#TW forced marriage

[divasae]

yandere capitano x reader

desc: yandere capitano, forced marriage, imprisonment, stockholm syndrome, slight angst, slight nsfw, etc.

word count: 1.6k ♡

The soft glow of the moonlight illuminated the insides of the spacious manor, and as you placed your palm against the nearest window, you looked up to the sky to admire the beauty of the night. The only sound that could be heard from the distance was the ticking of a clock placed from within the manor. As the hand struck midnight, you tore your eyes from the sky to survey the surroundings of the manor, as you waited patiently for your husband to arrive from work.

Your husband, the captain, was a formidable and intimidating man. Even you, his wife, had looked at him with a face of apprehension when you had first seen him. Even so, he was a kind man at heart, even if it didn't appear to be so at times. You knew deep down that he held a lot of affection for you, even if he barely expressed it.

You found it difficult to believe that he harbored such feelings towards you at times, especially when you looked back at the circumstances of your marriage.

Although it was a distant memory, there was a much simpler time for you, back when you had little to worry about. There was a time where you had an endless amount of freedom, free to do whatever you wished to.

The night you had first met your husband, was a night that was quite similar to one you found yourself in currently. Your husband, the captain, who was patrolling the area for possible threats, had suddenly stumbled upon your figure sitting near the edge of a vast lake. You were dressed in only a thin nightgown, your figure accentuated by the soft glow of the moonlight. In his eyes, you looked ever so beautiful, as if you had descended from the moon itself.

As he slowly approached you, he admired you from afar for what felt like ages, until you had finally taken notice of his large stature in the distance. You suddenly let out a small yelp, quickly standing upwards, your body tensing as you took in his menacing figure with your eyes.

Even in the darkness, his uniform was distinct, it was clear to you he was apart of the fatui. Your face paled, as you apologized profusely for being outside at such an odd hour, stating that you only wished to admire the moon. As you scurried off, he took in the sight of you for one last time, admiring you as you had admired the moon.

From then on, it was as if you had cast a spell on him. No matter where he had went, all that plagued his head was the vision of you from that one night. The sight of you from that night replayed in his head constantly, as well as that sweet voice of yours. To the average person, you would appear as a drab commoner girl, but to him, there was something else. There was something about you that was addicting, as if there was an invisible force drawing him towards you.

From that vision alone, he had begun to fall in love with you. For such a brute man who looked to be incapable of love, you had achieved what appeared to be the impossible. You were just so perfect in every aspect. You were a kind girl, that loved the people in your village deeply, which made him feel even more sorry for what he was about to do.

The day you found out about your marriage, was the day before you were to be wedded to Capitano, the 1st harbinger. To others, it would have been considered an honor to be married to someone of such a high rank, but you dreaded it. There was little you could do, you weren't foolish to not realize that refusal was not an option. With that, your village had practically handed you over to the harbinger, the same village who you had held so dear to your heart. Before you knew it, you were already in a carriage with the same man who you had met so briefly that fateful night.

To say you were devastated was an understatement. Everything about the captain terrified you. While he did nothing but display kindness and affection towards you, you despised him. Every time he would call you by your name, your ears rung with contempt, and as he touched you ever so slightly, you shuddered as if bugs were crawling all over your skin.

The only thing he had yet to take from you was your innocence, however, you knew that like every man, he was eventually going to take that from you too. When you would go to your separate room, you would cry silently out of despair, as the gravity of your situation weighed down on you.

Unbeknownst to you at the time, Capitano would listen to your cries every night, his heart slowly shattering each time. He would never say it, but he knew how selfish he was, to take you away from your home so rapidly.

You were so resentful of him, resentful that he had plucked away your freedom so quickly to the point where it gave you whiplash. You detested the fact that you had to smell blood on him as he came home every night, to the point where you had slowly became desensitized.

You had never been able to imagine yourself as someone's wife so soon, but suddenly having to face that reality, with a harbinger no less, made your head spin uncontrollably.

You were so lonely all of a sudden, and your heart ached as it slowly sunk into you that no one in the village truly cared for you. The only person you were able to have any interaction with now was your husband. Perhaps that was the reason you had begun to warm up to him, despite him being a causation for your loneliness. Although he had cruelly taken you away from everything you knew, he also gave you comfort and solace in an unfamiliar environment.

Slowly, you began to understand him more. Capitano was never a man of many words, but the very few words he spoke made you see the humanity from within him, allowing you to sympathize with him. Even the way he would touch you ever so softly, as if you were a porcelain doll, was full of emotion. He was the direct contrast of you. While you openly expressed your emotions towards him, he never did the same to you. It had taken you so long to realize just how much he was suffering from the inside.

Eventually, you began to see yourself in him. You saw how lonely he was, just as you were after the village you had loved you so much was so quick to abandon you. The only person you were able to depend on from there on out was the captain, so you slowly came to accept your fate. You had even begun to accept his role in the fatui, even if you found it hard to imagine how a man that was so gentle to you was capable of being a harbinger.

Suddenly, you heard a knock at the door, bringing you out of your deep trance. You got up and briskly walked towards the door, to greet your husband.

"Welcome home" you said in a soft voice after opening the door, extending an arm to take his heavy coat off. "You're late again" you said absentmindedly, as you hung his coat up.

He remained silent, looking into your eyes as if he were frozen in place. He felt a sudden wave of nostalgia, as he admired your face illuminated by the moonlight once more. That's right, it felt as if it was the first time he had seen you. Except this time, instead of looking at him with fear, you looked at him with a genuine smile on your face.

"Dear?" you asked, placing your hand on his shoulder. At that moment, he suddenly took both of your wrists in one hand with a sudden force, pinning you down to a wall. You let out a gasp, as he placed a chaste kiss on your lips.

"What are you-" you attempted to ask before he stopped you again with another searing kiss, as he placed his other free hand on your hip. When he had finally pulled apart from what seemed to be forever, a thin string of saliva connected the both of your lips.

You tried to catch your breath as his hands roamed all over your body, his knee pressed in between your legs. You let out small moans and whimpers, as he kissed your collarbone with such passion. You began to feel a hot sensation pool between your legs, and tried to push him out of embarrassment.

"Let me have this, darling" he whispered with a hint of desperation. You truly had no idea how badly he wanted you, ever since he had laid his eyes on you. The mere reason why he had held back for so long was simply out of consideration for you, but now that he had seen you with such a smile on your face, he didn't think he could take it anymore.

You had begun to open your mouth in protest, but when you heard him whisper such words in your ear with that level of desperation, you felt yourself coming undone. Your hands clutched to the fabric of his clothing near his chest, as you caught your breath, your wide eyes staring at right at him.

He had stopped his motion all of a sudden, and placed a hand to your cheek. He held your chin up for you to keep looking at him, as if to silently ask if you wanted him to continue. You cursed yourself internally, wondering how you had allowed yourself to get so close to the man in front of you. You were scared, but seeing him with such tenderness, you looked at him with tears pricking your eyes, nodding with a slight smile tugging at your lips.

[sp0o0kylights]

Whole thing on A03

It didn't matter how much Steve explained. Not one member of the Party was going to get it. 

Tommy and Carol would, but then, they were no longer on speaking terms. A fact that hurt even if it was for the best--particularly in times like these, because they got it. 

They understood how he had been ensnared with the very same wealth people mocked him for. What it meant when his parents demanded Steve drop everything and go on vacation, his own plans be damned. 

They knew, because their families had done much the same, and so the lives they led also were tethered to leashes made of their parents' design. 

Dustin, whose mother bent over backwards to try and better her kid’s life, didn’t even have a frame of reference for this kind of thing, let alone sympathy. 

"Do they not understand you have a job?" Dustin asked incredulously, and Steve didn't have the emotional bandwidth to explain that his parents didn't consider working at Family Video to be a real job. 

As far as they were concerned, Steve could quit if he had to, and then go find another job when they were done using him to play the nice, All-American family. 

Likely for business purposes.

"They aren't the type to care." Steve said instead. 

It was easier than getting into it.

(Easier than explaining the BMW wasn't in his name, but his parents. 

How his money went into a bank account they had access to. 

That practically everything he owned was actually owned by Richard and Stella Harrington, and both were quick to remind him of that fact the second they felt Steve was acting out of line. 

And boy, had he been acting out of line. 

 Getting into fights. 

Turning their punishment of working a job they picked specifically for the humiliating outfit, into the far worse public embarrassment of being involved in a mall fire--an embarrassment because Steve had "lost" the keys to the BMW, had "put himself in danger" playing hero instead of letting the perfectly capable firefighters do it, then “paraded around” with bruises all over his face, racking up medical bills. 

Truly a sin for someone who hadn’t made it into college.) 

So no, this vacation they demanded Steve drop everything for  was not anything close to a reward, or even something they were doing to spend time together. There was a reason they needed Steve, and as far as they were concerned, Steve was at their beck and call until he shaped up and got his life back on track. 

His own plans be damned. 

"That's not fair though!" Dustin burst out and Steve sighed in relief, because here at least, he knew what to do to distract his younger friend.

 “We planned our trip months ago!” Dustin continued, looking two seconds away from giving in and stomping his foot. 

The kid might have been smarter than Steve--smarter than most people really--by a hell of a lot, but he was still fourteen. 

Smarts, Steve knew, didn't exactly equate to emotional intelligence, and it definitely didn't stop rampaging hormones.

Ice cream on the other hand, was a great aid in both areas. 

"You better be making this up to us." Dustin threatened thirty minutes later, spoon wedged deep into a sundae. “We can’t do, like, half the stuff we were going to do without you!” 

“I'm sure you guys didn’t need me to play ghost runners or whatever.” Steve said, but was quick to back down when Dustin nearly threw his spoon at him. 

Rather than antagonizing him more, Steve dutifully raised his hand to put over his heart. "I swear on your mom that I’ll make it up to you.”  

Dustin rolled his eyes, but otherwise, finally, let the whole thing go. 

Stupidly, Steve thought this meant the worst was over.

He was wrong. 

xXx 

Mike hadn’t cared. 

El and Will hadn’t really either, though both expressed some sadness that Steve wouldn’t be participating in the camping trip that the Party as a whole had been looking forward to for the past few months. 

Erica had simply snapped at him, making him promise much the same as Dustin had that he would be making it up to her sometime in the future. Likewise, she had been bought off by ice cream (even if she insisted it didn’t count because Steve owed her ice cream anyways.) 

Max was the surprising emotional standout. 

"You can't tell them no?" She demanded, arms crossed over her chest. 

Lucas was hovering awkwardly at her shoulder, shooting "what can you do?" vibes as hard as he could at Steve as his (currently on-again) girlfriend outright dressed the elder boy down; her shoulders creeping up higher and higher until she seemed to realize she was visually giving away her upset and forcibly relaxed them. 

Unlike Dustin and Erica, her tirade was very out of character and Steve was growing more concerned by the second that something was wrong the more she spat at him. 

“I mean for fucks sake, didn’t you tell them you had plans!?” She finished, eyes narrowed in rage. 

Which was rich coming from someone whose stepdad had Billy Hargrove running all over town before he’d run off after the guy’s death, but then, Steve knew better than to bring all that up.

(The image of Max, unresponsive in the hospital with casts on almost every limb, was still too fresh. 

Even now he didn’t like to push her, even if the Party as a whole did their best to take notice when one of them was isolating themselves again. 

Max, though she was down to one crutch, was still inclined to use it as a weapon and very much enjoyed practicing her swings on people’s ankles.) 

“I did indeed. They don’t care and they’re not giving me a choice, but for what it’s worth I am sorry.” Steve tried to keep his voice even and out of angry-shrieking range, and vaguely prayed it was working. “I swear, I will make it up to you guys, even if we have to go on a second camping trip.” 

This was clearly not the correct thing to say.

Though judging by the murderous rage being aimed his way, Steve was pretty sure nothing short of “You know what you’re right, let me go tell my parents to fuck off!” would make Max happy. 

“So you’re seriously just going to drop everything, all our plans, your job, us,” She took a very threatening step forward and despite her being a full foot shorter than him, Steve had to fight not to take a responding step back. “So you can go play rich boy in the Bahamas?” 

“We’re not going to the Bahamas--” Steve tried, but was interrupted with a loud “ugh!” of disapproval. 

“Whatever makes you happy, Steven.” Max spat, and then turned on her heel, storming off towards the rest of the Party (who had taken one look at Max’s face and fled into the arcade so she and Steve could “talk.”) “I’m sorry us peasants weren’t good enough to hang around!”  

“Sorry man.” Lucas apologized quietly, on his way to run after Max. 

Steve just scrubbed a hand through his hair and sighed. 

xXx 

“The kids are mad at you.” Nancy announced, appearing across the Family Video counter like a phantom. 

Steve swore, nearly dropping his stack of VHS’s, while Robin (who had clearly seen Nancy approach) cackled at his fumble. 

“Yeah, I did get that memo.” Steve said, after he stabilized his stack, safely moving them from his arms to the counter. 

Nancy peered around them, her face giving away nothing. “It is kind of shitty to cancel at the last minute like that. We were relying on you to drive.”

An old fury shook itself awake in Steve’s chest, taking an interest in the conversation the second Steve realized what Nancy was here to do. 

He took a deep, shuddering breath, and pressed it down, back into the box he’d slammed it in all those years ago. 

“I’d leave the keys to Robin here, but unfortunately, someone failed their drivers test.” Steve said instead, jamming his finger over his shoulder and blatantly attempting to pass the buck. 

Robin, who absolutely knew that was what he was doing, faked a gasp and kicked at his ankles. 

“That crotchety asshole failed me on purpose!” She protested, spinning to face Nancy. “He made like, three misogynistic comments before we even got in the car!” 

“Pointing out that he knew the car wasn’t yours wasn’t misogynistic, he was just surprised to see me letting you use the Beemer.” Steve shot back, rolling his eyes. “I don’t exactly let a lot of people drive it.” 

Unspoken was that Steve’s BMW was one of the town’s more unique cars, and thus easily identifiable by the locals at large. 

“How is that better!?” Robin returned, but Nancy cleared her throat before they could successfully get the Steve-and-Robin show on the road. 

“The point is that we--but really, the kids, were counting on you.” Nancy said, dipping into her patented “I’m upset with you” tone. 

A year ago it would have cut Steve to the bone, even if he didn’t show it. 

Now he just stared tiredly at her back. 

“I’m sorry, Nance, but it is what it is.” He said simply, hoping the apology (even if he knew it wasn’t so much a real apology as it was something he said to keep the rage from breaking out and wrecking havoc via his mouth) would soften his ex. “I don’t know what else to tell you.”

Given the abrupt narrowing of her eyes, it very much did not help his case. 

“For someone who was so vocal about trying to change I have to say this is pretty disappointing.” Nancy said simply, but with just enough of a tone that Steve had to close his eyes for a second. 

Feel the way that old anger, the one that had powered King Steve, hit the bars of its cage.

Robin stilled immediately next to him, her head ping-ponging between Steve and Nancy both as she too, clocked that Nancy was pissed, and here to chew Steve out about it. 

“Um.” She said, voice going high in discomfort. 

Steve grit his teeth. “I don’t exactly get a say in these things, Nancy. You know that.” 

He had to work to keep his voice even, fighting against the ice that wanted to sharpen his own tone. 

It was just---Nancy did know. 

Steve had told her all those years ago, in the safety of her arms, about his parents' expectations. Their predetermined path, the way they dictated large swathes of his life. 

How they’d allowed him to pick which sports he played, but required that he play a sport no matter the time of year. 

That the pool they had installed wasn’t for him, he just got to use it as much as he did in part because he’d joined the swim team, and the kind of mental mind games he and his parents played about things like that. 

Apparently either Nancy had forgotten, or simply hadn’t taken it in to begin with because she wasn’t backing down. 

(Not that Steve had ever seen Nancy Wheeler back down.) 

“I know you have trouble juggling your parents' plans with your own.” Nancy said, and her tone was absolutely icy now. “I certainly remember waiting for a date that never happened.” 

Steve sucked in a breath through his teeth, knowing immediately what Nancy was referring to. 

“I told you they came home unexpectedly.” He said, arms now crossed against his chest, nails digging into his arms as a way to help himself stay grounded. “They wouldn’t let me use the phone until the next day and I apologized.”

“And I recall having a lovely conversation with your mother where she said otherwise.” Nancy said, her words punctuated by another high pitched “Uhhhh.” from Robin. 

“Funny how you believe my mom over me.” Steve said and whoops, yup, he definitely sounded mad now. 

So much for all the effort he’d put in to staying calm. 

“Because I look at actions, Steve. Patterns. The same ones you kept repeating.” Nancy was clearly about to escalate, and Robin, bless her, had had enough. 

“He-eeey.” She said, wedging herself in between Steve and the counter Nancy was starting to lean over. “I totally get it, you’re both upset, but this maybe isn’t the venue to fight about it? There are customers in the store and--sorry Nancy--but I do kinda need Steve for work, so…” 

She trailed off, glancing nervously between the two of them. 

Nancy took a breath, blasting it out of her mouth like an academically inclined dragon. “You’re right. I’m sorry Robin.”

She then turned on her heel, making her way to the doors. She paused before them, and Steve prepared himself because he knew whatever she was going to say next, it was going to hurt. 

“I wouldn’t care if it was just me, Steve, but the kids don’t deserve you pulling this shit. Not after all they’ve been through.” With that, Nancy pushed through the door, head held high as she stormed to her car. 

As was typical for Nancy’s aim, she scored a direct hit. 

Steve, somehow, resisted throwing things. 

“Can you believe her!?” He said, the second the doors were closed and Nancy safely out of eyeshot. “Coming in here like that!?” 

He ran his hand through his hair, once, twice. 

A third time for good measure. 

“Yeah, that was seriously public for her.” Robin agreed, sliding up next to him. “Like really public.” 

Steve shrugged, because well. Not really. 

Not anymore. 

But Robin didn’t know that, just like Robin wasn’t entirely familiar with the depths Steve’s parents went to save face. They hadn’t exactly had time to really dig into it all, given how fast the Vecna situation had hit after Starcourt and the sheer PTSD both incidents had caused. 

Most nights they spent together was spent trying to avoid reliving nightmares, not discussing ones they were currently still living in. 

A fact that Steve was more than happy to bring her up to speed on, but to do so involved a lot of backstory, and backstory involved Nancy, and God, he was fucking pissed at Nancy. 

Soon it was an hour into his rant and he hadn’t actually gotten around to the sheer level of shit his parents would pull, too busy with Nancy and old echoes of ‘bullshit.’ 

 He only stopped when Robin put a hand on his shoulder, shaking him ever so slightly. 

“Dingus. You know I love you, and I know you’ve changed, but you do gotta admit, canceling at the last minute is kinda shitty and I get why they’re upset.” 

It was like the carpet had been pulled right out from under Steve, yanked so quickly he’d have to pinwheel to keep his feet. 

“What?” He said, eyes round in sheer surprise. 

“I just mean like, I get your parents are dicks but,” Robin’s face screwed up, looking like she’d sucked a lemon. It was her “I’m going to say something you don’t like face” and it hit Steve like a punch to the gut. 

“Our shift’s almost over and no offense, you’ve started to repeat yourself about Nance, and I get it! I do, memory shit is hard!” Robin’s hands moved as she talked, her bracelets jingling as if punctuating her point. 

“But I also think admitting you double booked yourself on accident and just taking responsibility for it would help smooth things over. Middle ground, you know?” Robin waggled her hands in a gesture that, for the first time in a long time, Steve didn’t understand. 

He found himself suddenly struggling to breathe. 

“Are you--are you saying you think I didn’t tell them I had a trip already planned?” 

Steve wasn’t sure how he managed to get it out. Wasn’t sure how he was doing anything, given the heat that was shooting through him, a hot mix of confusion and betrayal as Robin fidgeted to his left. 

“No! Okay well,” The lemon face got worse for a second. “I’m just saying you did kinda forget to pick me up that one time, and you do kinda blame your parents when stuff like that happens.” She bit a nail, peering at him out of the corner of her eyes.  

“I don’t--” Steve said, completely knocked adrift. “I…”

Robin didn’t believe him.

His Robin. 

Who wasn’t--wasn’t exactly siding with Nancy, but wasn’t saying she was wrong either, or that she understood that this shit was out of his control, and in fact, was kind of implying that Nancy was right more so than Steve was and---and--

There was a ringing in Steve’s ears he wasn’t sure actually existed. 

“I’m sure a lot of it is your brain injury. The doctors said your short term memory can take a while to fully come back and I totally get why you don’t wanna say that, I just, I think it would be better if--Steve?” Robin jumped back as Steve finally found his footing, swiping his jacket and punching out before she could catch how badly his hands were shaking. 

“I’m leaving.” Steve told her, his own words a million miles away, entirely uncaring if Keith fired him. 

Keith was likely going to fire him anyway, given Steve was about to ask for a week-long vacation not even four months after the whole Vecna ordeal. 

“Wait, Steve, hey--Dingus! I wasn’t done, I mean, I had more to say I, dammit Steve--!” Robin called after him frantically as Steve bolted for the door. 

Steve ignored her, aiming for the Beemer and swinging himself numbly into the driver's seat when he got it open. 

Put the car in park and avoided Robin’s face entirely as he backed it out, punching the gas far harder than he needed to. 

The Beemer roared in response, nose rising as it shot forward. 

Robin was his best friend. His fucking--platonic soulmate, as she kept calling him. The very idea that she agreed with Nancy in general was a blow but in this?

Against his parents? 

Nausea rolled angrily in Steve’s stomach, matching the sudden wetness that coated his eyes. 

Angry and needing an outlet, Steve stomped hard on the gas, taking the next corner far too sharp and making the beemer fishtail, tires squealing . 

He didn’t know where he was going.

He figured he’d find out when he got there. 

xXx 

Given what Steve knew about the universe at large, (nevermind Hawkins) it probably wasn’t the smartest thing to hang around the Quarry at night.

But then, summer was in full swing. Kids were home from college and itching to find a place to party without parental overhead. 

Deep to the left side of the water, around a few bends and tucked oh so neatly out of sight, was a place where one could do just that. 

Party.

This stretch had long been claimed by the college kids of Hawkins, and guarded zealously for it. 

With the sheer number of drunk people whooping and hollering around the bonfires below the ridge where everyone parked their cars, Steve figured he was safe enough. 

Even if he was up with said cars, sitting alone. 

Not like it mattered. If a demodog or demogorgan or demo-fucking-dragon decided to come along, Steve had half a mind to just let it have him. 

It felt easier than trying to fix the current mess his life was in. 

So he sat up here, blowing through the alcohol he’d purchased from the one gas station that never carded, drinking his problems away. 

(That also wasn’t the best course of action but with his parents home to spring the whole “vacation” ordeal on him, it wasn’t like Steve had a choice.) 

He hadn’t grabbed a lot--had been so damn upset and struggling to hide it that he’d picked up a four pack of wine coolers instead of the intended beer he’d wanted. It was all he had though, and so he chugged the last bottle with a wince and wished he was a hell of a lot drunker than he felt.

Then promptly caught sight of the person walking towards him, and wondered vaguely if he was drunker than he felt. 

Of all the people to come and offer him a can of beer, Steve would have never expected Tommy Hagan. 

He eyed it and his old friend both, before slowly reaching out and taking the can. 

“Heard you and your parents are doing CoHo this year.” Tommy said casually, leaning up against the front of the Beemer like it was old times. 

“Yup.” Steve replied, drawing the word out. 

“Angie Tideman’s parents are going, they’re bringing her ith .” Tommy said it casually, and had the good graces not to grin when Steve audibly groaned.

“Oh god.”

Tommy sucked on a lip, nodding absently. “Yeah.” 

Then; “It gets worse.” 

Steve, who now knew what this conversation was about, instantly began tearing into the beer can. “How can it get worse? You know what Angie’s like.”

Angie, whose full name was Angelina, lived a few towns over. Born to wealthy parents who doted on their beloved only child, Angie had more in common with your average shark than she did her fellow humans. 

A comparison that, frankly, was unkind to sharks.

She was without a doubt the most selfish person Steve had ever had the misfortune of encountering, and the mere idea of being trapped in a room with her made his skin crawl. 

Their parents were business buddies though, and god forbid he ever insult a business buddies kid, 

“She goes to Purdue, you know, with me and Carol.” Tommy said, instead of answering directly. “We cross paths a lot, party wise.” 

Steve stayed silent. 

Knew how Tommy talked, how his stories meandered. Especially the juicy ones. 

“She’s been talking a lot recently. Given you don’t look all that informed, I’m gonna assume the one person she hasn’t talked to is you.” 

Steve gripped the can of beer, a sudden, sick fear blooming in his gut. 

“Tommy.” He said mildly, not loud enough to really interrupt, but with enough force to let his former friend know to get to the point, now. 

“Got all super fancy right before we left for summer break. Hair done, whole new wardrobe, nails, you know.” Tommy waggled his fingers playfully, but dropped them when Steve just stared. “Went full whore on us. I swear she was making out with any guy who even looked at her--” 

“Tommy.” He repeated, this time a hell of a lot firmer. 

Done pushing, Tommy let go of the proverbial bombshell. “Apparently you’re planning on proposing to her this summer. She’s gonna return next year as an engaged woman, with you in tow, because apparently, you got into Purdue. Congrats by the way.” 

Tommy clapped him on the shoulder, right as Steve’s mouth went dry. 

For the second time that day, he found himself fighting the burning heat of embarrassment and fury as it rolled through him. 

“I’m proposing.” Steve said, as if saying it out loud would scare the very idea away. “To Angie.” 

“Yeah we kinda figured you didn’t know.” Tommy said with a snide little grin. To the average outsider it was mocking, but Steve knew better.

Tommy was uncomfortable, because Tommy had understood what Steve’s parents had done. 

“What I’d like to know is just how much Angie’s parents paid to get you into Purdue. That’s gotta be a minimum fifty thousand dollar donation at least.” Tommy removed his hand, to instead lean his shoulder against Steve’s. Like this was the old times, before they’d fought. “ I didn’t think they had that kind of money to throw around.”  

A past conversation with his father struck Steve, running through the front of his mind like a bad horror movie. 

“They sold the estate.” Steve said vacantly, the implications not quite hitting. “The one they’ve been trying to get rid of forever, over in Cape Cod.” 

“Oh shit.” Tommy said, blinking as he too, recalled what was likely his father telling him the very same news. 

“They sold the place on Cape Cod, and they used part of the funds to fucking buy me like a toy.” And yeah, saying it out loud, it definitely sounded bad. “I didn’t think Angie even liked me.”

“Does Angie like anyone?” Tommy asked, incredulously, but nudged Steve’s shoulder again when his joke didn’t net him the laugh he wanted.. “I mean, you had to know your old man had plans to straighten you out. He keeps getting mad at my dad, because the ass won't stop making jokes that I’m going to take over the company instead of you.” 

“And this is it. Attaching me to Angie.” Steve said vacantly. “Because they know if I get married…” 

He’d put his wife first. His family, first. 

The one he’d wanted, dreamed of, since he first realized he didn’t have one. 

He’d been playing checkers the entire time, too busy fighting fucking monsters and Russians to realize his parents had upgraded to chess. 

In a dizzying array of mental connect-the-dots, Steve replayed the last years worth of conversations. All the odd little things they’d said. All the dumb things Steve had just ignored. 

 They’d warned him. 

Had told him he better shape up, or they’d be forced to do something drastic. 

That his parents hadn’t wasted all this time, effort, money on him, for him to throw away his life like he was. 

“You better start acting right and figuring out how to get your life back on track, because you won’t like what happens if I have to fix it for you. You get a month Steven, and after that? Well. Just remember you forced my hand, Steven.” 

They knew. They knew him, and what made him tick.

“I think the real question is what Angie’s parents see in you.” Tommy teased, but then they both knew the answer to that puzzle. 

For all that Steve’s mom complained about her husband, the guy was a shrewd and calculating businessman. Those weekends, then weekdays, then more and more time away hadn’t just been so he could go screw his secretary. 

Richard Harrington had fast tracked his business to the point where it was now getting attention. The business journal, ‘Top 50 Companies to Watch’ kind. 

Even if Steve fucked up entirely, he was set to inherit a fortune and a business that would continue adding to it, for some time to come. 

Provided he did what his parents wanted.

Such as marrying Angie. 

Thing was, if his parents did what they always did, and held their wealth (his car, his home, his life and all the little things in it) against him like a gun to his head, if Angie got that ring around her finger? 

 Steve would bow to their whims. 

 Because they could fluster him into proposing so he didn’t embarrass Angie, and her parents and anyone else who’d undoubtedly be watching. They’d make a spectacle of it. 

Because once he did propose, they wouldn’t let him back out, burying him under guilt trips and veiled threats until he was marched down the aisle in a groomsman suite and told to stand. 

Because against all common sense, Steve wanted a family who loved him so desperately he’d chase it like a dog if he was presented with the opportunity and told to make it work. 

It didn’t matter that Angie was selfish. 

Steve would try anyway. 

His parents were maneuvering him as easily as they had back when he was a kid, using love as a tool to get him to do what they wanted and even seeing the nose hanging from the rafters, they knew just the right words to get him to place it around his neck. 

“Thought you’d wanna know.” Tommy finished, pushing himself off Steve’s car. “Before your parents sprung it on you.” 

“Sonofabitch.” Steve hissed angrily, a million thoughts racing through his head, the heat of being caught in a trap blasting down his spine. 

“Yeah.” Tommy added, rather unhelpfully. “But hey, given that you’re about to go on vacation to propose, why don’t we consider this,” here Tommy swept his hand, gesturing to the party below, “your proposal party?” 

It was a downright horrible idea.

But then, Steve didn’t exactly have a better one. 

Not  when the world itself seemed against him, grinding its heel into his back and laughing about it. 

He knew the drill. If he went down there, arm in arm with Tommy, then it wouldn’t matter that half those kids were from a few towns over, driven in by new college buddies.  

They’d see him as a reason to get wild, absolutely uncaring that they didn’t know who the hell he was. 

Steve needed that.

People who weren’t mad at him, buying into the easy lies his parents wove, or who didn't understand the games played against him. 

“Fuck it.” He announced, standing up from the hood of his car as Tommy’s grin morphed into something he used to see in the days of old, back when they were sneaking drinks from their parents' alcohol cabinets. “This way at least I get a party.”

Not like his parents were going to let him have an engagement party. Or a bachelor party, or likely let his ass back into Hawkins. 

No matter how long the engagement. 

Tommy cheered, raising his arms to the sky and Steve grinned wildly with him. 

He’d figure out how to get out of all this later--but for now, he wanted just a few damn hours where he didn’t have to think. 

Not about his parents, or Angie, or possible attempts to force him into marriage, like this was the yee olden days and Steve was a Victorian maiden who needed to be brought to heel. 

Likewise he didn’t want to think about the Party, or Russian torture, or how Nancy could be so damn smart in some things and downright stupid in others. 

He absolutely didn't want to think about Robin. 

“Hey boys and girls, look who I drug up!” Tommy yelled as they approached and soon, word had spread.

This was Steve’s proposal party, and he was here to get absolutely smashed (while encouraging everyone else to do the exact same, in his honor.) 

Which would be how Eddie found him a few hours later.

Still at the quarry, crossfaded off his ass, a forty in one hand and a lawn dart in the other. 

“Are you kidding me, Steve?” Eddie grit out, desperately trying to wrestle the lawn dart out of his hand. “You’re fucking partying with Tommy Hagan!?” 

Steve blinked at him a few times, finally catching on that Eddie was in fact, actually there. 

“When did you show up?” He asked, though given the wince on Eddie’s face and just how hard it had been to move his lips, Steve correctly assumed he’d slurred the shit out of the question. 

Somehow, Eddie understood him anyway. 

“Robin called me a while ago, gave me a list of places you might be. Almost skipped this one until I stepped out of my van to take a piss and heard the party.” Eddie explained, and somehow while doing so, he’d successfully gotten a hold of the dart. 

He was now working on removing the 40 ounce. 

Steve frowned, using his newly freed hand to grip it closer to his chest. 

“Harrington.” Eddie warned, and oh, wow, they were back to last names huh?

Well why not, it wasn't like his night could get worse. 

“This is mine, Munson.” Steve fired back, putting as much vitriol into Eddie’s last name as he could.

This did not detour the metalhead. 

“Come on man, give me the bottle.” Eddie said firmly. 

Steve shook his head stubbornly, enjoying the way his hair whipped at his face. “No.”

Another man stumbled over, a guy Steve absolutely did not know. He frowned, looking between Eddie and Steve. 

For two seconds, Steve thought they might have trouble, and given the way Eddie was tensing, he clearly thought so too. 

Instead, New Guy just kind of rocked on his heels. “Hey, shove off it, buddy. It’s this guy's bachelor party, let the man drink!” 

Eddie’s face did something complicated then, pulling the sort of expressive looks only he could manage.

It was both adorable and hilarious, and if Steve hadn’t just been reminded of the very reason he was drinking, he’d have told Eddie so. 

“Yeah!” He said instead, raising his hand in the air, toasting his bottle of forty against the other guy’s red solo cup. “It’s my proposalengagmentbachelor party!” 

Given the second, adorable-slash-hilarious look on Eddie’s face, Steve assumed those words hadn’t come out right either. 

“Okay.” Eddie said hands on his hips in a stance Steve was pretty sure Eddie had gotten from him. “Here’s what's going to happen. You’re going to put the bottle away. Then you’re going to give me your car keys, and then the two of us are going to my house to sleep whatever is happening here, off.” 

At least, that's what Steve thought he heard. It was a pretty un-Eddie like speech, and Steve maybe, might have been the one to say it, because he maybe, might have been mocking what Eddie had actually said.

Maybe.

It was hard to know, given that Steve’s thoughts were a thick soup on a bit of a time delay, and he was having a hard time figuring up from down, let alone what Eddie had been actually saying. 

Speaking of; 

 “When did I get into your car?” Steve asked, blinking as the van’s passenger seat appeared before him.

“Just now.” Eddie said, helping him in.

“Huh.” Said Steve, and then he maybe passed out a bit, because once again, he found himself awake and alert at a place that wasn’t where he’d just been. 

“Come on.” Eddie said gently, one of Steve’s arms over his shoulder as Steve leaned heavily into him, guiding the jock up the stairs and into the small house he and Wayne now called a home. 

The guy might have muttered a few things about bachelor parties along the way, but Steve was too focused on walking straight to really take notice. 

Part Two

[bimboothefool]

Hi!! Can I request a yandere Emil and Ada x gn reader? Maybe how they met the reader, how will treat them if they ever abduct them, up to you!

𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐏𝐬𝐲𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐢𝐬𝐭 & 𝐏𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐇𝐂’𝐬

Oh Yes you may and I had to rewatch their introduction trailer just to get a good feel of their personalities. Hopefully you’ll enjoy these headcanons Anon! ^7^ 🩷 Happy Halloween to you all, hopefully this halloween was great and you got a bunch of treats or atleast had fun!!🎃🎉

Warning this story isn't suitable for an audience of 17 & younger.

This story contains the following subject matters: Drugging, Gaslighting, Possessive & Manipulative Behavior, Kidnapping, Brainwashing and Forced Marriage (???) If you click read more you've consented to reading this story.

- There’s two possibilities they’ll meet you, You’re either Ada’s coworker/psychology nurse or are a patient like Emil.

- If you’re Ada’s coworker, she’ll often observe how you behave, what your quirks are and overall take in as much info about you as possible.

- Ada falls in love with seeing how devoted you are to making sure the patients are comfortable and safe. Every time to obediently follow her orders or trial behind her, her heart skips a beat.

- She also takes into account how your relationship is with Emil, sometimes leaving him in your care as she quickly “attends” to other patients.

- Emil would at first be weary of you, but soon warms up to you. He’ll cling to you often wanting to lay his head on your shoulder or lap.

- Emil grips onto your hand, trailing behind you like a lost puppy. He craves your attention and affection.

- Emil falls in love with how gentle and kind you are to him. He’s been so deprived of it, finally getting it is like finding cold, crisp oasis in a cruel, hot desert.

- Ada seeing how well you take care of Emil, involves you in their escape plan. Basically feeding you half truths and getting you coaxed into this plan.

- If you don’t agree and stand your ground, she drugs you and takes you with her. Emil clings to your unconscious form immediately, hugging you close. Wanting your warmth as Ada drives.

- Now onto if you’re a patient like Emil, he’s pretty antisocial during his time at the asylum. Barely talking to anyone else, you showed him a sliver of kindness, he’s practically attached at the hip with you.

- Often seeking you out and asking where you are. Wherever you go, he follows right after you.

- Ada seeing this change in behavior does a bit of bargains with the higher ups and is soon assigned as your psychologist.

- She’s very intrigued on how you operate as well. Learning every intimate detail about you.

- Ada proposes the idea of taking you out of this place, proposing you’re better off with her than in here.

- She’ll again just kidnaps and drugs you if you say no.

- Now onto how they both treat you after you’re abducted for both scenarios.

- If you resisted, when you wake up, you’re tied up. Ada knows how clever you are and isn’t taking any chances. She knows that using a different method on you into making you love both her and Emil is her top priority along with helping Emil.

- “Don’t worry my love, soon you’ll see things our way. For now rest up.” Ada looks down at your restrained form.

- When the hypnosis results start to stagnate, she knows they’ve yielded incredible results. ‘ Maybe, just maybe they’ll work on you. ‘

- So now you’re apart of her tests, your backbone is forcibly ripped from you. Your autonomy is taken from you piece by piece.

- Emil helps out by constantly being beside you, seeking you out frequently and offering you comfort and security. Feeding you the idea that he nor Ada would never hurt you. They want you to be as free and happy as they are.

- After many tests, you finally crack and often needing to be close to Ada or Emil. If both they’re both around, the merrier your time is spent with them. You crave their attention at first. But slowly you needed their love.

- Ada and Emil’s love becomes your addiction, their kisses make your knees buckle, their embrace keeps you grounded and it all felt so right.

- The once loud voice screaming for you to run and hide, starts to get quieter and quieter. You don’t want to run from your beloveds. They’re your lovers, why would you run from them.

- Ada and Emil have shown you what true love is. They would never hurt you. Ada and Emil love you and you love them.

- If you went along and complied, Ada uses this to her advantage. Using Emil as a way to tempt you to not defy her. Emil isn’t innocent, he plays along and amplifies how he needs you too. Having without you, means he’s incomplete.

- With time it does its twisted job, you fall in love with Emil and soon Ada. You look forward to their kisses, the nights where you cuddle eachother.

- You all practically are each other’s entire world, you know even death won’t make neither of you part.

- This is true love, the pinnacle of pure, unconditional and unadulterated love.

- In both scenarios, when you all receive an invite. When both Ada and Emil, propose to you. Your heart is beating with sick joy. First a getaway from this life you’ve outgrown and now being engaged to the two people you clutch onto dearly.

- “Paradise… Here we come.” You smile with broken delight. You now have rings on both of your ring finger. This is the start of a new chapter, with your new wife and husband.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐄𝐧𝐝

[king-of-mortar]

Hero regrets it now, that self-sacrificing idiocy.

Don’t blame them, they expected Villain to kill them. Grab them by the collar, put the gun to their head, and pull the trigger. They weren’t to know their arch-nemesis would hold them by their hair like a trophy and drag them home with them.

They hadn’t expected Villain to lean them against a wall, still too dazed and surprised to move, and get on their knee with a ring pulled off their own hand. They hadn’t expected Villain to say, without a hint of irony, “Will you marry me?”

And Hero had, of course, replied, “This is the shittest proposal ever.” Because it was. Villain’s foyer was dark and they’d not switched on the lights yet, and the night outside was ominous and eerily quiet. “The atmosphere’s off.”

Villain laughed at them, and then said, their voice assured, “Say it.”

“What?”

“Say it! You have to. You insisted on martyring yourself, so see it through.” Villain smiled, all teeth.

“Yeah, I’ll marry you,” Hero had said, like Villain was asking to borrow their phone charger.

And so now they have to marry them, and for once in their life, Hero has no idea what to do. This is ridiculous, they’re confused, and worse, they’re afraid. But maybe Hero will get lucky. Maybe this is all a ploy, some creepy short-lived fantasy Villain is only orchestrating to plan Hero’s murder. Maybe they’ll be lucky, maybe they won't have to.

But Hero’s going to have to come up with something soon, because Villain seems like the kind of person to do things sooner rather than later.

[sunnysideaeggs]

Thinking about how since ancient times, young girls and women were married off to their rapist to safeguard their honor. How they believed it was the only way to leave behind their shame and continue being respected in society. How there’s registers of women who wished to stay celibate (like Hera, the Greek goddess of marriage) and had to marry their abusers. Even the bible has such a law to protect a young maiden’s honor. How in a medieval society, marriage was the only escape from shame after failing to maintain yourself chaste.

How Criston Cole begged for his rapist to marry him and run away with him, so he wouldn’t be killed for failing his celibacy vow, and would be able to restore his honor, if not as a kingsguard, as a married man. How he was laughed at. How he tried to kill himself to get rid of his shame. How he thinks it was a failure of his character to be abused and taken advantage of.

[rico189sspamtonhell]

Obsessive Villain Imagines pt 2

While re-watching the show I realized I missed a lot of villains that would have had a field day with the forcing you to dance with them prompt so I made a part 2 <3 Consider this my Halloween gift! Happy Halloween and stay safe! TW for unwanted touching, forced marriage and misogyny in Aragon's part

Same prompt as the last post. Imagine a DP villain crashing a banquet or fancy ball because Danny was there and their eyes land on you, who also happens to be their nemesis. During the confrontation, a slow song begins to play. Wanting to toy with you they grab your hand and forcefully pull you onto the dance floor so you can slow dance with them. One hand is on your lower back, the other grasping yours as they lead you in the dance with their piercing eyes staring into yours as they tell you their grand plan for the night. As you waltz the lights shine down on you both, giving you and them an ethereal glow. For a moment, just a moment they fall silent as they look down at you. In that moment their eyes are soft as they see you in a new light.

Characters that would do this

Ghost Writer….But horribly. In the last post, @sugarviv helped me open my eyes to the fact that this man would try to be all suave as he danced with you, trying to make himself out like a Great Gatsby or Phantom of the Opera type, but unless he’s utilizing his typewriter to bend reality this man is gonna fail. It's going to go like this.

Ghostwriter smirks smugly as he grabs you by your hand and pulls you into his chest. The stage was set. Was he horribly underdressed for the occasion in just his scarf and coat? Yes, but you were dressed formally and that's all that mattered to him. "What a pleasant surprise seeing you here. Now, shall we dance my dear?" He asked as he began to waltz throughout the dance floor with you. There was a distinct chill in the air as he gazed down at you, his eyes glowing in the dim lights.

 "You must be wondering-" The moment is interrupted as he steps on your foot, eliciting a small grunt from you. "Shit sorry-" He trips on your feet again. "Shit-" He trips and this time he falls onto the floor with you in tow. The author groans as his nose crinkles in annoyance. “Damn it-” As he opens his eyes the realization that your form is on top of his hits him like a truck. Shock floods his system as his eyes grow to the size of dishes. He swallows only to find that his mouth is suddenly dry. If he still had a beating heart he just knew that it would have leapt from his chest by now. Mission failed…successfully?

Amorpho: 

This man is an attention whore and what better way to garner much-needed attention than to be the center of attention at a fancy ball? 

It can go two ways with him. If he decides to go on the down low then he’ll transform into a handsome gentleman before he takes you by the hand and starts the dance. He’ll bask in all the attention as the crowd murmurs about the mysterious stranger dancing with you all the while you know exactly what's up. As you glare at him, all he does is offer an innocent smile. “What? I just want to have a little bit of fun.” He whispers to you as a glint shines in his crimson eyes. Is it…affection? If he’s feeling like simply scaring the crowd he’ll do it in his ghost form to watch the crowd scatter as he dances with you. The chaos just adds to his delight as he waltzes with you, basking in all the attention. However, at this moment there’s only one person whose attention he craves and it’s yours <3

Prince Aragon: This man is probably the most toxic on the list along with Spectra, especially if you’re female presenting dejdjkdkdf. This dude just radiates dancing with his enemy vibes especially if he starts to see them as a potential bride or groom. Any attempts to pull away are met with a sharp glare and a hiss from his lips as he tightens his hold on your hands. If you’re female presenting or cis female best believe this man is gonna be misogynistic during the dance, critiquing your form, how you dressed to the event, the fact that you just won’t submit and dance willingly like he wants you to, honestly if Danny doesn’t come to deck out his lights you just might. If you’re male presenting or cis male he probably won’t be any better djkdkjd.

Bullet: Unlike Walker (I’m still crying I wanna dance with him so much sob) I can see Bullet taking a moment to toy with you via dancing with you. If there's someone you’re particularly close with be it a crush or friend he very well might overshadow them to dance with you just to get you even more agitated.

Characters that would do this, but a little differently

Dora. 

Imagine for her you’ve been kidnapped by her brother to be his queen/king and Dora is assigned to teach you how to dance because Aragon wants to have a big ball to celebrate you becoming his spouse and he can’t have you stepping on his feet the whole night. She’s grasping your hand delicately as she goes through the steps. Every so often the lights shine down on you just right, casting you in this glimmering glow. If she didn’t know any better, she’d say that you were an angel.

She can’t help the faint blush that creeps along her cheeks as she gazes up at you. Despite having helped her brother kidnap you, you’ve been so kind to her. Your gaze is so soft as you look at her like she’s a beautiful treasure to be cherished. Every opportunity you can, you try and convince her that she’s not just a pretty face, that she’s allowed to feel emotions other than happy or neutral, and that she’s allowed to be strong and independent just like her brother. She knows it's most likely just pity after you’ve seen how the prince treats her, but she still cherishes the few moments alone with you she gets. You just…make her feel like she’s more than just her brother’s glorified maid. She dares to dream that you could be her spouse instead of her brothers. It's a silly dream, she knows. Her brother claimed you first, and whatever he wants he always gets. Besides, it was already made clear that she couldn’t pick her betrothed. Whoever she wed would be hand-picked by her brother as their parents were no longer around the marry her off. As she waltzes with you in the deserted ballroom, all those troubling thoughts begin to fade away as she offers you a smile full of melancholy and eyes full of adoration. “You’ll make a wonderful bride/groom…I know it.”

Nocturn. I can see him setting up a scene like this in your dreams. What better place to be alone with you away from possible interference than your mind? He conjures up the whole fancy ball scene, making sure every detail is perfect before he appears before you. He knows who you are and knows you’ll do anything to aid the ghost boy in thwarting his plans. He takes you to the little scene he's set up with one hand on the small of your back. No matter what you do, how much you might try to fight back or run, you just end up right back in this little ballroom scene he's made just for you. The nocturnal ghost smirks as he grabs you by your wrist and pulls you close. "No one is coming to aid you in this battle that's being waged inside your mind, so you might as well just enjoy the party my dear." He coos as he starts to lead you in a twisted waltz as his nightmarish minions watch from the crowd. "Why fight it my little star? I can make you have such pleasant dreams. I can show you anything your heart desires." He dips you low as he leans in to whisper into your ear. "I can be whatever your heart desires here...All you have to do is allow me to do as I please."dp bulle

Desiree. Idk, I just get the vibes that if you have caught her attention she will want to dance with you, but maybe not in front of a crowd and probably not a waltz. I looked into her ethnicity and I believe she is Arab so maybe she’d teach you some Arabian dances to do with her. Sorry I don’t have a small blurb for her like I do Ghost Writer and Amorpho, I don’t know her character well enough djkdjfdjkdf. 

Bonus Platonic Friends!

Youngblood: 

I can see this little guy thinking that this whole fancy party you’re at is boring. Where’s the clowns?! The bouncy castles?! What do you mean everyone has to dress in such stuffy clothes?! He’s had enough and changes the music to something more fun to dance to before grabbing your hands and dancing to it with you. You’re his favorite playmate after all besides Danny. Since he’s not here, you’ll do as his dancing partner! Besides, you looked all bored in the crowd before he came along.

His movements are fast and erratic as you guys dance, but it's not long before you’re laughing along with him. The energetic ghost is just a ball of energy and it ends up rubbing off on you. Not long after the song ends he drags you to the desert table, eager to devour all the sweets he can before Danny comes to put a stop to his fun.

“Bet ya can’t eat more cupcakes than me!” That was all you heard before he shoveled his first cupcake into his mouth, not even warning you that the challenge had started.

“You’re on little man!” You yell before beginning to devour your portion of the cupcakes. Frosting quickly smeared across your mouth, dripping onto your clothes, but you didn’t care. All that mattered was beating this little brat at his own game.

By the time Danny found you two all the cupcakes were gone and both you and Youngblood were groaning on the floor. 

“No…No fair. You…you cheated.” He managed to groan out as he held his upset stomach.

“Don’t…don’t be a sore loser kid.” Was all you choked out before you gagged. You’d won, but at what cost?

Sidney:

This sweetheart would never in a million years think of forcing you to dance with him as a power play. He just wouldn’t have it in him. What does he look like, a bully?

However, seeing the fancy dance you’re at hits him with a pang of bittersweet nostalgia as he reminisces about the school proms he had gone to when he was still alive. The proms he had gone to never really worked out as the bullying tended to get worse whenever he’d show up without a date or his bullies would devise a cruel prank for him. Still, there had been some good memories. Hanging out with the few friends he did have. Chowing down on all the junk the school had to offer at the snack table. Enjoying the music in the corner as he watched the rest of the partygoers dance the night away. As he reminisces in the corner you happen to spot him. It was a fairly easy task as he stood out with his monochrome coloration amidst the sea of colorful suits and dresses. He looked so forlorn as he watched the crowd dance and have a grand old time…How could you possibly just leave him alone?

Sidney looked up as he saw you approach him, his eyes widening slightly. He had seen you amongst the crowd, but he didn’t think you’d spare him a moment of your time. Before he could say anything, you held out your hand as a faster, upbeat song began to play. “W-Wait, you’re asking me to dance?” He asked shakily as he glanced at the crowd.

“What does it look like Pointdexter?” “I-I don’t know the steps, w-what would I even do? No, no I shouldn’t-” He let out a startled cry as you grabbed his hand and yanked him out onto the dance floor. You could read the diseased introvert like a book. It was clear he did want to dance, he was just afraid to go out onto the floor by himself. Maybe if he wasn’t alone he’d gain some confidence. 

Sidney at first wanted to turn and bolt, but as you started to move on your own, uncaring of the surrounding crowd, your confidence seemed to rub off on him as he began to move as well. “Well…Maybe one dance won’t hurt…”

[voidwritesstuff]

Beyond Myth and Fable.

Cw: sexual themes. A fuck ton of religious imagery. Forced marriage (Implications of child brides). Mentions of nudity (non-sexual) Death Is an ass because his mommy issues act up. (Trying to add some levity here,this fic gets a tad dark).

Rating: +16/+18 defenetly.

Summary: In search for clues,the Four Horsemen seek the aid of the one and only Mother of Harlots.

A/n: I took a fuck ton of artistic liberties and laced it with my own experiences as an AFAB. Mystery/the mother of harlots uses they/them but is reffered to by both female and gender neutral terms. Depicted as AFAB. Can be read as an X reader (reasons are explained in the fic tho. I dont want to give too much away).

A/n2: I find the figure of the whore of babylon to be an untapped reservoir to explore themes of AFABS in society,defenetly leaning on the female rage side of things. Heres a playlist I made for this fic. @darkdemeter I hope you like it since you showed interest in the concept!

"And I saw a woman sit upon a scarlet coloured beast, full of names of blasphemy, having seven heads and ten horns.

And the woman was arrayed in purple and scarlet colour, and decked with gold and precious stones and pearls, having a golden cup in her hand full of abominations and filthiness of her fornication:

And upon her forehead was a name written, MYSTERY, BABYLON THE GREAT, THE MOTHER OF HARLOTS AND ABOMINATIONS OF THE EARTH. And I saw the woman drunken with the blood of the saints, and with the blood of the martyrs of Jesus: and when I saw her, I wondered with great admiration." -Rev 17 .3-6

The endlesness of the charred chamber swallowed anything that could take away from the glimmering ruby encased in a good ring that Death held.

--Why do we have to use the ring they gave me?--Strife complained, pouting behind his armored helmet. His arms are crossed and he fidgets in his place.

--We need something of theirs for this spell-- The eldest replied with no patience for the childishness of his sibling-- And I doubt your memories would be worth anything. And we dont want to know what goes through your head.

--Death is right-- War added,shifting his weight and balancing Chaoseater on his shoulder-- I advice we hurry.

Before the gunslinger can reply,Death begins to mutter an incantation. He holds the ring in his hand and it blackens halfway, it gets hot like the dancing Fires of hell.

Fitting,thats where theyre going anywhere.

--Besides...--Followed Fury as the portal roared to life beside them-- You can get another one.

--Yeah,well, that one had sentimental value-- Strife answered,following after his siblings as they pass through the arcane gate and into this circle of hell.

Depending on who you asked, this corner of hell had a few epithets attached to it: The Palace of Blasphemy,The Idolatress' Tower,The Den Of Profanity, The museum of Hubris. Some even theorize this is what remains of the original tower of babel..

Yeah,cozy place.

--Out of all of Us, you had to be the one that rolled around in this pit with the Mother Of Harlots--Fury sneered as They enter the grand spire, pushing past the silken courtains of bloody red.

--When you see 'em you'll see.

--A demon...I thought you better than that brother-- War prodded,avoiding the gaze of the half naked nymphs of brimstone and magma that frolic about the place tending to their master's whims.

As they walk they pass paintings depicting the hubris of Man,the greed and darkness. Strife had seen them before- he was aware of them but his siblings ignored it completely. He had a nagging feeling their dismissal would end up causing them trouble.

--Oh fuck right off.-- The gunslinger protested-- Need I remind you the googoo  eyes you made to Dis?

--That...was different.

--Right.

--Cease at once,both of you!--Barked Death--How unbecoming. --He sighed behind his mask and kept walking towards the back where a large chaise lounge chair laid with one of the nymphs sprawled upon it.

Hes half naked,long hair of magma flowing past his shoulders and hips. His Lower half is wrapped in opaque silks and large jewelry adorned his wrists and head. His neck carried a golden chain wrapped around it, that swayed from side to side like a cat's tail.

At the sight,the four knew it was going to be a long,long day.

--Strife!--The nymph perked up at the sight. Hes eating whats eithe grapes or eyeballs but nobody cared to ask-- A visit? So soon?

--This ones different,Adonis.

--As if I was one to judge...--Adonis said, sitting up and leaning forward with a toothy smile.-- Not the most ambitious theyve gotten.

--Bussines,Man.-- the gunslinger insisted,wiping away the nymph's smile with just few words. It makes the other three horsemen feel oddly pleased at it. This place was a Real looney bin.

--Tsk, tsk, tsk. All bussiness,no pleasure.

--If I had a say in the matter,Trust me-

--Keep your head Straight,Strife--Death put an arm infront of his sibling and glared at him. Then,he turns to Adonis and says-- your master,Now.

The nymph sighed loudly and rolled his eyes. They stand up,easily towering over the horsemen and his hands smooth away his hair,revealing two ox horns that grow a few inches.

His eyes darken to a black,black void with a dancing flicker of red.-- Fine. Fine. --He walks off to the side,to a beautifully gold-lined elevator. He steps in and a cage closes around it before going up.

--How can you stand this place?-- War growled as his eyes advert from the half naked female nymphs around him. They arent even looking at him with any desire,just looking concerned at their visit.

But their exposed chest doesnt help much either.

--Again,These guys are chicken shit compared to Mystery. And I promise theyre different.

--Your standards are truly beyond any of our comprehensions--Fury prodded,her eyes admiring the decor of the place. Its such an opulent look for a crumbling tower of brick and mud. She does get what hes saying- shes only now noticing the paintings..

One in particular makes her have to look away- its a painting depicting a forced marriage. And its hidden behind a few climbing vines that began to overtake the old,wooden frame and covering it and the canvas with maroon flowers. A color so similar to the fabric of her brother's scarf.

If she saw it the right way,it was like the flowers were protecting and comforting the young woman about to be married off.

--Hey! Dont talk about them like that. Theyre not just this. --The second eldest insisted,gesturing around the place.

Before Death can add his own quip about how he mustve Fallen victim of the Idolatress' compelling spells ,the four hear the elevator come back down and station on the ground floor with a dry,deep click. Adonis returns to them with a Placid smile,though its clear he wants them gone out of his sight.

--My master Will see you now. The elevator Will take you to the top floor--He gestures with an Open palm to the lift and shows his fangs in faux warmth.

--Thank you,Adonis. Cmon everyone,before War has a heart attack!--Strife began to push everyone towards the elevator,and War was more than happy to step into the platform and hold his head low.

--Will this elevator hold our weight?--Fury had the clearness of mind to ask.

--Enjoy the ride~!--Adonis cheered before clapping. With a violent thud the cage around the lift closes. It looks like a baroque birdcage.

It moves with another violent shake before it begins to speed upwards. Everyone holds on ti the inside railing as Strife gets insulted from top to bottom as if he was to blame.

Clearly,he had gotten too comfortable with this...Scum.

The top floor of the tower was a charred,black dome with looks to a deep night behind the crimson stained glass that lined some of the panels.

Where the walls are cracked there is gold, and the place is decorated halfway between a queen's chambers and a harlot's den. To humans, This style was almost baroque- with vestiges of Angel architecture if only to spite the armies of heaven

The far back had a large,four poster bed with its silks drawn to form a courtain. The right side of the bed was pressed against a wall right Next to a Window. To the left side there was a beautiful, mahogany desk with a few chalices and a half drank bottle of old wine.

Grand Windows opened up to the endless,starlit blue Sky and all around there were candles Burning and plants draping.

--Mystery! Where are ya?--Strife asked,trying to put his usual flirty voice on. He gives his siblings a look that says something along the lines of "Let me handle this. None of you know how to talk to these beings".

If only to spare themselves of some trouble,they dont object.

His voice reverberates around the chamber,the cups on the desk shake like theyre in the middle of an earthquake. The contents spill in a growing pool of blood red wine.

--Strife! My dearest Strife! --From the pool erupts a tall pillar of crimson that glimmers in the low light. It solidifies into a beast with a woman ontop.

The color comes to the figure, and its now revealed that the beast has seven heads and ten horns,and atop it was..

--Mystery,Hello! Looking radiant like always--The horseman flirted

--Ah,why thank you...

Indeed there they were. Their off the shoulder dress is black and sheer enough for their small chest to be seen, fuzzy with body hair and a few spots of acne. The dress went opaque at their hips,beautiful as they were with their bodily hair and stretchmarks.

They had this corcet,looked like a church's ceiling. It had gold Framing, that same baroque style with spikes and circlets that mimicked the halos of angels. Two of the spikes lined up to cover the center of their breasts.

And as if to add insult to injury they had a flaming heart with a Knife stabbed into it on the middle panel.

Their head was adorned with another Halo-like headpiece of gold and red rubies. They had to large pieces hanging on the lowest of spikes,and their neck and hands were covered in jewelry.

--overcompensating--Murmurs Fury,gaining an approving nodd from her eldest.

--What do I owe the visit? Adonis told me its not pleasure.

--We need information on Lucifer...--War stepped past his siblings,flustered and just about ready to return to the chamber of the council. His heart beated a mile a minute,and not with the rush of battle.

At his rashness the beast growls with its seven heads glaring to the red rider.

--Its okay,Boys--Mystery patted the head belonging to a dragon, his name was Blasphemy-- Just a rash one as younglings often are.

One of the heads, that in the shape of a horned hare, sniffed at the air and chuffed. The rest of the heads seemed to relax at that. They could smell the same nephilim scent that Strife had, they realize now their New guests are siblings.

--Okay,so Introductions right?--The gunslinger stepped up to the Mother of Harlots and helped them off their grand steed. He gets a tentative kiss to the helmet and a smudge of red lipstick is left.

Strife seemed to get lost in the eyes of Mystery. Their lids are liked with smokey crimson and black,their face glimmering with golden dust.

But he snaps back to reality, and he turns to the head of the Hare--Hardest thing out of the way,This is adultery.

--Do we have to know the names of each head?--Fury huffed.

--Get along with the beast,get along with its master-- the gunslinger insisted,clearly talking from experience--this is Idolatry..--He pet the snout of a bull with two large horns.

He kept going,ignoring how War sized up the beast like a hunter.

The Rat head was Pestilence,the cobra head was Temptation,the vulture was Profanity,and the giraffe was...Sodomy.

--And I believe I dont need an introduction...--Mystery laced their arms around the bicep of the gunslinger. They smile at the other three riders,welcoming.

--Thats not a good thing...--Death growled--Now,If youre done latching on to my brother like a leech...We're here for information.

If the mother of Harlots could eyeroll themself into another dimention they would. --Fine, Fine. Tea?--They asked.

--No-

--Sure! We'd all love some tea,yes. --Strife glared at his reaper brother in a way that made the eldest wonder how long would they have to play along like they like the idolatress before them. --Thank you,Mys.

--Of course,Take a Seat. This is your home...--They let go of the horseman and snap their fingers. On the desk a set of kintsugi porcelain appears. Its big enough to be nephilim sized...

God,how Many times has Strife visited?.

Nonetheless,the four sit around the desk, the seven headed beast curls up on one of the sofas but each head trails the movement of the three horsemen they dont seem to recognize.

Meanwhile, Strife literally sits on the desk beside the mother of harlots, the rest get Chairs materialized.

Death is the only one who doesnt allow himself to rest from his strict,curved posture.

--What information do the mighty horsemen need?--Mystery asked,the warm cup held in their elegant hands.

--There are rumors of Lucifer conspiring with mortals. We need the names of the humans...-- Death cut to the chase with that cold presiceness that was so characteristical. Though his eyes linger on the cup meant for him .

Could tea even get cold in hell?

--And why would I have that information?--They played dumb,if only to spite Him. --I am aware of the folly and hubris and men, its certainly within my power..

Many things were within their power. As the mother of harlots they could be alluring as a siren,yes. But they could see the deepest of Greeds, the darkest corners of man's souls. They were so much more than what the world had made them out to be.

--Did you forget youre known to inhabit the chambers of any demon or angel powerful enough to cover your cowardly hide-

--Death...--Strife slammed his hand on the desk. It makes Mystery jump from their spot.

There is a defensive growl in the gunslinger's voice. His eyes narrow like an angry sun blaring down on the Reaper.

But then the mother of harlots raised their pointer finger,gesture that clearly means something to the second eldest as he slowly- slowly backs off.

With the insult dancing on the tip of his tongue, the reaper quietens. He still needs that information before being his usual self

--I dont do what I do because I like It..--Mystery starts,tapping on their cup with their features sneering at the rider-- people like Samael are a fun night,Yes. But if I dont do what I do,My nymphs and I are on the chopping block

They stood up,they are at the same height as the reaper. Barefoot steps take the mother of harlots to meet the glare of the eldest. There is perhaps only three centimeters between them.

--Have you any knowledge of how I came to be?

Strife Began to utter a name that didnt align to what the idolatress made themself be called. The thought crossed the mind of the other three riders that their gunslinging kin knew the Real name of the entity before them. Not by him forcing them to tell him, but rather a gift bestowed out of genuine trust.

--Yes. You were created by Lucifer. A Tool...

--I was a tool-- Mystery,the great whore of Babylon has never looked so angry. Burning with the spirit of every soul who had been judged and Killed for not conforming to the mold-- I Was to represent the foolishness of Man,the animal desire,I was a means to a an end..And I did not like it.

Their breath shakes with anger. Perhaps anger,perhaps grief or just anguish. As If the pain was too much to be put into words.

--Lucifer cannot create life,not enough to make a vessel. So he took one. He took...me.

--Thats enough! -- strife barked.-- Death. Cut it out.

--What do you mean he took you?--War asked,eyes just a little wide underneath the betraying shadow of his crimson hood.

--Hey! Didnt you hear- I said enou-

--Lucifer prays on the weak. And in a moment of my youth.. i was weak.-- Mystery followed-- I was to be married to someone older,a prize for peace between clans. I was not even two decades old. So...I spat in the face of my would be groom and yelled how he was a creep for even getting to that point...

There are tears threatening to spill,and Death remains unmoving. His eyes look at them like their pain is fake.

Strife knows why hes like this. He thinks Mystery is just like lilith.

Theyre nothing like lilith.

--When I ran,i was so blind by my pain and..--They hesitate,the memory is so old and it still hurts so much-- I Fell down a hill,a steep one. I was being followed. And no God heeded my prayer, but he did.

Fury shifted in her Seat. Her mouth covered by her hand,she looks at the empty teacup infront of her. There was a certain pain there she could relate to.

Lesser, an object, just for being born different. Had she suffered a similar fate...she couldnt say she wouldve returned to that marriage.

--Death thats quite enough-- She finally speaks up,her voice firm but still faltering. The way Mystery spoke about the whole ordeal...it got under her skin. Its like she was living it alongside her.

--He came to me in the form form of a snake, he offered to save me and I accepted before he told me the rest of the contract..I became...this-- they Open their arms with the smile of someone who is tired of fighting to Keep themself whole.

Strife begins to walk behind Mystery,he looms over his brother. Who hasnt said a Word,and isnt planning to. The gunslinger glared

--You see,Death, im not only the mother of harlots ,the whore of babylon,bearer of all the abominations of the earth...

Their eyes are glossy,can a being like themself cry? Is that even possible? Death can feel even the glare of War digging into the back of his skull now.

And still,he remains unmoving and silent

Strife wondered if his brother was treating this like a child's tantrum. Just like hes done whenever the rest of them expressed discomfort.

He could dismiss his pain. But not Mystery's..

Oh,he Wont let it slide.

With this thumbs on the handles of his guns, his glare intensifies as he slowly clicks off the safety. This seems to catch the attention of his brother, their eyes meet for a split second before the reaper returns his attention to the mother of harlots.

-I am the folly of Man-- they continued,walking closer and preparing their hands to push him. Hes just like all the men that have put them in this situartion-- I am the hubris...I am the spirit of every woman who was burnt at the stake, shamed for playing by the rules men played,those who didnt conform to the mold. I am the soul of each woman who has been beaten, Killed, disrespected and used. A pain your sister knows all too well...

Fury Flinched, fighting to not shrink into herself. Countless times has she been looked down upon by Death- the figure she looked up the most even if she doesnt admit it.

--So excuse me if the only way I Keep me and my loved ones safe is by snuggling up to the first being with just enough power to wipe me out that walks through the door... --their hand poke his chest. A demand, a protest that he Will not outpower them- I am not strong the way you are. But I have smarts and eons of living in the world of men. What you call whoring around I call survival. Youre in no place to judge.

In that moment,strife puts his scarf around their shoulders. He brings them to his chest,was that a hug? The white rider..hugging?

--Breathe..-- He whispered,low as the singing of a hummingbird.

--Ill-Ill get you those names-- Mystery finished-- But if you return here with this behaviour,I Will crush you beneath my heel.

--Is that a threat?

"Goddamnit, death. Shut the fuck up"the gunsliger thought.

--Of course it is. This is my damn home,this is my damn realm and you Will respect my orders you insolent manchild. --They spat out,tears falling down their face and pooling at their jaw before continuing their carefree descent to the ground. -- There are Many ways to bring someone to their knees,Lust and strength May not work but behind every rabid egotistical Man there is a hole where a mother should be.

That seemed to click something in Death's mind. He hissed and said-- Get those names. -- and he Turned his back begining to walk to the elevator on the other end of the chamber.--We're leaving.

--Oh no. I'm staying--Strife answered,voice firm and with disbelief at the behaviour of the eldest. His tone sounds in a way As if to say this is not up for debate.

Whatever was going on within the pale rider was enough for him to not pick this fight-- Its your head that Will roll for your absence.

--Then so be It.

He hissed again-- Fury,War...--He beckoned.

Fury sighed and stood up,her eyes meet Mystery's for a moment. Within her white orbs something glimmered- And the mother of harlots didnt need to use their magic to know. They returned her gaze with that same glint.

"Youre so much more than what he says you are" they had whispered as she passed them by.

--I...apologize for my brother's behavior-- Sweet War. Even now his eyes avoid their form out of respect- After what he heard he reserves no right to gaze upon them with anything close to desire or bashfulness.

--You dont need to apologize in his stead. He can be a grown Man and apologize himself. --Their hand pressed to the bicep of the red rider in a reassuring manner. The way he tenses up is adorable.

--S-still...none of us should know a story so deep. So..painful. youre just another victim of Lucifer's ploy.

--He tried to make me a victim. I wont let him.

War's eyes look puzzled for a few seconds before it clicks. He nodds and his gaze turns to fill with something akin to pride. He gives another look to his brother before leaving with his lumbering pace.

Strife doesnt speak until the elevator reaches the bottom. He calls out their name,their Real name- the one they havent heard in eons. Something so thoroughly human... so far away to what they are now.

The second time he repeats that name they turn to him-- y-yes? -- they asked,going to clean their tears,but being beaten to it by the white rider.

As his taloned hands carefully dry off their tears,he says-- I am..so sorry. God,Death's such an asshole. He didnt- he didnt deserve to know what happened to you..He shouldve minded his damn bussiness.

--Strife...--They said softly.

--No. I know how much it hurts you when you tell it. I know damn well its like traumatizing you all over again! Its not fair- youve had enough pain for a goddamn lifetime and the Next!

When the gunslinger got angry,it was a sight to behold. His ember eyes shine like roaring fires. His voice is a raspy growl,Like bearing his fangs with feral,deep anger.

--Who is he to come here and demand explanations? He couldve kept it professional but no! He had to pick a fight with you over some personal shit. --His hands press to their biceps. His gaze is intense hes making sure his words are drilled into their head-- he thinks youre like lilith because you enjoy yourself. But youre nothing like her,not even close.

The mother of harlots chuckled-- I know,strife. I know.

--Ill blow his brains out Next time he tries to pull something like this

Mystery snorted-- In my realm you've got full permission.

Behind them both comes the red beast of seven heads,who had been off to the side seething with anger but unable to attack without its master's say-so.

--Guess he got under your skin too,Didn' he?--He asked,patting he head of Blasphemy who growled softly with an angry gaze in his eyes.--Its okay,the awful skeleton Man's gone.

It makes his companion laugh a little, And thats all he really wants.

--Go take a walk-- They order to the beast,who breathes out smoke from their seven heads. An order's an order,and they Will follow it.

But not before nuzzling the form of the only nephilim they like. They almost Tumble him down on the ground,leaving only when their mischief is done.

All alone now,the gunslinger says-- Hey,Lets go to bed--He makes a pause,licking his lips-- No- Not that way I meant- you need a nap after this. I need a nap after this shitshow.

Mystery snickered,nodding along. Yet as they walk to the bed,Strife does call their human name once more. He follows it by pressing a soft kiss to their forehead and whispering "youre so much more than your scars"

[reylokisses]

I read @oversensitiveandoffputting’s brilliant post about Octavia’s Disney Princess phase and poor Stolas’ reaction to it, and it made me think of Dune Part Two.

(Spoilers for the movie/book)

Imagine if Stolas and Octavia watched Dune Part Two together, and their reaction to the scene at the end where Paul takes the Emperor Shaddam’s throne and demands Princess Irulan’s hand in marriage.

Stolas would be horrified, picturing himself as (a younger, sexier) Shaddam and Via as Irulan. What if a usurper ever attempted to forcibly marry Via, all to get Stolas’ power? He couldn’t bear it if his precious baby girl underwent the same torment as he did.

After they finished watching the movie and were discussing what they thought about it, Octavia said off-handedly that she would have done the same thing as Irulan, and been an usurper’s willing bride if it meant saving Stolas’ life.

Stolas cried when Via said that, and said that he would never, EVER allow that.

[ionlydrinkhotwater]

Makes total sense that Mary and Nathans marriage was arranged. Intrigued by the idea of this criminal underworld manovering and sealing shady deals with marriage alliances for fic possibilities. Can you imagine Neil or Jean promised to some gangster or crime lord or lady, either of them could have been married to Ichirou (if they wanted the Hatford and Wesininskis or Moreaus to become actual family with the Moriyamas) or whoever. So many possibilities people, where are the fics?

[divasae]

Reveniens

yandere tartaglia x reader

desc: yandere tartaglia, childhood best friends, forced marriage, etc.

word count: 2.4k

Gusts of wind splayed across the serpentine path, rendering it difficult for you to make your way home. Your hair billowed in the wind as you fought against the frigid weather, making use of the pointer arrow's to navigate your way back into the village. To the average person, such weather would be unimaginable to trek across, but to a Snezhnayan, this was all to be expected when making a journey.

As you dwindled down the narrow road with supplies in hand for supper, your ear suddenly caught wind of distant cheering, from what seemed to be from your own village. You looked ardently in the distance as you approached the noise, only to see a crowd of people surrounding what appeared to be something.

No. It was someone. There was a considerable amount of people encircling what appeared to be a young man, with tufts of ginger hair sticking out. You squinted your eyes from afar in an attempt to make out the stranger's features, only for his head to turn in your direction. You were immediately met with captivating azure blue eyes, staring right into your own, practically paralyzing you into place.

You knew those eyes. You knew him. For a fraction of a second, you stood there motionless, as your mind rewound back to the past, fervently trying to identify his place in your memories.

It's natural for a human to lose track of the many people that appear in their lives, destined to eventually become a distant, hazy memory. This man was not one you could forget so easily, however. You remembered him, although as a very different person.

You had known him from childhood. His childhood self to you, was the very embodiment of innocence. Despite being very distinct individuals, even from a young age, fate pulled the both of you together.

He was a fascinating boy, completely shrouded in mystery to your eyes. At times when you were outside all alone, he would appear suddenly, keeping you company. It was as if he were an imaginary friend, coming and going so frequently. He was like your little secret, one you took refuge in, as did he.

You held a feeling of admiration for him, despite never having voiced it aloud to him. He was incredibly bright for his age, even if he tended to be overshadowed by others. You saw what others couldn't see in him, and you two were bonded with an understanding of the other. Even at that tender age, it was as if the both of you were drawn towards each other.

And yet, you didn't have the slightest clue as to what his name was. On a snowy night, as you gazed upon a serene pond, admiring the shimmering ripples under the moonlight's glow, you suddenly felt a hand grip your shoulder ever so slightly.

You pivoted from your place to see the source of touch, only to be met with a familiar pair of azure eyes staring into your own. The rays of light from the moon bounced off his irises, capturing the beauty and tenderness of his expression.

Your face was etched with awe as you took his appearance in, before enwrapping him in a tight embrace. "Ajax!" you exclaimed, as you began to chat with him excitedly.

When the time for you to make a leave crept up so suddenly, you finally asked the question that had been at the back of your mind, ever since you had seen him for the first time.

"My name?" he asked you softly, as you nodded your head vigorously, a bright smile plastered across your face. He appeared to be taken aback at first but smiled as he looked at you, before answering.

"It's Ajax".

Unbeknownst to you, that would be very last encounter you would share with him, before he had disappeared from your life. You waited, and waited, but would come out more disappointed and hopeless as time went on.

Were you that unimpressionable, to the point where he had forgotten about you? As the months passed by, your mind was consumed by his thoughts, making you restless.

The day you would see him again was one you had least expected. As usual, families would send their young boys to fight for the Fatui, or they would willingly give themselves up. When word had gone around about a particular family sending their boy to straighten him up, you hadn't thought much of it, seeing how common it was at that time.

That was until you had seen who that boy was when the fatui rounded up the new potential members. You could have recognized those tufts of ginger hair from anywhere. It had to be him. Your heart swelled with happiness, as you saw him before your eyes again.

You had gone to call out his name, the name he had left you with before disappearing. However, your words had gotten caught in your throat, when you had taken a proper look at him. You stopped in your tracks, as you watched him intently from the distance.

He seemed to be unaware of your eyes on him, as he prepared to take off with the Fatui. He was the same Ajax you had known, you were sure of it. However, something about him changed, even if you were unable to put your finger on it at that time.

The former look of innocence had vanished from his eyes, replaced with what appeared to be a void of emptiness. Whatever was in front of you, it wasn't the Ajax you knew. He appeared to be a mere husk of his former self, broken and hollow on the inside.

You had always assumed he had simply forgotten about you. Something about that day, however, made you uneasy. You looked at the back of his head as he took off with the fatui, knowing this would really be the last time you would ever see him again. Tears filled the brim of your eyes, as it occurred to you that now, you had truly lost your friend for good.

The sudden transition from him being a sweet boy to a broken man unnerved you. The days of you both being free-spirited and unaffected by the outside world were long gone. Those days were but a shadow of your youth, which you both had gone past by.

Slowly but surely, you became immersed in your own duties as time went on, slowly forgetting about that little boy who you so deeply cherished. However, there was always a trace of him that lingered deep within the back of your mind.

To see those alluring eyes again, those same eyes that you thought you never see again in your lifetime, sent you into shock. You looked at him in astonishment, your eyes widening.

He too looked at you with an expression of surprise, although one of thrill, as he flashed you a dashing grin. Your heart lurched as you caught his smile at you. There were many ways you had imagined a reunion with him, but this? This was one you had never seen coming, even from a mile away.

You didn't have the slightest clue as to why you were running away, but all your mind was preoccupied with at that moment was to take you to a faraway place, anywhere he was not. Tears stung the corner of your eyes as you rushed out of the village, the harshness of the wind blowing into your face.

He was different. He had changed. He appeared to be the same, charming Ajax he once was, but you knew better then that. He could play a facade, put on the mask of the former person he once was, but only you saw through it. His eyes, they were absolutely chilling to look at. That look he had, was one you wished you would never have the inconvenience of looking at again

Echoes of the cheers for the 11th Fatui Harbinger rung in your ears as you set off, your dress flowing as you rushed in the opposite direction you had been walking in.

Past memories you had of him flashed in your head as you ran frantically, tormenting you with every step you took. You didn't bother taking in your surroundings, as if you had tunnel vision, and could only see what was in front of you.

Sobs wracked your body, as you had finally stopped to look where you had gone to, only to see the last place you had wished to see. The familiar body of water you had seen years ago was placed in front of you, as if to taunt you even further, for what you had landed yourself into.

It was nearly impossible for you to be unable to recognize it. When you were younger in both age and spirit, you would frequent the area, just to see if he would return for you, as if some kind of miracle would be bestowed upon you. Clearly, your wishes had never been answered, and so it had become a distant memory over time. To see it once again destroyed you from the inside.

Your eyes swelled as you cried your heart out, unable to face the boy you held so dear to your heart so long ago. To imagine what that boy did to become a harbinger, it haunted you.

After what had appeared to be hours, you looked down at the pond once again, still and motionless as it had been when you first arrived. You took in your blurry appearance, as you wiped the tears tracking down your face.

As you gazed into the pond, your reflection was suddenly disturbed with the reflection of another figure, that had approached you from behind. You pivoted around suddenly in surprise, but before you had the chance to look at the stranger's face, they had used their hand to push your head into their shoulder, as they pulled you into a tight embrace.

"I knew you would be here, [Name]" a deep voice whispered ever so slightly. Immediately, alarm bells swarmed your head, as you realized who it must have been. You pushed Ajax off with a sudden force, taking a step backward in hesitation.

"Ajax..." you said quietly, your chest heaving up and down in fright. All you could think about at the moment was how many lives he would've taken with those hands he touched you with, making your pupils dilate in fear.

"I'm here darling," he said in a soft voice, taking a step toward you. Your immediate reaction was to take another step backward, which he took notice of. He stopped suddenly, as he took in your fearful expression.

"You wound me, dear," he said, smiling. "And here I thought you would jump into my arms once you had taken sight of me".

You opened your mouth to speak, but could not utter anything out. All you could do was shake your head frantically. "You're scaring me, Ajax" you stuttered out, close to tears yet again.

"I'm scaring you?" he asked, in a whisper, suddenly taking your hand in his own. You yelped as he firmly pulled you towards him, placing a chaste kiss on your hand.

"Do you have any clue as to how badly I wanted to see you again, [Name]?' he asked, as he wiped your tears with his thumb. "Wherever I had gone, it was as if you had come along with me in my heart" he whispered.

"You're so beautiful, [Name]" he continued, bringing his gloved hand to caress your cheek. He was so tender with you, yet it sent chills down your spine. You couldn't read his expression at all, his empty eyes rendering it impossible.

"Won't you give me just as much as a glance, sweetheart?" he asked with a sigh, as you swatted his hand away, refusing to make eye contact. "You kill me, you know?"

He used a finger to tilt your face upward, looking at you with adoration. "I must say, I've come here with a purpose" he said suddenly, taking you by surprise.

You looked at him with a stricken face, your lips slightly parted. "What purpose?" you asked in a quivering voice, as you took in his ecstatic expression.

He smiled at you, before continuing. "I've already spoken with your parents, they've already blessed our union" he said, beaming. Your blood suddenly ran cold at his words, wondering if you had heard him right.

"What?" you asked hoarsely, your throat dry. All he did was smile further to confirm, as he took your hand once again, and enveloped it within his own.

"We're to be wed soon," he said, his elated expression radiant in the face of the moonlight.

He took notice of your thunderstruck face, and chuckled. "Oh come on, there's no need to look like that" he said heartily. "Do you remember when we promised ourselves to each other once we were all grown up?" he asked with reminiscent eyes.

You shook your head slowly, unable to believe any of the words coming out of his mouth. "That was years ago, you're insane Ajax" you cried out. You felt trapped all of a sudden, you felt as if you were going to suffocate.

With that, your dress twirled as you attempted to pull away from him. But he had grown so strong. He grinned at your weak attempts to get away from him, using his hand to pull you closer into him. As you fell into him with your back pressed against his chest, he wrapped you in an even tighter embrace, the side of his face pressed against yours.

"You're going to be such a good wife sweetheart" he whispered into your ear, as the hair on your neck stood on end. His gloved hands snaked down to your waist as he spoke, and he continued. "I can't wait to have you all to myself," he said hungrily, as you fought against his hold.

You had always wished to reunite with your dear friend, but if you had even the slightest inkling of what would happen if you did, would you have thought differently?

[inkblot22]

The Infection I Don't Want

I don't have any words. Don't look at me. In all seriousness, I definitely love the savior trope. I tried to give it a cute little twist. Idia feels funny in this one too. Also sorry if the formatting is weird. I write these in Docs and then I transfer them to tumblr and for some reason in this fic's document I used Amatic SC and I have bad vision to begin with. No clue why I love torturing myself. Dividers by @/cafekitsune. This fic gets a little heavy. If you start feeling unwell, stop reading. I won't take it personal, promise.

This fic is aimed towards afab readers, but uses they/them pronouns. Mentions of periods and wombs. I may have been a bit less impersonal with this one, but the reader doesn't go on my weird love rant that I have in my self-insert Idia fic so there is that.

This fic is DEAD DOVE, DO NOT EAT. TW for mentions of pregnancy, pregnancy symptoms, DIY abortion which could also be read as miscarriage, I guess, abortion, Idia is incredibly mean in this and possibly OOC, Ortho being unintentionally creepy, parasites, sort of misogyny relating to periods, shock collars, electric shocks, captivity, implied forced marriage, implied forced medical procedures. PSA: don't try anything the reader does in this fic. It's an excellent way to get sepsis, and you don't want that, I promise.

Part 5 of the Pants on Fire series.

You don’t want to admit it, but a bit too much has changed about you. In the past few weeks, you’ve noticed plenty of things, but the largest and most blaring was that your period never came. Before when you would have it, Idia would sulk and pout, acting like you were bleeding on purpose, throwing a heating pad and a blanket and a pillow and the necessary products at you so you’d be comfortable in your distress. He kept talking about figuring out some technology to rid you of that pesky trait, and you really can’t think of anyone who likes having a period, so if he had, you wouldn’t have fought him on it, 

It’s too late for that now. For the last few days, you’ve been waking up early and vomiting. The smell of Idia’s favorite noodles makes it worse. Your poor tummy is constantly roiling, and you can hardly keep anything down. Ortho has been staring at you incessantly. You think he’s being annoying, really, and Idia’s been getting on your last nerves as well. 

Today, you woke up, vomited, and just sat in the bathroom for a moment, coming to terms with the fact that you could very well be pregnant. You feel conflicted. On one hand, you don’t want to talk or think about this. You’re stressed enough as it is. On the other hand, you absolutely don’t want this. You don’t want this creature in your stomach. You know it's there. You can’t feel it, but how often can you feel something before everything goes absolutely wrong? You can’t. 

But it’s unimportant. A knock comes at the door and you scramble to your feet, flushing the toilet and rinsing out your mouth before opening the door. It’s Idia. He gives you a look and starts stripping, turning on the shower and handing you a hair tie.

“You look sick.  What’s wrong with you?”

“O-oh, I… I don’t know. I feel fine.” You’re not sure how to tell him, so you lie. Maybe you won’t have to tell him. You pull his hair into a bun and he hops into the shower. 

You stand there for a moment and he peeks his head around the door at you, “What are you doing? You want to join me?”

“Huh? Oh, no. Just thinking.”

“Go see if Ortho can get you some aspirin or something so you can start acting normal again.” He mutters.

You leave. It’s fine. Idia’s dorm room is always cold. He keeps it like that on purpose. If you’re cold and he doesn’t provide much more than these stupid skimpy pajama sets that are cute but are also thin, so you’re more likely to cuddle up to him or wear his hoodies. At least he has good taste in that.

You don’t really feel like undertaking the task of looking through his closet, so you take a seat in Idia’s gaming chair, which is still warm from him sitting in it, and sigh, laying a hand over your belly. He said that Ortho was here, but he must be out getting breakfast, since you didn’t immediately hear his high voice  shrilling in your ears, “Good morning!”

You like Ortho just fine. He’s not your ally, but being around him is better than being around Idia. You wished he’d been gone for longer. You sigh and your head begins to hurt, “Hi, Ortho.”

He giggles a little and puts down the takeout bag, smiling as he turns back to face you. And then he just stares, chartruse eyes boring into you.

“Ortho, is there a problem?” You can’t hold your tongue about this any longer. You have a headache and honestly you just want to take a fat nap and let the world, small as it has become for you, deal with itself.

Before he can respond, Idia strolls out of the bathroom, lazily greeting Ortho, “Hey, Ortho.”

“Hello!” His voice is just so grating. You want to throw something.

“Mmm.” Idia glances at you, walking over and nudging your shoulder with the back of his hand, like he’s shooing an animal, “Go lay down.”

“I don’t-”

“Did you ask Ortho for-”

“Would you stop interrupting me?” You snarl, turning to look at him.

He stiffens ever so slightly, then hunches down and digs through the takeout bag Ortho brought in, “Are you acting like this because you’re on your period?”

“Did you really just ask me-”

This time, it’s Ortho, not Idia, who interrupts you, “Oh, they won’t be having a period for a while.”

Idia freezes. You freeze. Ortho goes back to what he was doing, humming as he makes the bed. Idia turns to narrow his eyes at you, his eyes sliding down to look at your midsection and feet, and his eyes roll back into his head and he’s hitting the ground. Maybe if you cared more about him, you’d check to make sure that he was fine, but as it is now, you don’t really have the energy or wherewithal to do so. You rush into the bathroom and cower near the toilet, like there’s a tornado or something outside. You’re distressed.

He doesn’t know it, but Ortho just vocalized the actualization of all your fears, the culmination of your meager existent, all rolled up into this… this parasite in your stomach. You swallow your incoming hysteria and make a decision. You’re going to get up. You’re going to get a change of clothes. You’re going to take a shower. And you’ll be fine. You’ll figure this out. You always have before. You’ll do it again.

When you exit the bathroom, Ortho is blowing air into Idia’s pallid face, and Idia is groaning. You ignore the pair and go to the closet. You grab a change of clothes, the rabbit-themed set of pajamas, you walk into the bathroom, you turn on the water. About as soon as the stream hits your back, you’re screaming. Sobs break from your chest like a hammer going into ice, smashing its way out despite every effort you make to keep it together. You’ve barely got the peace of mind to quickly wash yourself, and when you exit- the water is cold, too cold for comfort- you dry. You feel twitchy, after crying so hard. You tug on the spaghetti strap shirt, the bunny face stretching against your skin, and then you’re staring at the hanger.

You remember reading something, a long, long time ago. You were far too young to be reading this type of thing, the gorier parts of feminism and women’s rights, but… you remember a passage. The wire twists apart easily as you remember the story. A woman, desperate to be rid of the parasitic growth in her womb, just as desperate as you are now, used a wire coat hanger to remove it. It’s been so long that you can’t remember how it ended for her, but you remember the rest very clearly. The bent end, no longer crooked after you bent it, slips into your opening so easily. You can barely feel it. then the door opens, you freeze,  and you hear Ortho scream.

“Idia!” He yells, and there are footsteps and a moment of silence.

You look up at Idia’s honey-colored eyes that are glued to the wire hanger sticking out of your body, see the way both of the Shroud boys are looking at your current unfinished action, see the slow spread of crimson into Idia’s long hair, starting at the tips and spreading like, well, like fire, to the roots. There’s that familiar three-tap warning, and then you drop the hanger, clutching at the collar as the strongest shock you’ve ever felt hits you like a truck. It’s worse than the time you didn’t want to hang out with him, worse than the times you’d stray too close to the door. It forces you to your knees, sets your body into convulsions that shake the twisted hanger out of you, makes you foam at the mouth.

Somewhere under your anguish, you think you hear Ortho robotically say, “BPM reaching critical levels.”

The current stops and your body stops convulsing, relaxing so hard that your world, small as it has become, goes black. When you awake, you’re reliving a distant memory: you’re bound, hands and ankles, on the bed. You’re dressed again, one of Idia’s hoodies draped over you like a blanket, and Idia is just staring at you, holding your collar. He looks pissed, but his hair isn’t red, at least. He’s noticed you’re awake, but he’s not saying anything. He turns slightly in his gaming chair and throws the strap of leather on his desk, the wiring fried. There are holes burnt into the leather, and Idia stares at it blankly before he starts typing away on his tablet, his own voice coming through the device.

It sounds about as burnt out as the shock collar looks, “I bet you feel pretty bad, huh?”

You don’t dignify that with a response. It doesn’t matter to him, since his fingers fly as he keeps typing away.

“You’re a fucking moron. Only someone stupid would try to-” He doesn’t finish the sentence and hits the desk, standing up and pacing. You can’t see him, but you can hear him panting. 

You try to de-escalate, sort of. The shock collar isn’t around your neck anymore, but you really don’t need him to work himself up again, “The word is ‘desperate.’ I don’t want… I don’t want this. This thing growing inside of me, I don’t-”

“You’re not the only one with a parasite.” His voice is quiet but seething. It breathily cuts through the air like a knife, aiming for your soft parts, “You just have the privilege of being able to get rid of yours comfortably.”

“Really? So you putting this thing in me isn’t as bad as I think it is?”

He paces back into view and you notice something missing. Someone missing. You lift your head a bit to look around and Idia takes a heavy seat at his desk again. This state is rare. It takes him a while to relax when he gets like this, but you’ve only seen it aimed at others, like that time his account got temporarily banned because one of his party members was hacking. At least that had an easy solution for him- you’ve never seen him grin as much as when he had the poor guy swatted and watched through the CCTV cameras around the poor fool's house.

“We’re going home. I’ll fix your little problem twofold, since I’m the only competent one between the two of us.” He types out, his recorded voice not lagging once.

“What? And what do you mean you have a parasite?”

He doesn’t look at you, but you think you see him wipe his cheek with his sleeve, typing with only one hand, “Ortho is gonna come back with some burn cream. I lost my temper and you got hurt. Not that you didn’t deserve it.”

“I didn’t deserve any of this. I asked you if you had a condom.”

He doesn’t respond to that statement, instead typing, “I don’t love you. You know that, right? Love is for the idealistic masses, those who aren’t capable of keeping their feet on the ground. You’re just someone who has taken up a space in my mind. So the solution to yours won’t be permanent. Seven knows my parents will be getting on my case about providing them an heir eventually.”

“So I’m just here for eventual marriage security?”

Idia doesn’t respond. Ortho strolls in, placing a tube on Idia’s desk and goes out of your line of sight, seemingly to tidy or something. You don’t really care. He’s not your ally. He’s never been.

Idia sighs, then goes back to working on something on his desk. You don’t know how much time passes, but he loops it around your throat and unties you. It’s sitting a bit lower on your neck, just against your collarbones. There’s a three-tap warning, but no shock afterward. Just the flat look on Idia’s face.

“I should start calling you ‘baby’, kitten. It’d be so much easier for you to understand your position.”

“That’s not funny.” You say, “I never asked you to bring me here.”

Idia shrugs, “Well, I don’t think of you as a pet. With the way you act, you might as well be a pest.” He grins, sharp teeth on display, “Maybe I should put out some glue traps… or start dosing you with raw garlic and ivermectin.” 

He starts laughing, and you feel your eyes well with tears. You tell yourself it's the pregnancy hormones. Idia laughs harder at your expression.

“Aw, kitten, I’m just teasing. Come sit with me.”

“But I-” That three-tap warning from your new collar cuts you off. You stand up and start walking the two steps between the bed and Idia’s desk. When you reach your hands towards the collar, it zaps you. It’s quick and not too painful, but it gets you moving towards Idia. When you take a seat on his lap, he leans to bury his nose in your hair, a thrilled noise escaping him. He drops the burn cream in your lap.

He just watches you as you unscrew the lid and reach for your neck. There’s a three-tap warning again- bzz bzz bzz- but you ignore it. The second your fingers barely graze your throat with the cream, you get zapped, short and swift, but uncomfortable enough. You drop your hand and it goes away. When you look up at Idia, he takes the cream from your other hand and presses a soft kiss to your cheek, using his free hand to click into one of his many tabs for some anime streaming site.

“Good. It works.” Is all he says.

As he dabs the cream onto the electrical burns on your neck, you have to blink away the despair again. It’s settled over you like a blanket, eaten holey by moths and worms. Every move you make is accompanied by tentative fear, a worry that Idia will do something awful if you do certain things. You never once considered it would go this far, though. Ortho drops something onto Idia’s bed, a hefty-looking luggage set, and Idia pays him no mind as he tucks away some clothes. You don’t want to admit it, but you don’t want to be around any more people under Idia’s thumb, whether they know it or not.

[goldenhornss]

It makes me so sad that the polish King-Queen Jadwiga was just...so mistreated.

She took throne at 11 years old. She was forced to marry a way older man some years later.

My history class claims she was humble, that she gave crystal jewelry to support a college, that she surrounded herself with educated people...

But she died at 23. She was so young. She mustn't be happy spending all her child years being forced into a role of a King. She mustn't have been happy being forced to marry some old guy she didn't know who also had a bad reputation.

And she died having a child for that man. Yes she was an adult then, but it still. She probably never felt anything for him.

I feel so bad for her. She deserved to have a normal childhood, she deserved to choose who to love.

[raccoonscribbles]

Yandere Peter Pevensie x Fem! Reader

Could be a single but also a part 2 to this link which was requested by @flowercrowns-goodvibes. Def gonna be a part three, I already know, it will probably be the last

Warnings; Yandere, Murder, Love-Bombing, Gaslighting, Stockholm Sydrome(ish), Forced Marriage, Abusement, cutting, throat slit, graphic violence(not towards reader), yelling, escape, use of good girl(not inappropriately), threats to kill ((tell me if you find more))

Y/n was in the garden, by herself, her back against the wall, a rose in her hand.

Peter walked over, sitting beside her.

“Hello,” he smiled.

“Hi, Peter,” she whispered, hugging his arm.

“Love,” he handed her even more roses, a bouquet.

She added her small pink one to the pile, holding it.

“Awhh..” she grinned, leaning her head on his shoulder.

“I love you,” he held her face, kissing her.

•

“Peter?” Y/n went to him, he turned to her, working.

“Yes?” No matter how angry he was, he acted fine.

She went to him, “My roses wilted, can I go out to the garden and get more?”

“No.”

“Why?” She stared at him.

“Because I said so!” He yelled, stand out of his chair and facing her.

She flinched back, he sighed.

“We can go,” he whined.

“I don’t want to,” she said, at least not anymore.

“Then why’d you come in here?” He stared at her.

“Nevermind,” she walked out, closing the door, tears started to stream down her cheeks.

•

“Y/n,” Peter came into her room, “Would you like to go to the gardens..?”

She was not anywhere to be seen.

“Where is my wife?” He went to the guard outside her room, pulling him in and shutting the door.

“Sir, she was in here, I don’t know—“ before the man finished his sentence Peter had slit his throat.

“She went to the gardens, your highness, I believe Queen Susan is with her.” A maid squeaked.

“Thank you,” He strided out, down the hall, turning left and down the stairs, then outside to the garden.

“I’ve got to go inside,” Susan smiled at Y/n, who had a grin on her face.

Susan saw Peter, “Perfect timing.”

Peter came over, rage on his face.

“Susan asked if I wanted to go to the gardens-“ he grabbed her throat, she went silent.

“Good girl, didn’t feel like killing anyone else..” he chuckled.

“Be a shame if Susan were gone, huh?” Peter said, Susan was watching.

Y/n was crying, Peter let go of her throat.

“Peter,” she was as silent as could be.

“Hmm?” He kissed her head.

The thought of saying Susan saw them was amazing, but why should she, Susan did not deserve to die.

“I love you,” She nuzzled into him, pretending to love him, when truly, she did not know.

•

Susan had brought Y/n back to her home kingdom, where she was taken by her mother for safety. Y/n just wanted to everything to go well, she did not want to leave, but Susan did not want her in the castle.

[msfbgraves]

Speaking of Daniel not being asked “will you marry me” by Terry, was there some hesitation/anger/fear when the priest asked him “do you take this man to be your mate etc.”? Obviously Daniel said yes, but did he think of saying otherwise?

I just realized that their very first kiss was at the altar in front of plenty of people. Terry probably didn’t mind, but poor Daniel…! Having to smooch a near-stranger in front of the people that the near-stranger threatened to murder. Oof.

I'm pretty sure that when Pop brought him to the church and down the aisle that he pointed out all Daniele's loved ones and friends and said: "Remember who you are doing this for." Whose lives are on the line. So if there was the slightest hesitation, Daniel only needed to see his Pop and family out of the corner of his eye to say: "I do." As if Father Lorenzo also didn't know exactly what was at stake, he was also soft as could be. When Pop and Daniel waltzed later, Pop also told him how proud he was, how grateful, what a good son he was being, caro, mi caro figlio. A true LaRusso, a true fighter, a good son, brother and friend.

And you can safely say Terry kissed him, not the other way around. It was tasteful enough, but yeah, it was A Lot, which also made Daniel pull a little bit nearer to Terry for support - exactly as his now mate loved. Daniel downed the first glass of champagne he was offered, to Terry's great amusement, but Terry also tried very hard to shield his new mate from the crowds. Poor thing was visibly functioning on his very last nerve. He regained his composure very quickly this time too - Terry has always admired that about him, how very tough he can be - but though it was fine for the guests to see who forced the Don's hand, he didn't want to traumatise the kitty in the process.

[thebirdygrace]

Death, and Other Dark Desires: Chapter 7

Lore glared at the screen before him, quietly seething at an unseen foe. For nigh on seventy-eight hours, Lore had been diligently stalking his next pray, yet at every opportunity, they managed to slip away. The metal arm of the captain’s chair groaned, protesting Lore’s angry grasp as he ruminated on his most recent failure, and as it always does, the past managed to seep in, bringing with it whispers and taunts from those worthless, pitiful humans, his father the worst of all, the way he’d allowed the colonists to treat him. As sub-human, as lesser than them! They called him a monster, excluded him, shunned him, and just like Victor Frankenstein, Lore’s father turned on him, he’d preserved his own skin rather than protected his creation, Lore seethed silently. It had been a transgression he could not forgive; it had been the catalyst that spurred the universe’s continued denial of what he was due, but no more! He would have the empire, the power, and control owed to him by fact of his superiority. He would have… everything.

The arms creaked loudly as they buckled slightly, the metal giving way under Lore’s grip, creating perfect impressions of his fingers on the shiny surface. He was growing weary of this chase, his first set of prey had been easy enough to catch: Klingons, Lore scoffed internally, what else should he expect from such a lowly race? He had hardly had to do anything save lure them to the cryo-chambers, what gullible saps. But this one, this tricky one, was getting on his last nerve, so to speak. Lore needed to get out of the quadrant as soon as possible; there were too many Starfleet vessels looking for him now. It wouldn’t be long before one of them, out of sheer dumb luck, would come across him, and his plan would be foiled. No, he’d waited too long, endured too much of Maddox’s bullshit and torture, and, worst of all, poor taste in music—2000’s pop, what a fucking psycho—to fail now, he would have his revenge and taste glory.

At the moment, though, as Lore sighed deeply, freeing his hands from the chair, a long way from tasting victory and getting nowhere with finding his prey, he wanted to taste something else, something that had been playing hard to get for a little too long—little Miss Lyla. He flicked the viewscreen to display the ship’s minuscule kitchen and dining area and watched on as Lyla sat at the square table in the center of the room. She sat upright, staring at the wall in front of her in complete silence, a tray of uneaten food in front of her. Apparently, the little bitch had been starving herself.While Lore assumed she was using the replicator in the captain’s quarters for food as she had for other things like replacing her clothes, she had simply been refusing to eat and collapsed that morning when Lore had forced her to hand copy all his transcriptions of Dr. Carlin’s research—there were more than two terabytes of information to sift through. Perhaps the doctor had been onto something, he’d said with a smile when giving her the order.

There was no doubt now, though he would still deny it, that Lore was infatuated with her… but he was growing tired of her petulance. There was always a percentage of his thoughts that were dedicated to planning all the ways he intended to own her, all the deliciously vile things he would do to her…, and all that she would eventually want him to do to her. Lore smiled as he allowed the thoughts of her to take over, becoming his primary focus, and as he always did, felt himself grow hard, aroused as his positronic network created images of her pinned beneath him, face down, ass up, writhing, crying, the flesh between her legs swollen, wet, and begging to be filled. Lore had never before dwelled in thoughts of physical pleasure; he believed them beneath him, the implantation of his weak organic father, but as he dwelled in them longer and longer, the more Lore realized the calming effect such a release could have.

There is no one thing about Lyla that kept her so predominantly featured in Lore’s thoughts; she was beautiful, for certain: long black hair, flawless caramel skin, lithe and perfectly proportioned body; she was also prideful, spiteful, rebellious, stubborn, unyielding, all the traits Lore loved, and yet she was not special. Lore thought little of her intelligence and even less of her opinion; he gave little thought or concern for her comfort or needs, and yet, when two days ago, in a fit of rage provoked by her sharp tongue, Lore had given in, choking her till he worried she would not wake again, he felt—rage. In the two seconds it took for Lyla’s unconscious breathing to kick in again when he released her, the only thing Lore felt was rage, rage at the thought of Lyla leaving him, and rage at never being able to feel the give of her flesh under his grip again. He’d seen her death as a betrayal, that is until she started breathing again, and then Lore convinced himself he’d never felt that way.

His desire for Lyla was not born out of affection, in truth, he could not say what it was that endeared her to him; perhaps it was simply that she scratched an itch he had not been aware of till now, as his father once said, “My son, I did not create you to be alone.” But that was when his father loved him—if he ever did. His father had said many things to him in his infancy, those early months when he’d yet to be introduced to the colony. When it was just him, father, and mother, when they still worshiped everything he did—as it should be, Lore seethed to himself, and as it will be once more.

Lore stood quickly and flipped the viewscreen off; he was done with letting Lyla believe she was in control. He would have his way, starting with her. She would bend to him willingly, or he would make her. Either way, she would becompliant.

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

Lyla sat statuesque at the small square table in the ship’s dining area, staring at the wall with a pointed expression; she was more than acquainted with hunger, she was a ballerina, for fuck’s sake. It shouldn’t have been any surprise that Lyla chose to restrict food as a subtle underhanded rebellion, food was often the only thing she could control growing up. Her father, as with his father before him and his before that, were men of the iron-willed persuasion, and the women they married were docile and submissive. Her father had controlled every aspect of their lives growing up, from where they went to school, who their friends were, and even what they were allowed to wear, the Dominguez family name was always at stake, after all. Lyla, at times, supposed she should be grateful her father allowed her to dance as a child—ballet was a feminine endeavor, he’d once claimed, and since her mother had been a dancer in her youth, how could he argue? Unfortunately for her father, though Lyla had her mother’s grace, she had his stubbornness, and by the time he deemed that she had outgrown her childish stage and demanded she quit dance to pursue more academic endeavors, that combined with teenage hormones had led to one of only a handful of contrition’s her father had made in his lifetime.

The ballet was her escape, a space to indulge her stubborn nature, pushing herself further and further, exercising precision control in her approach to every aspect of her career and training. Control over her movements, her expressions, her position in the company, and control over her beastly appetite most of all. Lyla had never been overweight nor inclined to indulgence or gluttony, but as with many in her position, you could never convince her of that—and it was commonplace for her to be told the opposite—and over the years, her obsessive control nearly drove her to the hospital on many occasions. Not that her father had really cared, in his estimation, if she wasn’t going to hone her mind, at least it would be much easier to find a husband if she were pretty and thin. Now, as she flexed her refined control over her appetite, ignoring with ease the cramping pain in her stomach, Lyla ruminated on how desperately she wanted to be back in the London Ballet, losing herself to the pull of the orchestra. She dwelled on how much regret she had for giving in to her father and taking the job with Dr. Carlin, on how stupid she felt for believing, even if just for a moment, that she could make him happy, maybe even proud, but it had all been a lie.

Lyla’s body stiffened as the door of the kitchen slid open, and she heard Lore’s heavy footsteps slowly begin to approach. She refused to acknowledge him, keeping her gaze straight forward, leaning steadfastly into her stubborn nature. His presence loomed heavy over her momentarily before she felt his fingers graze the side of her cheek. Lyla snapped her head away, but Lore was faster, and gripping the nap of her neck, he held her in place as he crouched down next to her, meeting her eye to eye.

“You’re really beginning to test me. I told you to eat.” The only thing she’d touched in hours was the water.

“And I told you to go fuck yourself,” Lyla replied sweetly.

Lore’s grip on Lyla’s neck tightened, his golden eyes narrowed, scrutinizing her harshly, brows furrowed, nostrils flared, before an almost… quizzical look overtook his face. “What is it with you, Lyla?” He asked aloud, though it did not feel the question was intended for her, still, she answered.

“What is it with me what?” she bit.

His expression darkened. “What is it that drives you to be such a petulant little bitch? Hmm?” He shook her slightly. “Why must you vex me? It’s not as if I stole any sort of future from you. Daddy was never going to let you go back to the ballet.”

“He can’t control me. He never could.” Lyla scoffed. “There was no way in hell I was going to marry that drunken old man.” she spat.

“Oh, Lyla,” Lore laughed as he released her neck roughly, knocking her to the ground in the process. He watched in delight as she scrambled to her feet, the pretty floral dress she wore tripping her up in the process, and noted the corseted bodice for later. Lyla finally stood facing him, chest heaving, big brown eyes on fire with hate, skin flushed, limbs shaking, the rage that masked her fear hardly contained. “Daddy was in waaaay too deep with Dr. Carlin to ever let that happen. I assure you.”

Lore smiled as they slowly began to circle each other, Lyla retreating backward from his predatory gaze. “He was always going on about the Federation’s assured win on the engine’s bid, how much money he’d lent Carlin, he really had a big mouth, didn’t he?” He paused to linger on the jagged, heaving motion of Lyla’s chest, briefly imagining how it would feel to squeeze them until she screamed. “How does it feel?” He smiled widely as he saw her brown eyes gloss red with unreleased tears as he continued to goad her. Lyla, however, locked her jaw, gritting her teeth as she refused to answer. “You can tell me.” Lore tried to coax her smoothly. “How does it feel to truly know what your daddy thinks of you? Of course, you already knew.” he laughed. “You did warn me, but what does it feel like to hear it from the man himself, just how inconsequential you were to him?” 

When Lore thought she might break and begin weeping, her eyes hardened, and she sharpened her sights on him as she spoke in a falsely delicate tone. “What is it like, Lore? Daddy and Mommy left you for dead, and brother too. Right? That’s what you said. Wow!” She batted her eyes and feigned sympathy. “At least my mom and siblings loved me. No one gives a shit about you.”

There it is again, that venomous little tongue of hers. Lore rather liked that about her, and he did not wish to spoil such a pleasant feature in a woman, but he would have her compliance.

“You really are a mean girl, aren’t you?” Lore laughed. “Maybe that’s the real reason Daddy doesn’t love you. You’re just a little bitch who doesn’t do as she is told.”

“And you’re a psychopath who no one loves.”

This last line hit Lore with a certain resonance he could not pinpoint, but when it did, it triggered a more animalistic response than he’d intended. “You think you’re too good for him. You snooty little bitch, you think you’re too good for a man your father picks out.”

Lyla laughed callously. “I’m too good for most.” She looked toward him pointedly. “I’m no one’s fucking wife!” She shouted with a sudden bitter gusto of spirit. “I will not end up like my mother! I will not allow myself to wilt in someone else’s shadow!” she screamed recklessly.

“Oh, Lyla, I won’t let you wilt in my shadow,” he whispered sweetly and noted the immediate shift in her countenance, the uneasiness that set in, causing her to stumble as she started backing away a bit quicker. She did not enjoy his more affectionate side. Lore closed the gap between them with ease, catching her in his arms before she could break into a run. Lore would no longer wait for her to come to her senses on her own; his lusts were far too strong, and he didn’t care to restrain them any longer.

“Get off!” she screamed, trying to pull away from him, her voice beginning to pique with fear. 

“Beautiful, Lyla,” Lore continued as he began to undo the laces on the bodice’s corset, pulling them from the loops roughly.

“Stop it! Stop it!”

The heavy tenor of rage was gone from her voice, and all Lore could hear now was the sweet, delicate pitch of fear.“Oh, darling, I can only assume you want this.” Lore forced Lyla’s arms to her side and began to loop the long, satin laces from the corset around her. Tying her arms in place by her sides, he pulled the laces tighter and drank in the painful gasps she began to produce. “I’ve given you more than enough chances to do the right thing.” He tied off the laces and pulled her body close to his, leaning over her shoulder, he continued heatedly, “To do what you’re told. But you want to resist.”

Lore began to drag her backward by the laces as she screamed and kicked. He threw her on the small kitchen table, face down, hard enough that the tray of uneaten food jumped and landed with a thud, splashing Lyla with bits of porridge and milk. “You want to play hard to get. So, I’ll play your game, darling. I’m going to give you what you want.”

Lyla could practically hear the twisted smile in his voice as her legs hung over the side of the table, unable to reach the floor. She tried to kick and rock herself off, but Lore laid his torso on top of hers, resting his cheek next to hers, he forced himself between her thighs, pulling up her dress, and pressed himself against her roughly. Lyla could feel his firm arousal against her opening, through both his pants and the thin panties she wore. “Stop! Stop! Stop it!” she continued to scream.

“I gave you a chance, Lyla, and this is what you wanted.” Lore snaked his hand down between them and pressed two fingers against her opening, sinking them inside, he could feel her heat and the wetness of her swelling walls. “See,” he said, rubbing her through the thin, wet fabric, “look how ready you are.” He felt her buck against him or try to, as she had no leverage, and her toes could hardly scrape the floor.

“Get the fuck off me!” Lyla’s throat grew raw, and her voice cracked as she writhed beneath him, body thrashing against his in vain.

“You know what I haven’t heard once from you? Please.” Lore grabbed her panties by the crotch and ripped them from her body, the fabric digging into her hips painfully before it tore. “Is that why you’re such a little bitch, huh? Because Daddy never taught you any manners?”

“Fuck you! You fucking bastard get off!” Her face was painted red with fear and shame; her eyes pinched closed as though not looking would save her, her face stained in tears, teeth gritted in anticipation of the inevitable. 

“You really are beautiful, Lyla,” he soothed as he snaked his hand back between her thighs, slowly sinking his fingers into her tight, warm center as she screamed out in pain and fear. “I wasn’t lying when I told you I enjoyed your dancing,” he continued as he delighted in her sudden change in affect when he began to massage her swollen walls. Sinking his fingers in and out of her slowly, tenderly, and expertly enticing her g-spot, he enjoyed how her breath hitched on the inhale as she desperately tried to suppress her arousal. He enjoyed the way her sharp screams and demands faded into uncontrolled weeping. Such a lovely sound, she always makes such beautiful music when she finally shuts up, he thought. “It’s such a shame your daddy didn’t value you enough… that he didn’t see how much you were really worth.” Lore teased, his words sickly sweet and dripping with venom.

“Stop it!” Lyla wept. “Stop!”

“Is that all you can say to me, Lyla?” he feigned insult as he felt her body climax around his fingers, her muscles tightening around him as he forced another finger inside her. “See Lyla? You wanted this. Look how ready you were for me.” He breathed into her ear, pushing her toward climax again, indulging in her uncontrolled sobs, in the pressured, incoherent string of syllables she released between the gasps for air and tears, and in the way her sweet, warm center felt as it quivered around his skilled fingers. As his pants grew painfully tight around his thickened arousal, the need to feel himself buried deep inside her was insatiable.

“Don’t worry, darling, Lyla. I see what Daddy doesn’t, and I’ll give you what you need. I’ll treat you like the little fucking princess you think you are,” he punctuated each word with a painful thrust, eliciting from her a flurry of high-pitched screams as he continued, “And I’ll give you all the discipline you need.”

As Lyla climaxed around his fingers once more, she could feel her body start to twitch beneath him, her lower stomach muscles spasming and cramping before he removed himself from her. For a brief moment, Lyla felt her body relax. She slumped hard on the table, slipping slightly over the edge, the sharp corner of the table digging into her hips. Her arms were sore as the laces from her dress dug into her skin, and her fingers were cold and numb from lack of blood flow. Sobbing silently, face wet with tears and snot and spit, she felt Lore stand, followed by the sound of slacks unzipping and falling to the floor, and every muscle in her body tightened once more as she felt his cold skin against the inside of her thighs, and his large, firm member, slick with arousal, push against her opening as he lay his body back on top of hers. Lyla bit her tongue—hard—clenching her body firmly as Lore threatened to enter her, she didn’t want to scream, she didn’t want to give him any more satisfaction, but as he plunged himself in, violently sinking all of himself into her at once, she could not hold back. Even without Lore’s well-endowed status, Lyla was a petite woman, the top of her head hardly reached over his shoulder, and her frame was slender, with little fat on her—of which, now, Lore understood why.

The sensation of being inside Lyla was intoxicating. It was almost overwhelming at first how good her swollen walls felt around him, and for a minute, Lore could only press into her deeper, forcing every throbbing centimeter of himself in her until he could feel the slight give of her hip bones beneath him, and Lyla screamed out in sharp pain as the edges of the table dug into her skin. Lore had pleasured himself many times, mostly as a means of eliminating distraction, but it had never felt as good as Lyla. If he were a weak man, a pitiful organic being, he might have cum right there, but he wasn’t done with her, he needed to feel her body quiver and writhe around him, to feel her succumb to his lusts around his throbbing cock, then he would be done with her.

Lore began to pump in and out of her, slowly as first, dragging himself out fully before painfully plunging back in, loving every utterance of pain she released. As her walls swelled around him, and her body twitched from the overstimulation, Lore began to thrust faster, slamming his body against hers, and the table scratched the floor as it jolted and moved beneath them. Lyla screamed as the table dug into her hips each time Lore forced himself into her, but Lore was hardly concerned as he considered himself to be holding back.

As Lore tasted of her flesh for the first time, his infatuation began to blossom into obsession; slowly, he would find he was no longer satiated with the idea of owning her… he would need her to love him. He could already feel the need begin to grow, sprouting in the back parts of his mind where he began to dwell on thoughts of love. Of how he’d been denied it his whole life… the love of his parents, of the colonists, all stolen from him by their witless, inferior organic nature. Even his brother denied him love, betraying him for his Starfleet friends, and when, with his dying breath, Lore had whispered, “I love you brother,” … he’d said nothing. As he fed his lusts for Lyla, her love became a trophy he had to possess, something he alone was due, that he alone was worthy of… she would see… he would make her see. He would desecrate her ‘self’—the idea of her as an individual and absorb her into him. He would own her body, mind, and soul—whatever humans considered that to be—and he would have her love.

“I could easily crush you.” He whispered in her ear and delighted in her continued sobs as he slammed into her harder and harder, edging her bones toward the breaking point as he gave into his consuming lusts. “But I don’t want to do that, Lyla.” He could feel his end growing near as Lyla reached her unwilling climax around him, face stained with tears and bits of food, her body fully spasmed around his cock as she cried out from the raw, painful sensations throbbing throughout her body. “You’ll see, you’ll want to be owned by me,” he grunted as he slammed into her one last time, releasing his climax into her warm center, causing the table to scrape loudly as the force of his thrust pushed it across the smooth metal floor. Lyla released a piercing, high-pitched scream as his hips crushed down on hers; the table cut into the creases on her hips, her skin split on the apex of where both hip points hit the table, and little gashes opened on either side, trickles of blood dotting her skin as Lore had yet to release the pressure of his body against hers. When he did, he ripped away violently and watched as Lyla slid from the table, landing with a heavy thud on her side.

Lore loomed there for a moment, basking in the glow of her shame as she lay crumpled at his feet, filthy, covered in bits of food, blood, and cum, twitching and weeping silently. “So pretty,” he whispered before bending over to retrieve and put on his pants. He then grabbed Lyla by the laces still tied around her arms and hoisted her up. Incredulously, she began to protest, kicking her feet and thrashing around like a dying fish as Lore slammed her down in the chair she’d been sitting in when he walked in. She yelped as her ass hit the firm seat and as Lore scooted her up to the table, crushing her ribs against the edge.

“Now,” Lore sighed, “I have so many other things to do today, Lyla. We’re done with this little game.” He ripped the laces off in one fell swoop. Lyla could finally breathe deeply as the blood began to rush back to her fingers and hands, and she tried to ignore the unbearable pins and needles that followed.

Lore grabbed the tray of uneaten food that had slid off the table in the process, falling to the floor, toppling the liquids, and spilling them over the cold porridge, biscuits, and assorted fruit, and slammed it in front of her. “Eat.” He demanded. “I can’t have my assistant passing out again.”

Lyla stared at the tray blankly for a moment. Her body was tired and bruised, and she felt the weight of her emotions pushing down on her like the weight of a bridge on the verge of collapse, and yet… even here, in these most bitter struggles, her stubbornness peaked its ugly head, bathing every sorrow and violation she felt in blood red, rage. She would not be controlled by him; she would not be controlled by anyone! Lyla sat up straight, her legs shaking beneath her as she adjusted herself in the chair, she did her best to straighten her dress and fix her hair, which in many places had become matted to her face.

“What a vain little girl,” Lore laughed. Lyla bit her tongue, but he could see the anger in her clenched jaw as he spoke. “Eat.” He demanded again when she did not move after completing her grooming ritual.

Lyla looked up at Lore, a lovely apathetic look on her face as she sighed deeply and, with cat-like precision, flicked the tray off the table. It crashed to the floor, the food hitting with a hard splat, one of the cups shattered, and little bits of glass scattered across the kitchen.

“I told you I wasn’t fucking eating that,” Lyla said flatly.

Lore looked at her, then to the floor and the mess of food and glass, then back at Lyla, a malicious smile spreading across his face. “Oh, Lyla, you’re going to regret that,” he whispered.

[re-pilot-info]

May I have your opinion on some Norman lore? I know in canon that Norman was made by Daisy to be her husband but don’t you think that’s a little fucked up if you think about it. I know daisy is a good person with only good intentions but it feels kinda morally grey and she chose to make norman without fully considering the ethical implications.

The idea that you come into this world loving someone and your whole life and identity revolves around this one person and you didn’t even have a say, don’t get me wrong he loves her but wouldn’t that just make it kinda worse? Like it’s conflicting. He knows he loves her but he also knows he doesn’t really have a choice to merry her, Norman heavily values robots rights and the ability to choose and free will so it’s complicated. I’ve always headcononed that Norman starts to resent his marriage over time but hes struggling cause his programming is telling him he loves her and makes the idea of leaving impossible. And to go through all of this only to be ‘abandoned’ would crush him so it would make sense that he uses his revolution to take out all the years worth of resentment, grief, confusion and betrayal using violence; don’t get me wrong Norman DOES believe in his cause and getting equal rights and so forth but I like to think there’s more behind it then just altruism.

Yeah I actually agree with this wholeheartedly even though I've never really. Y'know. Liked Norman due to the whole thing of him implied to be a nazi, had genocidal fantasies, and the fact that, apparently, in-universe of the old canon story, marrying or being in love with your creator is essentially incest due to them essentially being your parent or so, which would make him being married to Daisy basically forced marriage with a dash of incest. (I saw forced due to Norman not really having a choice in the matter.)

In all honesty, I never really saw the need for Daisy being Norman's mom-wife and I didn't really see their relationship as such to begin with? I'm not sure if it makes sense but when I first discovered those two, I didn't catch on the incest implications because, again, in-universe stuff about how being married to your creator is equated to incest. (So the whole mom-wife thing isn't canon, as Daisy in this rewrite only built Norman and his not-canon-to-the-original-story sister because she was infertile and couldn't have her own children.)

But yeah, I agree with this, the subject on Daisy creating Norman to basically be married to him despite him being equated to her son by law in-universe, either out of pure jealousy or extreme loneliness to the point of wanting someone to be with her, is incredibly morally grey because of the ethical implications, and how Norman views humans as these ‘evil creatures that NEED to be put down’ because he believes in robot rights despite the fact the only thing he really does for it is kill and idealize his genocidal fantasies to q degree he literally has GODS to help him wipe out parts of the human population to literally exterminate them, just makes it even more stranger as a result.

The whole abandonment schtick I can get, but it doesn't excuse the fact that Norman is a megalomaniac nazi who makes his genocidal fantasies a reality.