. When I look into yours, I see a boy who’s torn…” 

Behind Jonathan emerge more people. People you didn’t recognize. These were the others that JoJo was traveling with. They were a rather strange lot of characters, but anyone other than Dio was a blessing. You just were unable to understand how any human could get out of this situation alive. 

Much to your horror, the humans fought Dio. The first man, Dire, died attempting to deal the first blow to the vampire man. Dio displayed powers you had never seen before. He could freeze his victims with just a touch. Even though his clothes, if he touched you then he could free you. Dire was just a head now. He used the last of his hamon to fill a rose with it before spitting it at Dio. That was when you realized something. Something important. All this time, you’ve been shying away from Dio. As children, he was bigger than you; stronger as well. When the two of you grew up, he got even bigger while you remained small and needed to be protected. Men always preferred women to be this way. They were easier to control. 

But now, things are different. You possessed the strength of a dozen men. All the things Dio could do, you were able to do as well. If your husband couldn’t listen to reason and thought of himself as God, then you needed to be his adversary. It was the only option left for the sake of your loved ones. How could you face your best friend and the family that helped raise you if they knew you didn’t stop Dio from killing her lover? Hell, you wouldn’t be able to forgive yourself. 

Dio was distracted now, going on about how the rose Dire launched injured his eye. In a swift motion, you used all of your strength to strike the monsters holding you back. You cleaved all of their heads off at once and they fell to the ground with an audible thud. You helped the humans as Jonathan fought Dio. 

It was like a blur. Jonathan didn’t allow you to help defeat Dio. He didn’t believe that such a fair maid had to see such a thing, to begin with. The man defeated his vampire adversary. JoJo removed his head with his sword, causing Dio to cry out. 

As Dio fell from the balcony, his body began to crumble from being filled with hamon. You ran over to the edge, not at all believing what you were seeing. Yet, it was true.

Dio even called out to you. The sound of his dying words gave you goosebumps. You couldn’t help but tear up. Why did things have to be this way? Could this have been prevented if you just stayed with Dio? Was this blood now on your hands?

“(y/n)…” Jonathan called breathlessly. He was tired from the battle. He fought someone who was no longer human by the way. “Jonathan!” You ran over to him. He looked like he was about to collapse. The young man examined your face and the pain that washed over him was indescribable. His eyes watered up before tears effortlessly streamed down his face. “(y/n)…” his voice was uneven and he dropped to his knees. “I couldn’t protect you from Dio! I’m sorry!” He cried. Tears pricked the corners of your eyes. “Oh, Jonathan.” You kneeled down to hug him. “There was no way you could’ve known.” 

Behind JoJo, you saw the human men approach the two of you. They seemed to have similar powers that allowed them to take out the zombies easily. Their eyes burned with a fiery passion that was stronger than any hamon. “It’s best that we put an end to all that’s left of the mask.” The young man with long black hair said. JoJo struggled on his own but he gained the strength to shield you from them. “No! You can’t kill! She’s my friend!” He shouted, holding you close to his big chest. “J-Jonathan! It’s okay. You don’t have to protect me.” You squeeze your eyes shut.

A different man stepped forward, this one wearing a funny top hat with a scar on his face. “But it’s just a lady! She can’t be as evil as Dio, can she?” His voice was shaky as he had witnessed Dio’s carnage firsthand. The last thing he wanted to believe was that there would be another version of Dio. The revenge of a widow? No thank you!

“She is Dio’s bride. There’s no use in keeping loose ends.” The older man took a step closer. 

“I swear, I’m not like Dio. I didn’t ask him to use the mask on me!” You shouted. “I’ve known her since I was a boy. I take full responsibility! Just don’t-“ before the young man could finish, he passed out. Your eyes widened. You felt his breathing slow. He passed out!

The man with the top hat ran over to pull Jonathan off of you. “He’s worn out. JoJo’s been in more fatal fights tonight than a man should have in his lifetime!” The man said. “The name’s Robert E.O. Speedwagon, but you can shave off the first part and just call me Speedwagon.” He held out his hand for you to take it. You hesitated but you had no choice. “Er…Speedwagon.” You repeated to get used to the name. You stayed close to him since you were still afraid of the foreign hamon users. You felt like introducing yourself would put them at ease. They weren’t gonna kill you, right?

“My name (y/n) (l/n). Dio kidnapped me just after the Joestar mansion fell.” You began to explain. Already, it didn’t seem like they care all. All except for Speedwagon. He perked up at the sound of your name. “JoJo’s told me a lot about you! All of London thought you were dead, but Jonathan here knew that Dio got you once we knew the bastard lived through that fire!”

“Fire?” You repeated. “Were you there? Can you please tell me what happened that night?” You tugged at the man’s arm. Was it inappropriate for him to admit that he found you extremely attractive? 

Yes.

“Y-Yes, I was there. I met Jonathan that night as well. Dio was supposed to be arrested for the poisoning of George Joestar but then he used the mask and killed everyone except me and Jonathan. We had no choice but to set the house on fire.” Speedwagon noticed that with every word, the pain on your face became more apparent. “S-So, it’s true?” Your voice pitched up with sorrow as you accepted that Dio was a monster before he used the mask on himself. 

Due to Jonathan’s pleas and Speedwagon’s charisma, the Hamon masters spared you. Despite that being good news, the overwhelming hold in your heart would never easily recover from such a terrible circumstance. You’ve witnessed more death than any human should and even got to see the hybrid creatures that used to be people as well. You returned to Erina but only for a little while. The girl greeted you with open arms, balling her eyes out at the sight of you being unharmed. 

Then she saw your attire. You now adorned all black, wearing a black dress that covered your skin, leaving everything to the imagination. You had also been wearing an oversized Victorian bonnet that cast a shadow over your face, leaving only your eyes to be seen. They were different too, glowing bright red and festering with hunger. Somehow, the news of your transformation hit harder than the news of your supposed death. Now you could never rest as a creature of the night. 

You stuck around for the wedding of Jonathan and Erina. You were the best maid along with Speedwagon was the best man. You could sense him making his advances toward you but you’d always snuff out any ideas he may have gotten about you. It was quite humorous, actually. 

The couple planned to sail to the United States. You supported her decision and waved them goodbye as their ship set off. It took some thinking, but you came to the conclusion that you wanted to be a singer. There was no realistic way you could return to your previous occupation as the owner of Sweet Magnolia. The last thing you wanted was to resume things after that experience. 

Plus, it would be extremely hard to explain your reappearance after being declared dead. Your new life was overwhelming at first but perhaps it could be the beginning of something exciting. You could do…anything you wanted.

Anything. 

Your mother used to tell you that you’d have a good singing voice. It was the only way you could occupy yourself while doing chores back at the Pendleton mansion. Now it was time to test such a thing. What level of fame could one woman achieve with all the time in the world to practice and perform? Your career started slow. Not many people wanted to hear a woman they had never heard of before, but within a few years, you were able to perform at small gatherings for the first time. Networking proved to be a challenge but you began using your looks and wits as a way of convincing others. There was no longer an underlying fear of being attacked or harassed because of your new power. You felt like a queen who was taking in the world. Although, you knew better than to abuse your powers. You were still a good woman at heart. 

The horrors that caused the death of Jonathan Joestar didn’t reach you until it had long passed. Speedwagon found successful after also traveling to the United States. He became a wealthy man with his share of oil. He had men from his new organization send you an old letter from Erina along with the news that Jonathan has died.

“Dear (y/n),

This is Erina. I don’t know when I will be able to get this to you but when you receive it, please come to New York right away. The day Jonathan and I left for the Americas, the ship was attacked. Dio came back and was able to turn members of the crew into hideous monsters. Jonathan died protecting me. Now, I’m alone.

I’ve now seen the horrible things Dio has forced you to witness. I can’t be alone. I know that all you want to do now is leave your old life behind, but I need you.

-Erina.”

Tag list: @z3r0art ❤️

Hi guys! Like all my other stuff, this is not proofread very well. This is all for fun so I’m sorry if my writing style sucks lol

I’m also sorry for this part coming out much later than the other parts. I’ve been doing a lot of irl things to further my education in writing. I wanna write for video games and I honestly would love to be apart of the Riot Games team. I qualify to be a narrative writer for Legends of Runterra but I must live in Los Angeles…I don’t live there XD so yea. But I’m gonna keep improving. But yea that’s why I’ve been busy. I’ve been writing a lot of stuff that’s not for tumblr haha.

Up next will be the retelling of Stardust Crusaders. It’s supposed to be more sexually explicit than Phantom Blood bc I imagine Dio’s perspective of being a gentleman changes. Before I begin releasing that part, I’ll make an interlude telling the story of the female MC before Dio inevitably comes back with Jonathan’s body ❤️

See you guys soon! Thank you so much for all of your support! 💕

#jojo x reader #jojo's bizarre adventure #dio x reader #dio x black reader #dio brando x reader #dio fanfiction #dio brando imagines #dio headcanons #dio brando x black reader #jjba headcanons #The Bride of Dio

[sadistic-softie]

Bugs. Bugs. Bugs. I need a new bug collection right now. I no longer have access to my old one and it's been soooo long. It was a filthy and lazy collection anyways. I just picked up what I found or kept as pets long enough to see die. I put them in a divided container with no lid and they just collected dust. Ugh. I'm glad I'm starting fresh, actually. I need to hunt for new bugs. I need to find them and pick them out for myself. I need a bug wall. A place to just slowly fill with bugs. Maybe I'll use my cork board to pin them? I have plenty of pins and needles. I imagine a gorgeous wall of bugs. Little bugs, big bugs, pretty bugs, ugly bugs. I need to figure out how I'll kill them without damaging them. Likely a really potent spray depending on the bugs size? Maybe bleach? Lol. I could probably find some sort of pest killer spray in the house. Maybe I could affix a small hose to a transparent cup so I can just place it over the bug and gas it through the hose? I dunno. Many many ideas. God, I love bugs. I still remember my first pet bug. Caught it wandering my room. I was gonna let it go but something about it just caught my interest, so I did some research and made it a little home instead. It was a female Herpyllus ecclesiasticus, or eastern parson spider. A ground spider. Shy, like many ground spiders, but fierce. A hunter that kills its prey on its own without the use of webs. I would watch her. Absolutely fascinating. Very skilled killer. She often ate her prey later in the night after killing them rather than immediately, but sometimes I got lucky enough to watch her eat after the kill. I fed her ants I would catch outside as well as any other bug that would wander into my room, including other species of spiders. Many were fast and fought or ran from her, but she always won in the end. I loved watching her take them down. I had her for quite some time and came to adore her, so when I knew her lifespan was nearing its end (they live for roughly 2 years if I remember correctly), I let her go so I wouldn't have to see it. Perhaps she died that day. Who knows?

#i fucking love bugs #i love bugs #bugs #bug collection #im excited #if you cant tell #spider #pet bugs #pet spider #fascination #special interest #im a little obsessed #<333