#don't mind me just casually spiraling into obsession | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gloomskulls · 22 days ago

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⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ WHAT LIES UNDERNEATH [cult member peter parker x reader]

pairings: dark! peter parker x reader

⇢ ˗ˏˋ SUMMARY ୨୧ after losing your family, your friends, and your boyfriend, Peter Parker casually crashes in your life out of nowhere. His presence was welcoming, as his so-called village is too. But his hospitality seems to have something darker underneath

⇢ ˗ˏˋ WARNING ୨୧ NON-CON/DUB-CON (RAPE), heavy manipulation, toxic relationship, cult beliefs, oral (fem receiving), drugging (use of an aphrodisiac), p in v, multiple orgasms, breeding kink, obsessive behavior, mild violence, mentions of death, depression, suicidal thoughts, implied murder. lemme know if I missed any. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!

If you don't wanna see my dark stories, please block the tag #madi: dark content

a/n: this is loosely based on Midsommar, it's a really good movie. I have changed some stuff that i didn't feel comfortable writing or I just didn't want to write. Also this maybe the worst smut you've ever read probably. don't steal any of my shit or I'll steal ur head.

"I'm sorry sissy, the darkness is consuming me, and I will take them with me"

Those were the last texts your sister sent you. You were worried sick about her cryptic message and wanted disclosure from her, but she hasn't written back.

Your sister has been known to be a rather mentally challenged person. She was just venting to you. Right?

It was unnaturally still in the air, sitting at your kitchen table with the phone pressed close to your ear. Your fingers drummed an erratic rhythm against the edge of the table, still collapsed trying to ground yourself. All night, your sister has not picked up her phone. The strange text messages she had sent earlier in the day replayed like a broken record in your mind.

How many times have you been thinking of something really wrong, more than you would admit, but still dismissing it?

Somehow tonight felt different.

You texted Harry to reassure you, but the typical unsympathetic reply only served to add more weight to that chest heaviness again. Now you are left alone with your thoughts, and each one seems darker than the other.

You were about to not pick the phone because it looked like a spam call to you. The number was unknown, but that gut feeling inside you made you press accept.

"Hello?" Your voice dared as you strove to steady it.

The unknown caller said your name as they spoke, "Is this her?" The voice on the other end was calm but carried a cold detachment that made your stomach drop.

"Yes," you replied.

"This is Officer Hill with the NYPD. I'm sorry to tell you we've had an incident regarding your family," she said.

Air disappeared from your lungs suddenly, and your grip tightened against the phone. "What kind of incident?"

"I understand this is tough," she said, her voice carefully measured. "But I need you to come to the station. It's better to speak in person."

The issue of reality has been stretched and heavy between you, and it was so unbearable. “No,” you spoke finally in a panic voiding interiorly. “Please, just tell me now. What happened?”

There was a moment's hesitation in Hill's case. In that moment, you could feel the world starting to crack around you.

"There is no easy way to say this," she finally managed to come up with. "Your parents and sister were involved in a fatal accident. I am so sorry."

You could not comprehend those words for a moment. They swayed in the air outside with an unreal and incomprehensible quality. "What do you mean? Are they okay? What—"

"They didn't survive," Hill said softly, and that cut through your spiraling questions.

The phone fell from your hand and banged tipsily on the table. To this resonating rattle in the small space, however, your ear was tuned out. Your chest tightened, and the phrase ran in your brain, echoing in shallow gasps.

They didn't survive.

The days that followed the funeral just passed in a haze of hollow condolences and noise deafening silence. Your world had been torn apart while everything moved forward—all relentless and lame. Harry, your boyfriend of 2 years stayed as he assured you, but his presence seemed more of a fulfillment of an obligation than any comfort.

He was not exactly a cruel person; at least not really overt, for distance was a high-dubious chasm with every awkward conversation and with every minute spent by him scrolling through his phone instead of talking to you. Not blind are you to those glances he exchanged with his buddies once they assumed you weren't watching. There is pity instead of love and comfort in his eyes whenever you cry.

The last straw fell on a quiet Friday evening. You had dragged yourself to the apartment of Harry, looking for refuge in his presence after yet another sleepless night. He was lounging in the couch with one hand gripping a phone while the other was a beer.

"I feel like I'm falling apart," you admitted softly and settled next to him. Your voice cracked, and at last, the tears that were kept in were poured out. "I don't know how to do this without them. I don't know how to… keep going."

Harry glanced towards your direction, the look on his face inscrutable. After that, he set his phone down and fell into this heavy sigh as he rubbed the back of his neck. "I understand, okay? But you can't keep unloading things like this on me. It's…it's too much."

Your heart sank. "Too much?"

"I'm not your therapist," he said in defensive. "I don't know what you want me to do. I can't fix this for you."

"I'm not asking you to fix it!" You snapped while accepting the anger that had replaced the hurt. "I just need you to be here. To actually care."

He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he diverted his gaze from her, tightening his jaw. "This isn't fair," he muttered.

"What do you mean fair!?" you yelled, your volume rising. "Me grieving my whole family? It isn't as terrible as needing the person who's supposed to love me to act and comfort me?"

Harry stood up immediately and started pacing the tiny living room. "I didn't sign up for this," he said. The words cut like knives. "I feel like… like I'm drowning too. I'm trying to keep my head above water, but here you are, pulling me under."

Your breath literally caught in your throat at that last sentence, as if a blow on the physical plane had hit home. "Is that really how you see me? As one who drags you down?" You asked in disbelief.

However, he stopped pacing and turned toward you, shoulders sagging. "I don't know," he said more quietly. "I don't know what I feel anymore. My friends tell me I should end it. They say I can't do this to myself. But I thought, you know, that might help."

"Help?" you echoed, voice breaking. "You think pity keeping me would help? Do you know how humiliating that is?"

Harry looked away. "Well, I'm sorry! alright!? It's not like I want to be part of your fuckin tenth reason in your suicide note!". Guilt was scrawled across his face when those words left his mouth. "I didn't mean for it to be like this."

You stood waveringly. Nevertheless, your voice remained firm. "If this is too much for you, then spit it out. Be frank for once, Harry."

He hesitated, his silence answering the question you hadn't dared to ask outright.

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. "Well, that's what I figured."

You took your bag and stepped out of the apartment, closing the door behind you just before the torrent of tears fell as you stumbled down the street. For the first time in weeks, you were truly alone. Sure, Harry wasn't the best boyfriend, but now you didn't have family, Harry, heck, you don't even have friends to pat you in the back and tell you it's alright.

You were truly alone, crying in the middle of the streets.

A week later, at the dinner party of an old classmate's friend, Peter Parker walks into your life.

Peter wasn't meant to be there—he admitted that soon after you started the talk. "I kind of crashed this," he confessed with a sheepish grin, rubbing the back of his neck. "I heard there was free food, and, uh… I have no self-control."

You laughed against your will. It was a real laugh that felt vaguely familiar after weeks of grief.

He was awkward but charming, with rapid tumbling out of words out of his mouth as he tried to start a small talk. "So, uh, how do you know Sam? Are you a friend from work? Oh wait, no, you don't look old enough to work with him—wait, not that you look like a kid or anything. I just meant—"

"It's okay," you interrupted, smile still there regardless. "I get it. I am also kinda crashing here, I never really got a proper invite, I just found out from one of my old classmates that there was a party, now here I am"

The more you could talk to him, the more you would discover how easy it was to be in his company. Unlike Harry, who had always been polished and withdrawn, Peter was frank and genuine, emotions laid out for all to see.

And by the end of the night, he had known your family. You had not intended to tell him, but somehow the way he listened— actually listened— made it spill out.

"I'm so sorry," Peter said softly, voice laced thickly with empathy. "That is… I can't even imagine what you're going through. But, if you ever need someone to talk to—or like, someone to distract you with dumb jokes—I'm here."

You've been taken aback by his earnestness. Finally, after what felt like years, someone might have noticed you.

It was indeed one of those nights which made time stretch out into eternity. You were there with Peter on a park bench where the faint light of the flickering city lights was shining through dense bushes and trees. The air was crisp, a cool kind that could very much seep into one's bones, yet Peter's company made it bearable.

He had this way of filling the silence without forcing it: sometimes talking, rambling on about whatever random thought invaded his head, sometimes just sitting with a person comfortable in the quiet, and today, he was acting especially thoughtful, staring at some faraway towers protruding above the skyline.

"Can I ask you something?" he suddenly blurted out, breaking the stillness.

"Sure."

He hesitated, bit his bottom lip as if he couldn't decide how to start, and began speaking. "Do you ever feel like…I don't know, like you're stuck?"

You blinked. It caught you off guard. "What do you mean?"

"Like everybody around you is moving ahead, but you're just there standing still," he explained, his words pretty crumbling out in that earnest, awkward way of his. "Like no matter what you do, you can't catch up."

The question was a little more awkward for you than you'd expected. "Yeah," you quietly admitted. "too many times than how I want it to be"

"It's tiring" he said, his eyes still far. "I get that. After my uncle… well died, after all that, I felt like I was trapped in this… I don't know, this loop. So, I couldn't allow myself to be happy because it would feel wrong, you know? Like I didn't deserve it."

You were gaping at him, flabbergasted by his openness. Peter was not the kind to talk much about himself—not like this, anyway.

"How did you get out of it?" you asked in a soft voice.

He smiled faintly. "I didn't. Not really. But I found something that helped."

"What was it?"

Peter gazed upward at the stars. "My hometown. It's a little dot in the middle of nowhere on the map. Quiet, kind of old-fashioned place. But there's something… something grounding."

He stopped for a brief while, casting a doubtful glance at you. "I go back every summer. It's like hitting a reset button or something. And, uh… would you want to join me this year?"

Totally unexpected. "You want me to go with you?"

"Yeah," Peter said quickly, blushing in the face of it. "If you want to. No pressure, or anything. Just you have been through a lot, and I thought maybe time away might help or something. It's not fancy or anything—definitely not the kind of place with five-star hotels—but it's peaceful. And I'd be there, so… you wouldn't be alone."

At his words, your throat became somewhat tight. He was not offering a vacation. He was inviting you to an escape.

"I don't know," You finally ventured with a little quiver of voice. "What if I just feel worse?"

"You won't," Peter said firmly, his brown eyes locking onto yours. "I won't let you."

There was something so genuine about the way he said it, like he truly believed he could protect you from the weight of your grief.

"What is it like?" you asked, helpless curiosity walking over your hesitation.

Peter's eyes set aglow at that moment, brimming over with a lot of excitement. "Oh gosh! Now where do I even begin? Okay, so there's this diner right in the middle of town. It's run by Mr. and Mrs. Beck. They've been married for like fifty years or something, and they make the fluffiest pancakes you've ever tasted in your life. And then there's this old library. Small, yes, but it has this weird charm, you know? Everything is crooked, and half the books are falling apart, but I love it. Oh, and there's this great big field just outside of town—it's perfect to stargaze because you can see the Milky Way out there. It's insane."

Now he was practically bouncing out of his seat, his enthusiasm almost contagious.

"It sounds… amazing," you found yourself admitting. A small smile tugged your lips.

"It's amazing," Peter said earnestly. "And I think you would love it. Everyone is so welcoming there. It's like… a little bubble of goodness in this horrible world sometimes."

For just a moment, you let yourself imagine it, far from the city and the reminders of everything that had been lost, somewhere I might again breathe.

"Okay," you said finally, barely above a whisper.

Peter's eyes lit up. "Really? You're going to come?"

"Yeah," you said, surprising even yourself. "I think I need this."

"Trust me; you won't regret it," Peter continued, his grin stretching from ear to ear.

For the first time in what felt like forever, you felt a flicker of hope. Maybe this trip wouldn't fix everything. Maybe it wouldn't fix anything. But for now, it was enough to know you wouldn't be facing it alone.

It was a surreal feeling about the trip toward Peter's hometown. It was almost a relief because you sensed that you were really leaving everything behind, even thought it was just a few weeks. Driving in a comfortable pattern with Peter talking animatedly about all of the town's strange things, while you listened and occasionally chimed in with a question or a laugh at one of his goofy replies.

As you drove farther from the city and the scenery opened to rolling hills and dense forests before you, Peter shifted in his seat to adjust the radio. The soft tune filled the car and merged with the sounds of the tires over the road.

"You are going to love it," Peter said, glancing at you with an innocent smile. "Air's so fresh it nearly smells fake, and the stars. They're nothing like anything you've ever seen before. I promise."

"I'll hold you to that," you said, smiling despite the nervous knot still twisting about in your chest.

The town came into view just about the time the sun started sinking, dipping the horizon in gold and pinks. It was a little bit smaller than you had in mind, the kind of place that probably knew everyone by name.

Peter slowed the car as you entered the main street, which was lined with quaint buildings that appeared to have been plucked from another era. A few of the local's whereabouts were either on their porches talking, in their gardens working, or taking their dogs out for a walk. They would almost wave at Peter as they drove past.

"See? Told you. Nicest people on the planet," said Peter returning the waves enthusiastically.

"No shit," you said, watching a woman coming across with a basket of flowers smile toward you warmly.

Peter stopped in a graveled driveway leading to a homely two-storied fairy tale house. Crooked white picket fence and wildflower-laden garden, there was little that screamed charm.

The moment the car stopped, from the front door, she came, a petite woman in her 30's with brown hair, beaming with kindness in her eyes and warmth in her smile.

"There's my darling nephew!" she called out.

Peter jumped out of the car, practically bounding onto her, hugging her. "Aunt May!"

"And you must be the girl Peter keeps talking about," she said, her bright eyes finding their way to you. "Peter has told me so much about you."

"Oh, um, hi," you said, stepping out of the car and giving a small wave.

"Then that's it," she said, surprising with her strong hug for her small figure. "It's so lovely to finally meet you. Come in! It's rather hot out here during the summers"

Once you stepped into the house, you were met with interior that was as cozy as anyone could expect, the design suggests mixes between vintage and modern furniture, with colorful throw blankets and knickknacks making it feel lived in. There was also a faint waft of freshly baked cookies, which you soon spotted on the kitchen counter.

"Make yourself at home," May said, "Your room's already set up upstairs. Peter can show you around."

"Thanks May," Peter replied, already grabbing your bag before you could protest.

Up came Peter, leading you to a small but cozy guest room overlooking the backyard.

"Hope that's cool," said Peter, dropping your bag next to the bed. "Not fancy, but it's quiet."

"It's perfect," you said, placing your backside on the edge of the bed and taking a moment to breathe.

In the following days, Peter became your own personal tour guide, leading you through the town every nook and cranny, and introduced you to everyone as if you were already a part of the community, and to your surprise, they all welcomed you with open arms

Mr. and Mrs. Beck would insist on serving you their best pancakes while there at the diner even after breakfast time.

"We have heard so much about you," Mrs. Beck said it with a twinkle in her eyes. "Peter's nearly counting the days until you came."

Peter turned red and scratched the back of his neck. "Thanks, Mrs. Beck. Subtle as always."

Library, this was to be; the charmingly ramshackle structure seemed to sag under the weight of its many books. Peter's eyes lit up as he walked through those rows of crooked shelves with his fingers trailing over the spines.

"This here was my escape growing up," he said, pulling a worn copy of The Hobbit from the shelf. "Any time things got… overwhelming, I'd come here. Just me, a book, and a whole lot of silence."

This was the kind of moment when one caught a glimpse into Peter's world of quiet, reflective, introspective thinking where the depths beneath the sunshine state, as always, reside.

The very field that Peter had described so vividly turned out to be even more breathtaking than you ever imagined. The grass stretched out in every direction, swaying gently in the breeze, and the sky above was that of a canvas painted with stars, brighter and bolder than he had ever seen.

With a dramatic sigh, Peter flopped onto the ground, patting a spot next to him. "Come on, you're not getting the full experience unless you lie down."

You hesitated to lie down beside him, letting the cool grass tickle your arms as you stared up at the infinite expanse of sky.

"Wow," you breathed.

"Yeah?" he said, turning his head towards you. "It's like the universe decided to show off or something."

They lay there silently for a good while with the sound of the rustling grass and an occasional chirp of crickets. That was the most peaceful you had felt in a long, long time.

Maybe it was a little initial self-talk that told you it was just small town hospitality. People in cities don’t wave at strangers, though maybe that’s simply what people do out here. Maybe they were just genuinely curious about a stranger in a little place where everyone knows everyone.

But as the day went on, those small gestures, those innocent jests began to feel… different.

It started out slow.

At the diner, Mrs. Beck lingered longer than she ought to while refilling your coffee, her smile warm but sharp, penetrating eyes boring onto you.

"You're feeling like one of us already, aren't you?" she would have said, almost as if it were a statement rather than a question.

You gave a polite smile with no idea of how to answer. "Uh, yeah, everybody's really welcomed here."

"Oh, good," she said, with a firm nod. "That's what we want."

There's something in the way she said it, words weighing a lot more than they were supposed to.

And so it went; the Becks household was not the only one. The pattern held true for nearly every encounter.

"How are you settling in?"

Not "welcome" or "hi and how long are you staying?" The last kind of question you would expect from someone meeting a newcomer. The question, however, assumed permanence. It assumed that you were settling in, that you live here now.

Initially, you passed it off as just another one of those quirks that could be attributed to small-town hospitality. Maybe that's just their way of being polite. But after a few more days, it became pretty hard to ignore the repetition.

You brought it up to Peter one morning as the two of you sat on May's porch, sipping coffee and watching the sunrise.

"Is it just me," you began, keeping your tone light, "or does everyone here ask the same question?"

Peter looked up from his mug, a confused smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "What question?"

"How I'm 'settling in.' Like, literally everyone has said it."

"Oh, that?" Peter chuckled, brushing it off with a wave of his hand. "That's just how people are around here. Small towns, you know? Everyone's in everyone else's business, and they just want to make sure you're happy. It's aggressively wholesome."

You nodded while struggling to let his explanation take root in you, but that feeling of unease lingered.

Then came the presents.

The librarian insisted that you check out a copy of Little Women, even if you just went there to browse.

"You'll love it," she said, sliding it over the counter to you with a knowing smile.

"How do you know?" you asked, only half-joking.

Her smile didn't waver. "I just do."

At the hardware store, the owner gave you a tiny potted shrub. "Every home needs a little bit of green," he said cheerfully, but his eyes had a dark intensity that made him more intimidating.

"Thanks," you mumbled awkwardly, holding the plant as you walked out.

It was the kind of gift given to a father like you, not at all because you wanted it, but so they could wave it in your face.

The real breaking point occurred one night at the diner.

Peter was treating you to dinner there after spending the afternoon wandering around town. It was quieter than usual, the counter occupied only by a few regulars. The place smelled of coffee and fries, and while Peter was busy demolishing a plate of the latter, you excused yourself to go to the washroom.

The hallway at the back of the diner is dark and narrow, the overhead fluorescent lights humming in slightly grating tones. At the door marked "Women," you caught snatches of voices from the kitchen-garbled, urgent.

"…And she's settling in?"

"She seems fine so far. Peter's doing a good job keeping her comfortable."

You were frozen with your hand on the doorknob. Your pulse raced. "Good, she has to feel like she belongs, it's important."

Then there was a crashing sound of many dishes, followed by a long heavy pause.

"So," says the first voice, "you think she suspects anything?"

"No. Not yet."

There, silence fell between the voices after that, then just the faintest clink—the sound of silverware-and the quick pounding of your heartbeat resounded in your ears.

When you stepped back to the table, Peter's easy smile greeted you. "Everything cool?" he asked as he dipped a fry into ketchup. "Yeah," you said quickly as you slid into your seat. "Fine."

The mind remained racing.

They must be talking about someone else—a new hire at the diner. Maybe a new family into town. There was no way they were talking about you.

Right?

You tried to shake it off, sinking into Peter's chatter about the upcoming festival, but the unease clung to you like a second skin.

May's small guest room became so beautiful in the rays of the morning sun that they filtered through lace curtains and softly flecked the walls. You stared ridiculously at the ceiling, a heavy weight on your chest, making sleep unusually elusive. Thoughts had been just too loud and tangled.

Those whispers from the diner, the rehearsed kindness from townspeople, and the way he seemed to brush it all off so easily were elusive things you couldn't shake off. The most you told yourself was that it was probably nothing.

This is what you told yourself as you forced yourself out of bed and down the stairs. Peter wouldn't lie to you; he was the most genuine person you knew. Right?

The smell of pancakes and coffee greeted you in the kitchen.

By the stove stood Peter, his hair at odd angles and humming a tune under his breath. For a moment, you let yourself relax. This is Peter, your Peter.

"Good morning, sleepyhead!" he greeted, grinning at you with that boyish grin. He slid over a plate of pancakes drenched in syrup and topped with fresh strawberries.

"Morning," you replied, low enough to be heard.

"You okay?" he asked, tilting his head.

"Yeah, just didn't sleep much," you tugged and picked little at your food.

"Frowning," Peter said and kept down his fork. "Anything troubling you?"

"No," you lied quickly. "Just one of those nights."

He studied you for a moment, and you forced a small smile. Whatever the unease was, there was no reason for dragging Peter into it. He'd just dismiss it as he always did.

At last, the day was spent in a well-practiced blur of activities. It seemed Peter had made up his mind to keep you as busy as possible, even dragging you around the town park and to that creek he used to catch tadpoles as a kid. And if that weren't enough, he picked you up from the bakery where the sweet aroma of pastries was very strong. Offering you so many pastries till your stomach ached

Evening had cloaked the house in darkness, and so much for bottled up emotions. After dinner, the two of you sat alone in the living room: May well and truly off to bed. And that left you here with Peter sprawled across the couch flipping through some book, while you closed yourself into a tight little knot in the armchair.

"Peter," you broke the silence.

He blinked up at you with alarmed eyes. "Yeah?"

"I need to ask you something."

His brows knitted slightly, but he set aside the book. "Sure. What is it?"

You pause, heart racing. "Last night at the diner I heard something. Two people in the kitchen were talking about me."

Peter's face remained impassive. Still in his eyes, there was a flicker of something that disappeared as quickly as the light.

"What did they say?"

"They said you were doing a good job keeping me comfortable. That I need to feel like I belong." You paused, faltering with your voice. "Peter, what does that mean?"

Peter leaned forward, dangling his elbows on his knees. "It's nothing, they were probably just being nosy. People here care about each other, and when someone new comes in, they get… curious."

"That is not how it sounded," you said shaking your head. "It sounded like, intentional. It sounded much like plotting."

"You're overthinking this" Peter sighed rubbing back on his neck "Seriously, this town—it's different—close-knit. They just want to ensure you feel welcome, happy here, nothing but that".

“Then why does it feel so fake?” you pressed, raising your voice. “Everyone acts like they already know me. Like they’re expecting something to come from me.”

Peter tensed his jaw, and then he did not speak anything for a moment. He then stood up suddenly. "I brought you here for your help," he said in a hard tone. "I brought you here so you might begin a fresh mental state, a place where you could heal. And instead of appreciating it, you are looking for ways to tear it apart."

"I didn't ask for this!" you shot back, standing as well. "I didn't ask to be dragged into some town where everyone acts like I'm part of some… some secret club!"

Peter turned to you, eyes flashing. "You didn't have to ask! You were falling apart. You needed this. And I've been trying my best to make things easier for you, but you can't even see that, can you?"

The words hit you like a slap. Staring at him, breathless, tears filling your eyes. "Peter… why are you doing this?"

He softened immediately, shoulders slumping. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I didn't mean to—look, I just… I care about you. I hate seeing you so lost. I thought bringing you here would help, but maybe I was wrong."

You wiped your eyes, and the mind is busy with thoughts. Maybe he is right. Maybe you are over-reacting. Peter was not that manipulative. He was just worried.

"Okay," you said finally, your voice shaky. "But if this town is so great, then why does it feel like there is something you are not telling me?"

Peter's eyes drifted towards the window momentarily—as if to check whether there were eavesdroppers outside—"It is not like that," he said, whispering faintly barely audible.

"Then tell me what it is," you said. "If you want me to trust you, then stop keeping secrets."

Peter sighed deeply, his shoulders sagging. "Alright," he said. "But you're not going to like it."

"And that's supposed to mean what?"

He moved closer, looking you straight in the eye. "Some things are better demonstrated rather than told," he said, his tone even more pleading. "I'll tell you everything tomorrow. Just…give me another day."

You gawked at him, feeling your belly tie up in knots. Every instinct in you screamed to demand answers right now, but for some reason, the look in his eyes stopped you. He looked… desperate.

"Fine," you said with reluctance. "One more day."

Peter nodded, a relief washing over his face. "Thank you," he said almost inaudibly. "I assure you, it will all come into perspective soon."

But climbing into bed that night only made more pronounced the doubts gnawing at you louder than they had done before.

The cold, crisp evening air wrapped tight around you like a noose, as they led Peter into the woods. Try as you might to ignore the uncomfortable hollow in your gut, the longer you sat in this strange, unsettling village, the more you felt that something dark ran underneath it all. Every villager's smile, how they seemed to know just a little too much about you—everything just felt orchestrated, perfect.

You had held the doubts to yourself, buried deep down because Peter had always been the perfect anchor. But tonight, something flickered in his eyes—his tense shoulders and that almost undetectable flash of something darker crossing his face—told you that you were no longer in control.

You entered the clearing, gasping for air by the time you stepped into the structure resembling a stone chapel. The door agonizingly creaked open, bringing in the cold air from outside in juxtaposition with the stifling heat within. There, illuminated softly, were the others. A few you recognized from the eerily quiet familiar faces that watched you through predatory eyes.

It felt thick and heavy in the air, almost stultifying. The walls were closing in, and the silence was becoming almost oppressive. Peter gently but firmly drew you forward, his comforting presence still providing warmth, though everything else seemed wrong.

He was more weathered and older than you imagined, the drawn skin of his face tight over sharp features, pale and unblinking eyes matching his face. The robe hung dark and almost blended into shadows as he approached you. A murmur swept through the people gathered, and you paid little attention. Everything spun in your head and your heart drummed against your ears.

"Peter," said the man with a voice which grated like a rusty hinge, as if he had been whispering for years. "She has come."

Peter's eyes had been fixed on you for some time, and now he nodded slowly. The heat of his gaze made your skin crawl. The man checked you out from head to toe, and his intense eyes seemed to promise a lot of something. "Perfect," he said under his breath but not for too long so that others could hear him as he shouted, "She is the one. It's time."

Time, just like that word, seemed hollow, reverberating in the air around you like a bad omen. Instead, you opened your mouth to argue or question what part of this was really happening, but then, Peter squeezed your shoulder so tightly that it felt like it might crush your bones.

"It's okay," he whispered against your ear with his very warm breath. "I'll explain everything. You'll understand soon enough."

But understanding was the last thing you wanted to happen. All you had in mind was running. The man stepped forward, never breaking the eye contact. "Our village has managed to survive for many centuries and still thrive at its odds. But there is one rule that we have to abide by—there is one rule that can't be broken. After every eighteen years, one of our own must depart from this world and find someone in the outside world—from beyond these walls to someone pure."

Your mouth went dry. "What… what do you mean by that?"

"Every time a child turns eighteen, he must leave for a period of time to spend in the world outside, learn its ways; but after this period, he must return, and he must bring someone from the outside to add to the village."

Your body suddenly turned ice cold. "What do you mean, bring someone from the outside?" You spluttered. Your voice barely made an impression on the silence.

The smile of the man became broad. "A new family member. A mate. Someone to whom they will get married, with whom they will create children. This is the law."

You turned to Peter with wide eyes filled with horror as your heart stuttered deep in your chest. "What do you mean… a mate? You want me to…?"

Peter tightened his grip on your shoulder and breathed shallowly. "That's how it is done. This is how we survive. The village needs strong new blood. The children produced from these unions keep the bloodline pure, preventing inbreeding."

Inbreeding. That one word roared through your mind like no other thought. You couldn't breathe. You felt suffocated under the weight of all that.

"What… what are you saying?" you gasped, stunned and unable to take in everything being revealed to you.

Peter stepped even closer; eyes dark with something almost predatory. "That's how this works. You're part of the plan now. You have no choice. You are here because you were chosen. You are going to help us keep the village alive. Our survival depends on… "

"No," you whispered, stumbling backward as you tried to retreat. "No, this isn't right. You can't—this isn't—"

And suddenly, an old man stepped beside you, his shadowy tallness overshadowing you. "You will understand soon. You are not the first, nor will you be the last. Every child who leaves returns with someone. And they will mate, they will bear children. This is how we preserve our people, how we protect our bloodline." He said as if it was your duty, as if this was your destiny.

"No!" You screamed tearing the air with your voice now choked in emotions. "This is insane! You're insane!"

The gentleness from Peter that used to soothe you all vanished, replaced by the steely resolve. He took another step forward, and instinctively you recoiled. "I did not want you to have this," he said, his voice low and strained, "but it is how it is. You will come to understand, and you will see that it is for the best."

The other villagers watched you with silent intensity as the space surrounding you felt as if it were closing in on you, with walls pressing from all sides. You could feel their hungry and expectant eyes on you.

You wanted to run. You wanted to yell.

But as soon as the old man reached out his hand to grab you, Peter's hold on your arm tightened, his fingers digging into your skin, keeping you anchored. "You don't understand yet," he said quietly, his voice tinged with something darker, something that, as it sent chills down your spine, made you think he was going to take you off somewhere to be tortured. "But you will. Soon, it will make sense. The only way to survive is this. This is something we can't let you ruin."

You were trapped. The weight of their expectations crushed you, their smiles now twisted masks of something monstrous beneath.

"Your child will also do the same duty," the old man said softly. "When they come back to the village with their mate, they will fulfill their destiny. They will carry our future."

Your chest constricted. Every part of you screamed to escape, to run, to fight against the suffocating nightmare into which you had been dragged. All the while, in the depths of your consciousness, you knew that there was no escaping this; they had planned for this. They had chosen you.

Back against the stone wall of the chapel now, your breath came in rapid, gasping suction since the reality began to drown in you. It beat loudly in your chest, a frantic mind racing for exit routes, for freedom from the path that had been laid out for me like a spider's web in all its horrible detail.

Peter's gaze was cold and cruel; it was no longer the warm presence one had hoped for. The heady words of the old man echoed in your ears, chilling and impossible to escape, like a curse. "You will return. You will bear our future."

As impossible as it was to believe, you finally realized it, this fucked up cycle wanted you to be part of it—and not by choice.

But you weren't going to let that happen.

You pushed past Peter and felt the sharp sting as he grabbed at your arm. You broke free, legs now trembling beneath you, as you headed for the door. You had to get out. You didn't know where you were running, but the woods were the only option. The only chance at freedom. You burst through the chapel door and into the cold night air, stumbling over uneven ground.

You heard footsteps behind you, but you didn't dare look back. The wind howled around you, swallowing up any sounds from the village. Your lungs burned as you pushed yourself faster, harder, your breath ragged from panic clawing at your chest.

You didn't look up when you heard a car approaching, but you didn't stop either, as your mind told you to keep running, to escape, but your legs were beginning to fail you.

The car stopped short before you, the headlights blinding. You turned with a wild heart as the door to that vehicle swung open. A man in a police uniform stepped out, his expression unreadable.

"Hey, are you alright?" he asked, with a soft voice but underneath carrying an authority.

He wouldn't let you trust him, and you could be in danger. "I-I need help," you stuttered, barely able to catch your breath. "They're chasing me. They—they won't let me leave."

The officer stepped closer, his eyes darting toward the woods behind you. "Who's chasing you? What happened?" His voice was smooth, coaxing, calm.

You stumbled toward him, the last shreds of your resistance slipping away. His presence was comforting, the uniform a familiar sign of safety in this strange world that had turned upside down. "Please," you gasped. "I need to get out of here. Please help me."

The officer smiled, that warm, almost paternal smile that gave you a moment's feeling of cocooned safety. "You are well within safety here. Get into the car and I'll take you to the station. They won't find you."

You didn't even think twice about it. Worn out and shivering, you climbed into the passenger seat of the car. The door slammed behind you, then the engine revved into life. You sank into the seat, closed your eyes, letting the sound of the engine create an illusion of safety. Finally, you escaped. Finally, you could breathe again.

The engine growled before heading out with the officer looking at you and softening his expression to almost a grin. "A strange night out here, huh?" Are you really sure you are, okay?"

You shook your head, catching your breath. "I need to get away from those people… I don't know who they are but they're dangerous."

"People can be dangerous, can't they?" he mused.

You glanced at him. "Yeah, I guess. I just don't know who to trust anymore."

Soft chuckle from him, as if to sense that it sounds contrived, that it has to be learned. "What's trust? You just have to know whom to get along with and whom to avoid. It requires experience."

You just turned to the window and trees and darkness rushed by. The mind was reeling from the attempt at grasping everything that has happened as it was really too much: the town; the event; Peter's cold stare; and now this—this officer who has apparently materialized at just the right moment. He must be the one sent to rescue you.

"Where are we off to?" You asked

"Oh, just a little way out of town," he replied, his voice smooth, almost too smooth. "Nothing to worry about."

You nod, fatigue dragging heavily on your eyelids. For a moment, it felt good, like all was well. But then the cop's voice became a personal one.

''I'm Steve by the way, Steve Rogers. Was just coming here for a quick stroll," he began, "I never thought I was going to be out here, helping someone like you. It is really funny, how life turns out."

Brow furrowed, and incomprehension written all over the face. "What do you mean?"

The very slight narrowing of the officer's eyes at you, just for an instant, was followed by his returning gaze to the road ahead. "I spent a lot of time in these parts, and the people can be somewhat…. they are peculiar. But then, I guess you already know that."

Heck, what was he talking about? "What do you mean by a little hard to understand? Who do you mean by that?"

Just above a smile, something confidential, something dark, flickered across the officer's lips. "Well, my wife, Peggy… she was from around here. She got them, you know? Understood what was going on. It took me a long time to realize it, but eventually, I figured it out. I did too."

Your heart stops, hammering against the confinement of your ribs. "Peggy… Carter?" That name rang in your mind like a bell, sharp and dissonant. You had heard that name before, only in whispers, a long time ago.

From what you remembered Peggy Carter was one of the most vicious woman in the police force, even in her short time in doing her job. One day she got married to a man named Steve and nothing was heard from her again. As if she disappeared, she completely left her job and duty, and so did Steve who was a fellow police like her who also vanished from the face of the earth. That was all you knew, and all of that happened 10 years ago. Many believed they moved. Some believed

The officer's smile brightened, but now it had no warmth. His voice went down low, as if telling you a secret you weren't supposed to know, "That's right. Peggy Carter. She was special. A part of something much bigger than either of us ever realized. I didn't understand it at first. Thought she was just a regular woman… but then I saw it. I saw everything for what it was."

It had caught in your throat because your mind was connecting all the dots. Peter, in actual fact, couldn't stop saying that you were here for a bigger thing, that you actually belonged. And now there is the officer, Peggy Carter, the strange village thing, the quite twisted ceremony—now everything starts to get clearer while terrifying you.

Your pulse raced, and once more, you cast a glance at him, eyes wide with realization. "You… you’re one of them, aren’t you? You’re one of their… their plan.”

For just a second, something shadowy, something colder, flicked through his eyes; and with that flicker, somehow you knew you'd made a terrible mistake trusting him.

Steve Rogers, the cop smiled "I was hoping you'd come around sooner or later. You're a bit smarter than I thought," his voice was light, like he was discussing the weather. "However," a dangerous tremor lurked below his words. "Peggy always said you'd be the perfect addition - just like I was, just like she was."

You sprung back, your first instinct was to reach for the door handle, but before your brain could register what was happening, the vehicle shifted violently. Body flung against the door; your head crashed against the metal side with a sickening thud. Stars exploded behind your eyes, and suddenly, everything muffled.

When you woke up from what felt like the worst sleep in your life, but you weren't sleeping, or did you just doze off and you couldn't remember any of it? Everything felt like a blur, memories were juggled up, and everything seemed out of place. How did I get here again? You thought to yourself.

It was strangely silent all around. The engine's rhythmic humming gave way to a stifling, heavy silence. You couldn't move. The air around you was thick and stifling; you had a throbbing headache that was likely to make you nauseous.

You couldn't even comprehend what was happening before you saw the door of the car opened, your whole-body weight made you fall off the vehicle. You audibly groaned as your body hit the rough dirty cement

Lo and behold, standing right in front of was Steve Rogers, towering above you, his face expressionless. His cold stare that piercing through your soul at you while your arms continued to adjust the sleeves of his uniform with a calm expertise.

He circled you as if he was predator cornering its prey. He stopped just at your head. He looked at you with an expressionless face, he slowly smiled, the creepy type of smile you would see psychopaths do on movies.

You wanted to run, punch him in the face and fucking run. But you couldn't, it felt as if your feet have already given up on you, plus the blooming pain in your head made it hard to think.

"It just never gets the job done" He frowned momentarily, your eyes widened in fear as you saw him take a beer bottle from behind his back, you shook your head, no please, please, please. You tried your best to crawl away from him, but you couldn't even feel your legs.

You sobbed in defeat, but he just caressed your cheek and wiped your tears away, as if to lure you into a false sense of security. With all the softness of a feather, he said, "You'll be fine," really more to reassure himself than you. "The ceremony's just waiting for you."

Before you can act, a hard bang on your head seems to lurch your stomach. The officer had swung a beer bottle at your skull; it hit with a sickening crack and within the instant the pain exploded into darkness pressing behind your eyes, and the world went black.

It was the scent of incense—sickeningly sweet and heavy enough to churn in the stomach. Candlelight flickered. shadows danced on stone walls, making the small space feel smaller by the second.

You woke up all lethargic with a blooming headache. You felt relaxed underneath the soft bed that you laid, but once you took in the stone walls, it felt like a train has hit you. All of the events from a few hours ago running you over.

Your mind raced, scrambling for an escape route, but all you saw was Peter standing between you and the door.

He never looked more like a stranger.

The once boyish charm which drew me to him was now a hollow mask as he hid himself behind his dark eyes. The face had no malignance—worse, it was soft, almost tender, like he really believed in what he was about to do. And that thought haunted me most terrifyingly.

"You are trembling," Peter said, his calm and soothing voice only making the fear spike higher. "I know it's a lot, really overwhelming, taking it all at once… but… it will be okay, I promise you."

"Peter, please," you whispered, your voice breaking into pieces at the seams. You could hardly utter a word without your throat choking it. "You don't have to do this. Let me out. I promise I won't tell the police—"

But that was where he cut you off by shaking his head sadly. "You don't understand. This is my home. It is where I belong. And now, it is where you belong too. We are part of something bigger here. Something meaningful."

"Meaningful?" you spat. "You kidnapped me, lied to me, and brought me here to…" The words cracked at the tightness in your throat. You couldn't even say them. I dawned onto you that you have been too trusting with Peer, but who wouldn't? Who knew that clumsy little sweet Peter was capable of doing something this fucked.

Peter stepped closer, casting a shadow over the too small room where it suddenly felt claustrophobic and anchoring. “I didn’t kidnap you. I saved you.”

His voice is insistent, though not harsh. “You were lost out there. Alone. No family, no one who cared about you. Don’t you see? This is your chance to start over, to have a purpose. To be loved.”

“Loved?” The word struck your lips like venom. “This isn’t love, Peter. This is… this is sick.”

It darkened slightly his countenance, as a spark of frustration crossed his face before it was replaced by forced patience. "You're scared," he softly pronounced. "That's normal. But fear does not last. Once you embrace your role, once you understand what we're building here, you'll see that it's not sick. It's beautiful."

“No,” you whispered, the soft sound swallowed by the thrumming of your heart. “No, this isn’t survival. This is—”

“But” Peter cut you off firmer now like a knife slicing through your protests. “It’s already decided. The village chose you. I chose you. And now… it’s time to fulfill your purpose.”

Peter looked at you, with a voice deceptively soft. “It’s not about what you want. It’s about what the village needs. What I need. We can’t let our bloodline die. Every generation, we bring someone in—someone like you. It’s how we survive. How we thrive.”

“Not,” that voice barely came out through the rapid pounding of your heart. "No, this isn't survival. This is—"

The words sent the waves of nausea throbbing through you. Your knees buckled, landing you onto the edge of the bed, your body shaking violently. Peter knelt before you, hands gentle as they gripped your knees. The touch made your skin crawl, but you were frozen, paralyzed by fear.

"You are afraid," he repeated, the tone almost tender. "it needs to be this way. After the ceremony, you'll see there is clearly a need for it."

"Peter," you choked out, barely in a whisper. "Don't do this, please."

He tilted his head, softening in expression as if he really thought given how pitiful you look. "This is for them. For us. For the village. You'll thank me one day."

The door creaked open, and two women stepped in to the door. They moved with quiet, almost unnerving precision their white, long, and flowing robes covering the ground as they entered. Both had faces that seemed devoid of emotion—serene but cold as if they had performed this ritual hundreds of times before.

You instinctively tried to press yourself into the corner of the bed pulling down from Peter. “Who are they?” you asked unsure though your voice came out shaky and weak.

Peter turned toward the women; his posture casual almost welcoming. “They’re here to help,” he said softly as though the explanation should comfort you.

Help. The word in your stomach was like poison. You didn’t need help. You needed to escape.

One of the women carried a bowl filled with a dark unknown substance that shimmered strangely in the candle's light. She laid the bowl down on a small wooden table near the bed, her movements carefully controlled. The other carried a smaller cup with her fingers clutching tightly as she looked at you.

“Don’t,” you said, your voice trembling as you shook your head. “I’m not drinking that.”

It’s just to help,” he said calmly. "You’ve been through so much. You lived so much. You’re shaking. You’re exhausted. This will relax you.”

“I don’t want to relax!” you cracked your voice rising in desperation. “I want to leave! Please, Peter, don’t do this!”

He sighed, as though disappointed but his patience did not waver. “I know you’re scared,” he said reaching out to hold his hand on your knee. “But this isn’t about fear. It’s about trust. You trust me, don’t you?”

Your stomach tilted and a cold wave of nausea was rolling over you. Why would he even ask that question? "Peter, you are not the person I thought you were. I don’t trust you. I don’t even know you anymore.”

Peter’s jaw tightened somewhat ever so slightly, as if flickering with guilt. Peter was the funny and clumsy guy you met at a party, but this Peter. You don't know which dimension he came from. But his guilt was immediately gone in an instant replaced by the same calm, unnervingly patient expression, accompanied with a reassuring smile that could've been comforting in different circumstances.

“It’s my fear. I think that can be said,” he said, his tone softening again. "Once you let go of this, you will see. You’ll feel better.”

He gestured toward the woman with the cup to reach closer to you. Her movements were graceful, fast rehearsed as she held the drinking. The cup itself was simple, wooden. But compared to what's inside looked nothing compared to ordinary. It was a dark murky brown with faint swirls of crimson that seemed to ripple on its own.

Your stomach churned at the sight of it, you wanted to gag at the thought of even coming in contact with that liquid, you said again "I won't drink that." Your voice barely above a whisper.

The woman didn’t respond. She held the cup in her hand, as if waiting for you drink it still.

Peter reached for your hand and firmly gripped on it, but not a forceful one. "It’s okay,” he said softly, his eyes locking with yours. “This will help you. I promise.”

You tried to pull your hand away, but his grip tightened, and the woman moved the cup closer to your lips. Panic rolled. Your heart began to beat, and tears were falling from your eyes. “No!” you shouted thrashing against Peter’s hold. “Let me go!”

But he didn’t let go. His strength was shocking and unyielding as he held your and instructed the woman to force the drink in your mouth. The dark liquid sloshed down the rim, spilling onto your trembling chin as you refused to open your mouth, moving your head back and forth so that you could just avoid the unknown and disgusting liquid.

“Please don’t fight this!” Peter shouted; his tone now laced with urgency and desperation. "It’s better if you just let it happen."

The woman tilted the cup and poured the thick liquid into your lips. You clenched your teeth, refusing to let it in. Peter’s hand moved to your jaw, his fingers pressing firmly until your mouth opened involuntarily. Liquid graced on your tongue, its taste vile and metallic like rotting herbs and rust.

You gagged and coughed violently as they forced you to swallow. The bitterness burned all the way down, leaving an acrid aftertaste that made you want to rip out your tongue, you fell on the bed as you gripped your throat—massaging your throat, a pathetic attempt to soothe the taste that felt like it travelled all the way down to your throat, it didn't have any burning sensation, it just felt like your throat had taste buds.

You convulsed on the bed, “What the- What was that?” you asked; out of breath as you tried to gasp for air.

Peter stood “You’re going to feel it soon,” he said, pushing a damp lock of hair off your brow.

It was a gentle warmth blooming in your chest, then outward like the bright afterglow from the strongest of drinks. Then it grew. It scorched through your veins, making your skin feel alive with a burst of tingling sensations. Your breaths came quicker as you kept trying to dismiss the feelings, but they just wouldn't listen.

“W-What is happening to me?” came the stammers from you in a trembling voice.

Peter knelt beside you again, touching your knee ever so lightly with his hand. “The elixir is working its magic on you,” he said kindly. “It allows you to let go. To free yourself to connect with what is meant to be.”

This warmth soon transformed into a more diabolical sensation, a slow burn that throbbed low in your stomach that stretched to your clothed womanhood. Suddenly every nerve ending on your skin was hypersensitive, sending a shiver down your spine against that crawl of fabric over your body. Heart racing, but it was hardly with fear.

“No,” you whispered, shaking your head. “No, this isn’t right.”

Peter merely smiled all the wider and relaxed his squeeze on your shoulder. “It’s okay to feel this way,” he said. “Your body is just responding. It’s natural.”

While your mind was telling you every reason to fight it off, your body would have none of it. That heat, the damn heat; it clouded everything snuffing off every thought but that strange feeling growing in you.

Peter leaned in closer as he whispered “This is how it’s supposed to be. Don’t fight it. Just let it happen.”

Your brain screamed against this intrusion, invoking all the force it could muster to reject it, to reject him. But your limbs felt heavy, thick, sluggish, as though they had been clapped into a steel frame. The drug took effect, you loathed it and wished to deny the dull calling of unwanted pleasure.

"Please," you managed to whisper, letting your tears flow down your cheeks. "Don't do this."

In every way this was wrong. You didn't want to partake in this, you wanted out. Peter was not the person you thought he would. Maybe he was before all of this, but not now.

Peter held your face with both his hands—gentle yet firm. "It's been done," he said, pinning his gaze on yours with steady resolve.

The heat had become unbearable; it drummed against your thoughts and created ceilings that pressed down on you. You could hardly breathe, each breath barely manageable since all control was lost over thoughts revolving around him. The very touch of him inflamed every nerve in your body.

Peter continued to lean forward until the distance separating your two faces became almost nonexistent. The darkness of his brown eyes was rendered soft, for all that, it was chillingly out of place now. "You're trembling," he said softly, his voice dipping with mock concern as he brushed his palm over your damp forehead, lingering perhaps a moment too long.

You turned your head away, yet your body was heavy and unwilling to cooperate. "P-please," you whispered, not even sure what it was you were begging for at this point—mercy, some distance, anything but this.

Peter's hand slid down again to cradle your face, thumb grazing your cheek. The warmth of his touch felt like additional treachery against your body, which leaned into his hand, once again, even though the screams of your mind were saying otherwise. "Shh," he said, his voice dropping to a soothing pitch. "It's okay. You're safe here. With me."

His words twisted a knife that lodged in your heart, and you were still trying to find a protest when his other hand clamped on your waist—gentle yet firm. Just enough pressure was applied to make acutely aware of every detail of your closeness: the scent of wood smoke and something faintly sweet, flooding your senses and drowning all your composure.

"You've had to fight for so long," he said; there was almost a tenderness in his voice. "Let it go—let me take care of you."

You shook your head weakly, your lips parting to say no words that would come. Everything in you resisted, heavily dulled by the drug that now crumbled your defenses and left you helpless to bask in warmth blossoming in your chest and the sickening affinity of Peter's presence.

He angled his face, gazing down at you as the thumb of his right hand traced the curve of your jaw. "So beautiful," he murmured, almost a whisper. "Yet you don't even see it? You are something else—so special."

The tears that had built up in your eyes crashed down, scalding lines down your cheeks. "Please," you said again, but it came almost like a feeble whisper, your power to protest fractured.

Peter leaned forward, and his breath ghosted over your lips. "I've waited for this," he murmured, as though revealing a secret. "Waited for you. I thought I would never even have a chance with you since you were so fucking smitten with your dick of a boyfriend. But you're mine now,"

And before you could think, hit him back or convince him otherwise, his lips crushed against yours.

The kiss was languid, purposeful, and claiming. His mouth flowed with an unsettling confidence, an almost eerie manifestation of such rehearsed movement, if it existed at all. You wanted to break apart from him and scream and fight him, but your body let you down one last time; it was folded under the drug and against the full force of his presence.

His hands moved, one remained cradling your face, while the other tightened at your waist as a gentle reminder that you belonged nowhere else. It was a kiss more claiming than forceful, a silent proclamation of his ownership over you.

He finally pulled away but only to press his forehead to yours, feeling warm against your skin. "It's time" he whispered, it was loud enough for the women to hear. They immediately scurried out of the room and closed the door on their way out.

Before even asking what was going on, Peter attacked your neck. You shrieked at his sudden actions. He kissed, licked, and bite every single portion of your neck.

Peter's hot tongue licked your skin as he leaned closer, lips barely grazing the curve of your neck. A shiver made its way down your spine as he softly sucked on the sensitive flesh, forming this sweet vacuum that made your heart stand still.

Peter kept on kissing and nibbling at your neck, fueling his excitement that grew hotter like a fire, determined to engulf you both. His hands tightened around your waist, drawing you closer as he deepened the kiss, lips and tongue moving together in a dance that spoke both pleasure and pain.

You winced; you want nothing more but for this to end. You tried to imagine yourself in another scenario, a happy one. That one time where Harry bought you this wonderful necklace for your one-year anniversary. Things were still calm, peaceful.

You were so deep in thought that the ripping sound of fabric made you flinch. You have realized that Peter has ripped off your thin graphic t-shirt, leaving nothing but your bra on full display for him. But of course, the bra didn't stay on for long.

He ripped your bra off you with such force. He threw the bra elsewhere, that was the least of his worries as your he saw your mounds with all its glory. Blood rushed up to his cock at the sight of you half naked and slightly damp from sweat. You on the other hand just wanted nothing more but all of this to end.

Peter leaned in, his lips grazing your skin down to the soft curve of your delicate breast. His mouth latched onto your nipple, and he started to suckle; the soft gentle tug sent a jolt of sensation radiating through your body. Your hands fisted the sheets as you let out a shriek.

"You have no idea how long I have waited for this moment" His words came in muffled since he was still stuffing his face with your breasts, but you heard it loud and clear. How blind were you? Peter has been lusting over you, longer than you even met him, how come you never realized it? All the warning signs were there, but they were subtle, now they're just coming to light now that it was too late.

He had grown more daring now, sucking, kissing, and licking every inch of your breasts. He nibbled and sucked at the curves, gently biting the flesh around them. Meanwhile, his hands traveled all over her torso, cupping and squeezing dear breasts as if to remember every contour.

"So beautiful," he whispered in between kisses. "Perfect. Mine." Those words sent a shuddering chill up your spine.

Peter stared into your eyes while he was sucking and nibbling on your breasts. They would have been a sweet sight if the present state of affairs were any different.

He released your nipple from his mouth, as drool connected from his lips to your erect nipples.

With urgent impatience, Peter fumbled with the buttons of his shirt and then tore it off, revealing a sculpted torso that demanded attention. The muscles of his torso flexed while he moved, and for a second, you could not help but look at the sheer grace and control that radiated off his body.

Now, Peter had long ceased to be interested in himself; he was now concentrating all his energy and attention on you. The moment he grabbed hold of your pants, and his fingers had clasped tightly around the waistband, panic ran through you at the sight of him pulling down on them. You didn't want to give in, not now, not ever.

Your hands went straight up to push against him; you punched at his chest with all the remaining strength that you have that wasn't stripped off by the drug. Your fruitless attempt on trying to gain some space between your bodies.

"Peter, no," you said, your voice wavering but earnest. "I don't want to. Please!"

His eyes never left the prize, and nothing was going to stop him. He yanked your pants down, regardless of how you kicked and thrashed against the force with which he was pulling. Your underwear met the cool air.

A wave of embarrassment washed over you as you realized that Peter was staring down at the small scrap of fabric that barely covered you in your most intimate area.

He wrapped his fingers around your underwear's waistband. You tried to squirm away from him, but he held you tight, his grip like a vice. In one swift motion, he ripped the fabric from your body, leaving you completely bare.

Peter's eyes had wandered across every inch of your naked body, you tried to look away from him, but your face was met with a wet pillow, you didn't even notice that you have let out a few tears.

Peter dove on to your crotch and his warm breath rolled over your sensitive skin like a wave of fire. His tongue flicked out as he suckled at your clit, and involuntarily, jolts of electricity pulsed up your spine. You attempted to push him off you once more, but Peter was far too strong

Peter continued his assault on your pussy, you felt a familiar sensation happening. You shook your head as your body betrayed you. Peter seemed to notice this, "There she is"

Before you knew it, he inserted a finger in your hole as he continuously licked your clit with such vigor.

You let out a strangled moan as your hand flew to his hair. Peter smirked at this as he slowly fucked you with his finger, which was a stark contrast to his tongue who ravished you like you were his last meal

"God, such a tasty pussy" He murmured, which just sent vibrations to your pussy. He continued, his tongue circles your clit, licking and sucking on it like he can't get enough. "Good lil fuckin pussy" He moaned as if he's the one getting head.

He continues to lap on your juices, slurping any arousal seeping through as if he hadn't drunk water in many years.

His voice low and soft, whispering how good it is, how perfect your sweet pussy was for him. "Fuck, baby, you're so fucking sweet—so good for me. God, I'm so glad your mine now." He kisses it so passionately, muttering praises to it while his tongue laps you up.

And as he continued to lick and suck at your clit, you felt a building pressure inside yourself. It felt like every nerve ending had been ignited by Peter’s ministrations.

Your legs stiffened, your hips jerked upwards, and your entire body began to tremble with anticipation.

With such joy and pain, you felt like you were seeing stars right in front of you. The intensity was too much to bear as your grip on Peter's hair tightened

That instant when the knot finally snapped and a deluge of pure, harmless ecstasy engulfed you, your body contorted, muscles oscillating and contracting rhythmically; an intense orgasm swooping upon you like a tempest.

Your legs stiffened and your toes curled in pleasure. You clutched at anything and everything. Peter's hair, bed linen, anything to hold on to the threads of reality, as everything before your eyes dissolved into an ocean of forced bliss.

River of tears were falling from your eyes. You couldn't help but reminiscence your time with Harry. For the first years you were together with Harry, he was sweet and loving, even if your relationship has turned sour after Harry found another hobby, he would never force himself inside you. When you had sex, it was always consensual.

With the final ripples of the orgasm fading away, Peter finally pulled his head from between your legs. His gaze brushed over you with a kind of possessive pride, and he took the disarray of your body in the messy fondle of your hair, the daze that lingered from where he brought you so close to the edge that you fell over it, and the slick of sweat glistening over your skin.

“You look tired,” Peter said with a soft almost guilty tone, "But I'm afraid that that was just to prepare you, were just beginning"

When those words came out his mouth you shook your head as you begged him, "Please Pete, please" You sobbed, your words barely even intelligible.

"Shhhhhhhh" He shushed you, "The more your accepting, the sooner this will end" No, you didn't want to accept this, there must be another way, there must be.

As he stood up and took off his pants, exposing his erect cock. His cock slightly bounced once the boxers were fully off of him. He climbed on top you as both of you were now fully naked as the day you were born.

"The bedding ceremony is about to begin” Peter said, low in his throat, his voice husky with desire. “It's going to hurt, but I think I prepped you enough”

He then aligned his cock to your slit. You gasped as his bulbous tip entered you, he wasn't big, but he was thick. He slowly pushed his cock inch by inch inside you, your sensitive flesh was still sore from the previous orgasm.

Peter suddenly thrusted deep inside you, fully losing patience, with a forcefulness that took your breath away. His cock touching your cervix when he bottomed inside you, it felt almost painful how intense it was.

“Please, Peter,” you pleaded, attempting to push him away. "You're hurting me."

But Peter just smiled at you, it gave you tingling shudders through your spine. “That's the first step of the ceremony” he said, pulling out then plunging back in. “You just have to learn to accept what I’m giving you, if you learn maybe Goddess will reward you"

His relentless cock was battering your insides, and you were starting to tear up. It was nearly unbearable agony; the pleasure was subtle that you could barely even get the gist of it, the searing warmth that burned itself into your very essence.

“Stop,” you said again, trying to wriggle out of his grasp. "Please just stop."

Through the pain and the fear, you never lost hope. So you fought back with a passion you never had before.

Your hands raked Peter’s chest, ripping at his skin to the point he grunted in surprise. Your fingers sank into his skin, but he only chuckled—a sound that was hollow and empty.

Unfazed, you fought on. Your teeth dug into his shoulder, biting down hard enough to make him hiss. But even as he grimaced, he wouldn’t stop — his hips pumping a relentless rhythm, one that threatened to swallow you whole.

You swung your fists, punching into Peter's face and chest with a frenzied abandon. Forced down in front of him as he sunk his cock deep within your needy hole, you tried to twist away, to squirm free as he held you in place, the weight of his body pinning your hands above your head, forcing you to take this.

And you tried, even though it was entirely pointless. You kicked your legs to try and buck him off you. But he was too heavy — too powerful — and he laughed again as he kept your legs pinned down beneath him.

With each thrust Peter grew more aggressive; almost brutal the heat inside you was burning you up; threatening to consume all reason and make you numb.

You were lost in the agonizing bliss, as Peter's cock continued its merciless assault on your insides. The fire in your belly grew more intense, it felt like it was spreading through your insides like wildfire.

"God, you're squeezing me so hard" Peter breathed as his thrusts slowed down just a little bit.

Yet whilst you sensed you were in pieces on the inside, that you were toppling apart, something in you relished it. It felt like your body had turned against you, reacting to the vicious attack with a disgusting cocktail of agony and pleasure.

Peter thrusts forward and you felt your hips bucking in time with his, your mind spinning in horror. It was like your body had created its own consciousness that responded immediately to the arousal with animal instinct that couldn't be suppressed.

You were losing yourself in the sensations, being sucked into a world both dark and depraved, where no line could be drawn between pain and pleasure. It was the most terrifying feeling in the world, when you wondered if you would ever find a way out of the grip of this monster who was responsible for everything.

With every thrust, Peter became more aggressive, more brutal - You could feel yourself losing control; teetering on edge, ready to plunge headfirst into unknown; uncertainty ignited both fear and anticipation.

Your breaths were coming in small gasps now as Peter gripped your hips, his fingers digging into your skin like a vice. You attempted to move; attempted to wriggle against him—but it was futile: he was too strong

This friction just poured gasoline into the flames that had been raging within you—turning those pleasurable sensations into unbearable ones. The edge of your sight blurs out; stars dance along the border of your vision as the world narrows down on a single point of focus: Peter

In pure ecstasy moment you found yourself surrendering, submitting to the wave pleasure that is tearing up your body. Its fear inducing and freeing sensation — like leaping off a precipice without a net — not knowing what awaits at the base.

The world went white and quiet. You hear Peters voice in your ear whispering "Come for me" and with that your body explodes into thousand pieces

You weren't sure what happened, your mind all fogged and your pussy sore. The only thing you have noticed was that Peter was still thrusting inside you.

He leaned as he whispered the most haunting words into your ear, "I almost feel bad for you. I guess you should always follow what your parents says, don't trust strangers"

@gloomskulls 2024. DON'T COPY, TRANSLATE OR USE ANY OF MY WORKS HERE OR ANY OTHER WEBSITES. Photos don't belong to me

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acid-ixx · 1 month ago

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Hiii, I have read all your work and it is very good :D!! I've read it several times and never get bored.

Can I ask about something? I'm curious about the characteristics or signs of yandere appearing in Tim. Will he be the last family member to become a yandere? Sorry I asked like this because I feel like he's not getting enough attention in drabbles, questions from other readers, or anything else. So I'm curious.

I hope you understand my question. Because English is not my first language.

— masterlist !

don't mind me using the tags here, i want to clarify a lot of things.

hi anon!! don't worry about your english, i understand perfectly and it's also not my first language too hehe. and to all the others who have asked about tim's (or any other characters') appearance in the series: fear not, nobody is getting ignored at all, i intend for everyone to have their designated events/moments that trigger yandere characteristics for the reader for each chapter. it's my plan to make them each as unique as possible with their intentions, motives and goals, not just them being simply "obsessed" with you, so i'm trying my best to add depth to the story.

that means the entire series will stretch out quite a lot (i already have outlined multiple arcs, flashbacks, and all the characters' individual traits and significance). it's not just going to be ten chapters, i want to remind others that there's more lore to just the neglect, your mother's dark past, and characters that haven't even been introduced to the plot yet, so if you guys prefer one-shots or something shorter, then the series is not for you folks, sorry 😭

as for tim, he is quite literally my favorite character (surprise!), so of course he's going to get special treatment. he's not going to be the last to become yandere, but his spiral to becoming a yandere takes quite a lot of time since compared to others, it's him who spends the least amount of moments with you. even in the non-neglected au i wrote, what triggered his obsession was mere curiousity.

though just because there're lesser events with him, doesn't mean there will be none. he certainly plays a major role in the "wild goose chase arc where the family tries to negotiate (kidnap) you whilst you try to escape to multiple cities/end up in a completely different country". he may not express his love for the reader well, but he most definitely knows the most about you.

oh! and the traits that he does have as a yandere looks tame when you compare it to others, but it's also because it manifests through his personal dialogue (as i reckon he's keeps most of his thoughts about you to himself most of the time (gatekeeper archetype) and he's the character with the most internal dialogue/thoughts too). he's the worst stalker you could have, the one who you should look out for the most with just how much he knows about you in such a short period of time. tim's intelligence and detective skills knows no bounds, and he won't stop exhausting himself until the very knowledge of what the blood pumping under your skin feels like and the exact temperature of your body— is extracted and stored into the terabytes of data he has into his personal batcave.

and spoiler alert: he's also the one who uncovers your mother's past and alongside bruce, what had happened between the period of time when you were dragged out of the closet and the other time in elementary when you were nearly kidnapped, which completely leads to another arc wherein it's where their obsession drives off to a completely different plane of existence, exalting vengeance on the people who tormented you; but tim's pettiness is just on a whole nother level.

and i have to stop here before i (excitedly) spoil the entire series' plot LMAO. my answer to this is a bit more casual to the other asks, so i hope it doesn't irritate anyone.

so thank you for asking this! i also have a question for you people too:

how is the current progression of the plot? i get that it isn't even 10% finished and some moments feel slow, but i try to be as immersive as possible to the readers. so for those who have read the entire thing, what do you want me to possibly add, or does anyone have other clarifications? can anyone tolerate a fanfic that can possibly lead to more than 250k words??? 😭

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defectivehero · 1 year ago

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Please write about a nb hero who is big on "not owing anyone money" and "its my problem and weight, let me carry it" and "please let me pay u back" and "its your money even if you spend it on me"

And a nb snarky millionaire (by evil methods) villain who is obsessed with their hero and is like "let me spoil u bbg" and *casually throws money around for hero* and very big on "I WOULD DO ANYTHING FOR U" but hero is too fucking dense to actually believe rhe villain.

this snippet completely spiraled out of my control (as most things do).

It all started with that damned news article. In hindsight, perhaps the hero shouldn't have been as forthcoming as they were. But, they wanted the world to know that the life of a hero wasn't always glamorous. They just... didn't expect for the journalist to capitalize on the single remark they made, the single huff of laughter they let out when asked about the wages. Days later, when the article released, the hero was stunned.

Heroism: A Thankless Job

The hero remembers the dread coiling in their chest as they opened the newspaper to find the article, apprehension increasing as they digested the information. That picture of their apartment complex... they don't remember consenting to release that information. Granted, the journalist kept them as a nameless, anonymous hero. But, it wouldn't take a huge leap in logic to connect the dots—to find the building's tenants and cross-reference those names with the hero agencies nearby. The hero just hoped an average reader wouldn't take the incentive to do something like that. They spent the rest of that day struggling to keep their paranoia at bay. It took them a while to fall asleep that night.

Fortunately, they slept well and their anxieties seemed to fade. The hero stumbled through their morning routine and opened their front door an hour later, ready to greet the day, only to nearly trip on a package. They had frowned and taken the package inside, unable to shake the recognition that they hadn't ordered anything to be delivered. Upon opening the package, they found a single unmarked envelope. Their jaw had dropped to the floor once they found the bills inside—an amount more than their typical paychecks.

Little did the hero know, this would be far from the last time they received an unmarked package with a far too generous, entirely unexplained gift inside. At first, the gifts were just small things: a collection of medical grade bandages and antiseptic, a new sweater after they spilled coffee on theirs at work, a care package with things like cough medicine and tissues that appeared the day they got sick. The hero was still profoundly uncomfortable with the idea of some mysterious benefactor providing them with these things, but at least the packages were small. The magnitude of the first gift hadn't been matched since, and the hero couldn't help but feel grateful.

Amidst their hero work and their daily life, the hero found their mind quickly returning to the question of their gift-giver's identity. It had to be someone they interacted with fairly often, considering the far too accurate timing of several of the gifts. One time could be dismissed as a mere coincidence; a box of cough medicine a mere hour after they found themself bedridden, however... That is an entirely different story.

The gifts continue, but, thankfully, they are small in scale. The hero still feels horribly guilty about being entirely unable to pay this person back, but there's almost nothing they can do. Their benefactor clearly doesn't want to make themself known, and that's fine. Really, it is.

Until there is another envelope. This time, their mystery patron doesn't bother concealing their gift within a package. Instead, the hero opens their mailbox to find an unmarked burgundy envelope. Dread coiling in their chest, they look around—foolishly hoping that their gift giver would somehow have a change of heart and decide to show themself—before heading back inside. The hero sits on their sofa and takes a deep breath, before opening the envelope with care.

What they see is enough to make their hands tremble and their grip falter, allowing the envelope to slip down to the floor. They hold their present in disbelief.

It's a check—for more money than they could possibly fathom having. This sum is so large that the hero wouldn't have to work another day in their life. They would be able to live comfortably without earning so much as a single penny on their own.

The thought sickens them. "I can't accept this," the hero breathes aloud. They look down at their apartment's hardwood flooring as if it will give them the answers they're looking for.

"I don't recall asking you to." The hero jumps, looking up to find the villain standing before them. How they got there, the hero doesn't have the faintest idea. They blink at them for a moment, wondering how they didn't connect the mysterious gifts to the villain sooner. Their enemy has always had access to extremely high-tech weaponry and state of the art medicine (judging from their utter lack of scars despite their numerous fights); not to mention, they've had an inexplicable disregard for finances for as long as the hero can remember. It's all beginning to make sense now.

The villain takes a step closer and the hero remembers their remark. "I'm serious," they say with a frown. "Why are you doing this? Do you want me to owe you? ...Is that what this is? Want to, I don't know, kick me while I'm down? You're such a good person, helping the needy." The latter statement is spoken with venom.

"No, of course not," The villain argues.

"Then why?" The hero repeats, the volume of their voice rising as they get more frustrated. They take a deep breath and clench their fist at their side. They're still holding the check in their other hand, and despite the fact that it's nearly weightless, they can feel a pressure pushing their hand down. "And, more importantly, how in the hell did you get this much money?" The hero hears themself ask.

"Don't ask questions you don't want the answers to," the villain says lightly. There's a darkness to their eyes that suggests the hero should cease this line of questioning. They take another deep breath.

"You're assuming I'll just... accept this," the hero realizes aloud. That familiar itching feeling is rising to meet their skin, and they're becoming less convinced that they should stop it.

"Perhaps."

The hero blinks at them once, twice. The villain refuses to break eye contact; their gaze almost urging them to do it—to use their powers to turn the check to ash. The hero gives into the flames prickling along their skin and summons their fire in the palm of their hand. It will only take a moment, maybe two, for the bottom of the paper to char. From there, it will only be a matter of time. The hero watches in anticipation.

...But nothing happens.

"Did you really think I'd be foolish enough to give you a check you could just burst into flame?"

The hero stares ahead blankly, their ears ringing. The villain's expression blurs into a twisted smile. A figment of their imagination or reality? The hero hears their breaths, ragged and half-panicked in their ears.

"I don't understand," the hero repeats hollowly. They don't understand anything that's happening—anything that happened that led them to this very moment, standing before the villain and holding a check that their enemy gave them.

"You don't have to understand," the villain says, crossing their arms over their chest. "I'm not asking you to understand. Hell, I'm not asking you to do anything. I'm ordering you to cash this check."

The hero's tongue is ironed to the roof of their mouth. Even if they desired to speak, they don't think they'd be able to.

The villain notices their speechlessness and sighs. "I didn't want things to come to this, but..." They break off. "As I predicted, you're stubborn as hell, and self-sacrificing to a fault." The hero doesn't have the energy to be offended or outraged.

"So," the villain drawls, their arm falling to their side quickly. The hero blinks and they're suddenly being held at gunpoint. "Go to your bank. Now." The hero suspects the weapon is more than a gun—and they don't care to find out just what it can do. It appears they really have no choice. The villain is forcing their hand.

An hour later, the hero is walking out of the bank with sunken shoulders. "There," the villain says, clapping a hand on their shoulder and leading them out of the building. "That wasn't so hard, now, was it?" Upon closer examination, the villain's weapon is nowhere in sight—as if it simply vanished in thin air. The unlikely pair walks down the street and heads back to the hero's car. The hero ignores the domesticity of it all, securing their seatbelt over themself. The villain doesn't seem keen to wear their seatbelt, so the hero reaches across and buckles their rival's seatbelt for them before they can object.

"I'll transfer the money back to you tomorrow," the hero announces as they're driving down the street, back towards their apartment. Their eyes are locked on the road, yet they somehow know that the villain's gaze is fixated on them with frightening focus.

"We both know you won't," the villain hums with certainty. The hero hates that they're right, hates that their rival can read them so damn easily. Their hands tighten around the steering wheel and the rest of the ride is suffocated with a horrible silence.

When the hero arrives back home, they can't shake the realization that the villain seems deeply pleased. They say as much to their enemy, who hums.

"Of course I'm pleased," the villain says, "If I knew this was all it would take to get you to accept a much-needed gift, I would've done it eons ago."

The hero takes a deep breath, struggling not to cry. It's been a long day, and they're reaching their limit. "I think you've humiliated me enough today," they announce. "Can you leave?" Please, the hero thinks to themself.

"I suppose," the villain sighs dramatically. They take one step to the door, then another. Just before their hand can clasp the doorknob, the hero feels one last objection fall from their lips.

"That money could go to far more deserving people and causes," the hero chokes out. They're choking on their own pride, choking on the simultaneous acknowledgment that they need money and the horrible knowledge that almost no one in their situation has an out like the one they were just presented with.

The villain turns around to face them, clearly moments away from rolling their eyes. "Do I look like a philanthropist to you?" The hero shakes their head, their throat burning. Their enemy nods in confirmation and turns back around. They twist the doorknob and tug the door open.

"You deserve nice things, you know." The villain's parting remark is murmured so quietly that the hero convinces themself they imagine it. The hero watches their front door close and waits a few moments before locking it. They turn around, their back to the door, and slide down to the ground with their head in their hands.

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myddle · 5 months ago

Text

Okay Uzi, lets start Murdering, some Drones

The finale of Murder Drones has come and gone, this show has successfully buried it's way into my cerebral cortex, and I will now think about it until I die

Anyway, lets speculate on what the fuck just happened in Episode 8 (And Episode 7 a bit too I guess)

Warning: Biggest Post Yet, Spoilers, Opinions

I Was Wrong About The Admin Thing, And I'm Okay With That

Last time I did a post like this, I speculated that Uzi's Administrator status would be the key to victory against the Absolute Solver. In truth, it was a blink-and-you'll-miss-it lore point, which makes sense in hindsight, because the whole Admin thing was a blink-and-you'll-miss-it lore point to begin with. This kind of environmental storytelling is good to put in a text, of course, but casual viewers need to be able to follow the plot without it. Truthfully, this is actually an area where the show usually stumbles a little; if there's one criticism I have for Murder Drones, it's that it show-don't-tells a little too hard sometimes. Luckily, this show is good enough for me to want to excuse it's flaws by any means neccessary! FOR EXAMPLE,

Khan Doorman: Mischaracterised, Or Traumatised?

So, Khan was kind of acting a little too badass at the end there, huh? This drone was a delusional door maniac at the start of the series, but now he's this stoic badass with a goofy side? Huhwhat? Explain THAT, Smart Genius!

How about I do? Call it a theory, but I think that THIS, is the real Khan, and the dingus we saw at the start of the series was a broken shadow of him.

Khan was a respected man, seeming leader of the Worker Defense Force, front of the line in finding Nori and Yeva just after the Core Collapse, and say what you will, he can build a good door.

And then tragedy strikes. The Dissassembly Drones strike, and while the WDF fends them off, they are not without casualty. Nori is devoured by nanite acid, and Khan beats her head in to end her suffering. The worst has happened.

While Nori's heart sneaks away to go make the plot happen, Khan spirals. His efforts to fight the DD scourge have failed, so he turns to doors. He doubles, triples down, becomes obsessed with the only thing that hasn't failed him. His daughter still wants to take the fight to the enemy, but Khan rejects the thought so hard, he rejects Uzi with it, hence his "doors>uzi" bullshit in the first episode (for the record, I'm not justifying it, I'm just explaining it, he was still a piece of shit for this).

By the time "Pilot" rolls around, Khan has been in a door-obsessed fugue state for... maybe years, I don't think we ever find out how long ago Nori's "death" was. But by now, he's barely functional; Uzi's second excuse to go outside literally only worked because it was door themed. His fear and delusion almost kill his only remaining family.

But as the events of the show go on, Khan is shook out of routine, and his stupor begins to fall away. In "Heartbeat", he defends his daughter's eccentricities. In "The Promening", he clumsily attempts to be part of Uzi's life again, and watches her build an alliance with N and V. In "Cabin Fever", he opens up to Uzi, revealing the darkness that haunts him and admitting to his mistakes. By "Mass Destruction" his mind has mostly cleared, and while he's still a door-loving goofball, he trusts his daughter, knows what he needs to do, and is ready to kick some Solver ass.

Wow, turns out I had a lot to say about Khan friggin' Doorman, do excuse me. Alright, onto the actual finale, now.

And Now, A Summarisation Of My Thoughts On "Nuzi"

yes

TradJedy: A Bootlicker To The End

I've seen some people are unsatisfied with J's villanous and, lets be honest, kinda pathetic role in the finale, but as sad as it is, I think it was true to her character. J is, above all, two things: Tessa's closest, favourite drone, and a corporate underling for some reason. Cyn wearing Tessa's skin was no doubt the most demoralising for J; Tessa is dead, the killer is pantomiming the life she never had, and you can't stop her. Plus, J likely knows better than anyone just how powerful the Solver is, how futile resisting it's conquest could be. But, to have a place alongside it? An offer of safety? Why wouldn't she take that offer? Hell, even V was tempted by it; when Cyn confronts her, she almost instinctively says "I can still...", as if her survival instinct is telling her to serve. J simply gave in.

Anyway, onto some details:

"If I promised you anything, it tricked me too."

I've seen people get confused by this line, but I think J is speaking on behalf of Eldritch J, formerly the J clone that led N & V's DD squad. That J seemed to fully buy the JCJenson cover story, at least to me, and J Prime appears to have deduced that. I don't think she has all of Eldritch J's memory, though; that "PRIOR HAZARD" poppup strikes me as the impersonal knowledge of an error report, rather than personal experience of getting blown to pieces.

"I never needed either of you."

Yeah, buuuuuullshit. J definitely doesn't really mean this. She's in bridge-burning mode, trying to convince herself more than anything that she's moved on. That offer of safety has gained a heavy price of two old friends, and J is pushing herself to pay it.

Local Autistic Teen Fights God And Wins

This uno-reverse-card moment felt a little out of nowhere at first, but on a rewatch, I think I get it. While the past few minutes fighting Cyn were utterly nightmarish, and some of the most gruesome stuff I've ever seen get done to humanoids, it did teach Uzi one thing; resisting the CallbackPing is suprisingly easy. Before this episode, it seemed like the USB Patch was the only hope for escaping the Solver's clutches, but apparently strong willpower and personality is enough to stop it temporarily, and that gets a lot easier to pull off once you know that you can do that. A single "Bite me" or the hand-hold of love is enough to stop Cyn's advance, and once Uzi fully realises that, it stops scaring her. In addition, Uzi's use of the [NULL] shows that she is a very quick learner, and can easily adapt to Cyn's tricks, allowing her to pull this "no-u" and turn the tables on Cyn. This quick thinking is also what wins the battle against Cyn in the end, catching on to how she uses the teleport.

Teleport... that seems familiar... hey, WAIT A SEC-

Doll Is Alive And I'm Not Coping; A Thesis

Everybody has pointed to this frame after Uzi eats Cyn's heart; the box that says "UZI DRN" briefly says "RSN DOLL" instead. But funnily enough, that isn't even the first thing that made me suspect that Doll might still be alive deep within Uzi's code.

If you look closely at Uzi's new gradient eyes, you'll notice that thEY'RE SO PRETTTYYY AAAHHH <3 <3 <3

*ahem*

If you look closely at Uzi's new gradient eyes, you'll notice that a subtle but distinct tint of red sits in between the yellow and purple ends. Admittedly, you can also see pink and orange, so it's not airtight evidence, but it was enough to get me speculating. Obviously, that RSN DOLL frame basically confirms it on it's own, but I found some other stuff too, and I thought it was interesting enough to share.

Uzi consumed Cyn's heart (some of it anyway), and Cyn lived on inside Uzi, possessing her tail in the post-credits. Back in "Mass Destruction", Cyn consumed Doll's heart, and while the scenarios aren't one-to-one, it can be reasonably inferred that Doll might live on in Cyn, who now lives on in Uzi, resulting in a situation oddly reminiscent... of Russian Dolls. BWAM BWAM BWAAAAAAM

It's thematically resonant, which means it's basically canon, right?

[There used to be another thing here about Solver Powers, but it turned out it was a lot less airtight than I thought, so I'm moving it to another post. Thanks to @1-800-hellyeah for the catch]

In conclusion, Doll lives on in the depths of Uzi's code, and that matters. The ramifications of this are unclear, and there's another thing with Doll in the credits, but we'll get to that in a moment with...

The Credits Scene Lightning Round

The credits are full of scenes of the surviving cast enjoying life after the Battle For Copper 9, and while I haven't heard anything about their canonicity... I mean, they look canon. Liam has stated that this is the end of the series, and I'm inclined to believe him, but a lot of this stuff feels like plot hooks he could pick up in a second season someday, if he wanted. Or maybe he just left them to feed the fanfic crowd long term. Either way, lets see what we've got to chew on!

J Prime, Alone

Man, despite how much of a prick she was, I feel kinda bad for J. She gave up everything for the Solver, only for the Solver to get defeated anyway, at least for now. She's repairing one of the ships she destroyed, presumably to leave the planet, but where is she gonna go? What is she gonna do? Fake Tessa's JCJenson credentials imply that the company might still be operating out in space somewhere, but trying to pal up with them feels like a long shot, especially since J Prime probably has some blood on her hands from Cyn's orders. ...What's left for her?

Goopy Ghost Doll

Okay, so if Doll is in Uzi's code, how is she also here? I honestly have no real clue, but my best guess is that since Uzi is arguably the most powerful entity in the setting now, Doll could utilise a fraction of Uzi's power to project herself out into the world, unnoticed? Maybe? That's the best I've got. Anyway, she's probably gonna try to kill V again, knowing her.

And don't say it's just a hallucination or something; everything* in the show has either been real, or an illusion with a clear source. They've been very good about not pulling the hallucination card, and I'm inclined to trust they wouldn't do it now.

*I just remembered the weird skeleton thing behind V in "Home", I'm not sure what that counts as

Yeva's Corpse, Or Lack Thereof

People have seen this shot of Doll's house, and said that the absence of one of the covered bodies implies Yeva is also alive. While Nori proves that your body doesn't even need to be missing for you to maybe be alive... I don't know. I'm hesitant. If she's alive, why get her body back now of all times? It feels like there are other much simpler explanations, like maybe her body is just on the floor now, 'cause everything started floating at the start of the episode, and actually, didn't N pull the cover off of those two, anyway? Maybe he put it back, I don't know. Make of this what you will, I got nothin'.

Eldritch J, Alone

Oh, SHE'S alive. Now THIS is interesting. Her heart did survive the explosion in "Heartbeat", and I guess nobody's been down to the Cryosleep wing since. Understandable, I wouldn't exactly be eager myself. But it's possible Eldritch J was able to recollect all the matter that Cyn "gathered" with her back then, and has grown back to full size.

Now that Cyn isn't around to run the Solver, Eldritch J is probably fully sentient and aware now. That must have sucked to wake up to; last she remembers, she got shot in the face by a purple gremlin, and now she's this fucking thing. Oh man, my brain is already writing the fanfic where J Prime finds her whilst infiltrating the Outpost for ship parts. (That concept is free to grab it anyone wants to)

Alright, lets finish this off...

Cyn

I've long wondered about Cyn's true nature, whether Cyn is a remorseless mastermind or a tragic puppet of the Solver's true will... The finale didn't give us a straight answer on this - The two seemed narratively entwined in Cyn's heart, but in the post credits scene she seems... friendly. Friendliest she's been, potentially. Plus, The illusory camera heads appear in Uzi's reflection seperately, implying a seperation between Cyn and Solver.

After everything, I think I've personally settled on somewhere in the middle. Cyn was a willing accomplice to the Solver... for as much as that can mean for Cyn. In "Home", Cyn is contacted by the Solver on the brink of death, and is offered salvation, to not be discarded like she was before. Her life before this was likely very short; her owners probably threw her out pretty quickly due to her "quirks". Tessa tried to give her the love she gave to her other drones, but it was already too late; Cyn would spend her formative years under the influence of the Solver, so it's no wonder she ended up so morally twisted. She talked about her "back-ups" to excuse the deaths and suffering of her fellow drones... was it an excuse? Or does she genuinely think that made it okay? How much does she understand... anything?

She's acted without remorse, but she's only had the full perspective of a detached eldritch being that only cares for consumption. But even then, her personality shines through. She seems to have genuine affection for N, even if she expresses it in horrid ways. Her alignment with the Solvers goals seems to come from a personal desire for revenge on humanity, considering how she plays out the gala. And despite the circumstances, she's visibly enjoying herself in "Absolute End", having an absolute blast fighting the trio. It's like a game to her.

Her crimes are great, but she's hardly the only one in this show with a kill count. I believe that if someone gave her that USB Patch, then sat her down and explained how reality works, she would have a full change of heart and crisis of remorse.

In a way, she was a lot like J; a willing, but coerced minion to the Solver of The Absolute Fabric. The Void. The Exponential End.

I like to call it The Voiceless One.

#murder drones #uzi murder drones #n murder drones #doll murder drones #v murder drones #cyn murder drones #solver murder drones #khan murder drones #nori murder drones #yeva murder drones #murder drones spoilers #murder drones theory #local autistic teen fights god and wins #yes the title is a deltarune meme reference #murder drones mass destruction #murder drones absolute end

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prince-liest · 11 months ago

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Sorry, joining the trans!Vox feelings trenches. Because it's just been making me think about how Vox is almost performative even through his sincerity. It's the acting of genuine feelings, everything is bombast and larger than life with him. And that spirals into his gender. Because Vox is intensely masculine in a way that can almost be.... camp is the wrong word but there's an element of gender performance there. Like, the man wears pinstripe trousers even in a casual setting. It is an intensely upper-middle class masculinity and it's just really interesting in the context of Vox being trans because it feels so right for him but to an extent, it's something he had to develop for himself. I don't know, this isn't very coherent.

ok but the idea of vox just being extremely Performative Fifties about gender in life was exactly where my mind went when the mention first came up that he didn't realize he could Do That until he got to hell. Exceptionally Perky Republican Kitten Newscaster Vox. if you're going to do something you are going to do it well and also do it all the way and more than anyone else does. that is the vox motto. -🍓

Combined two asks into one, here, because: Yes!! This is exactly how I see it. Vox in life is the performative fifties feminine version of the current Vox we see in death, and there is a lot to be said for the way that both of those personas are a show he puts on. His public-facing persona is different from his managing-Valentino persona is different from his "Holy shit, the Hazbin Hotel is about to get wrecked!" feet-kicking excitement, and all three of those are him, but none of them except maybe the brakes-disabled excitement about Alastor getting his ass kicked involve him taking a break from masking. He's A Lot by default but he also is A Lot on purpose.

There are trans characters that I would write as trying their utmost to not pay attention to existing in their body pre-transition, and there are trans characters that I would write Performing The Assigned Gender like they're fucking gunning for an award, and Vox falls into the latter category. I don't think he was perfect at it - he's not perfect at being Vox the CEO, either - and I imagine that why he wasn't perfect at it niggled at him rather intensely in ways that probably bothered him way more than the moments such as when he drops the affable business partner persona to shake Val by the lapels... because it wasn't just him losing his temper or getting obsessive, it was him feeling fucking wrong in a way that made him sick, and not understanding why.

Which is to say, figuring out his transition shit after death absolutely made him like 5x more insufferable because that's about when he starting using the confident masking and meaning it. He went from "this is the person I'm supposed to want to be" to "this is the person I actually want to be (note: still an asshole)."

#ask #personal #Anonymous #strawberry anon #combining two asks into one #hazbin hotel #vox #trans vox #666 live on air #my writing #hello I finished my drive to my mom's house #got a lavender foam matcha latte during a restroom stop at sbx it was v good I recommend #but since that + an apple was my lunch it is time to EAT DINNER MADE LOVINGLY BY MY MOTHER <3

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nian-7 · 11 months ago

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Heyo, I think matchup reqs are open but if not feel free to ignore (⁠・⁠–⁠・⁠;⁠)⁠ゞ

If it's alright I'd like a romantic and platonic match up for Pjsk and bsd (if not just romantic/ pjsk is fine)

Info:

My names Karma

I'm a minor, 17

I'm afab but I'm Genderfluid and use all pronouns

I'm pretty short for my age, 5’1 the last time I checked unfortunately, sobs. I don't get out much besides going to work for money so I'm pale as hell. I have freckles pretty much everywhere not a whole lot but they're definitely noticeable. I am cursed with a baby face, it gets better when I put on my glasses though, im cursed with terrible vision, I'm not allowed to drive without my glasses it's that bad

My hair is a shaggy wolf cut with curtain bangs, I'm a natural blonde but I always dye my hair ginger cause it's my favorite look on me (I'm trying to look like Chuuya cause I love him sm)

I'm an INFP-T, I'm also Asexual and Panromantic (slightly woman leaning but not an insane amount) I dress in dark academia style almost always: cardigans, sweater vests, long over coats paired with sweaters underneath. I'm very much trying to be that person you fall in love with in the book store

When I'm in public alone I am very much socially awkward and anxious. I keep to myself and I am terrified of causing trouble for anyone

I tend to be drawn to more loud people; or more like popular/louder people adopt me out of the blue and I go along with it (which is funny considering I'm usually quiet)

Once I've warmed up with people I very much match energys with whoever I'm with, typically just trying to make friends laugh. I value people's happiness very much

If we're out at a mall or something I'm quieter, but in private I can get very loud

I also have a very close group of online friends all over the world (Some of us are meeting up soon and I'm very excited)

A lot of people have said that I also have big sister vibes

I do have diagnosed Anxiety and depression, typically I try not to let anyone see that side of me. I can spiral a bit into episodes where I just kind of ghost people and ride out whatever feelings I'm dealing with, then come back about 3-6 days later

I don't really do well with anger in general, weather it be my own or other people's

I also don't really have any appetite most of the time (I'm not sure if it's medical or not) but this can cause me sometimes to get super dizzy out of nowhere because I've forgotten to eat/drink

I'm a digital artist, and I actually write fanfiction on Tumblr as well. I absolutely love cats, I’d talk about my cat Hazel for hours if I could (She's mean to me but I still love her </3) I also really like Vocaloid/Hatsune Miku music (kinda not surprising considering pjsk lol), I don't usually mention it in person though cause it's embarrassing to explain that shes just a singing hologram

I also have a fox obsession, I own a huge fox plush that takes up a designated corner of my room lol

I don't mind most things personality wise in people, but I do wish to be respected obviously

I like someone I can poke fun at casually and who can poke fun at me as well

My love language is big gift giving (wether it be buying or drawing occasionally) and physical affection (Cuddles always ╥⁠﹏⁠╥)

I've gotten tones of jokes that I only go for gingers, but I have zero preference for looks

I'm an overly patient person and get a little annoyed when people aren't as patient (but it's not a complete put off or anything)

I also am very much someone who has to be on time. If I am not on time I lose it a bit

I think that's all (Maybe too much ´⁠-⁠﹏⁠-⁠`)

But thank you so much in advance! I hope you have an amazing day/week 💟

hi, anon! i haven't read bsd in a while so i'm a little rusty so i only did prsk. hope you still enjoy!

I match you with... (platonically)

Saki Tenma!

-The biggest thing for you to be matched with Saki was the big sister vibes that you mentioned. The dynamic would just be too cute to pass up on!

-I tried to pick a more 'loud' or extroverted person and although I decided to opt for Saki instead of Tsukasa, I think you both would mesh together even when she's not necessarily as loud as her brother.

-Saki is like the person you can fall back onto in social situations when you get anxious. She doesn't mind taking the lead and helping you out when you get nervous.

-She's not someone who gets angry often and tries to be there for you when you ghost her or others. She tries her best to understand what you're feeling and tries to sympathize with you.

-You both having the same energy is something that would make the whole friendship mesh well and she has the capabilities to be calmer or quieter if needed.

I match you with... (romantically)

Shizuku Hinomori!

-Although Shizuku is somewhat different than Saki, I think she's the best match overall. The physical affection she gives to you is one of the big factors.

-As someone who enjoys pda/affection, Shizuku would love to cuddle or hold hands with you all the time. She kisses you in public and just loves to be near you.

-She loves the gifts you give her as well no matter what they are. She'll always gush about them whenever someone asks about something relating to it (whether that embarrasses you or not).

-She's a very light teaser and it comes off more lovingly than anything but she enjoys it when her partner gives her attention through light teasing too.

-Although a bit airheaded, she's treating you similarly to Shiho. Asking always if you're hungry or thirsty, being the talker in public if you need it, etc. She just gives you more romantic affection than sisterly affection (obviously)

#x reader #fluff #gender neutral reader #nian-anon #project sekai #project sekai x reader #saki x reader #saki tenma x reader #saki tenma #shizuku hinomori x reader #shizuku x reader #shizuku hinomori

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tea-with-evan-and-me · 7 months ago

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Hey i've been absent for some days so I'm sorry If i'm late or if someone has said the exact same before, but Emma's engagement post is highly sus for me. I know Emma stans would argue that I am "obsessed" but to me her post is 100% boosted and made with the purpose to reach Evan. wdym you were quiet all this time but once Evan makes his rs public all of a sudden you have the urge to post your bf who people barely know even existed. call me delulu but no one can convince me she wasnt communicating to Evan through that post. Being the narcissist that she is she probably spiralled when she saw how his victim finally regained his power and is now happy and content with his new gf whom he is in love with, and that he doesn't have to live in her shadow anymore. she thought she had the control to destroy and traumatize him for the rest of his life, but the new Evan content proved the opposite and I'm pretty sure it injured her ego. In her sick mind she needed to win this (what she prob deems as) competition and prove that If he's happy - she is happier, If others are happy for Evan - More people are happier for her, Evan has all this attention - She will have the whole Instagram FY page! and this is what people dont get with these psychopaths. Even after many years of seperation they cant let go of something that used to be 'theirs'. It's not even a matter of 'She wants him back/She still loves him' it's pure control. She would rather break her own leg than letting him find happiness. And let me say one thing, regardless of how Evan's new rs will blossom or for how long it will last, I'm so glad Evan is at the place he is right now and prioritizes his own happiness over work and anything else. And anyone who judges him for that is not a real fan imo. Would you rather have an overworked, depressed, socially anxious actor who has nothing but work in his life, or would you have an actor with a fulilled life? He'll do what's right for him and if that's taking a break, living life and then coming back healthier, stronger and with new inspiration to bless the world with his talent, then that should be his path and fans should support him through that. He deserves healing and he deserves a loving partner who's there to support him through his life journey.

that last part is so important, thank you anon 💗 regardless of whether others believe emma is this calculated, or her social media postings have anything to do with evan.. because, yes, we don't know her intimately or what she is thinking/feeling. but the truth is that all you said is absolutely true of people like emma. it's not some unreasonable thing to speculate she has her reasons, given the fact that she has a mile long list of offenses that indicate she is a mentally unstable and evil person. we don't need to sugarcoat it just because some equally disturbed stans worship her and don't want to admit that people are capable of this level of casually psychopathic behavior.

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doueverwonder · 2 years ago

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If you’re taking writing requests maybe something nedame related? 🥺👉👈

Maybe Abigail had a rough day at a meeting and Ned gives her some comfort when she gets back home?

Still obsessed with that last nedame fic you wrote💖

you can come into my inbox and ask for NedAme at literally any time and I would write it for you so absolutely. Also thank you 😭 I legit go back and read your reblog on it all the time!!! you're so sweet

Pairing: Netherlands x fem!America

Warnings: Slight angst

Notes: unedited yet again, like everything else I write. Not exactly comfort just,,,, I would want someone to do this for me after a bad day.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Abigail opened the door of her hotel room, slamming it behind her. She barely took time to kick off her shoes–god she hated wearing heels for meetings–before face planting into the bed. Half of her wanted to scream, the other half wanted the cry, the entirety was exhausted. Nothing she did was good enough for any of them, and they just wanted her to fix everything;

Can't the US do this? Can't the US do that? If the US would just-!

Couldn't they see she was trying?! It's not as if they had looked to the old superpowers to fix all their problems. It was just her, no one asked Spain to fix the economy, no one asked France to solve world hunger, no one complained to Portugal about his navy being too large, and she could almost guarantee no one whined to Dear Lord Father about trade deals; there was a knock on the door, but it opened before she could answer.

She looked up to see Lars, speaking of old superpowers, she put her face back down. Intent on ignoring him for at least a few minutes.

The bed shifted and she heard him ask, "Rough day at work?"

Of course he knew it had been a rough day at work, he had been right there for most of it. When she didn't answer he sighed, leaning to take his shoes off. Abby turned her head just enough to watch him, the room was dark, the curtains blocking out whatever was left of the evening sun. His outline was barely visible, yet every moment was so clear in Abigail's mind, she had watched him do this a million times. He took his shoes off first and put them away, then he took his coat off and hung it up, then he unbuttoned and took off his dress shirt, making sure it was hung up for the next day. Usually the routine was met with Abigail complaining, telling him to hurry and change so they could go out or he could snuggle with her. Today she didn't feel like it though, instead content to just watch him.

As soon as he turned she buried her face back in the comforter, she was sure she looked ugly with her face all screwed up from how mad she was. The bed shifted again, and she heard the tv click on; changing from one channel to the next.

"What should we do for dinner?" Lars asked, a little to casually, as if a wrong word would send her spiraling.

Abigail moved just a bit so he could hear her, "Whatever you want, sweetpea"

"What about Chinese take out? There has to be somewhere around here with decent shrimp fried rice"

Abby had to stop herself from snorting, Lars hated chinese take out. He didn't mind take out, he preferred it to cooking almost; but he hated chinese takeout specifically. For Abigail it was however her I-don't-have-time-to-cook-actual-comfort-food comfort food. Lars would know this based on the amount of times she had come home frazzled suggesting Chinese takeout for dinner.

A silence persisted for a little bit, Abby continuing her self-pity party, while Lars kept flipping through channels, it became obvious he was looking for something as things he would usually watch were passed. The tv finally stopped changing, Abigail's finally looking up, watching the tv for a moment before pulling herself up, and looking suspiciously at Lars.

"Who are you and what have you done with my boyfriend?"

He shrugged, "I don't know what you're talking about"

"Well, my boyfriend, Lars Van Dijk, hates chinese takeout" she pointed at the tv "And he hates spongebob squarepants even more"

"And when my girlfriend, Abigail Jones, has had a bad day, she loves crappy takeout and dumb cartoons" The dam broke and Abigail started crying, plopping her face back down on the bed.

Less than two seconds later Lars was next to her apologizing, only for her to swat him away assuring him through it "Happy tears," she sat back up wiping her face as he pulled her into a hug.

"Are you okay?"

She just hugged him tighter, "I love you, and the fact that you know I like crappy takeout and dumb cartoons,"

#aph netherlands #hws netherlands #aph america #hws america #nyo!america #nedame #hetalia #apersonwhowrites

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icedragon1978thepermabanned · 11 days ago

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You seem a little... obsessed with pixel, from an outsider's perspective. It's a little scary. :( I get having bad experiences in fandom, I am also an autistic person with a bad bad case of rejection-sensitive dysphoria. It's a terrible feeling. But I worry that you might only be spiraling in on and hurting yourself in focusing on the people that you've been rejected by. ultimately, it's your own decision. But either way, I do hope you can reach out and find a group of your own that treasures you.

Right. Needed to change the whole post because it's the only way to talk to you.

Maybe this might explain things a little better.

- top left corner, the puppet strings: Her physical management of users in her territory

- Purple box: Pixel after venting on her blog that she felt low because the Whump community wasn't giving her any attention. She felt ignored by them. Something I could relate to because I go through this regularly.

- The person silhouette: The person who only tried to reach out and show support towards them in their own words, unaware of the hidden rules and regulations they had to follow... They thought that just showing that they cared plus could relate to their experiences with online social rejection could tell them that they are not alone.

- Pixel's quote (based on what she actually said to me on that day, however since she removed all evidence of the posts both from her and me, it no longer exists. I can still remember the key things she said. Though the order may be jumbled up from my mind): "You made me feel very uncomfortable. That stuff is too heavy, you are a stranger, you are only trauma dumping, please talk as little as possible. Take this experience as a lesson next time you go anywhere. Goodbye."

Now you can finally see why I'm so pissed. But what you guys don't realise.

Is that she hides any evidence of both hers and others messages.

People only reacted to me because I 'lashed out' on a separate occasion. They may have no idea of what was really said because they weren't there.

Pixel was swift to sweep it under the rug. It's very likely that she planned on getting rid of the message then block me. However she didn't expect me to be aware that she deleted my messages, which likely caught her by surprise. I am not fooled by people who do this, so I directly asked her if I said anything wrong. Which she answered my question, the tone seems to indicate that she was panicking, she didn't want to talk to me at all but felt found out. She said her bit then swiftly removed all evidence and blocked me.

But I remembered the key words she said to me. She knows what she was doing, and was desperate to run away and destroy the evidence. Of course, she'll debunk everything she said to me, twisting it so that it makes it that I was the one threatening her or something. She's already got people on her side, people who weren't even there at the scene, because they trust her, they believe in everything she says.

I couldn't give a shit about her anymore. But what worries me is that she's been doing this for years. If you don't believe me then I recommend performing an experiment with an alt account. And just talk normally in one of her comments, something like,

Talking in a lot of posts about one character in her art. How they relate to you (eventually this should tick her off) stay online and wait... You need to be ready to take screenshots as quickly as possible because she acts fast. Screenshot your posts then screenshot the same comments section if they had been suddenly deleted (you have to keep regularly checking) as soon as you are aware that she did remove those posts, immediately bring her up on it (just ask casually why she removed them) if she answers your question SCREENSHOT IT because she'll immediately remove all the messages and block the alt account.

This is just how one could catch a rat in the act. But. Up to you. Of course, pixel is perfect, she has her reasons etc etc.

However. Let me warn you.

People who behave like that. Using tools to sweep away evidence without warning. Are the manipulative type. They WILL only accept what they want to hear, to the point of removing that person if they do not meet their regulations.

All along.... She could have been deleting your comments on her blog without informing you. Could have even blocked multiple people who used to be regular fans without explanation until it's too late. It's control. The person whom you look up to so much, could be doing so much more harm, and you are blind to it.

She's the kind who would betray anyone. Anyone who hasn't got her respect. All regular fans are strangers, just pawns on her board.

I pity her. I pity her need to be like this. It's only going to give her more pain. She thinks that she can fool so many people, bend them to her will. She's playing the Raincode community, thinking that you guys are just too dumb to have a sense of justice, or any rights. You exist just to be cutsy around art work, that's all she wants from people, to only respect her and her works.

Only she can prove to me that she's a better person. That she can change and give others a chance. But that's unlikely.

You don't believe me. And I don't expect you to 🤷 negative backgrounds can help reveal a hidden lie that could actually save you from a lifetime of more agony. And I've been backstabbed by too many people to just ignore a scenario where evidence of my existence was erased without my knowledge. Luckily I was checking the platform at the time and caught her before she blocked me.

So... What will it be? Remain by her side until she strikes you when you least expect it? Or be more weary... Face your fears, and seek out the dark truth for yourself. Yuma is a detective, remember? There are times where we need to fight for what's right.

Though. As I would expect in your case. That you'll do everything in your power to take me down. Because I'm a threat to your role model as I've spoken out about this shit. The manipulative behaviour people do to control how they want people to behave, say things, etc. You will always be in denial until you see it happen to yourself 😔. I may be a stranger to you.... A person with no rights, only to serve others how they want me to act in their community. But I care enough for you guys to share my own experiences, whether or not you believe them.

People like pixel are the ones who are stopping people from being themselves. They are locking people from being a member of what they love. She's causing more trauma by forcing people to hate themselves for "trauma dumping" and basically... If you can't be who she expects you to be, talk how she wants you to talk then you are worthless to her. Trash to throw away. She's destroying people, punishing them for just being themselves.

Now you know why I fight. What I'm fighting for. She needs to understand this negativity she's raising and hiding from people. People deserve better. If she's truly a good person then she'll learn from this, and apologise, changing the way she views others. No longer outcasting them like that.

Otherwise.... Just like her blog, her artwork and anything else she does. She's nothing but a lie. A fraudster who only cares about her ego.

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hellsdogs · 6 months ago

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Junji’s lips curl into a twisted smile, a grin that never quite reaches his eyes, which remain wide and fixed on Mai, absorbing her every word with an unsettling intensity. The blade at her throat serves as a cold, a reminder of the precarious line she walks on, yet now there’s something else flickering in his gaze—a perverse curiosity, a new layer of interest that borders on obsession. The grip on the knife loosens slightly, just enough for Mai to notice the shift in power dynamics. He’s giving her space, but it’s a dangerous kind, laced with the thrill of uncertainty. “Your hatred for him runs soooo deep,” Junji murmurs, his voice low and almost purring, “that you’d descend into a crazy man's basement, where he’s being kept, to offer your services to his kidnapper? Oh I like you.” There’s a dark amusement in his tone, the kind a predator might show when it believes it has found a spirit alike his. His eyes glint with a manic light as he pulls the blade away from her throat, letting it hover in the tense air between them, as if contemplating whether to let it go or press it back against her skin. “Our dear Kimura-san over there,” Junji continues, his voice casual, as though discussing something as trivial as the weather, “he can’t hear us. Blinded, fitted with headphones… I don’t trust him to be smart enough to decipher my comings and goings, but you can never be too careful. Though, he’s too busy peeing himself to plot an escape.” A mocking laughter escapes from his mouth. He steps back, eyes never leaving Mai’s face, searching, probing for any flicker of deception, any hint that she might be playing her own dangerous game. “Don’t lie to me,” he warns, his voice dropping to a deadly whisper. “I’ll shoot you in the head if you do, yes? I don't want to shoot you. But I would.” He draws a gun from his pocket, the sight of it adding pressure in the air. His knife dangles carelessly in his other hand, and he presses a palm against his temple, as if trying to steady the chaos brewing within his mind. Junji is a study in contradictions—a man who operates with a precise, almost surgical efficiency, yet teeters on the edge of madness. His suit is immaculate, a stark contrast to the chaotic energy he radiates. He can see the fear in Mai, feel the rapid beat of her heart from when he had her pinned against the wall. He likes her audacity, but he also knows too much confidence might mean she’s trained, perhaps sent to kill him. No, stress and unease are what he needs to see—they’ll make her more likely to tell the truth. Pacing in front of her, Junji seems to slip into a disturbed monologue, a twisted ego trip where he relishes his own power. “I hold this country on a leash,” he speaks, his voice rising with the fervor of his own conviction. “Every action, every movement—they all dance to my tune. The press, the TV… they’re all at my feet.” He pauses, letting the weight of his words hang heavily in the silence that follows, before gesturing with his gun towards the man in the cage. “Tell me, Mai” he says, his tone sharpening with curiosity, eyes narrowing. “What would you do next? What would you do to keep the Nation on its toes? Impress me with your creativity, and maybe… just maybe, I’ll let you stay by my side.” There’s a challenge in his eyes now, the first test she must pass. He leans in closer, his breath warm against her ear, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “I'm listening.” And then, without warning, a small, manic laugh bubbles up from his throat, a twisted sound that distorts his features for just a moment before he snaps back to his cold, calculating demeanor. It’s as if Junji is constantly on the verge of spiraling out of control, his stability hanging by a thread. His eyes twitch, his tone shifts unpredictably. Yes, this is not a man who’s openly manic, but one who teeters on the edge, a chaotic force that could tip over into madness at any second.

#囁 : 𝐮𝐞𝐧𝐨 𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐣𝐢. / the mad.#囁 : 𝐮𝐞𝐧𝐨 𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐣𝐢. / interactions.#just another day in junji's basement #I'M EXCITED TOO

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yanyanderes · 2 years ago

Note

If I were to describe who fell into the spiral of obsessiveness first and subsequently started a domino effect then it would go like this.

Donnie almost instantly attached himself to you emotionally when you repeatedly praised him for his good work and not being afraid to give him criticism. Even though it bummed him out at first it made your praise felt a lot more real and rewarding, it also surprised him when you would congratulate him on the smal things, making him feel like he's not just the tech guy.

Leo followed soon after but in a much lowkey way, although he tries to deny it you have a way of making him weak in the beast way, which often leads to him venting about his frustrations and insecurities. It opens up new potential in him that he thought he could never achieve, all thanks to you and your patient heart. He admires you for loving him and not the facade he puts up front.

Despite being the youngest of the bunch Mikey's been feeling like he's walking on eggshells at times when around his brothers. They can be so stubborn, holding in their trauma until it explodes and then he's left to pick up the broken pieces despite being fifteen years old. But you! you're honest about your feelings, he doesn't need to coax it out of you. You tell him when you're sad and won't back down for a beat 'em up game showdown just to cheer him up, he finally feels like a kid again.

Raph is smitten by you, your tenderness towards his brothers and how you help them with some of their internal problems, it makes him want to bury you in his arms along with his family promising that you will be safe. Though he has a tendency to ignore his own emotional needs (guess that runs in the fam huh?) and you notice that. You make time for him to relax for once and ease his worry over the safety of his family, you never seem to ask for anything in return except their friendship. And although your loyalty is commendable he can't help but wonder if you have any alternative motives, don't take it to heart though, he's just cautious. And seeing you with other people isn't helping the situation, and his brothers can't help but agree.

yesss i love this little domino effect

adding on to this a bit, i feel like april is a bit of a unique case. assuming she’s the first one who meets (y/n) and is the one who introduced them to the guys, she is the first one to harbor an obsession towards them, but is the last one to act upon these feelings. allow me to explain;

april clings to (y/n) because of the normalcy they provide. yes, going out and bashing bad guys is fun, but april needs a break every once in a while, and (y/n) is so nice to relax with! they’re the one she goes to for chill movie nights or casual talks at nice restaurants.

at first, she tries to push away these feelings. she’s being way too possessive, and she doesn’t want to weird them out! but then, (y/n) meets the guys (probably by accident) and gets to know them. as the guys start developing obsessions as well, april starts getting a bit jealous. i mean, (y/n) is her best friend! she’s the reason the guys know them in the first place!

so (at least at first) she starts seeing the guys as competition and starts acting on her feelings more. it’s worse if (y/n) doesn’t seem to care much for the way the turtles act around them. i mean, if this behavior is so bad then (y/n) would’ve said something about it by now. soon, her behavior starts to rationalize in april’s mind, until this obsession, the very thing april tried to hide, turns into the new normal.

she eventually decides to share with the guys after seeing how well they work together, though. after all, the more the merrier.

#yandere rottmnt #yandere tmnt #yandere teenage mutant ninja turtles #yandere rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #yandere tmnt 2018 #yandere april #yandere leo #yandere donnie #yandere raph #yandere mikey #yandere rottmnt raph #yandere rottmnt leo #yandere rottmnt mikey #yandere rottmnt donnie #yandere rottmnt april #yandere #yan-asks

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otakween · 3 years ago

Text

Digimon Adventure (Blind Watch) - Episode 40

Ah...back in the digi-world at last. There's been a time-skip and its become kind of a dystopia. Of course, it kinda already WAS a dystopia which is one of the things that bugs me about this series. They keep being like "you're the chosen ones to defeat the evil in this world!" but then there's like an indefinite amount of new evils that keep showing up. Imagine if Harry Potter was the chosen one to defeat Voldemort but then when he defeated Voldy, new evil wizards kept popping up and his chosen-one status transferred to them. Pretty vague destiny. I get that it's a product of this show's monster-of-the-week structure but it still bugs me.

Digimon introduced: MetalSeadramon, Mugendramon, Piemon, Pinochimon

Notes:

-I can feel the shounen power-leveling problems setting in. Everything just keeps escalating and nothing feels special anymore. Angemon and Angewomon can just show up whenever and warp evolution was casually used too. I think we've at least hit the end of the line for evolution levels. I wonder what gimmick they'll use when they can't rely on revealing new evolutions?

-I can't decide if it's good or bad that there's a villain team this arc. It could be really interesting or they could all be really flat. It's funny that the leader of the team is another flamboyant dude. The 90s loved their queer coded villains, that's for sure.

-Piemon is just Hisoka, Digimon AU and I'm upset (I'm reading Hunter x Hunter right now and he pisses me off)

-Funny seeing Mugendramon (Machinedramon) right after finishing Digimon World where he was the big bad at the end. He followed me to this arc!

-I think Pinochimon might be the most interesting of the Dark Masters so far. I feel like his powers and personality have the most potential for interesting plotlines. (Lol I wonder if they changed his name in the dub to avoid angering Disney?)

-Felt really bad for Chumon in this episode :'( he was so cute being carried around by Mimi like a plushie. RIP. Hikari again showing off her animal whisperer skills.

-Love the design of Spiral Mountain. I don't know what the mountain obsession is in Digimon, but this is the coolest looking one yet.

-That scene at the end with Piccolomon's sacrifice was sooo awkward. There's an explosion and Hikari literally just says "Piccolomon is dead" as if narrating for the audience's sake. Yikes. Why did Chumon get a more dignified send off than him?

-So far we're getting a lot of callbacks to old friends. I wonder if things will continue in that vein. I wouldn't mind that, the one-episode-only digimon tend to feel more flat.

#digimon adventure #digimon #blind watch #anime

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shelby-love · 4 years ago

Text

SIRIUS BLACK

A little Bit of Amortentia

Requested: yes

Prompts: none

Warning(s): none this is a certified fluff piece (2.3K words)

Author’s note: I had so much fun writing this! Harry Potter is such a great world, and I’d love to explore more of it. Requests for HP are OPEN!!

P.S for everyone wondering Remus is actually my favorite out of the Marauders

"Well I still think you're missing out," Lilly stated after a long rant and because of how sweet she was, she had decided to stop her mouth right at that sentence.

You only laughed lightly, pushing through the student body with Lily Evans hot on your robe. "Sneaking out to Hogsmeade is something I'm fine with missing out on."

She shook her head, determination settling hard in her brow. "That's beside the point."

"Then what is the point?" You asked, hugging your textbook closer to your chest. When you noticed that the auburn-haired girl was no longer by your side you bunched your brows together and turned around. "Lily? Lily, what are you doing?"

Her eyes were wide, bright green eyes blazing at you. "You seriously have no idea?"

You had idea of course. So much so that you felt embarrassed by the mere thought of it��

Him.

"Come Lily. We're late for Potions."

She shook her head and followed you reluctantly, only because she knew that your professor would surely be disappointed if you two showed up late. Lily and you were after all, Horace Slughorn's favorite students.

"This isn't over," She mumbled.

Perhaps for her it wasn't. Lily Evans tended to see the best in all people. It was the good in her that made her give in to James Potter little after Christmas this year after hating him her entire schooling at Hogwarts.

"He matured a lot," she would tell you, and while that might have been true for James it surely wasn't true for the boy you laid your desires upon.

Sirius Black.

Either he was purposely ignoring you, or he really was a dimwit.

***

"Amortentia is the most powerful love potion in the world. It is distinctive for its mother-of-pearl sheen, and steam rises from the potion in spirals." Horace Slughorn informed, keeping a safe distance from the steaming love potion. The rest of the girls in the class not so much. Each of them neared the potion little by little with a boy in mind. Lily and you both shared the same thoughts as those love-obsessed girls – only you didn't show it. Despite having boys in mind, Lily and you stood put.

"Lily, dear, how about you come here and tell us what you smell?"

You hard-pressed your shoulder against hers as she smiled shyly, obvious to what she was going to smell. James Potter stood at the other end of the assembly of students, looking at his lovely girlfriend with pure adornment.

For a second, they had you wondering if you could ever find love like that.

"Do you know why I asked Lily to tell us what she smells?" Horace asked, sending you a look that had a simple meaning.

"Because the potion is supposed to smell differently to each of us, according to what attracts us…" You answered quickly, just like he wanted you to.

"Marvelous Y/N. Good job," Slughorn praised you whilst ushering Lily to tell you all what she smelt. From the corner of your eye you managed to catch James' sly smirk as his eyes darted from you, to his very uninterested friend.

Sirius Black.

You swallowed, focusing your eyes on your best friend that stood in front of the potion, holding her hair so it doesn’t fall into the potion with a face as red as a tomato. "Vanilla, freshly cut oranges and –"

He cheeks flamed even more if that was even possible. She dashed away from the love potion and stood back next to you without revealing the third thing, although everyone knew already. James was grinning like an idiot. "What was the third smell?"

She shyly turned her mouth to your ear, "James' quidditch uniform."

You laughed out loud before Lily shushed you down frantically.

It was all fun and games until Horace called out for you, "Y/N would you mind telling us what you smell? Don't be shy now, come."

A part of you wanted to say "Yes, professor I would mind." but the other more rational, and smarter part of you had tied your hands behind your back in defeat. Lily gave you a push and sooner than later you found yourself standing over the love potion.

"I-I smell…" You inhaled slowly, the potion's fumes filling you up. Several different scents found their way into your nostrils, making you have a hard time deciphering them because of the sensual overdrive they gave you. "Roses…the smell of sea and-"

"Oh no," you mumbled, barely audible for everyone but yourself.

"Was there something you wanted to say dear?" Horace asked, having heard your mumbling barely.

"No…I um, smell petrichor," You stated somewhat awkwardly but very, very quickly. "You know, um, when the r-rain hits the ground…"

"Ah, yes," realization dawned upon your professor. "A lovely smell. A lovely smell indeed. Very well, miss Y/LN thank you. You may go back to your place."

Lily Evans waited for you, beaming, "Mind telling me what the third smell was?"

"Shut it Lily."

"But I told you mine!"

***

You glanced at the sign above the pink looking door and sighed. Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop, it said. You had known about this small tea shop that was located on a side road off the High Street in Hogsmeade Village even before you had arrived at Hogwarts. A boy from Hufflepuff had taken you there on a date once, sometime during your fifth year. It wasn't an especially pleasant memory, being cramped and surrounded by snogging couples at only 15 with a boy you didn't particularly like that way. Nevertheless, it had happened, and there was nothing you could do about the lingering memory.

The overall cute place was owned by Madam Puddifoot; the same woman who dearly welcomed you in the moment you stepped through the door.

You hoped to spot Lily there, after all that's why you were there. When the front of your little notebook changed under the influence of the Protean charm, you knew it was Lily instantly. While the Marauders had their own tricks, maps and such, Lily and you had thought of something far more practical. It would do you good, the charm, as it was expected to be known by every student that wants to take the N.E.W.T.

A win-win situation that was.

But although Lily Evans was nowhere to be seen, you still decided to sit down, trusting her not to pull any tricks on you. Save for the snowy weather, your day has been good so far and you didn’t want anyone to disrupt it.

Cautiously, you sat down and leaned against the plush sofa, discarding your scarf and coat along the way.

"What can I get ya lovely?" A sweet woman asked, hearts practically swimming within her irises. A pale pink apron with daisies was secured tightly around her waist, dolling her up prettily.

"I actually won't be staying, I'm waiting for-" You started, although you were sure in the fact you were going to have to buy gilly water at the very least. Even waiting comes at a price here.

But that didn't seem to be the case as the bells jingle and a dark figure waltzes through. The ladies' man, a member of the Marauders that had the most beautiful features pursued by impeccable dark hair and grey eyes walked in without a care in the world. Sirius didn't know it, but he had your toes curling every time.

You immidiately glanced around the cute shop, seeing nothing but loving couples.

No lone girl in the shop save for you.

Realization struck you in the gut and you swallowed, wanting now more than ever to disappear into a hole…or turn into a little bird and fly away.

His eyes swept across the stuffed shop, getting attention of several girls who were obviously there on a date. Boys exchanged distasteful glances between themselves, sensing Sirius to be an equal competitor that could easily give them a run for their money. "Y/N?"

You dared to say his voice softened upon seeing you. "Sirius."

Sirius' smile widened teasingly. It looked like the smile he would give his best of friends.

But you didn't want that. Not that you would tell him that.

He glanced around the shop once again before slipping into the free chair opposite of you. Without a care in the world, he stripped his snowy coat off his shoulders, his muscles tensing under the movements.

You swallowed.

"I'll have some butterbeer thank you," Sirius said, pulling out a generous amount of sickles for the waiting waitress you forgot was even standing there.

"And the lovely lady?" She mused, giving you a wink.

"Pumkin juice." You choke out.

Like a real gentleman, Sirius halted your attempt to pay for your drink with a raised hand and a wink.

Why does everyone keep winking?

You shook your head at the rogue thought.

"4 sickles young lad."

Sirius handed her the coins and she disappeared, leaving a trail of literal hearts whisking underneath her steps. "Talk about exaggeration."

Sirius' low chuckle at your random comment had you flustered immediately.

"So –" You both voiced at the same time.

"No, you first." You said quickly, brushing some misplaced strands of hair out of the way.

"You can go fi-"

You gave Serius the look you would usually give Remus and James many times on many different occasions; the one that said not to argue with you. Only this time it felt like a completely different look. It intrigued the stubborn boy even more; dragging him deeper into the pit of feelings he had for you.

"Fine," he said, casually twining his fingers atop the table. "I have a question."

"Um…o-kay."

He smiled at your nervousness and decided at that moment to just blurt out the question that's been nagging him since it happened. "What did you smell during potions yesterday?"

"Y-you mean when I smelled the Amortentia?" The strongest love potion ever created that had the ability to reveal ones biggest attractions with a simple sniff. “That potion?”

"Mhmm," he said. "If you tell me what you smelled, I'll tell you what I smelled."

"You must be bloody joking," You exclaimed. Almost everyone knew that you smelled someone. Not just the rain and roses. Someone.

Unlike with Lily, they had no idea who it was.

No one knew save for Lily who probably told James.

Who probably told Remus?

Remus, Peter…

Sirius.

A million thoughts raced through your head. What at first was a blind date will turn out to be the biggest prank the Marauders ever pulled on someone. The biggest prank in Marauders history. You were sure of it.

"I-I should go," you muttered, grabbing your bag and coat in a haste to get out.

Sirius' eyes went wide in alarm, "What are you doing, Y/N? Where are you going?"

"Away from you," You said sternly. "I don't plan on being your new plaything so just leave me alone."

"Woah, woah, woah. Why would you think that?" He asked with what looked like genuine confusion as he held your hands in a vise grip to stop you from leaving.

"B-because…" Words stopped coming once you realized.

Telling him the reason behind it would ruin everything.

"Because you like me?"

You stared at him in shock, eyes widened to the size of a quidditch snitch. No, a bludger. "I don't know what to say to that."

Sirius outright laughed at you and your attempt to conceal what you both already knew, "Look…"

You swallowed.

"I like you too Y/N."

"I know, so let's just forget this ever happen- Wait what did you just say?"

The two of you were, unbeknownst to you in that moment, holding hands atop the cute table, looking like a real couple at that moment to anyone who walked into the shop.

"I like you," He repeated slowly, more audibly for you to comprehend this time. "I know I've been a…"

"Bully," You butted in quickly.

"No I wasn't!"

"Severus begs to differ," You reminded.

"Whatever," Sirius brushed you off, tightening his hold on your two hands. Warmth seemed to come off him in waves, making it all the more comfortable to be in his hold. No wonder girls fawned around him. "What I'm trying to say is – the four of us were idiots, and you were the girl I thought I didn't deserve."

You almost melted.

"So, when I saw what James has with Lily," He confessed. "I wanted that…but with you."

"So why didn't you come up to me?"

"Thought you'd reject me," He said quickly.

"True."

The way he looked at you had you tumbling down your brain for word, "B-but you've changed… And I like you too Sirius."

"I'd like to take you out somewhere else," Sirius proposed. "If you'd have me."

"Of course," You smiled, for the first time freely. "I'd like that very much."

Never in a million years would you have guessed this would be happening; Sirius standing behind you, helping you with your coat…

And holding your hand on the way out.

"You still didn't tell me."

“Tell you what?”

"What you smelled in the Amortentia."

The question didn't sound so attacking as it did 10 minutes ago, and you felt like you could answer it with more ease. "You really want to know?"

"Yes, I would like that very much."

"Fine," You stopped somewhere in the middle of the square, feeling quite brave and bold. "You."

He didn't look surprised, maybe relieved more than surprised. The relief shone in his grey eyes, you could see it. His long black hair blew against the wind that swept through Hogsmeade in a wildly matter. Sirius seemed closer now more than ever as he gazed into your eyes. Whilst you probably looked crazy in the cold wind, the weather only seemed to compliment the once a big troublemaker before you.

"Good."

You creased your brows, "You didn't tell me what you smelled."

Sirius chuckled, "You of course."

Pleased with his answer, you let him do something you've been dreaming about for quite some time.

He kissed you.

The kiss felt electrical, making your body go haywire. Sparks, as cliché as they sound, they were there, present from the moment the kiss started and until it ended. Sirius had his warm hand against your cold cheek, bringing you closer than ever before.

You hadn't shared this with any other boy save for the one you were with right now.

You didn't have what Lily and James did because their love was theirs and theirs only.

Sirius and you will build a love of your own. Something characteristic to you two only. Here in Hogsmeade, or wherever in the world. A long life was ahead of you and you, now more than ever, felt like you could do anything.

Even pass the N.E.W.T.

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#sirius black #sirius black imagine #sirius black x reader #sirius black fanfic #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black one shot #the marauders #the marauders era #marauders era #marauders imagine #marauders fanfic #harry potter imagine #harry potter writing #harry potter fanfic #harry potter x reader

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jademakean · 4 years ago

Text

Clouded Sea

JJ Maybank x Routledge!Reader

Warnings: Death, Thalassophobia.

Not edited

･*:༅｡.

It had been a while since your brother’s disappearance. You don't recollect how you reacted to the newfound information, in the beginning, your overwhelmed mind blocking out the details. What you do remember is how you spent days in your room mourning until you snapped out of your trance.

Just because they didn't find the boat doesn't mean they aren't alive.

It's John B, he knows how to get out of difficult situations.

He's okay

Of course, your slight change in attitude received attention from unwanted locals, you seemed more eager to leave the house, you didn't cry anytime you came back to the Routledge house, there weren't dark circles under your eyes anymore and it wasn't too long before they understood what you began speculating.

Delusion ran in the family

The pogues were the ones to understood your situation the quickest. On the rare location, John Bs name was mentioned, you spoke of him as though he were still alive. Barely phased by the fact that your brother wasn't around anymore. They also noticed how you'd run off right home to check the mail after hanging out with them.

At that point they began to pity you, believing that you were in denial and becoming obsessed-which you were- they discussed it amongst themselves trying to finds ways to bring you back to reality.

JJ was a different story, he became more distant and quiet. Mostly hanging at his house with his god-awful father. Doing his best at ignoring you because you'd just remind him of his second greatest loss.

As time went on you got some clarity on your surroundings. JJ behavior mostly.

You weren't sure how to approach him at first, he must be having his own battles that didn't need to be brought up, maybe he'd shut you out even more if you tried to ask him how he felt. So you decided to be casual.

You remembered how you had asked him to teach you how to surf before John Bs disappearance. You never learned how because of your fear of the ocean, and it had gotten worse due to this past event.

Sweat began to gather on your forehead due to the blazing sun up above. You readjusted you loose shirt, hiding your plain bathing suit. You knocked on the metal door, nervously waiting for who you were looking for and as you were about to knock a second time, a very tired JJ appeared with squinted eyes as the light hit his face.

The air left your lungs momentarily. You hadn't seen his face in a long while but he was here now, in front of you.

You snapped put of it when he whispered your name "What are you doing here?"

Taking a deep inhale, you smiled charmingly. “I came over to get you. You promised me you'd teach me how to surf last year, remember?” It was your fault for holding the plans back for so long, the thought of swimming above water clouded with sand was terrifying to you.

You walked past him, grabbing the beach towel on the floor and some sunscreen. “Right now?”

You answered with a smile “Of course! Better sooner than later. I'm tired of holding our plans off, we should just get it done and over with.”

“That's not what I mean.”

You stopped rummaging through the towels. It was easy to tell my the sound of his voice that he was still struggling immensely, it was also laced with confusion on how you aren't in the state of mind he is now.

“There are barely any waves today. I checked and there aren't many people either, it might be because it's a Wednesday.” You changed the attention the topic was directed to smoothly

“Y/n..”

You interrupted him by grabbing his hand, leading him to where his surfboard was abandoned for these past weeks. “Lets go, the sun is about to set.”

As you previously mentioned moments before, the sea was still. The sun warmed up everything beneath it, almost making you excited to get in the chill water.

Once you reached the shore line JJ began making little mountain of sand beside you “What are you doing?”

“You have to practice on sand before trying the real thing." He sighed.

“Actually-” you caught his eyes “-I was thinking that maybe you could help me get more comfortable with being in the water? I feel like that's the overall most basic step, you know?” You laughed lightly trying to cover up the anxiety spiralling in your head.

And thats what happened for the next few days. You started off small, allowing the water to reach your knees then moved on to mid thigh, and that alone lasted about 20 minutes. However, you didn't mind. You were able to talk to JJ more, which was hard.

It seemed like there was something on his mind that was one fake smile away from being revealed.

You both began meeting by the beach at 4:P.M, you'd stay for a few hours before he'd start help u balance yourself on the pile of sand with his surfboard.

It was all going well. You were always a quick learner when you got excited over something. JJ on the other hand seemed to become slightly closed off, like the only thing set on his mind was to teach you surf and nothing more. Limeted physical contact, no unessesary comments, no jokes.

Oh, how much you missed jokes. You hadn't heard one from him since your brother's disappearance. Your hopes of peeping one from him was slowly dimming away.

"Alrighty! I think I'm ready to sit on the board, maybe go farther out this time. A two in one." You smiled. While pulling down your shorts you decided to keep your shirt on. You excitedly took JJ's hand before guiding him to shore.

The water was cold, as usual, but you didn't feel as hesitant to enter it like before. It was an improvement that you were glad to notice.

Since you had a later shift at work it was already 7:50 P.M and the sun was starting to set, making the sky was a beautiful mixture of gold and blue.

You snapped out of your trance once you felt JJ's hands on your waist.

You were suddenly flustered by his action, and even though he was just helping you get on the board, he hadn't been very physical with you those past days. His a action was simply unexpected.

"Thank you." You said sitting up straight.

There was complete silence between the both of you. The only sounds heard was the waves clashing together gracefully, peoples distant voices and seagulls flying over their heads. This was the normal routine between the two of you, no talking, just the patiently waiting for your fear to disintegrate into ashes until you're able to swim without a care in the world, just like all the Pogues.

You missed them, truly.

There weren't anymore meatups at the Chateau or watching them surfing from your spot in the sand, sunbathing while drinking fresh juice.

"Do ya want to make plans with the gang? We could eat dinner at the diner, and maybe sleepover my hous-"

"What is wrong with you."

JJ interrupted you with a harsh tone, causing your smile to falter. "What do you mean?" You asked, calmly adjusting your body so you could sit with both of your legs on one side of the board.

"You know exactly what I mean." He looked into your eyes this time. And it's now that you have no choice but to look at his face that you notice the dark undereyes, dry lips and messy hair.

He wasn't taking proper care of himself, he probably couldn't if he tried. It was obvious your brother's disappearance took a toll on him. "How do you do that?"

"Do what?" You asked, slightly afraid of his answer.

"How are you so okay with everything. I remember when you were locked in your room for weeks on end, and one day you just- came out. I didn't even see you and from what I heard it seemed impossible to be true. But then you just showed up at my door with no warning, with this big smile on your face and- I don't understand. He's your brother." His tone became more exasperated as he let out all the words that had been running through his mind.

"JJ, I'm not gonna stay sad all summer just because John be isn't here. I'm sure he wants me to do what makes me happy and keep taking care of myself. Plus, he's-"

"Stop talking about him as if he's alive!" JJ interrupted once again "He's dead, don't you understand? He's not coming back, or gonna send you some letter. He's dead."

His harsh tone made you feel as though he was purposely trying to hurt you. The worst part is that that's not the case. He's trying to make you see what he sees. "He's not dead."

There was a slight pause, he looked at you as if you were crazy.

"He's not. There's no body, so until I see one he's not dead. He's smart. He's got Sarah, they got away from the police and are probably in some island enjoying themselves."

"You've gotten comeplety insane! Do you hear yourself? You sound exactly like him when your dad disappeared, and you know damn well how that went."

His hurtful words ignited anxiety within your heart, making it feel heavy and sensitive. You were starting to feel too much and you didn't know how to stop it.

"I know he's alive! You'll see. He's gonna send some sort of signal, ofcourse we couldn't just show up out of nowhere when the police is looking for him. Since when does a disappearance automatically mean they died?"

JJ's eyes darkened, he was done with this game. He had to witness JJ obsess over his dad's disappearance only for him to be hit with utter disappointmen, he wasn't gonna allow the same to happen to you. "Face it. Your brother's dead, there's nothing you can do to change that."

His words hit you like a wave, his harshness making the agonizing emotion worse than ever thought possible.

It was so hard to keep hoping. It was exhausting.

"I don't wanna be alone"

Your words came out quiet and shaky. Once JJ looked back at you he took notice of the fact that your eyes were casted down, glossy and relaxed to the point where it seemed as though there was no emotion behind them.

The thought of not being able to hug your brother again- not having anymore long converstation about your future or simply seeing him from afar as he tried to outsurf JJ- was a thought that you refused to accept. However, you had begun douphting yourself and JJ finally saw through that crack.

His tense shoulders dropped, guilt sinking in knowing you were hiding the way you truly felt deep down.

"He's not dead, okay?"

JJ gazed at your expression swallowing the shame building up your throat before nodding his head. “You're right, he's not dead.”

He slowly approached you and got between your legs, wrapping his arms around you. “He's not dead.” You collapsed against him, resting your cheek against his collarbone.

Teardrops fell onto his golden skin, the feeling resulted in a shiver, running through his body as he hugged you tighter.

John Bs disappearance was harsh on everyone who truly knew him, and some learned how to hide it better than others. All that everyone slowly began understanding is that you were all one family and should watch out for each other.

“Do you wanna go grab a bite?”

You could almost laugh at his poor attempt to be casual, but you settled with a smile, pulling away from him while wiping your own tears with your arm.

JJ ran his thumb underneath your eye before kissing your forehead. “Come on, we can listen to Bob Marley on the way there if you want.” He snickered as he guided your surfboard towards the beachfront. You sighed, liking the feeling of the water moving underneath you as he pulled you to shore, observing the fish beneath you.

The sun had already set and all that was leftover of the sky was a pinkish-blue.

You could finally feel the sand beneath your feet. You watched as JJ walked off, grabbing his bag and shirt.

“Here.” He tossed over his top and your flip-flops as he slid in his. “Arent, you gonna be cold?” You asked knowing the shit that laid in your hands was the only one he had.

“What, would you prefer to walk around in your soaking wet shirt? Because I think that'd do more damage to your health than me going shirtless.” He teased with a raised brow.

You paused for a second allowing the realization that you are in fact soaking wet to sink in “Yeah you're right. Suffer.” Your approving sentence got a laugh from him.

You gaped at him. This was the first time you heard him laugh ever since go started talking to him again.

A smile made its way to your lips “Alright, I'm ready.” You stated after pulling a new shirt over your body. “My tapes are in the outside pocket.”

He pulled out the Bob Marley cassette from the bag before sharing an earbud with you. You accepted, untying your dry hair and finally setting it free.

The walk was peaceful, a comfortable silence falling over the both of you. The smell of pinewood from the trees was calming as you walked past the forestry area of the island.

You and JJ would always use this path after a beach day with the pogues. You would separate yourselves from the group so you could discuss about his job, home life, aspirations. Those were all things he never felt very safe discussing about with anyone but you. John B knew, but they didn't have the sort of relationship where they could switch to sensitive topics easily.

JJ liked how listened. You didn't look at him while he talked about such things, knowing he would feel intimidated by your gaze. The way your body slightly turned to him to show that you were paying attention. Most of all how you communicated with him first. When discussing about his father, you would ask if he needed a listener, a solution, or comfort.

Most of the time he would ask for you to simply allow him to rant, however, there were many times where he would ask for you to comfort him, just so he could receive the soothing sensation of embracing you tightly.

During every hug you shared, we're mere seconds of pure relief, relief that there was someone out there who knows about every aspect of his life and is yet to view him as weak.

“I’m really glad you got me put of the house. I hadn't surfed ever since he disappeared.”

It was as if the path you were on gave him the courage to speak with confidence. “And I'm sorry I was so harsh on you. I didn't mean to. I've just been feeling so much and I got so frustrated when you didn't seem as miserable as I am, I should've never been so insensitive.”

You knew he had a hard time apologizing to people, it made him feel vulnerable and he wants to have the upper hand in every situation. He likes being in control to compensate for the how much of it he lacks at home.

You looked over at him before smiling. “I love you too, JJ.” You ruffled his hair playfully before hugging his side as you walked.

JJ returned your smile, grateful for the fact that you resorted to a light-hearted response instead of a heavy one.

Time passed quickly and before you knew if you had arrived at the Chateau. JJ took a deep breath, his nerves increasing. He hadn't seen any of them, just as he hadn't seen you during those long weeks. How would they react seeing him there, let alone seeing the both of you together with smiles on your faces.

You squeezed his hand gently. An encouraging gesture to give him some strength.

You led him inside, the yellowish lights contrasted the night sky beautifully and as you both sat around the wooden table, you removed the earbud from your ear, which prompted him to follow your actions.

“JJ?” You heard Kie from behind you. Once you turned to face her she looked as though a miracle just occurred before her eyes.

Before your brain could acknowledge she dropped her notepad and hugged you both with the strength of an amazonian. “I missed you guys.” she mumbled into your hair.

As you were about to respond you felt more weight on you “We missed you guys.”

You giggled, now aware that it was Pope who was crushing you.

It had been so long since you had all shared such a heartfelt embrace, and you weren't going to let each other go for a while. You were all family. No matter how far you are or how long you don't speak to each other. This is what a true family was, and soon enough you were all going to be together again, as one.

“We missed you too.”

#jj maybank x reader #jj #JJ maybank #jj obx #jj x y/n #jj imagine #jj maybank angst #obx #outer banks #jj maybank imagine #jj x reader

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i-choose-liam · 5 years ago

Text

Stress Buster - King Liam x MC

A/N: I apologise for the length of this post for those who want to scroll past. I wrote this on the fly and I'm posting it from mobile, so I couldn't add the "Keep reading" line. Sorry! 💙

Hello! This is my first time posting a fic in quite a few months. So any feedback is appreciated. It's sort of a continuation (with a major leap in between) of my TRR Chapter Tie-Ins series. You don't have to read the previous parts to make sense of this story. For those who haven't read the previous parts, my MC in this series is Riley Spencer, a law school dropout and twin sister to Dani Spencer, the MC from Lovehacks. So this is actually a The Royal Romance and LoveHacks crossover.

This is for the anon who asked me to write a fanfic about Liam teasing a tired Riley. It's a bit different than what you asked for, but I hope you like it, anon! ☺️

***

It was the end of a long, tiresome week. Liam was holding himself back from grabbing Riley and jumping into bed together. He took deep, calming breaths as he sat on the ottoman and took his shoes off, watching his Queen fire away some rapid texts on her phone. He wondered how it was possible that she grew more and more beautiful with each passing day. There she stood by their bed, holding her phone up at eye level.

"Constantly looking down at the phone causes neck and spine problems, babe", she had told him once.

A small smile curved the corner of his lips, as he took in the sight of her. Those silken locks in ombre, which he had curled around his fingers nearly every night since their wedding. The graceful bearing with which she carried herself, even as she stood still. And that face - the one which had illuminated his life, like the moon did to a clouded night.

"Are you texting Madeleine?", Liam teased.

"Yes"

Normally, that name was enough to make Riley roll her eyes or crack some joke about the Countess. But she kept typing away, filling in Liam about some event she had to attend on Monday and how important it was for the apple export. It didn't sit well with Liam to see his lovely wife in her Queen mode when they had done with their duties for the day and were now alone in their bedroom. He shed his coat and unbuttoned his collar as he walked to her. The fading smell of her shower gel and deodorant, with just a smidgen of that womanly musk, was what greeted him first. Liam placed his chin on Riley's shoulder from behind, letting his arms wrap themselves around her. He closed his eyes as he kissed her cheek, gently rocking her sideways in his snug embrace.

"Honey, not right now. This is important stuff", she said, without looking back at him.

Liam didn't get upset or angry. He smiled in defeat as he recognised what was happening. He let go of her, but couldn't help putting his hands on her shoulders. He said,

"Do you realise what's going on?"

Riley said, still looking at her phone screen,

"What?"

"You're pulling a Riley"

That earned him a tired glare from over her shoulder. Liam grinned.

"I'm sorry but that's what this is. You have been doing so much these last few weeks. And unlike a normal person when overworked, you just jump deeper into the deep end"

She said, pouting a bit at her phone as she typed,

"This is not a "Riley". I'm just... just busy"

"Darling, you remember what happened the last time you got overburdened and wouldn't let anyone help you?", Liam reminded her, "You ended up eating all the cake at Maxwell's birthday, you called Drake a denim whore, then you wept while hugging both our corgis, and kept saying "It's a cool name, Mr. T! Mr. T's a cool name!*"

Riley's shoulders stiffened a bit under his hands. Liam smiled and massaged them.

"Do we want an encore of that?", he asked, trying to keep the smile out of his voice.

His wife was stubborn as she was beautiful. She said,

"There's not going to be an encore cause I'm not overworked. I've got everything under control. Totally"

She shrugged his hand off her shoulder and took her phone to the bathroom. Liam decided to let her have her privacy. But he was worried about her now. She had confided in him about her law school days, and how she had been put on "leave" by the school for reasons concerning her own mental and physical well being. That was when she had started working as a waitress and met him.

'Ah, fateful night', Liam thought.

How fearless and carefree she had seemed to him then. In a way, she was still all that. But her type A personality reared its head every now and then when the going got tough. If she kept throwing herself into work 24x7 like she had been doing lately, Liam was sure there would be repercussions for her health.

'If only there was someone who could...'

Liam smiled to himself. There was. There was someone who could pull Riley out of her workaholic spiral. The only person who could do it in fact.

Liam checked the time, and making sure it was still daytime in San Francisco, he called.

"Liamm, hii!", answered the voice from the other end.

Liam grinned at that enthusiastic tone and the thumping sound of music coming from somewhere behind his sister-in-law. He said,

"Hello, Dani"

***

Riley had back to back appearances scheduled before apple picking season. As a suitor for Liam's hand in marriage, she had hated the Cordonian obsession with apples. But as the Queen of her people, she had come to realise that the apples were a symbol of the Cordonian spirit. The Cordonian Ruby was one of their most valued exports and she knew its importance to the Cordonian morale and economy quite well.

"Riley, this is such a lovely dress. I didn't know you had something from Ana de Luca's summer '19 collection", Hana said.

Riley had to turn her head to look at Hana, who was sitting next to her in the car. At first glance, she saw a large apple in place of Hana's face.

'What?'

Overworked for the last few days, she had to shake her head to clearly see the winsome face of Lady Hana Lee.

"I haven't even seen Ana's summer collection this year, let alone buy something. What are you talking about?", Riley said.

Hana showed her the webpage on her phone, the picture just taken that morning... of Liam and Riley leaving the Parliament.

Her mind was so bungled with apples and all the bullet points on her schedule for the day that she had to take a minute to think. Hana pointed out,

"This was taken a few hours ago. But you've been with me since morning"

Riley asked, clearly confused,

"What?"

Hana looked concerned. She said,

"Riley, you were photographed with Liam outside the Parliament this morning. But that can't be you cause you have been with me all day. So who is this? And what happened to you? Are you okay?"

In a quick snatch, Riley had Hana's phone in her own hands. She speed-read through the article and slowly scrolled past the three pictures. Only her side profile was caught in the pictures, most of it hidden by a gigantic hat. Riley scowled, angered but not scared. She handed the phone back to Hana.

"That's my twin sister", Riley said, "And she and Liam have a lot to answer for when I get to them"

***

Come evening, Riley nearly stormed into the palace, followed by her assistant who frantically tried to keep in pace with her. She had confirmed with Liam's assistant that he was at home after the day's work. Dani she hadn't bothered calling because her head already felt like it would burst. If she had to argue with her reckless, impulsive sister for one...

"That's one big butt to carry on your neck, butthead"

Riley turned around at the call that had come from behind her. Dani stood laughing in the distance, in casual attire that made her stand out even more amidst the palace interior. She met Riley halfway, hugging her tight.

"Oh Riiless, it's been sooo long!"

Dani hugged her tight, shaking her a bit. Riley would have offered an even tighter hug which her family, the Spencers, were known for. But she remembered what had put her in a bad mood for the entirety of her day.

"The photos this morning", she said, without any emotion.

Dani drew back, still grinning,

"Your press secretary didn't tell you? I was on my way to surprise you here at the palace. She... what's her name... like that cookie Mom likes?"

"Madeleine?"

"Yeah, that one. So she saw me and she was like, "Ah the twin sister". I tried to be polite and all but she didn't seem to have time for that. She asked me if I'd be okay to stand in as you for a few pictures for the paparazzi. I thought what the hell, and did it"

Riley folded her arms and asked, raising her eyebrows,

"Oh really? You just conveniently happened to run into Countess Madeleine and she asked you, even though I was just a phone call away, to take pictures with Liam? And for whom, the paparazzi? Dani, I know this is some stupid prank of yours but you've really lost your touch. That is so absurd I can't even..."

"I'm not kidding, seriously", Dani explained, with an earnest expression, "I told her that someone might notice the slight differences in our features. You know, twins being mirror images and all. She said that your face was plain enough to not warrant such close scrutiny. Yikes"

Riley bit her lip. She said,

"Fine. That does sound like something Madeleine would say but it doesn't make any sense why she would want me and Liam to be photographed together by some paparazzo"

Dani explained,

"Right? I asked her the same thing. She said it was because rumours have been going about your marriage losing its spark cause you two are barely seen together in public anymore"

Ouch.

It took Riley a moment to counter that. She tried,

"But... it's not... it's just because we've both been busy with our individual duties. There's nothing wrong with our marriage. We love each other"

"I'm sure you do, Riles. Don't listen to what the haters say. They have nothing better to do", Dani assured her.

Riley couldn't stop thinking about it though. Had it really been so long since she and Liam had been seen together in public? She couldn't recall the last time they had had a private moment together let alone one in front of other people. She had thrown herself into the role of the best Queen she could be and yet...

"You okay?", Dani said, "If I had known it would bother you so much, I wouldn't have done it. That Madeleine said she would let you know and you'd be okay with it"

What hurt her - more than the speculation about her marriage - was the fact that Liam had gone along with this scheme. He had let himself be photographed with Dani as a substitute to his lawfully wedded wife.

Riley had to ask,

"What did Liam say? He must have felt pretty uncomfortable pretending you were me"

"I don't think he noticed it was me and not you. We didn't say anything to each other. We just walked side by side, not even holding hands. And that was it", Dani shrugged.

'No way. Not in a m...'

Riley shook her head, giving a little laugh of disbelief.

"Now that's taking it too far. Liam would have immediately known it was not me. Or Madeleine must have told him it was you. Yeah. That's why he..."

Really? She thought to herself. Did Liam really not care or notice that the woman next to him wasn't his wife?

It hurt. But Riley endured. She put on a smiling face for her sister and saw her to the guest chambers.

***

Riley dropped the impassive act when she walked into her own bedroom that she shared with Liam. He was sitting on the settee, reading a book. Like a child in want of attention, Riley walked over and stood right in front of him. Liam looked up at her from his book then, asking,

"When did you get in, my love?"

Oh the nerve.

She folded her arms across her chest, trying her best not to let her cheeks swell in anger like they always did. And which was enough to make Liam not take her seriously as he kept trying to "puncture" her cheeks instead.

"Did you seriously pose with Dani this morning and not know it wasn't me?", she asked.

Liam closed the book, his perfect eyebrows furrowing just a bit. He asked sweetly,

"Dani? Your sister?"

"You posed for paparazzi bait shots with her this morning. Did you really not know it wasn't me?"

Liam stood up and peered down into her face. He said sincerely,

"Riley, I really didn't think for a moment that it wasn't you. And Dani... when did she arrive? And why was she the one posing with me?"

Riley recapped for him what Dani had told her. He sighed, scratching the side of his brow.

"That's too much, even for Madeleine. I'll talk to her"

"I'm not jealous or something that you posed for a picture with my sister. It's not that", Riley said in small voice.

"What is it then?"

She could feel her stupid cheeks inflate as she spoke.

"It's just that... you couldn't even tell that it wasn't me. I know Dani and I are identical twins but I thought...", she mumbled, "I thought you would always be able to tell"

"Oh"

That's it? Oh? That was what he had to say in his defence?

Liam said, a bit sheepish,

"Well, to be honest with you, we didn't talk during the photos. She was wearing a very... interesting hat that hid nearly half her face from me. I supposed that you were busy and didn't want to talk, that's all. I didn't want to annoy you"

This wasn't something she had expected to hear from her Liam. Riley gripped his arms with her hands, saying,

"You don't think I'd ever be so mean and want to avoid you? Not you, Liam. You're the only reason I'm even here. You know that, right?"

He took her in his arms. But cautiously, she noted.

"I know. I'm sorry", he said, "It's... you have been so busy lately. I know how hard you try to give your best to everything you are called upon to do as the Queen of Cordonia. I just didn't want to annoy you when you have been working yourself to the bone lately"

That sure did it. Riley could feel the tears murking her vision. She had been so occupied with being a good queen lately that she had forgotten who she was doing it all for. The man who was holding her in his arms like she were made of fire and would burn him any instant.

She didn't want to know the answer to it but she asked anyway.

"Liam?"

"Yes, dear?"

"You're not scared of me, are you?"

He stroked her hair away from her forehead, smiling.

"Of course not, my love. I'm in awe of your strength and your courage every day. But you have never given me any reason to fear you"

Throwing herself into his embrace, Riley muffled her face against Liam's shirt. He seemed to panic.

"Hey. You okay? What's wrong?"

Riley mumbled,

"I pulled a Riley"

She could feel the laugh reverberating through Liam's chest. He kissed the top of her head, saying,

"There, there"

"I'm so sorry", she said, sniffing.

"Don't be. I appreciate how much effort you put into being a good ruler. You have no idea how grateful I am for that", Liam held her face so she was looking up at him, "But nothing's worth the anguish and damage to your health. You are the most important person in the world to me. And if anything were to happen to..."

Riley sniffed petulantly, interrupting him,

"Why am I like this?"

Liam kept reassuring her, kissing her tears away.

"There's nothing wrong with you, my love. I just wanted to remind you to take it easy"

She wiped another tear falling down her cheek. The exhaustion of the past few weeks was catching up with her. More than that, she was chiding herself for reverting back to her old workaholic ways. She didn't need all the stress when they were trying for a baby.

Liam looked at her like a sad, guilty puppy, which just added to her confusion. He suddenly pulled her closer.

"Oh my darling, I'm sorry. Don't cry. I'm so sorry", he said.

"Why?", she wondered.

"If I had known it would make you feel so bad, I never would have agreed to Dani's plan"

Hold up.

Riley looked up sharply through tearful eyes that were now blazing with a slow fury. She repeated,

"Dani's plan?"

Liam confessed,

"Yes. I asked her if she knew how I could stop you from overworking yourself to a burnout, and she said that she would fly to Cordonia and help. She didn't tell me much. She just said that I shouldn't speak a word to you or her today if we met in public, and that she would handle the rest. I knew it was not you with me this morning outside the Parliament, but since she had forbidden me from speaking to either of you, I didn't say anything"

Liam was startled when a woman's voice in an American accent called him "Tattle tits!". Both he and Riley turned to see Dani standing in the door to their bedroom, with her hands on her hips.

"For the record", Dani said to her sister, carefully taking a step backwards, "Lady Hana and Madeleine were in on this too. So you can't just punish me for the whole thing"

Riley gave her husband a sweet smile that spelled murder. She said,

"I'm going to deal with you tonight, right after I kill my sister"

She could tell from Liam's eyes that he was up for whatever sexual punishment she had hinted at. He said softly, so only she could hear,

"Sticks and stones may break my bones, but whips and chains excite me"

She shook her head at him in horror, saying,

"Oh my god. You only spent like half a day with her... Jesus Christ. Dani!"

Liam couldn't help but grin as he stood there watching. Dani dashed out of their rooms with a laugh, followed by the Queen of Cordonia and her shoe.

"Oww!", he heard Dani yelp from somewhere outside, "That hurt, you jerk!"

The loud bickering he - and the guards - could hear outside reminded him of similar occasions from his own childhood.

Not wanting to get in Riley's way when she was in an avenging mood, Liam took his phone and dialled a number.

"Leo?", he smiled on hearing the voice, "Hello to your filthy self, brother"

He sat down to catch up with his own sibling while Riley punished her imp of a twin outside.

---

*That line's from a Key & Peele sketch. God I miss that show.

#king liam x mc #fanfiction #riley & dani #lovehacks #trr #trh #the royal heir #the royal romance #playchoices #romance #comedy #siblings #twins #king liam #thatoclady fanfics

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