#surrounded by loved ones who support you on your parting of ways | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

koshkamartell · 2 days ago

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Hello my loves.

This is it. The final chapter of No One But Me. I'm sorry it took so long to write; there was so much emotion and energy involved in this final part that it took longer than I expected. I hope you all enjoy it.

Thank you to my little group of faithful readers who have showed their support and love throughout this journey. I have appreciated all your comments and reblogs so much. It gives me alot of joy to hear that my story has been a source of joy and entertainment for someone.

I haven't added a warning list to this part in order to avoid spoilers. Please leave me your thoughts after you read.

The sound of the gunshot reverberated throughout the clearing surrounding the cabin, stirring birds to flee from the forest treetops with the loud flapping of their wings. You only managed to run a few yards from the porch before the gunfire caused you to come to a halt.

Your boots skid in the icy snow as you whip around in search of where the shot was fired from. Your eyes scan the surrounding woodland for any shapes or movement between the trees. You imagine a man - another raider - just as tall and ugly as Lyle, stalking through the forest clutching a hunting rifle, on his way to kill you. The thought drives a spike of fear through your guts and makes your full bladder ache.

You search around, vigilant and alert, subconsciouly holding your breath in your lungs. You pause and wait, trying in vain to keep your body from shaking. You wait for but nothing happens. No sign of danger presents itself, neither in the form of an infected or an unknown, ominous figure holding a gun.

You inhale a gulping breath of the bitterly cold winter air and a visible puff of cloud escapes your lips when you exhale.

Was it Joel who fired the shot? He must be absolutely livid with you, crazed with fury at your repeated insolence, your second attempt at escape in less than two days. He must have fired a warning shot when he saw you had gone, as there's no way Joel would miss a target, not with all his weaponry prowess.

You look back to the cabin now, your whole body still shivering with fear, expecting to see Joel standing on the porch brandishing a gun in his large blood covered hands. But Joel is not there.

Your eyes then fall upon the figure laying on the ground.

You had been so startled by the sound of the gun shot that you hadn't realised Oscar was not next to you. Your stomach sinks when you see that Oscar had not made it as far as you; he had fallen to his knees just a few steps from the cabin.

"Oscar!" You shriek with panic. Your own voice sounds muffled as your heart beat continues to thrum inside your head and inbetween your ears. You pace back to meet him, gasping in sharp breathes of the cold morning air as your legs work to carry your exhausted body.

You drop to the ground infront of Oscar and bring your trembling hands up to cradle his face, the stubble along his jaw pricking your palms. His skin feels cool to the touch and beads of sweat are dotted across his forehead. "What happened? Oscar, what is it?"

His eyes screw shut and his eyebrows knit together in a grimace of pain. He sucks a sharp breath of air through his clenched teeth. "I...I gotta lay down."

"O-Okay," you murmer. Oscar plants a hand on the ground behind him and begins to recline back. You splay one of your hands against the middle of back, your other still holding the side of his face. "Let me help you, go slow."

Oscar tries to shift his legs out infront of him but his limbs move too quickly, as though they are uncoordinated and weak; he plops down onto his backside with a thud, hissing with pain at the way his body jostles. You coo sympathetically and urge him once again to take it slow. He grunts and lays down flat on his back, pressing a hand to his lower abdomen.

You notice the motion straight away. "What happened to your stomach?"

Oscar gives a slight shake of his head but doesn't open his eyes or say anything. You slide your hand down from his face to where he clutches his stomach. You curl your fingers gingerly around his and try to gently pry them away from the area. At first he resists, but after you whisper a tearful please he relents and uncovers the spot. You gasp when you see that his whole palm is covered in blood.

Oh my god oh my god oh no

There's a ragged hole at the bottom of his jacket. You quickly fumble for the zip and yank it downwards, sweeping the panels to the side of his torso. Oscar allows you to do so without protest, his eyes still tightly closed, clearly battling against the internal agony that has been afflicted upon his body. You grab the bottom of his sweater and hurriedly tug it upward. You are desperate to see the hurt hidden underneath his clothes, desperate to see just how bad the damage is.

When you find the source of his pain, you cannot contain the strangled cry that claws its way up your throat, raw and ugly. There's a small round black hole etched into the left side of his lower belly, just above his hip. It is a clean cut bullet wound with the flesh around it still firm. A thick pool of deep red blood puddles inside it, overflowing into a trickle that spills down to his groin.

It's a gunshot wound. When had he been shot?

"How?" You whisper brokenly, tears springing to your eyes. You grab hold of his bloody hand and squeeze it, wanting to reassure him of your presence, that you're still right next to him.

Why don't you remember?

Everything leading up to this moment is a blur within your memory. You don't have the capacity to realise just why, though. You don't know that while trapped within the chaos inside the cabin, your conscious had been overridden by your will to survive. You don't know you had dissociated, brain detaching from a reality you couldn't cope with. You hadn't remembered Lyle shooting Oscar because your mind was protecting you.

Oscar groans and squeezes your hand in his shaking one. "W-w...what can I do?" You stroke his forehead tenderly. "How do I stop the bleeding?"

"I'm okay, honey," he mumbles, his beautiful dark eyes flickering open to stare up at you. His little round glasses sit crookedly on his face and you gingerly fix them to perch straight on his nose. He offers you a weak smile in return. "Just...just stay right here."

"I'm here," you promise him, stroking over the curls on his temple. "I'm here."

The sound of a gun firing stops Joel's fist from connecting another gruelling punch to the raider's already gruesome face. It is like he's being snapped out of a trance, suddenly propelled from a hellish nightmare back to reality. His vision blurs as he struggles to focus on the scene before him, and it takes several seconds for him to remember just what had transpired within the last ten minutes.

Joel glances down at his hand curled tight into a fist. It's completely coated in blood, and although his knuckles are raw and stinging, he knows the blood doesn't belong to him. His eyes descend to the lifeless body laying underneath his straddling thighs. He sees the grisly wreck of the man's head and it prompts a wave of nausea to lurch in his stomach. He has to quickly swallow the bile that rises in his throat, the bitter acid burning his oesophagus.

Joel can't remember the last time he lost control like this. Maybe a long while before he started living in Jackson. It must have been, for Joel had to learn to hold back on dishing out beatings when he arrived in town. Despite wanting nothing more than to slap the shit out of some of the insubordinate young men around the town, he had quelled his temper with all his might for the sake of Ellie. He had masked so much of himself, of his true nature, all for their chance to carve out a decent life together in the safe community.

But that savage beast of wrath had lain dormant inside him for all this time, waiting for a reason to rear its barbaric head and fight. There had never been a legitimate reason for this vicious part of Joel to show itself while they lived in the haven of Jackson. But then again, nothing had evoked such an intense fury inside him as when the raider threatened your life right infront of him.

You.

His mind panics instantly, your name falling from his chapped lips with an edge of desperation. His head jerks around to where you were left beside the bed. You're gone, the leftover rope hanging limply from the bed frame, the ends frayed. A pocket knife lays on the floorboards where you were sat, its blunt looking blade glinting against the lone ray of sunshine pouring in through the window.

Estrada, the mother fucking prick. Did he really come all this way to get you? And you're gone, but who fired that shot? Are there more raiders out there? That pussy can't keep you safe. He needs to get out there and get you right now.

Joel shoves himself off of the raider's body and staggers to stand up. The bones in his back crack as he straightens upright. His whole body is an aching fucking mess but he refuses to think about pain. He can't. He's got to find you.

He grabs Lyle's gun off the floor and then hastily pulls on his boots, ignoring the blood his smears on every surface he touches. He storms out the bedroom to the front door, his footfalls striking heavily against the floorboards with each purposeful, formidable step. You can't have gone far; Joel knows you can't ride a horse and he's pretty sure the raider shot Estrada, so he's willing to bet you're still in a quarter mile radius.

Fuckin' Estrada. He'll blast the useless son of a bitch to pieces. He'll make you watch, force you to see how no one will ever come between you and he. Finally get it through that head of yours that you only belong with him.

Joel stalks out through the front door, resolution and determination catapulting him forth on his long legs. He's going to have to do something a little more drastic, he thinks, in order to cement his ownership over you, so you and everybody else in this world can see you're his, that you can't run away. Maybe a fucking brand on your skin.

Joel's boots only just meet the snow before he abruptly halts at the fringe of the cabin deck. It turns out you didn't even get past the boundary of the clearing, didn't even get 20 feet from the cabin. Instead you're here kneeling on the ground, Oscar laying down beside you on his back, his head in your lap. It appears intimate, a private moment he has stumbled upon, and it makes his stomach twist with burning possessiveness. He scowls, flexing his hand around the grip of the pistol, the raider's blood already drying and crusting over the broken skin of his knuckles.

Joel calls your name, his raspy voice loud and harsh, cutting through the air like a master commanding his dog. Your head snaps back to face him instantly; wisps of hair cling to your tear stained cheeks, your eyes wide with distress, your nose tinged pink from the cold air and all the crying you've done. You stay kneeling and Oscar remains on his back, which somehow pisses him off even more.

What the hell is going on? And where'd that gun shot come from?

"Goddamn it," Joel growls. He stomps over to you, jaw clenching and unclenching. He's going to drag you back inside by your hair after he kills Oscar. He'll strip you of your clothes and smack your ass until it's black and blue. His anger is palpable, radiating from him like a furnace, and the terror on your face amplifies with every determined step he takes.

"Joel, please," you plead, "don't touch him!"

"Get up and go back inside, right now!" Joel snarls. He'll do as he damn well pleases, and if that includes beating the shit out of Estrada like he did the raider, then so be it.

Joel bends down to grab you by your collar but your hand shoots up and grips around his wrist, your fingernails sinking into his skin. Your red rimmed eyes stare up at him, frantic and imploring.

"Joel, wait, listen to me!" You gasp shrilly. "He's hurt! Look!"

Joel's gaze falls down past your face to where Oscar lays beneath you. He's startled by the change in Oscar's appearance, so unexpected and pitiful that it actually dampens the anger and jealousy seething from his core.

He watches Oscar stare up at you and Joel, brows pulled together in a pain filled wince, a dull quality to his brown orbs. His pallid skin has a waxy sheen to it and there is a blueish tint to his trembling lips. His breaths come out in long stuttering gasps. Joel's eyes trail down to where Oscar's shirt in bunched in your hand and he sees the bloody hole sitting at the bottom of his belly.

You are right. He's hurt. The raider did shoot him.

"Joel, what d-do we do?" You sniffle, tightening your grasp around his wrist. "How do we treat it?"

The internal damage is difficult to assess, but judging from the location of the wound and how Oscar currently looks, the bullet has likely hit some organs, Joel silently deduces. It's dire, and with how Oscar's shivering right now he's not sure how long the man will survive for. Joel has seen his fair share of people die from all different kinds of ailments and wounds. He knows the signs well.

His gaze shifts back to you, jaw ticking as he deliberates his answer. You look so hopeless, so desperate for some kind of confirmation that you can actually do something to remedy the situation. It isn't your fault you're so naive, he reminds himself, and being kind is just part of your nature, so ofcourse you care. Ofcourse you care that Estrada is currently bleeding out in your arms. But God, does he fucking hate that you still care so much about this prick.

"Can't do much for a gunshot wound," Joel delivers the words matter of factly. "Not without all the surgical stuff in Jackson."

"What?" You whisper, your face contorting with disbelieving anguish. You relinquish your hold on his wrist as if the touch of his skin has become too uncomfortable to bear. "No, no. Surely there's something we can do now. We can get the bullet out, right?"

Joel tucks the gun in his pocket and descends down on one knee beside you. He avoids Oscar's eyes, instead training his gaze on the pool of blood seeping inside the wound on Oscar's lower abdomen. He can't soften the blow. It's not that he wants to purposely be cruel, but there's no use lying to you. He scratches the side of his cheek and sighs heavily.

"It's deep," Joel clarifies softly. "Not sure if the bullet hit an organ, but it looks likely. Can't do nothin' for it."

You chew on your bottom lip for a moment, contemplating his words, and then your eyes suddenly light up with childlike hope. "Let's go back to Jackson," you blurt out. "Dr. Amber can do it, we can go now."

Joel pins his gaze back to you, keeping his face impassive. He's never seen you like this before - so naive and deluded with optimism, denying the obvious reality of the situation. His heart unexpectedly aches for you.

"It's too far," Joel whispers, schooling his tone to be firm but not unkind. "By the time we get there...he won't make it."

"But we've got to try! Or, or maybe we can get the bullet out ourselves," you ramble in desperation.

He sighs, trying hard to not let his impatience overtake his already limited empathy for your feelings. He places his hand on your shoulder, a sympathetic attempt to ground you, for he takes no pleasure in your current state of misery. "Just told you, we can't do much. Where he got hit...it's too...it's just about impossible..."

Your brows saddle together in defeated despair and you shake your head, fresh tears pooling at your waterline. There's a hint of emotion in your face, dancing within your watery irises and on the curl of your mouth, something that he cannot quite place; amidst the clear pain and grief is something firey, almost wild. Like hatred. Resentment. Blame.

A croak comes from Oscar, prompting you to turn back and dip your head down to his. He's trying to talk but his voice is so muted that Joel cannot hear a word of what he's saying to you. You let out a small whimper and seem to whisper back a reply. The private moment between you two resumes, a confidential bubble that makes Joel feel like an outsider, pathetic and excluded. He clocks the way Oscar's hand clutches yours, the delicate brush of his thumb over yours, and he can't help the envious irritation that rears inside his chest once again, searing hot and bordering on painful.

Joel clears his throat and speaks your name to garner your attention. "Don't know where that gunshot came from. Could be more raiders just around the corner. We gotta go back inside."

You jerk your head back to face Joel again, your features twisted into a glare, distrust and scorn evident in your eyes. "I'm not leaving him," you state defiantly.

"It ain't safe here," Joel bites back. "That shot was close by and it ain't gonna take long for whoever it was to find us."

"I don't care!" You spit out harshly. "You go."

Joel feels as though he has been slapped. How dare you defy him like this? He's trying to protect you, to keep you safe from the potential threat of another raider, yet instead of obeying him you're openly challenging him.

No, there's no way he's leaving you behind with Estrada while the poor fuck bleeds out.

Joel scowls, jaw clenched tight, and leans his head close to yours so that you are forced to look at him. You reflexively flinch away but keep your stare locked on his, bold and obstinate.

"Get up." He orders, voice low and loaded with danger. "'Fore we get killed."

"No!" You argue. Joel glares back at you, harsh breaths huffing through his nostrils. His jaw ticks once, then in one sudden move he's grabbing your arm and roughly hoisting you up on your feet. You squeal and yell at him but he just drags you away from Oscar like a predatory animal lugging its prey toward death, overpowering and tyrannical.

He drags you several yards but stops abruptly when another gunshot suddenly blasts through the air, loud and resonant, unmistakeably closer this time. A mixture of other noises soon follow it, carried along the wind that rushes through the trees, sounds that quickly become more and more clear with each passing second.

Men's voices.

Horse hooves galloping.

Dogs barking.

And then a prominent voice calls out, masculine and commanding.

"Joel!"

Joel's blood runs cold. He knows that voice; he knows it better than anybody else still alive in this world, and to hear it right now makes his stomach churn with anxiety and resentment. He slowly twists his torso around, keeping his grip on your arm tight.

There, at the edge of the small clearing by the south-west woodland, is Tommy. Joel swears under his breath. He is pertrubed at the unexpected sight of his younger brother. Did he really travel all the way from Jackson to track you and Joel down? He's made it all this way out here, and by the sounds of it he has a fucking rescue team with him close by.

Tommy trudges through the snow with a gait almost identical to Joel's, his barrel chest heaving. The expression on his face is one of profound sadness and grave concern, a look that Joel knows well; Tommy was always the more self righteous brother, the bleeding heart, able to make Joel feel criticised and condemned with just a single look.

Joel stays standing where he is, his hand still tightly gripping yours while he keeps his eyes locked on his brother. Tommy closes the gap between you in a series of long, laboured strides, his warm breath conjuring puffs of visible cloud from his lips.

"Jesus, Joel, what did you do?" Tommy rasps in panicked disbelief when he catches sight of Oscar's prone form. "Oh fuck, please don't tell me you killed Oscar."

"I didn't touch him," Joel sneers. "And he ain't dead. We got ambushed by a raider but I took care'a him."

"Oscar's hurt, Tommy," you interject, taking a step forward to try join him. "We need to get him help."

Joel shoots you a disapprovingly glare before he clears his throat and gestures vaguely in Oscar's direction. "He got shot - by the raider, not by me."

Tommy drops down on one knee besides Oscar, hovering his hands over the man's body uncertainly. "Fuck," Tommy whispers as his doleful eyes survey the grievous state of Oscar's belly and the bullet wound. He leans down and brings his gloved hand up to carefully cup Oscar's cheek in his palm. "Hey, Oscar, buddy, can you hear me?"

Oscar blinks slowly up at Tommy and hums softly. "Hey, Tom," he manages to croak out. "Yeah....I can hear you."

"Got yourself in a bit of trouble, looks like," Tommy murmers, trying his best to sound light-hearted. "But don't worry, I'm gonna get you back to town and we'll get you fixed right up."

"I'm dying, Tom," Oscar whispers. Tommy sniffs sadly and shakes his head, melancholic denial swimming in his eyes as he stares down at his friend.

"No you ain't," Tommy whispers back, his voice faltering.

"It's okay...," Oscar coos, "just get her back...please, take her back home. Promise me you will."

You can't hear the hushed conversation between Tommy and Oscar, no matter how hard you strain to listen. You wish you could drop to your knees beside Tommy and be a part of what's going on, to hear Oscar's soothing voice assure you that he will be okay, that it isn't as bad as it looks.

But you can't. Your freezing hand is still enveloped in Joel's possessive clutch, anchoring you to the stop next to him. He isn't interested in watching the interaction between his brother and his rival. He keeps a vigilant watch on the woods around you all, slowly turning his head left and right to scan each direction, no doubt still on guard for any possible raiders or infected.

When Tommy eventually rises from the ground and drags his feet back to you and Joel, your heart skips a beat. You wish Tommy would smile at you and confirm that the wound actually isn't that deep, that your dear Oscar will be able to return to Jackson and get stitched up and everything will turn out alright. You peer up at him, expectant and hopeful, but Tommy's morose expression just about crushes any scrap of optimism left in your weary heart. He comes close to you and takes your free hand in his and gives it a gentle squeeze, totally ignoring Joel beside you.

"Sweetheart," Tommy sighs, "I ain't gonna lie to you. He isn't lookin' good...I don't know....you needa talk with him."

"Why?" Joel cuts in, pulling you back from Tommy and cutting the physical contact between you.

"For God's sake, Joel!" Tommy explodes with exasperation, curling his hands into fists. "You know why! Give her that atleast!"

"Bleedin' heart 'til the day you die, huh Tom?" Joel mocks bitterly, glaring at his brother. Tommy meets his gaze head on, unflinching and firm.

"Doin' what's right, Joel," Tommy replies tightly. "It's time you did, too."

You look between the two of them, too overcome with dizzying emotion and fatigue from the trauma you've endured to properly comprehend the gravity of what's being said. You're fighting to stand on your feet and all you want to do is lay down with Oscar.

"Fine, let's get this over and done with," Joel huffs, releasing your hand. Sensing how you're feeling, Tommy wraps his arm around your back and gently guides you to Oscar, carefully helping you to sit down in the snow.

Your hand automatically slips into Oscar's to give it a delicate and comforting squeeze. He looks even more pale and you notice the way his stomach barely rises and falls with his short, shallow breaths. You bring your other hand up to brush back a curled lock of his hair that sticks to his forehead.

His skin feels so cold.

"Honey," his silky voice husks from between his blue lips. There is a film of tears swimming within his eyes as he stares up at you but his gaze seems more sharp, more focused. You feel as though he's looking right into your soul, his love and adoration piercing directly through your heart, and in this moment you're completely overcome with the intensity of your own love for him.

Oscar is so beautiful, so pure. He came to save you. He risked his own life to rescue you, your own knight in shining armour, and now he lays here wounded and bleeding out. The guilt slices into you sharp and searing, you burst into a sob, lowering your head to his chest. "I'm sorry," you weep. "I'm so sorry."

"Shhh, honey," Oscar rasps, slowly raising his hand up to stroke your hair. "It's okay."

Joel growls and moves to grab you and intervene but Tommy is quick to block him. Tommy stands inbetween you and Joel and grips his shoulders firmly. "Back off," he commands sternly.

Joel rips his little brother's hands off him and huffs angrily. "Go fuck yourself Tommy," he rumbles. Despite his hatred for what's happening, Joel turns away and retreats a few paces, unable to bear watching the scene. Tommy follows him, allowing you privacy; neither can hear what is whispered between you and Oscar.

Your nose drips from the cold, intermingling with the tears leaking from your eyes. Oscar's hand swipes the hair from your face as he continues to sshhh you gently.

"I love you," you hear his voice purr from within his sternum. "Always...have."

You lift your head to gaze at him, your face inches from his. His brown eyes project the same palpable sincerity that he has always embodied, even amidst the depth of his suffering. There is a tranquil kind of energy swirling within in his irises that you can't quite work out the reason for.

"Always will..." Oscar whispers, slowly tucking a tangled strand of hair behind your ear with an air of reverence.

"I love you too," you mumble through tears. And you do. You truly love him. "I want to go back with you, wanna go back home with you, Oscar." And you do, more than anything else in the world, so much so that your desperation blinds you to the painful reality of Oscar's predicament.

"I can't." Oscar admits in a breathless whisper. "Elvie is waiting for me..."

Elvie? You're confused for a second until your brain kicks into gear. Elvie. The realisation of what Oscar means lands a punch right in the middle of your guts and a strangle gasp falls from your lips. You bring your face to cradle Oscar's cheeks and you lean down to place a kiss on his soft, wind chapped lips.

"Please...." you whisper against his lips, a tear rolling down your cheek and falling to land onto the hollow of his throat. "Don't go..."

He breathes your name ever so delicately. "I love you...."

And then, like a flickering flame of a candle being extinguished in the breeze, the last breath within Oscar's lungs drifts from his mouth and his soul slips away from his body.

A ragged scream rips from your throat, full of anguish and sorrow. It startles Tommy and Joel and they both whirl around to where you kneel on the ground by Oscar. You are slumped over his dead body, forehead pressed to his chest and your balled fists clinging to his clothes.

Tommy hastily springs back to you and crouches down to bracket your shoulders with his hands. He understands the reason got your distress immediately. "Oh, sweetheart," he croons sympathetically. He slips his arm across your clavicle and carefully pulls you into him. "I'm sorry."

You lean back into his chest and let out a howl of anguish. Joel thinks it is just about the most tragic sound he has ever heard. He stands back and watches the scene with the the corners of his mouth downturned in somber silence.

The magnitude of sorrow you express spurns something inside of him that makes his stomach clench and his breath hitch in his throat. When the initial shock dissipates he is left with a severe ache in his chest cavity that threatens to bring him to his knees. The realisation of why comes

Your grief reflects his own.

It reminds him of the day when his world was torn apart, when he had lost the most important thing in his life.

Except the reason for your grief isn't an inescapable cordycep apocalypse; it is Joel himself. He may not have fired the bullet that fatally wounded Oscar but it was the consequences of his actions that led to the man's demise. Joel shakes his head to himself, trying to dislodge the thought from his mind. No, he thinks, it isn't my fault. It isn't.

He bows his head and stares at his boots, unable to face the sight of your despair any longer. You wail and bawl for what seems like forever. Tommy keeps you close to him and murmers an occasional hushed I'm so sorry. It continues until you can produce no more your tears and your body lurches with exhausted dry retches. Your cheeks are puffy and splotchy, the rims of your eyes red and swollen.

A long time passes before Tommy manages to persuade you to stand up. He hauls you up and keeps you tightly supported you against his body. You cling blindly to his jacket and nuzzle your face into his chest, finding a small degree of comfort in his warmth and kind commiseration. Another blurred period of time elapses where you allow Tommy to hold you and a quiet falls over the three of you.

Joel doesn't look up until he hears your voice address him, hoarse yet full of venom. He lifts his head and sees you staring at him, your face twisted into a wretched mask of heartache and wrath.

"You," you hiss accusingly, "it's because of you!"

Joel frowns at you and shakes his head, unable to formulate words in a response. He's totally bewildered by your anger.

"You brought me out here! You forced me here and Oscar came to save me!" You snarl. "He would still be alive if you hadn't!"

You struggle against Tommy and he loosens his hold on you. You launch yourself at Joel, half stumbling into him, your fists beating against his chest with all the strength you can muster. Joel's hands cup your elbows so you don't fall over but he does nothing to stop you from unleashing your anger. He let's you punch his chest and slap his face, the impact of your hands leaving no more than a light sting on his cheeks.

He could easily subdue you with nothing more than a solid shove or a quick slap but he doesn't. He stands still, patiently accepting your punishment, waiting until you eventually tire and end up collapsing against his front. You heave and sob with despair, fragile body wracking with the force of your cries, and Joel carefully wraps his arms around you and presses you firmly into him.

"'M sorry," Joel whispers truthfully. And he is. He's sorry that you're heart broken.

"You aren't," you sputter, "you've never been sorry, you don't care!"

You struggle to escape his embrace but he holds you tighter. "I am," he asserts firmly.

You screech and thrash, incensed with anger at the way he seems to lie so easily. "He's dead because of you!"

Joel relinquishes his hold on you just enough to pull you back to look at your face. He is momentarily disturbed by the way your eyes smoulder with hatred and disgust, but he presses on, determined to make his point.

"He's dead because of that raider, not me," Joel argues, "and it was me who killed that son of a bitch."

You shake your head vehemently, detestation written clearly on your face. "That raider could have killed us all! He was going to hurt me and you did nothing! Oscar saved me from that raider, not you!"

Shame heats the back of Joel's neck. He cannot deny that the raider was going to do unspeakable things to you and that he had basically offered you up to the man while he tried to formulate a strategy. It both shames and emasculates him that it was infact Oscar who saved you both from the raider. Joel may have beaten Lyle to death, but it was only because of Oscar that he was able to do so.

He feels like he has failed you.

Just as he failed Sarah. Just as he failed Tess.

"I was gonna---"

"I don't care!" You yell, flinging yourself backward to escape his grasp, but Joel just tightens his hands on your shoulders to keep you close.

Joel has to battle the deeply ingrained instincts that urge him to slap the shit out of you to shut you up. He allows you to be angry and sad, to unleash the emotions you are rightfully experiencing right now, but his patience is wearing thin. He's also aware that Tommy still stands just a few yards away, so he needs to placate you enough to keep control of his temper and to somehow get you alone.

He narrows his eyes and rubs soothing circles over your shoulders with his thumbs. "Let's go back inside the cabin," he drops his voice low in an effort to mollify. "Talk about this when you've calmed down some."

"Talk about what, Joel?" You spit out, fresh angry tears trickling down your cold cheeks. "About how you got Oscar killed? About how you raped me and beat me and then kidnapped me?"

"Christ almighty, Joel!" Tommy exclaims, shaking his head and staring in disbelief at his brother. "Is....is that true? You...you did those things to her?"

Joel doesn't acknowledge his brother; he's so intently focused on you that he can hardly register Tommy's voice. All that matters is you and making you stay with here with him.

"I said I was sorry," Joel swallows the lump in his throat. "I tried, I tried so hard to do right by you. I brought us here so we could start a new life. So you could forgive me."

"What you did to me, Joel...," you whisper, your voice laced with embittered sadness. "That's different. But Oscar....he died because of what you did. And I won't ever forgive you for that."

"But I love you," he murmers, his voice becoming husky with emotion and his eyes blurring with tears. "I didn't...I love you."

"And I loved you once, too, Joel, but how could I after what you've done?" You shove at his chest to punctuate your point. "I hate you!"

The impassioned vigour in your tone and your words cuts through Joel's heart like a knife. It reminds him of Ellie, how angry and betrayed she looked just a few nights ago. He knows you're stupefied with emotion right now, too wrapped up in misery to properly think or follow his commands. But he also knows you aren't lying.

You do hate him.

Just as Ellie does.

The truth fucking crushes his heart into fragments.

Joel's face crumples and he stares at you with crestfallen dismay. His hands release you and he takes a staggering step backward. You stare him down like a feral cat ready to fight, your shoulders raised and your nostrils flared. Tommy steps forward to intervene in the face-off, standing half infront of you.

"Joel...It's over. Let her go," Tommy commands softly, almost pleadingly. "I'm takin' her back to Jackson. I gotta rescue team just over the clearing there."

Joel faces his brother with tears brimming at his lashline. "Who the fuck do you think you are?" Joel hisses angrily. "This ain't any of your business, Tommy! I don't give a fuck who you got waitin' in the wings!"

"She doesn't wanna be with you," Tommy emphasises, his voice measured and stern. "And you're my brother, Joel, so this is my fuckin' business. I ain't about to let this girl or anybody else get hurt because of you."

"I love her, okay? I fuckin' love her, Tommy," Joel confesses brokenly. "I'll do anythin' to keep her."

"You hurt her, Joel. Jesus, you ra....you...," Tommy has to stop himself from choking on the weighted words that seem lodged inside his throat. He runs a hand through his black curls and shakes his head as he collects himself. "That ain't love."

Your fingertips curl around Tommy's bicep, prompting him to stop from saying anything more. Like a hawk, Joel observes the movement and watches with bated breath as you step out from behind Tommy. He sees that you are no longer crying and that you no longer look angry. Instead, you now look composed. Bold. You stand upright, your body radiating self assuredness, chin tilted upward to meet Joel's eyes head on.

The last time he had witnessed you like this was the time you confronted him about raping you. He sees the same stoicism in your face now - and he can see just how deadly serious you are.

"If you really loved me, you'd let me go," you speak up, your tone smooth and placid despite the challenging significance of your words.

"No," Joel croaks out. His brown eyes, large and glassy, swimming with tears as he gazes at you. "I need you. I need you with me, here."

"I can't stay here, Joel," you say softly. "I can't stay with you."

"I-I can't let you go," he rasps desperately. "You're mine, baby. I can't be without you."

"I've got nothing left to give you, Joel." You shrug with blunt weariness. "You've taken everything from me."

Warm rivulets of tears begin to trickle from Joel's eyes and he sniffs. "I'll give you whatever you need, I'll...I'll make it up to you. Just....please."

You watch him intently, your chin raised with stoic determination, unmoved by his show of emotion. "It's too late."

"No," he pleads, taking a step closer to you. "No, it ain't. It ain't too late."

"I spent too much time letting myself be hurt and unhappy. People like Oscar, like my parents...they don't have the chance to start over. They don't get to try. And I owe it to them to keep going. I owe it to them to be happy."

"You can be happy. You can be happy with me," Joel asserts, his voice wavering with heartache. He reaches out to touch you but you take a step backward. You shake your head gently, your gaze never leaving his.

"No, I can't. You need to control me, Joel - you need to hurt me. How can I be happy like that?"

Joel opens his mouth to speak but no words come. He is at a loss for what to say. He cannot argue against the points you make as they are true - he does need to control you, he does need to hurt you. As much as he could try justifying it as expressions of love and care, it is still the confronting truth of your relationship. He is defeated.

He stays silent for a minute, then forces out a quiet mumble, "give me another chance. Please."

"No, Joel. I won't let you take the chance of happiness away from me," you respond matter of factly. "I'm going back to Jackson with Tommy. Goodbye, Joel."

You turn back and walk over to Tommy, where he stands looking at his older brother with concerned sympathy. He knows Joel won't return to town, knows it would be impossible for him to integrate back into society in a place where his foster daughter and the woman he loves will be absent from his life.

Tommy slings his arm tightly around your shoulders and gingerly guides you away from where you stand. You give Joel once last fleeting look before you turn away and begin moving your feet to follow Tommy.

Joel watches you both trudge through the snow toward the clearing at the edge of the forest. He stands frozen in place, paralysed by the internal dialogue raging within his mind.

She's leaving.

I can't stop her.

She has to go.

She hates me.

She doesn't love me.

This is the right thing to do.

Joel shields his eyes with his hand, unable to bear the sight of you walking out of his life. He hangs his head and heaves out a weighted, heartbroken sigh. The constrain on his emotions quickly cracks and soon he begins to weep. Fat tears pour from his eyes and roll down the bridge of his nose. His weeping escalates into mournful cries that make his shoulders shake and his stomach churn, and he feels his heart squeeze so painfully that he thinks he's on the verge of a heart attack.

He cries now more than he has cried for the last 20 years. Not since the day Sarah died has he cried so much. The repressed emotion he has been habouring throughout all these years is set free and laid bare, and he allows himself to finally feel it all; the heartbreak for his daughter, Sarah, the undying unconditional love for Ellie, and the everlasting yearning for you.

Joel's legs buckle and he collapses onto the snow on his knees. The ice stings the sliced skin on his bare hands but he isn't even cognisant of the pain. All he can perceive is the devastating emptiness now residing within his soul; all that is left now are memories and nightmares, and the agonising regret and grief of losing you.

tag list- @sofiparallel @harriedandharassed @kewwrites @romanarose @fan-fiction-floozy @anoverwhelmingdin @unknownsuser101 @shesarealcarpentersdream @sheeeeeppp-blog @uncassettodiricordi @axshadows @puduvallee @gossipgirl-03 @oldenoughtoknowbetter @mandoloriancookie @missannfairy @bean-security @missannwinchester @mrszdjarin

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller dark #dark! joel miller #joel miller dark fic #joelmiller #dddne #dark! joel miller x reader

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snowshinobi · 1 year ago

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hear me out: divorce ceremonies. divorce cake and divorce outfits. toasts to the uncouple spoken by the Worst Man and Maid of Dishonor (gender neutral). separate piles of gifts for the freshly parted, stuff like nice sheets and Target giftcards and cookbooks. marriage gets to have all this ritual attached to it and by god divorce deserves some of that action

#this would only work for people who are actually planning to be friends or at least neutral following their separation #but like cmon how fuckin funny and cathartic would this be. i would go to a divorce ceremony. fuck i would throw one #something something humor is what gets you through the dark times #something something humor is the reason why court jesters could speak truth to power #why get torn up about your ex when you can throw one last good time party with them where y'all get the closure you need #surrounded by loved ones who support you on your parting of ways #like isn't that sorta beautiful? and awkward as all hell #im not kidding i really think this could be cool. but yeah both members of the uncouple would have to be down with it #if you get it you get it. if you dont then its fine just get divorced the normal way with minimal fanfare (ideally)#divorce #snowswords #i am once again divorceposting #it will happen again

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reignpage · 1 month ago

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The Other Woman

Pt 1, Pt 2, Pt 3

The doctors and psychologists said it’d be great for your husband’s well-being to be with friends and family. And for the most part, that’s proven true.

Insisting on welcoming Satoru back properly, his students organised a party and invited anyone who had a remote connection with their teacher. Even Nanami had taken time off from work to be here and had given a polite pat on his shoulder and a genuine greeting.

That brought a huge smile to the white-haired man who pounced on the poor guy without remorse, giggling about how he knew he ��always liked him really’. It felt great to watch him be surrounded by and showered with so much love and support, the kind he deserves; you could tell it was bringing life back to him. After all, it must have been painful for him to have been cooped up in the house trying to reconcile his new reality with the one he remembers.

You keep reminding yourself of that.

Satoru needs this.

He needs normalcy. The normal he remembers, the normal he went to sleep thinking about and not the one he had suddenly woken up to, years passing him by.

Everyone knows this. He knows this. Just as you do.

So why is every person in the party sneaking you pitying and concerned glances?

Sure, no one could possibly think this is easy for you, to be the stranger that Satoru still gets surprised to see in the morning. The one he hesitates to say goodnight to, unsure of the boundaries, the etiquette, the right thing to do. He sometimes forgets to text you if he’s going out, shocked and annoyed, you’re sure, to see the many missed calls and messages from you. And you know he studies the picture frames all over your house like a textbook that would give him all the answer he needs.

All he gets, you’re willing to bet, is the realisation that you’re both the tether he needs to keep grounded, that guides him through the sea of memories he cannot touch, and the leash that binds him to a role he doesn’t remember signing up for.

Are they looking at you with worry because of the inevitable toll this sudden shift has taken on your mental health or because your husband is talking to his ex-girlfriend the way he used to talk to you?

It can’t be the latter, right?

Because there’s nothing to be worried about.

Satoru is simply catching up, trying to stitch up the crater-sized hole in his memory with a familiar face. There’s no reason for your hand to shake as you sip your drink or for your eyes to keep darting back over to them, sat alone at a table like they’re the only people in here.

He’s laughing, throwing his head back and making that obnoxious cackle you love to hear. Loved. Because this one isn’t for you. It’s for her. The woman he shouldn’t be near, the woman he shouldn’t even think about, shouldn’t let touch his arm.

You’re the wife.

You’ve got the ring to prove it.

He’s wearing it. Just not on the hand attached to the arm strung over the back of her chair like he’s protecting her from the rest of the world. Hell, maybe he is. Maybe his infinity is on and covering her. But you don’t have it in you to throw something at them to find out. Either result would be just as humiliating as the other.

There’s nothing to be done.

You can’t interrupt.

Because Satoru needs to know what he said goodbye to all those years ago to know what he says ‘hey, pretty lady’ and ‘good morning, gorgeous’ to now. Or used to say. Now, you’re lucky if he even looks at you without shuffling his feet.

Eventually, the night draws to its natural end.

People bid their farewells twice, once to him and her, and then to you. Each time breaks your heart even more until you feel it crumble inside, little shards falling to pieces he won’t pick up. She stands before you, a small, shy smile, like she knows what she’s done. And says it’s ‘lovely to meet you’, and of course you can’t say it back.

Not when you had been introduced by your name, ‘my beautiful wife’ going nowhere near the tip of his tongue as if those words had never been uttered by your husband. And not when she had been introduced in a hastily withdrawn, stuttered freudian slip of hell.

“This is my girlfr— Sorry, I mean, my friend. From high school. Yeah, high school.”

Satoru blushes, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly as he waves goodbye to her. And you can tell he finds the act lacklustre, an uninspired, unnatural way to say goodbye to the woman you woke up to and slept beside.

“Did you have a good time?”

He nods, a soft smile playing on his lip as he casts his gaze across the room, sweeping by the empty hall like he can still see every single person that came. “It was nice to see everyone and catch up.”

You’re thankful he doesn’t ask if you enjoyed the evening because you can’t lie to him but you also can’t tell the truth, can’t burden him anymore with the reminder that he doesn’t fill the shoes of your husband, that he continues to stumble with every step, dragging you down with him.

So, instead, you fill the silence with a question that is so harmless, so normal it slips out before you can even think to anticipate the devastating crack that goes through your very soul.

“Ready to go home?”

Satoru nods.

But he’s looking at a seat in the back.

A seat that’s probably still warm. A seat you could never fill because you aren’t the woman he thought, hoped, he would marry.

You’re just the woman he did.

#jjk x reader #jjk angst #jjk drabble #jjk oneshot #Gojo Satoru #Gojo angst #Gojo x reader #Gojo oneshot

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soaps-mohawk · 4 months ago

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Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 36: To The Sea

Summary: It's time to move on. You're not sure where you're going exactly, but anywhere is better than Texas

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 7,811 words

Warnings: ANGST, injuries, medical stuff, descriptions of pain and injuries, brief discussion about strangulation, mentions of PTSD and nightmares, so much crying, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, angst, a very little sprinkle of comfort, language, mentions of medications, still very heavy emotionally

A/N: Not actually a lot of warnings for this one. It's a lot of dialogue and inner monologues. Not a lot happens, just mostly setting the scene for the next chunk of the story. Bring tissues though, the last part of the chapter emotionally wrecked me but also might be the best thing I've ever written.

11/30/24: **This Chapter has been edited and rewritten from its original version**

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

It’s warm outside.

Not even the shade from the building can completely shield you from the dome of heat that seems to surround the base. It seeps into the concrete and asphalt that lock it into place, trapping everyone in a bubble that may as well be an oven. It’s always hot in Texas, though. You hate it. You’ve been spoiled by the cold, rainy seasons in England. You’d gladly take that over Texas.

You’d take anything over Texas.

The heat prickles at your skin, your arm starting to get sweaty in the sling. It had been Dr. Keller’s idea to keep your shoulder as still as possible so you don’t continue to cause yourself pain when you move. It still hurts, but at least you won’t instinctively try to use your left arm now.

Despite the warmth, there’s still a chill deep in your bones. The warmth of the pain medicine has worn off and you’ve been left with the perpetual ice that has seemed to coat your insides. Dr. Keller says it's the stress giving you a fever. Every nightmare, every flashback sends your body temperature spiking, your heart beating right out of your chest. You’re not out of the woods yet. It can take a long time to recover from that level of distress and the omega taking over. You almost regret it, but there was no guarantee you would have lived either way at that time. You did what you had to do, and it did work out in the end.

But at what cost?

Dr. Keller’s phone buzzes in her pocket and she pulls it out, staring down at the screen for a moment. “Kyle wants to come by.”

You don’t want to see him. You don’t want to see any of them.

“I think you should see him. Even if it’s just for a moment.” She squeezes your hand. “I’ll be right here.”

It’s a predicament. Dr. Keller supports your decision to keep them away, putting some distance between all of you for the time being. Yet, she also says being close to your pack will help your healing. Having your pack around will help your omega settle once again. She needs that safety, that security before she finally lets go completely.

You don’t want to be close to them, but you may not have any other choice.

You sit there in silence, picking at the fabric of your sweatpants as you wait for Kyle’s arrival. Sweat has started to bead on your back, the day only getting warmer and warmer as the sun moves higher in the sky. You want to go back inside, back into the cool air conditioned building. You want to crawl back onto the hospital bed and lay there for the next few hours.

You can’t.

Footsteps approach, but you don’t look up. You know who it is. You don’t want to see him.

“Kyle.” Dr. Keller greets.

“Christine.” He says back. It still throws you off, hearing Dr. Keller's first name. She'll always be Dr. Keller to you. Kyle turns his attention to you, still standing a few steps from the bench you're perched on. “Hi, love.” He says. The affectionate nickname almost makes you wince. You don't look up at him. You don’t want to see his face. “I wanted to stop by and see how you’re doing.”

You don't move, don't give an answer. You don't have an answer to give anyway. You shouldn't have to give an answer.

He lowers himself onto the bench, sitting as far away from you as he can. “It’s hot today.” He says, adjusting his hat. Always wearing a hat. Maybe that's why he and Price work so well together.

He stares at you for a long moment but you don't bother moving, your gaze still on your sweatpants. They're starting to get a bit warm, even with your perpetual chill.

“I’m not here to apologize.” He says, breaking the silence. “You’ve probably heard enough apologies to last you a lifetime.” He shakes his head. “Words can’t fix what we did. Nothing can fix what we did. All we can do is give you what you need, try and make you as comfortable as possible.”

Tears burn your eyes as you listen to him. He's not wrong, an apology won't fix what happened. No words will ever be able to fix what they put you through. You're not sure there's anything they could do that would make up for it. An apology still would have been nice, despite the fact you know how guilty he is. Their avoidance of you, their willingness to give you such space in an unknown place just proves how guilty they all are.

That doesn't make things hurt any less.

You slowly turn away from Kyle, angling yourself towards Dr. Keller.

He doesn't say anything further in that regard, taking your movement as an answer to his non-apology. He leans forward instead, resting his elbows on his knees. “I just wanted to let you know that we’re getting ready to leave soon. We’ll be heading somewhere safe, somewhere quiet and secluded. I think you’ll like it.”

Dr. Keller had informed you of that earlier after she went to speak to them. They've decided what to do, what's best for the pack again. You might have protested, except for the fact it meant you were getting to leave Texas. Where exactly they're taking you, you're not sure. You just know it's not Texas.

“I want you to know that we’re here if you need us.” He stares at you for a moment longer before pushing himself up to stand.

If, not when.

Maybe they're finally getting the message.

Dr. Keller stands, touching your right shoulder gently before she steps away with Kyle, speaking quietly with him, but you can still hear every word in the nearly silent space around you.

“In an attempt to remain a neutral, professional party in this situation, I feel it would be appropriate for me to tell you not to beat yourself up too much about this.” Dr. Keller says. “The unprofessional side of me has many words I’d like to say to all of you.” She clears her throat. “That being said, on a positive note I can say you’re all doing the right thing for once, prioritizing your omega and fulfilling her needs, even if her needs require you to leave her alone for now. I know it’s hard, I know every instinct is screaming at you to help her, but just take comfort in knowing you are helping her. You’re doing the best thing you can do for her at this time.” Dr. Keller puts a hand on his arm, squeezing it gently. “Even if it is tearing you up inside.”

“Thanks, Doc.” He says.

“I’ll see you soon.” She says, patting his arm before she heads back towards your bench.

You turn your head just slightly, not missing the way Gaz lingers for a brief moment before he turns his back on you, walking back down the sidewalk.

It hurts.

You want to cry with every swallow. No matter how much you chew, it doesn’t ease the pain of trying to swallow solid food. Even the worst sore throat you’ve ever had pales in comparison to this pain. Tears burn in your eyes as you eat, unable to refuse this time in favor of choking down some liquid nutrients. Even liquids make your throat ache, but they are easy to chug to get it over with at once.

This feels like torture.

Dr. Keller looks guilty as she spoon-feeds you the soup. Chicken noodle, something simple and easy but still something with some substance. It makes you think back to when you were sick as a child, your mother dutifully feeding you homemade chicken noodle soup until you reached the age you could feed yourself.

You do feel like a child again, unable to even hold the spoon. Well, you could hold it, but it would have come at the expense of some burns from how badly your hand was shaking.

So instead you sit here, being spoon-fed soup you can barely stand eating.

“I know.” She says as a tear finally falls, your inhale shaky from the ache in your throat. “You need something in your system for the sedative. It’s a long flight and you’ll be sick when you wake up if you don’t have anything in your stomach. That’s going to hurt a lot worse than eating now.”

Yeah. You’ve already figured that out.

“Strangulation is a tough thing to survive.” She says, dragging the bottom of the spoon against the edge of the bowl to wipe off any soup that might drip on you. “Then again, so is getting shot, and distressing to the point of your omega taking over.” She holds the spoon up to your lips, and you’re tempted to refuse. “You’ve survived a lot, more than most could. And to look this good after...”

You blink up at her, teary eyed and sickly looking, exhausted and bruised. Your left eye is still almost swollen shut, and your hair is tangled perhaps beyond saving, tied up in a bun at the top of your head. All just reminders of what you survived, all reminders of what happened to you. Of what was allowed to happen to you.

You’re not quite sure when the last time you had a real shower was either.

“I know.” She says, spooning more soup into your mouth. “You might not feel like it, right now.”

“I want a shower.” You say, your voice still hoarse and cracking through your throat. A real shower might solve a lot of problems for you right now. It won’t fix much, but being truly clean would make a lot of things feel better.

“I wholeheartedly agree.” Dr. Keller says.

You give her a look. You don't smell that bad. She should know, she’s the one that cleaned the blood off of you and the one who gave you the sponge bath this morning.

She gives you a look back. “I meant it would be nice to take a real shower. Once we get where we’re going, we can work on the logistics of a shower.”

Right. You can’t exactly stand for a long time on your own, not to mention the problem of only being able to use one arm without bringing blinding pain upon yourself. That’s where the pack would come in handy.

The thought of one of them seeing you vulnerable like that, putting their hands on you right now makes your skin crawl.

A shiver runs down your spine, your body shuddering uncontrollably. You grunt as your shoulder screams in pain, another electric jolt burning straight through your nerves and down through your feet. Fuck. You mouth the word, squeezing your eyes shut. It makes your stomach churn, the soup starting to burn a path back up through your esophagus.

“Breathe for me.” Dr. Keller says, putting a gentle hand on your right shoulder.

In and out. You focus on your breath, the only thing you can do without feeling like you’re going to go insane from the pain. It’s all you can do in this situation. It’s the only thing you can do at all. Breathe. Just keep breathing.

Sometimes you don’t want to.

The pain passes as it always does, leaving behind a subtle ache that will linger until the next flare of pain. It’s a constant, never-ending cycle that you can’t escape from. Weeks, Dr. Keller had said. It can take weeks to heal. You’ll be stuck in this cycle for weeks and weeks. What if it never heals? That is a possibility. It’s always a risk with any injury.

What if the rest of your life is like this?

You’re crying again, hot tears blazing a path down your cheeks. They won’t stop, they never stop. There’s a constant stream down your face, even in your sleep. You’ve woken to find your face and neck damp from the never ceasing flood of tears.

How you can’t wait for the time to come when you have none left.

You’d welcome the numbness at this point, greet it like an old friend and invite it in for tea. Anything over the pain and tears that won’t stop. The depression-fueled numbness that had filled you when Price and Gaz left, then Soap and Ghost would be a welcome relief at this point. Anything would be better than the pain.

You almost wish you were in a coma right now. Then you wouldn’t feel anything at all.

Dr. Keller puts the spoon back into the soup bowl before rolling the table to the side. She puts a hand on your head, gently stroking your hair as you cry. The room is silent aside from your sniffles, Dr. Keller not having to say a single word. The silence is almost a blessing. You’re tired of hearing words, of hearing people speak. There’s nothing anyone can say that will do anything to help you, to comfort you, to make it better.

There’s nothing anyone can do to make it better.

You’re so tired of being like this.

The sedative is kicking in before you even reach the airfield. She can see the way your head is drooping further and further forward in the car, your body jostling without any complaint. It had started kicking in before you even got into the car, as you offered very little resistance when Kyle helped her mauver you into the front seat. She chose Kyle out of everyone to help her in hopes it would be easiest on you. Your claimed alpha’s beta is a good place to start in rebuilding the bonds within the pack, and his calm demeanor certainly helps. He is a caretaker through and through, that beta trait prominent above the others in him. He would have made a good medic, had he gone that route.

Your chin drops to your chest as the car comes to a stop in front of the plane, your body slumping to the side against the door.

“She’s out.” Christine says, unbuckling her seatbelt.

“Makes this easier.” Kyle says, getting out of the car.

They maneuver you into the wheelchair, Christine easing your head onto your right shoulder to avoid aggravating the left. The less pain you’re in when you come out of it, the better, though pain will be unavoidable. Kyle pushes the wheelchair up the ramp of the plane, Christine following close behind. She’s glad she gave you the sedative before you left the med center to avoid as much pain as possible. She almost wishes she had given it to you earlier, as getting you into a sweatshirt had been a battle of its own. Though, the longer it stays in your system, the longer you’ll sleep through the flight. The longer you sleep through the flight, the longer they can delay the inevitable emotional storm of being enclosed in a tight space with your pack.

If you’re lucky, you’ll be out of it long enough for them to reach the cottage without incident.

John is waiting near the front of the aircraft, his eyes watching carefully as Kyle helps maneuver you into a seat. Even with the turmoil in the pack bonds, an alpha will always feel protective over their omega. There’s some things that can’t be undone, even in such a fragile state. Some instincts can’t be unlearned, no matter what.

“I gave her a sedative.” Christine explains as she gets you as comfortable as possible in the seat. “It won’t last the whole flight, but it’ll take a while to wear off regardless.”

“Is that more for her or for us?” John asks.

“Both.” Christine says. “Mostly for her. It helps with the pain of moving around, but it will also keep her calm in close quarters like this.”

“Here.” John says, handing her something. It’s a blanket, brand new by the feel of it. “Johnny made a store run this morning. It’s going to get cold in here, so he got the warmest one he could find.”

Christine takes the blanket, the fabric thick and soft in her hands. It’s a touching gesture, speaking volumes of their desire to still care for you despite everything, their willingness to do what they have to, to keep the pack together. “Perfect.” She says, carefully draping it over you and tucking it around you before John gets you secured in the seat.

“It’s going to be a long flight.” John says, taking a step back.

“It is.” Christine says, pulling out her thermometer. She takes your temperature, letting out a hum at the number that pops up on screen. “I need to monitor her temperature.” She explains as John gives her a look. “It’s been spiking when she gets stressed.”

“She's not quite out of it yet, is she?” John asks.

“Not quite.” She says, putting the thermometer back in her bag. “I’ve only seen two omegas successfully come back from that point, and I know the number across the board isn’t very high. It takes a long time for the body and the brain to get back to normal.”

“And on top of everything that happened...”

She stares up at him for a long moment. “She’s very strong. I knew she was a fighter, but to come out the other side even where she is now...” Christine shakes her head. “I didn’t want to say this at the time, but I was expecting the worst. When that call came in about what state she was in...” She bites her lip, holding the emotions back. “Her resilience and fortitude is what kept her alive. That and Simon’s courage to do what needed to be done.”

“I know.” John says, looking past her. “We all owe a lot to him.”

Christine puts a gentle hand on his arm. “You’re doing what’s best for her. No matter how much it hurts, no matter how much it goes against every instinct you have, it’s what she needs.”

“That’s all that matters to us right now.” John says, staring down at her hand for a moment. “There’s nothing else we can do, so it’s time we start putting our priorities where they should have been the whole time.”

Christine gives him a small smile. “I’m proud of you for that. It takes a lot to unlearn the things you’ve been told since the beginning.”

The corner of John’s lips twitch before his face falls into the emotionless mask he’s been wearing for the last few days. “It’s about time we get our heads out of our arses.”

“I can’t blame you totally.” She shrugs. “We were all just doing what the initiative was telling us to do. We couldn’t have known. There wasn’t any room to question it.”

“I wish we would have figured it out sooner.” He sighs.

“Things might have been worse if the truth did come out sooner. If you started digging into the initiative too soon, Shepherd might have gotten antsy and taken more drastic measures to stop the truth from coming out entirely.” She glances down at you. “I think this was all inevitable.” She turns her gaze back to John. “What happened, happened. None of us can change that. All we can do is keep moving forward with what we have right now.”

He stares at her for a long moment. “The more time passes, the more I’ve come to realize why Kate chose you for this position.”

The corner of her lips turns up in a smile. “Well, I am rather good at my job, which, among other things, involves advocating on behalf of omegas.”

John huffs. “Wish we would have listened sooner.”

“You can’t change the past.” She repeats, looking down at you again. “But you can change the future.”

You woke from your sedation about four hours from Helston.

Well, ’woke’ might have been too strong of a word for it. Your eyes opened, but you were still hazy, movements sluggish and entirely unaware of the world around you. You floated between sleep and awareness for an hour before finally gaining consciousness completely. Awareness took quite a while to return, though. Not until they were moving you to the car from the plane.

Even still you’re groggy, slumped against the door in the back seat of the car. You blink slowly, eyes unfocused as you stare out the window at the blur of green passing by.

“How is she?” John asks from the driver's seat, glancing up at the rearview mirror.

“Cow.” You say, blinking slowly as the car passes a field of cows.

“Still out of it.” Christine answers from the back seat where she's sitting next to you. Your response might have been enough to answer that. “Better than being in pain, though.”

“How long will it take for her to get out of it?” Kyle asks.

“Hopefully she’ll be more lucid by the time we get there, but it could take a few hours for it to completely wear off.” Christine says, wiping a bit of drool from your chin. “Probably not a bad thing. This is a big change, and with everything that’s happened, it’s going to take some time to settle in.”

“Things are going to be rough.” Kyle says.

“Yes.” She agrees. “Being enclosed in a small space with the people you want to see the least in the world isn’t an ideal situation. It’ll be an adjustment for everyone. I trust all of your abilities to adapt, though. Just don't go in expecting things to be the way they were.”

John's hands tighten around the steering wheel, his knuckles going white. Kyle cracks his window open, prepared for the thickening of John's scent in the air. Christine knows she hit a nerve, but it needed to be said. Even if you were open to forgiveness right now, even if they had chosen to go after you right away, things still wouldn't be the same. Things won't ever be the same. It is their fault deep at the root of it. Those cameras were put up because of them, you were taken because of them. You were chosen for the “initiative” because of them, because Kate thought you'd fit in well with them. Their decisions shaped your life, and will continue to shape your life.

Can you ever come to forgive them? Christine likes to think so. She has the hope that they can put in the work and regain your trust and earn eventual forgiveness. She knows you'll allow them to try once the initial hurt and emotions begin to fade, once the two of you put in enough work to start processing the trauma around the events that happened. It will take time. Probably a long time.

She'll be there every step of the way.

“Ashley did some shopping for us, picked up some stuff to get us until we can get into town.” Kyle says, looking at his phone.

“Good.” John says, his shoulders starting to relax. “Should wait a couple days before going. Get settled in.”

“She's still working on cleaning up. Probably still be there when we get there.” Kyle says, putting his phone back in his pocket.

“That's fine. We’ll probably have to utilize her a bit.”

“Doubt she'll complain.” Kyle says, looking out the window. “Be thrilled to have something to do besides work.”

You let out a quiet groan, shifting against the door. “Hurts.”

“I know, honey.” Christine says, carefully adjusting your left arm. “I’ll give you more pain meds once we get to the cottage.”

“We’ll be there in half an hour.” John says, glancing up at the rearview mirror again before turning his eyes back to the road.

The half hour seems to take the longest as you continue to become more and more lucid and aware. The pain sets in first, your brain picking up on those signals before anything else. John’s knuckles are white around the steering wheel as you begin to whine and whimper around every bend in the road and turn he has to make, every jostle of the car. Every instinct in his body tells him to pull over and comfort you, but he can’t. It’s more important to get to the cottage, and there’s no guarantee you’d even let him. It might make things worse.

The last thing you need right now is for things to get worse.

Christine breathes a sigh of relief as they pull up to the cottage, glad she can finally get you somewhere more comfortable. You’ve been in far too many uncomfortable positions today, moved around too much. She would have liked to keep you in Texas a couple more days, but she knew as soon as you were able to travel, the better. The sooner they could get off the grid, the better.

The sooner they could get out of Texas, the better.

Kyle is getting the wheelchair out of the trunk when Johnny and Simon pull up, not having been far behind. They likely took a turn around the back roads to ensure no one was following and to keep things from looking too suspicious.

Christine keeps you from slumping out of the car as she carefully opens the door on your side. You’re more awake than you were, blinking up at her with almost startlingly aware eyes.

“Crutch.” You pout when she pulls the wheelchair closer.

She gives you a look. “Honey I'm not sure you could even stand right now.” You may be more aware, but that doesn’t mean your body is working as it should.

You let out a defiant noise as you attempt to get your legs out of the car, trying to hide your grunts of pain and discomfort.

She's tempted to stand there and let you try, but she knows all hell will break loose if she lets you fall. She's not willing to take that risk, not to mention it will cause you more pain to get you up off the ground.

“Come on,” She says, stopping you before you can get your feet under you. “Nice and slow.”

You let out a quiet growl of indignation but you allow her to help you, your legs trembling as she eases you up. Kyle is there with the wheelchair, getting it as close to you as possible so she can sit you down quickly.

“Ow.” You breathe, eyes pinched closed as you breathe through the pain.

“I know.” She says, patting your good shoulder lightly. She's glad she put you in the sweatshirt before you left Texas. It's chilly outside, chillier than it was further inland a few days ago.

It's hard to believe it's only been a few days since you were taken. Barely even a week. So much happened in such a short period of time. It feels like it’s been weeks since everything started, but then again, it had been weeks since John and Kyle first left. It had been weeks since you had been around your whole pack together by the time you were taken. The deep depression you sunk into before the events of the last week had been draining you slowly for weeks before this. It had started before John and Kyle were deployed, back to that day when you revealed the cameras and the secret you had been hiding from them.

How long you’ve gone in such turmoil.

How far you still have to go.

The path up to the door is rocky and uneven, the wheelchair jostling as she pushes it up towards the door. She can picture your face, the way it has to be screwed up in pain. You're silent though, holding it all in. She almost wishes you weren't being silent about it.

The door is already open, light shining from inside as she approaches. Kyle is in the house already, having gone ahead to greet his sister. John is right behind the two of you as Christine turns to wheel you up the steps into the house. His eyes are on you, focused and ready should you fall.

Christine would never let you fall, and from the way your hand is gripping the arm of the chair for dear life, you probably couldn't anyway.

She wheels you through the entryway, the inside warmer thanks to a fire that's burning. It's a nice cottage, far nicer than she had been expecting judging from the outside.

Johnny lets out a low whistle as he enters behind John, looking around. “Yer parents own this?”

“It was given to our mum by our grandparents. They did some...renovations before they passed it on.” Kyle says.

“Yer tellin’ me.” Johnny says.

It looks new inside. New wood floors, freshly painted walls. The furniture looks like she would expect to find in an English seaside cottage, though. Kyle’s parents went to France for summer vacation instead of utilizing the cottage, and none of his siblings had wanted to use it, he told them. It looks almost perfect, like it came right out of a home renovation show. Kyle’s sister must have worked some sort of magic to get it this clean.

It is a very nice cottage. It’s small, the door opening right to the main area. There’s two couches and a chair in the middle of the room around a coffee table. To the left of the couches is a fireplace, the fire already lit and crackling. It looks original, likely having been untouched in the renovations. There’s a door to the left of the fireplace closer to the main entryway. A bedroom maybe? To the right of the front door are two doors, one on the far wall and one facing the front door.

The stairs are in the middle of the house, leading up to the second floor where there’s likely more bedrooms. On the far side of the main area is the dining area and beyond that is a sliding glass door. Around the corner on the far side of the stairs is likely the kitchen. She can see the fridge from where she’s standing. It’s new. Very new. Makes her wonder just how long ago it had been renovated.

“Everyone, this is my sister Ashley.” Kyle says, introducing the other woman in the room.

“Hello,” she says, giving everyone a wave and a dazzling smile.

She’s dressed simply in jeans and a t-shirt, her medium box braids pulled up into a bun on top of her head. They look a lot alike, her and Kyle. Tall and slender and stunning. They have the same smile and the same soft brown eyes. She's wearing scent blockers, but Christine can imagine her having a soft scent like lavender or something fresh like mint.

“There's two rooms down here, and two upstairs.” Kyle says. “The main bedroom is through there.” He points towards a door to their left. “I figure we'll give that to our omega. The bathroom in there has a walk-in shower.”

“Perfect.” Christine says. That will make getting you in and out of the shower easier at least, and you won’t have to go far to use the bathroom.

“You should take the other room down here.” John says, looking at Christine. “So you can be close in case of an emergency.”

And so you don't have to be too close to them, so you won’t feel like they’re hovering.

He doesn't have to say that part out loud.

“I put new sheets on all the beds.” Ashley says. “I also picked up everything Kyle sent on the list. Food, some clothes, some other necessities.”

You let out a quiet groan, Christine patting your head gently. You have to be exhausted and sore after the day. She should give you another dose of pain medicine like she said she would. You’re going to need it tonight.

“Let's get you laying down for a bit.” She says, wheeling you towards the door.

Kyle opens it for her, revealing a spacious room with a big window looking out towards the sea. You're going to spend a lot of time in front of that window, she thinks. The bed is in the middle of the room, and there’s two chairs facing the window. She’s almost tempted to sit you in one of the chairs, but laying down will be more comfortable for you right now.

You're still too out of it now to care much as she wheels you to the double bed. With Kyle's help they get you horizontal, Christine draping the blanket at the end of the bed over you. It’s not very soft, but it will do for now. She’ll have to get the guys to pick up some soft blankets for you when they go to town. She has a whole list of things starting in her head she needs them to pick up.

She leans your crutch against the end of the bed just in case you might need it for an emergency. She hopes you’ll yell first, but you always have been stubborn. Being mostly bed-bound has only made that worse.

“I’m going to go look through the things Ashley picked up.” She says, patting your leg gently. “Get some rest.”

Christine leaves the door open a crack as she exits, wanting to give you a little privacy as you nap, or at least she hopes you’ll nap. It’s going to be a rough adjustment, and you’re going to need as much rest as you can get.

“I’m assuming you’re Christine.” Ashley says, walking up to her.

“I am.” She says, giving Ashley a smile.

She can’t help but get lost in Ashley’s soft gaze for a moment. The Garrick siblings seem to share the same magnetic energy. There’s something almost ethereal about them. She could easily imagine them with glowing halos and angel wings. It’s almost like she’s being blessed with the opportunity to look upon her. She could spend an hour staring at Ashley’s face and not grow tired of looking at her.

“I picked up the items Kyle said you needed.” She says, motioning to the bags on the coffee table, pulling Christine out of her daze. “I couldn’t find the exact nutrient powder you asked for, so I got one that was as close as I could find.”

Christine glances through the bags. She was thorough, getting at least two of everything.

“I got warmer clothes for her too, since it can get chilly out here this time of year. Just some simple things for now until you guys get into town.” Ashley says. “I did some research too and I read that omegas like comforting things so I picked up some extra blankets and pillows” Ashley says, motioning to a couple bags sitting on the couch. “I also picked up this,” She pulls a stuffed dog from one of the bags, holding it up. “It was the softest one I could find. I thought it might help.”

A small smile forms on Christine’s face, her heart fluttering in her chest from the sweet, thoughtful gesture. Ashley doesn’t even know you, nor did she know exactly what happened to you, and yet she went so far as to pick up some comfort items for you. You have nothing right now, only the borrowed clothes on your back. All of your belongings are still on base, all of the things that you had built to make your perfect nest. Would you want any of them still? Or have they been tainted by the events of the last few weeks?

That Ashley thought to do this has warmth flooding Christine’s body. You can have some comfort now without having to wait for their trip to town. She almost feels the urge to cry. She wants to hug Ashley, thank her over and over for her kindness. Ashley has no idea how much her small act of kindness means, how much it's going to mean.

A smile forms on Christine’s face as she stares at the stuffed dog. “It’s perfect.”

You can hear it.

In the distance, the quiet roar reaches your ears as you’re dragged from the sweet arms of sleep. It must be a dream, or perhaps the sedative is still clinging to your mind, making you imagine things.

No.

You’d know that sound anywhere.

The effort to push yourself up to sit is a momentous one, every cell in your body protesting after a day of being moved and jostled. The last thing you want is to move right now, but you have to.

The pain meds have done little to help.

The crutch at the end of your bed must be a thousand miles away as you sit there and stare at it. The ache in your body only increases as you become more and more aware of the pain, almost as if it can tell what it is your mind is planning.

The door is cracked open, letting in a slit of light from outside. It’s dark in the room, the curtains pulled over the window. It’s a blessing compared to the bright yellow light outside the door. You welcome the darkness as your head begins to throb. You could call for assistance. You’d get more help than you needed. More help than you want.

No.

You need to do this.

The effort it takes to get standing nearly sends you back onto the bed. The pain nearly blinds you as your feet touch the floor, your body leaning against the side of the mattress out of desperation. If you fall, you’ll never be alone again. You can’t afford that. You don’t want that.

If you fall, you’ll never get up again.

The breaths out of your nose are short and sharp as you reach for the crutch, fingers trembling in the effort to fight the pain threatening to blind you. You’re trembling like a leaf in a storm as your fingers finally wrap around the cool metal. The rubber bottom drags across the floor as you tug it over to you, holding it against your chest for a moment.

Breathe. That’s what you need to do. Breathe.

In and out.

Nice and slow.

The pain is only a memory. The pain is nothing. The memories forming at the edges of your mind will take over and wipe out the pain and the misery. You just have to be sure. You just have to be certain.

You push yourself upright using the crutch, tucking it under your arm. You should go back to bed. You should rest.

No.

You need to know.

You need to be certain.

The first step you take nearly makes you sick.

It’s like watching a baby deer walk for the first time, knees wobbling, feet shaking. You lean heavily on the crutch, your determination the only thing keeping you from tumbling to the floor in a heap. That might almost hurt worse than forcing yourself to stand upright.

If you fall, you’ll never get up again.

Inch by inch you move across the floor, silently grateful for the socks on your feet. They allow you to slide across the hardwood, but they also pose a threat. Slide too far and you’ll lose your feet.

If you fall, you’ll never get up again.

The determination and your desire for certainty is what keeps you sliding inch by inch across the floor towards that strip of blinding light in front of you. It’s hovering before you, threatening you. How do you know there’s not one of them standing guard, waiting for you to try and leave? You can’t know. You don’t have a clue what’s waiting on the other side of that door. It could be nothing. It could be your entire pack.

Breathe.

In and out.

You take a moment at the door, resting your aching feet. Your body is throbbing from the effort to keep yourself upright, the sedative still numbing your brain and your movements. It’s like treading through honey, everything twice as hard as it should be. You can walk. You’ve done it before. You did it in the medical center.

You can do it here.

You use the crutch to push the door open more, your free arm still tucked in a sling to keep you from moving it. Reaching for it with that arm would have put you on the floor, would have caused more pain than you needed, would have made you fall.

If you fall, you’ll never get up again.

Breathe.

The light burns. Explosions of yellows and whites erupt behind your eyelids as you screw them tight against the sudden onslaught. The sun is in the room, shining its rays directly into your sensitive eyes. Your stomach churns, your fingers tightening around the crutch so tight your knuckles begin to ache. The oppressive light makes you want to recede back into the darkness of the room behind you like a vampire shying away from the light of day.

No.

You won’t be defeated by the harsh artificial lighting. You need to know.

You need to be certain.

The others are moving around. You can hear voices around the corner, voices upstairs with thudding footsteps. The air is thick with a mesh of scents, cleaning chemicals, and the burn of scent blocker. Your nose wrinkles at the sudden onslaught against your senses, your sedated brain making it all seem so much worse.

You need to know.

The hardwood floors continue and you use them to your advantage as you shuffle your way across the main area. The fire crackles as you pass, the popping of a log making you startle. Your feet slide again, your body pushing up against the crutch to hold yourself steady.

If you fall, you’ll never get up again.

Your target is dead ahead, a mile away but so close you can almost taste it. Just past the dining table and straight on till morning.

Despite your snail’s pace, no one seems to notice you shuffling your way across the house. It should make you upset, the fact that none of them notice you moving around, but instead it makes you glad. They’d try to stop you if they noticed you, turn you around and shuffle you back to bed. Or worse, they’d carry you.

How easily you could slip away, though.

Well...in theory.

Perhaps that’s why they ‘re not paying you any mind. How far could you really go in your current state?

Why would you want to stray from the only safe space you have?

The world outside is more dangerous with the state you’re in. Not just because of your injuries and your status, but also because you know Shepherd is still out there, and for all you know Graves is as well.

He could be waiting right outside the door.

No.

They’d know.

They’d protect you.

They failed.

You push past the fear in favor of certainty as you push forward, passing the dining table in your slow crawl towards the sliding glass door.

It poses an entirely new threat as you stand before it, staring out the darkened glass. You have to get it open. Getting it open takes strength and you’re down to one hand that’s trying to keep you upright.

You have to know.

You have to be certain.

You lean your weight on the crutch, ignoring the way it digs into your armpit as you reach for the handle. You click the lock, wrapping your fingers around the plastic before pulling. Your body screams with pain as you tug, the door sliding in the track as slowly as you had moved across the small living area. It’s almost as if it's mocking you.

It’s open only as wide as you need to crutch your way through, doing your best not to knock your left shoulder against the frame.

If you fall, you’ll never get up again.

Breathe.

You can smell it.

The salty sea air invades your senses, slipping up through your nose and straight into your brain. Memories come flooding back of childhood vacations back when things were simpler. Back when nothing mattered but the sand and the water and avoiding getting chased by your brothers carrying the piece of seaweed they found.

Polkadot bathing suits, bright red to be seen easily. Toes in the water, sand everywhere. The nap in the silent car home.

How simple life was back then. How easy life was.

Your heart aches for those days again. The days when you could exist without a care in the world, trusting your pack would keep you safe, trusting your family would care for you. Your mind yearns for that sense of safety and security again.

The world is grey as you hobble across the porch, the grey seeming to go on forever. You missed it, the chill in the air, the gloomy grey overhead. How you yearned for the gloom of England while stuck in the heat of Texas.

Anything is better than Texas.

Your forward shuffle pauses at the edge of the deck, your eyes looking out into the grey. Your breath catches in your throat as you stare out into the distance, the ache in your chest intensifying. It blocks out the pain in your body, numbing you to everything else as you stand there, legs trembling from the effort of going the short distance from your room to the end of the porch.

You can see it.

Emotions swirl inside of you like a hurricane as you stare out where the grey water meets the grey sky in the line of the horizon. Those emotions threaten to choke you as you stand there trembling at the edge of the porch. There’s a breeze, a cold one that bites through the fabric of your sweatshirt and into the skin below, but you don’t care.

You can’t care.

Your legs shake from the exertion, the neverending exhaustion that’s settled deep into your bones. It’s not just a physical exhaustion, but a mental one as well. It’s been a long week.

Only a week.

So much has happened in a week.

You want to sit. You want to sink down onto the porch and rest.

If you fall, you’ll never get up again.

There’s a pain in your chest as your breath catches in your throat. The emotions are whirling, tightening around your chest, squeezing your lungs until they feel like they might pop.

Breathe.

In and out.

You needed certainty. You needed to know.

You can hear it. You can smell it. You can see it.

A single tear rolls down your cheek as you stare out at the sea.

NEXT ->

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thyme-in-a-bubble · 2 months ago

Text

the butchery of the beloved, the boulder, the bimbo and the brilliant

kinktober, day twenty-five

a/n: ahhh, it's finally time to share the kinktober fic you all helped shape!! it turned out so fucking unhinged and i love it. happy halloween, folks!

polls for this fic: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8

summary: “they–… they were right…” the warnings your now deceased friends had given you since the moment you got involved with the frat boy buzzed in your mind, though when they’d light-heartedly called him a psycho, you never in your wildest dreams thought that they would have been correct in their choice of words, “I can’t believe they were right…”

warnings: dark!rafe cameron x innocent!reader, smut, dark content, noncon/dubcon, slasher au, final girl!reader, 00’s slutty horror movie vibes, found family, nonverbal, murder, violence, blood, gore, crying, alcohol consumption, smoking, possessiveness, jealousy, mask kink, kissing, size kink, belly bulge, manhandling, dirty talk, just the tip, pussyjob, oral, spit kink, impact play, pain kink, choking, bondage, dacryphilia, orgasm denial, overstimulation, squirting, fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, references to anal/painal

word count: 7400

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist | kinktober 2024

It all started at a lunch table, as so many friendships do.

The first one to sit was Hana, the nurturing soul of the group who had been a genius even back then. The next to join was Brian, the blonde bombshell whose smile brightened any room he entered. Then came Oliver, the guy who at twelve years old had stood up to the bully you couldn’t face yourself and swore from that day on he’d do so for each and every one of you till the end of your days. And lastly, there was you, in many ways the glue of the little pack.

To say that the four of you were thick as thieves didn’t even begin to cover it, as you’d been there for each other in every up and down in each of your lives since adolescence. Even when your mother passed, especially when your mom passed, that’s when you truly knew that they weren’t just your pals, but your family.

“Oh wow,” you breathed as you gazed out the window to the destination you’d finally reached, “is this really your dad’s cabin?” you glanced over your shoulder at the man behind the wheel, a proud smirk ever on his lips.

“Yep,” Rafe nodded and reached down to put the car in park.

You’d met him at the beginning of this semester and it hadn’t taken you very long at all to fall embarrassingly and completely head over heels for the guy.

Though he wasn’t the first boyfriend to grow to be a part of the tight-knit clique, he hadn’t been welcomed with open arms as you remembered Jerome, Brian’s partner, had two years ago. The gentle giant of few words had melted into your dynamic so naturally that none of you remembered any longer a time before him. But it wasn’t like that this time, not with Rafe. For some reason, your friends just couldn’t warm up to the frat guy you loved so dearly.

As you heard the other car roll to a stop behind you, the vehicle where the four remaining resisted, your fingers dipped down into your pocket and fished out your phone to snap a photo of the luxurious lake house and its breathtaking views, though that’s when you noticed the lack of bars up in the upper corner of the screen.

“Oh, damn it…” you squinted down at your phone, “is there seriously no service out here?”

“Yeah, sorry I forgot to tell you,” Rafe snatched out the keys, “this place is pretty off-grid, you have to probably walk half an hour or something to get any signal.”

The dry leaves on the forest floor crunched beneath your shoes as you stepped out of the car and tipped your head back to glance up at how high the surrounding pine trees stretched up towards the cloudy sky.

As Rafe hopped up onto the wide porch and fiddled with a bundle of keys to unlock the place, your gaze kept finding him as you hung back a while and helped your friends unload their car.

“Can you all please promise to play nice this weekend?” you quietly asked them.

“Yeah,” Oliver huffed, yanking out a heavy duffle bag, “I’ll play nice if he does, which I sincerely doubt since I haven’t yet discovered one kind bone in his body.”

“Oh, come on,” you defended your beau, “he’s the one who suggested this trip so that you could all finally discover what a sweet guy he actually is,” before you all ascended the short steps and filtered into the abode.

Not soon after you all crossed the threshold, Rafe’s arms seized your waist and drew you back against him, whispering in your ear that he wanted to give you the grand tour of the house.

However, when you reached the room that was to belong to the two of you for the rest of the weekend, his ulterior motives for the journey around the cabin became crystal clear.

At first, when he wrapped his arms around you from behind as you gazed out the tall windows at the foot of the bed, a giggle bubbled in your belly as you felt his desire poke the small of your back. Though it was already during his palm’s swift voyage under the hem of your shirt and up towards your boobs that he let slip what crucial item he’d neglected to pack.

“You didn’t bring any condoms?” you twisted around to glare at the persistence that still sparkled in his eyes.

“Oh, come on, don’t let that fact spoil our fun,” he pulled you back into his arms, “don’t you want me to dick you down this weekend, huh?” he murmured in your ear.

“Well, I don’t wanna get pregnant,” you slowly pushed him back, “so it’ll just have to be another weekend.”

But then he seized your hand and brought it down to the palpable tent in his jeans, “babe, come on. Just feel how hard I am. You can’t just leave me like this, not when it’s your fault to begin with.”

Your mouth then fell open as a shy scoff rolled off your tongue, “I literally haven’t done a thing, how is it my fault?”

“Come on, don’t act like a prude,” his grip around your wrist shifted and it slid down to rub your palm against his hardness, “be a good girl and at the very least get down on your knees.”

“No,” you chuckled lightly and pushed yourself off of him enough to stumble closer towards the bedroom’s exit, “if you’re so desperate, then take care of it yourself.”

Even though winter was creeping ever nearer, each one of you still dared to go down to the lake’s small pier and soak up the mild rays of autumn sun that peeked out behind the clouds. Both Hana and Oliver even gathered enough courage to take a dip in the cool water, though weren’t successful in any of their attempts at talking the rest of you into the same.

Though when your friends in the water began to splash at one another, Oliver teasingly let some splatter upon Brian as he sat on the edge, eyes closed and face turned up towards the sky as he relaxed back against his boyfriend.

“Oh my god! Don’t!” he tensely straightened up, his tone startling Jerome enough that his palm that rested on Brian’s waist tightened, “stop! You’re giving me flashbacks to summer camp!”

As you heard your grinning friend in the lake apologise, you opened your mouth to note, “that’s right, I forgot you went to camp when we were kids.”

“Yeah, it was honestly revolting,” Brian recoiled slightly at the recollection, “mosquitoes, terrible food, even worse people. Had a big old lake just like this one,” he gestured to the surrounding landscape.

“Actually,” Rafe then spoke up, his voice booming to your ears as he sat directly behind you, his legs slotted on either side of your frame as his chin rested atop your shoulder, “this place used to be a summer camp too back when my dad bought it.”

“Really?” Hana glanced up from the water, their childish game now halted.

“Yeah, I mean,” Rafe cast a glance over his shoulder at the structures on the bank just behind him, “it had been abandoned and completely deserted for a long time, but a lot of the buildings, the main house and the shed and stuff, they’re the original cabins just renovated.”

“Your dad bought an abandoned camp?” Oliver scrunched up his face, “okay, creepy…”

“Oh, hell no, I’m out,” Brain began to unravel, “babe, if we wake up in the middle of the night to a ghost child standing at the foot of our bed, it’s your job to take care of it,” he glanced over his shoulder at Jerome, “I’m too delicate and pretty to deal with the paranormal, especially if it’s kids,” to which his boyfriend simply hummed in agreement and soothingly let his palm run down his partner’s arm.

“Oh, this place isn’t haunted,” Hana said after she’d swam up to clutch against the side of the pier, “calm down.”

“Well, you don’t know that, it might be,” the blonde man behind you shrugged, “especially with what apparently happened here back in the day…”

“What are you talking about?” you looked back at him.

“Well, back like forty years ago or something, when this was still a camp, there was this one counsellor who one day just went nuts, like snapped and murdered every single person there,” Rafe told, purposely making his tone more ominous the further into the story he got, “that’s why the place was shut down and abandoned, why no one ever wanted to return it to its former glory. It’s one of the most gruesome unsolved cases in this entire corner of the country.”

“Wait, unsolved?” Brian clutched his imaginary pearls.

“Yeah, the guy was never caught, supposably never even left these woods…” he then leaned in and attempted to truly spook you all, “at night if you listen closely, you can still hear him sharpening his blade, getting ready to hunt his next prey…”

Hana, assuming that he was only joking, let out a dry laugh to cut the tense silence that had fallen over you all, “okay, very funny, ha-ha.”

“Yeah,” you gently rubbed your boyfriend’s arm as you tried to shake the tale off of you, “let’s maybe not joke about psychopaths running around a rural area when we actually are in a rural area,” though goosebumps still pricked and tingled every inch of your skin.

“Wait, how did it go?” your giggle mingled with Oliver’s as you both leaned against the kitchen counter, nearly bumping your foreheads together from how hard you were laughing, “was it…” and you began to hum a faint melody.

“No because, remember, at the end it went,” your friend cut you off and then made his own attempt, though much more accurate than your own, causing your eyes to promptly light up with recognition before they crinkled together in laughter as he tried to hit the high note at the end.

Once the woods surrounding the cabin had succumbed to darkness, the group of you all decided to wrap the day up in a bit of merriment, going through Rafe’s father’s liquor stash and turning up the music.

During your and Oliver’s secluded moment in the kitchen away from the rest, your laughter caused you to sway even closer to one another, your palm naturally planting itself on his chest as your faces nearly touched.

Though just as the pair of you were doubled over, a figure appeared in the doorway.

“Oh,” your grin continued as you spotted your boyfriend, “hey baby,” though your laughter finally began to fade.

Staring daggers at the man beside you, Rafe then uttered coldly, “hey,” before his feet carried him straight towards you, seized your waist and twisted you away from your friend and towards himself to capture your lips.

“Okay, right,” Oliver exhaled as Rafe kept marking his territory, kissing you way more passionately than he needed to, “I’ll just see you guys back in the living room then…”

You tried to tilt away enough to utter your friend a reply, though your boyfriend didn’t allow you, only let you go once Oliver was long gone and Rafe returned to his original plan of cracking open the fridge to get a cold beer for himself.

Walking back out into the living room while your boyfriend scavenged for a bottle opener, you plopped yourself back down on the couch, on the opposite side to where Brian and Jerome were snuggled up. Next to where the lit fireplace crackled sat Oliver in a chair and not far from his feet on the fuzzy carpet rested Hana, legs crisscrossed as she held up her wine glass to stare through it.

When Rafe rejoined you all, a freshly glowing cigarette trapped between his lips as he sauntered out of the kitchen, he situated himself right beside you, making space for himself where there hadn’t really been previously. In his hand, he didn’t just balance his own drink, but also a stout glass filled with an amber liquid, one he swiftly handed off to you even though you hadn’t asked for it, yet that had still been the routine of the evening, and after the first one was sloshing on your belly, the others became harder to deny and not accidentally sip absentmindedly, especially when he’d playfully help you along by tilting the glass the remaining distance up towards your lips.

“Sweetie,” Hana soon leaned closer to utter for your ears only, “don’t you want a glass of water instead?”

Though your boyfriend beside you unfortunately overheard and grasped his cigarette between two of his longer fingers, a puff of smoke accompanying his words as he answered before you got the chance to, “she’s fine.”

From across the couch, as Hana scooted back to her spot on the carpet, having not caught the quiet interaction, Brian then suggested, “why don’t we play a game or something?”

“What, like truth or dare?” Hana leaned back against an unoccupied armchair.

“No, this isn’t a slumber party. Isn’t there like board games here?”

Brian’s glance then drifted to Rafe as he smothered his cigarette in the nearby ashtray and, without warning, pulled you into his lap and caught Oliver’s eye from across the room as he shamelessly let his hands wander across your frame.

“Uh, yeah. There should be some in the cabinet over there,” Rafe vaguely gestured before his lips began to nip at the side of your neck, making your eyes flutter and only half watched along as Brian then got up to skim through the aforementioned cupboard.

“Okay,” he glanced through the options, “there are cards, so we could play poker or something,”

“No way,” Oliver swiftly shook his head and shot a glance at Jerome’s bulky form, comfortably slumped on the couch, “I’m not repeating that fiasco again.”

“Aw,” Brian glanced back at his friend, “but it was so cute seeing my boyfriend fucking demolish you,” and Jerome, the quiet man he was, just let out a grunt in agreement.

“No, pick something else,” Oliver waved a hand.

“Well, we’ve got monopoly, scrabble, cards against humanity–, uh! There’s clue!” he excitedly picked up the box and spun around, “oh, work! Let’s play that!”

With his kisses still dancing along your skin, they then suddenly ceased as Rafe announced, “you guys go ahead, I think Y/n is ready for bed.”

Shooting a concerned glance at how your intoxicated form wobbled slightly as your boyfriend helped you up on your feet, Hana uttered, “oh, are you sure?”

“She is,” Rafe’s touch clung to you, “aren’t you babe?”

“Oh, uhm…” you hadn’t really noticed it before, but now that he mentioned it, as if he himself planted the thought in your hazy mind, all of the alcohol had in fact made you pretty sleepy, “yeah, I guess so.”

“Alright, well then,” Hana’s voice stayed slightly hesitant, “sleep tight.”

“I love you guys,” you blew the group kisses as Rafe helped you over towards the stairs.

His kisses made you even more dizzy than you already were, so when you stumbled over the threshold into your shared room, you flopped down onto the mattress, though you weren’t quite sure if you’d just fallen or if Rafe had manhandled your intoxicated and pliant frame, giving you a push before his form was atop of yours.

Though now that you were horizontal and with the weight of a frat boy squishing you further down into the bed, that was when you truly noticed just how much you’d had to drink that evening.

The room was spinning as Rafe made out with you, his palms raking across your body like a wild storm, squeezing every soft curve he could get his hands on. As one hand disappeared up your skirt, his kisses wandered down and over your throat to the bit of your chest that was exposed in the neckline of your top. Wasting no time at all, he then yanked down the hem, catching one of the cups of your bra as well as he unwrapped your tit like a present.

As his face was buried in your boobs, surely giving you hickeys from the way that he sucked at your pebbly nipple and the surrounding sensitive skin, a breathless attempt at halting his affections left your lungs, “baby–”

Though he didn’t take the whimper as you’d intended it and simply continued, “shit, you’re so fucking hot,” he yanked down the other sliver of mesh fabric covering your other boob, “god, these tits are just insane.”

Weakly, you ran your fingers through his buzzed hair and gasped as you felt his hardness grind into your covered core, “Rafe, I–”

“Yeah?” his lips began to flutter back up to your own as he let himself rock against you with more intent, “you want this big dick, huh?”

“No, we can’t, we don’t have a–”

“Oh come on, baby,” he shifted, slipping a hand down under the waistband of your skirt and into your underwear, not hesitating to sweep his fingers through your wetness and bully your little button, “I know you want to…”

“Stop, that feels too good,” you tried, but couldn’t yank his strong hand away, “you can’t–, I have to get up and brush my teeth.”

“You know, all my exes let me tap it raw,” he purred in your ear and attempted to guilt you, “why won’t you? Don’t you trust me?” his touch then suddenly disappeared, but only to tug down the zipper on the side of your short skirt.

“Of course I do, I just–”

“Then why won’t you let me make you feel good, huh?” he yanked both your skirt and panties down your legs, so fast it nearly gave you whiplash. Crawling off of your jelly-like form, he stood tall and loomed at the foot of the bed. Wasting no time, he yanked your core closer to the edge before he desperately freed his fat cock. The taps he then offered your glistening cunt, letting you reel in the weight of his length, “doesn’t that feel nice, baby?” he smirked at the way your mouth fell open, “because it sure seems like your little pussy thinks so, just look,” you followed his command and glanced down to spot how his intimidating girth nudged at your weepy petals.

Even after months of dating, you still hadn’t gotten used to the daunting size of him.

“Oh, fuck…” your brows knitted together.

“Just listen to that,” he flicked the bulbous tip through your slick folds with more vigour, causing the melody of your want to echo even louder throughout the bedroom, “you’re so fucking wet. You want it so bad…”

You then felt yourself fade away into the intoxicating sensation, letting him continue to fuck your fold and make your pussy drool even further till your eyes fluttered shut.

However, it didn’t take very long at all, through all of the hazy motions, before the very tip of him caught your entrance and slipped inside.

“Rafe!” you gasped, eyes snapping back open as your spine lurched off the mattress just an inch.

“Fuck,” he let out a loud groan, “sorry, babe. You’re just too soaked, it slipped in,” though didn’t move at all to pull it back out, since it had secretly been completely on purpose, “christ, you’re so tight…”

As he slipped his shirt over his head and tossed it to the side, you pleaded once more, “Rafe…” quietly begging for him to take it out through the conflicting haze as the familiar sensation of him stuffing you full always shut your brain completely off.

“This doesn’t count,” he claimed as he began to move, pumping just the bulbous head of himself in and out of your little hole, “not really. I can fuck you with just the tip, right?” a few of his fingers then lowered to strum your clit and summon a loud moan from deep within your soul, “yeah, that’s what I thought…”

As he removed his fingers from your clit, he then stuffed them in your mouth, muffling your soft whimpers and letting you suck them clean of your juices. As the taste of yourself coated your tongue, your own hands came up to clutch his, holding it near as you soon let your pecks wander across his palm and even down to plant a soft kiss to the gold ring that never left his finger.

“Oh–,” a gasp then left your lungs as he suddenly pushed in a bit more of his length, “Rafe, that’s too deep,” selfishly letting himself feel more of your warmth.

“No, that’s not too deep,” he began to fuck you properly, making you lose your breath, “you wanna know what is too deep?” a purposefully harsh thrust then buried itself so far inside of you that a tingle of pain joined the pleasure, “that’s too deep,” he then retracted just a tad, though still filled you up completely with each long stroke, “this is just right.”

“We can’t–,” you foggily tried to shake your head.

“Yes, we can. Just look how good you’re taking me, baby,” the palm you’d been clutching then escaped your grasp and scooped behind your head to tilt your neck and lock it there, directing your glance down between your bodies and forcing you to spot the faint bulge that appeared at each one of his mind-melting thrusts, “you don’t wanna stop…”

Feeling that all too familiar high begin to fuzz up your periphery, you trembled, “o-oh, fuck…”

“You feel so fucking good…” he grunted as your pussy began to clench around his fat girth, “just let me use you for a bit, yeah?”

“I–, I–,” gasps of air expanded your lungs as his pace then thrust you over the edge, “holy shit…” and your cunt helplessly clambered around him.

In your orgasmic haze, Rafe then abruptly flipped you around for you to lay on your stomach, and you barely managed to process it before you felt the weight of him settle atop of you, smooshing you down into the mattress as he slid back in.

“Ah!” you yelped at the way he didn’t hold back, “Rafe, it’s too much,” not even bothering to grant you a chance to recover, but simply fucked through your soreness, “I can’t–”

“Oh, shut up, you can take it,” he growled in your ear, his feet hooking your ankles and spreading your shaky legs further for him, “take it like the good little slut you are.”

It was strange how he’d taught your body to love the pain he inflicted. Even if the source was just his god-given gift of a girth, or curse, all depending on your point of view, and not the roughness he occasionally let slip out of the dark depths he tried to hide his jagged sides in for you and you alone.

“Fuck,” you soon heard him groan as his heavy sack slapped against your cunt at each one of his furious rocks, “I’m gonna cum!”

“Pull out–,” you managed to mumble into the sheets.

“What?” he kept on pounding your poor pussy.

“Not inside,” you tilted your head a bit to beg, “please!”

“Oh my god, fine,” he then begrudgingly pulled out and with one hand flipped you back onto your stomach as the other wrapped around his cock and he began to fuck his fist. Pushing himself up onto his knees, he crawled further up your body till his thighs caged you in, denting the mattress on either side of your face. He didn’t even wait for your lips to part before he shoved his dick down your throat, making you gag as he groaned loudly above you, “fuck…” and fed you his load.

When he soon flopped down on the bed beside you, the both of you catching your breaths, you instinctively gulped down what he’d given you before you curled your frame into his side.

As he wrapped an arm beneath your head, his glance then flickered down to you as he caught your chin with his thumb and forefinger, tilting you up to him before he asked, “did you swallow it?” digging his digit slightly into your skin and making you open your mouth for him, letting him discover the answer him himself, “fuck… that’s my girl…” he groaned before dipping down to kiss you.

The peck however didn’t carry on for long as his warmth then suddenly disappeared.

“Where are you going?” you watched as he got up, reaching out your arms to him in a silent plea for cuddles.

“I’m thirsty,” he zipped his pants back up, though didn’t bother with his shirt, “you just try and fall asleep, I’ll be right back.”

Flashing him a drowsy smile, “okay,” you then tug the duvet over your form and let your gaze shadow him as he made his way out of the room.

You thought you hadn’t managed to fall asleep, but evidently, you had as when the door to the room suddenly burst open, you were jolted awake, Rafe as well stirring as he was now settled behind you with an arm draped over your frame.

As three of your friends rushed to slam the door behind them, Rafe propped himself up and mumbled, “hey, what the fuck–”

But Hana then cut him off, a downright terrified look plastered not only all over her own face, but the rest as well.

“Oliver’s dead,” she uttered through the tears that thickened up her voice.

Still groggy, you slowly sat up and murmured, “what?”

Snapping her bloodshot eyes to lock with yours, she bellowed, “Oliver is fucking dead!”

As your gaze flickered over the group in search of any sign that what she claimed wasn’t true, you heard Rafe behind you exhale, “okay, this isn’t funny.”

“Oh shut up, you dick!” Brian shot back, doubled over in the corner, hyperventilating as Jerome kneeled before him, trying to calm him down.

“Hey, hey,” you gently raised up a hand, “don’t talk to him like that. What the hell do you mean Oliver is dead?”

“I mean that he’s dead as in dead, dead,” Hana explained, her words causing the world to suddenly crumble all around you, “Jerome went outside to get something from the car and found him on the porch, not moving and with his head stuck under the water in the hot tub.”

With tears now stinging the corners of your eyes, you struggled to suck in a breath of air, “what?”

“It’s that fucking ghost story you told us,” Brian panicked in the corner, “it’s real, isn’t it?”

“Okay,” Rafe uttered as the both of you leapt out of bed and scrambled to get some clothes on, “let’s all just calm down.”

“We gotta call the police,” Hana said, to which Jerome swiftly pulled out his phone, only to then curse quietly as he discovered what Brian too noticed when he glanced over his shoulder.

“Fuck, we can’t, there’s no signal!”

Hana then glanced around at everyone, “well then one of us has gotta drive and find some, right?”

“Hell no,” Brian shuttered, “if there’s some psycho out in these woods, then I’m not staying behind to get murdered. We’re all going.”

So that’s how, after you’d all scurried downstairs and filtered out through the sliding door to the porch, that you saw the truth with your own eyes.

Even though his head was obscured beneath water, the unmoving corpse of your dear friend still caught your eyes and stopped you in your tracks.

“Oh my god…” you sobbed, your blood running cold.

But before you could let your feet carry you closer to the scene of the crime, Rafe seized your arm and uttered, “baby, come on,” before pulling you along the last short distance towards the cars, “I’m sorry, but we gotta go.”

Though when you did reach the vehicles and attempted to start them, neither one of them would as they’d seemingly been tampered with, forcing the panicked lot of you all to run back inside.

“Shit…” Brian clutched onto the back of the couch in the living room for support, “what do we do now?”

“We can’t go on foot, not in the dark through this forest,” Rafe spoke, “so we gotta stay here till morning.”

Glancing around the space, Hana uttered, “then we gotta make this place safe. Lock all the doors and windows, find somewhere to hide.”

“Yeah, good idea,” your boyfriend nodded before suggesting, “let’s split up, it’ll be faster that way. Y/n with me, we’ll take that side of the house, and the rest of you stay over here.”

And before anyone could protest, he’d yanked you down a dark hallway.

You nearly stumbled twice as Rafe dragged your shaking visage through the lake house, only stopping once you’d reached a large closet.

“In here, baby,” he shoved you inside, though began to shut the door before he nuzzled himself in as well.

“No, what are you doing?” tears streaming down your face, you attempted to stop him.

Though he only halted his efforts a second, grasping your face as he uttered, “please, just stay here.”

“No, it’s too dangerous,” you clutched onto his dark t-shirt, “you can’t–”

“Babe, I can’t let anything happen to you. I can’t lose you,” he then collided his lips with your own, a sob escaping your lungs as he briefly kissed you, “please, just stay right here, hide, for me.”

Slowly, you loosened your trembling grip on his shirt and cried, “I love you.”

“I’ll be right back!” he promised before shutting the closet door and bathing you in darkness.

You had no idea how much time passed, if it was only a few seconds or hours that you stayed in the dusty and dim abyss of that closet, but then when a loud crash and a shrill scream suddenly found your ears, your shaky hand pushed the door back open.

You’d never in your life been as terrified as you were when you found yourself tip-toeing down that long, dark hallway. Though, as you sneaked past the ajar door to the study, your entire body suddenly froze up at the massacre that met you within.

Unmoving and slumped over the threshold, there lied Jerome, his face beaten to a pulp, rendering it nearly unrecognisable as blood slowly trickled into the tight curls on the top of his head.

Past where Hana was lying in the middle of the room, battered and coughing, in the corner you saw as a tall figure, masked by a dark motorcycle helmet, crouched over the still form of Brian and landed the last few blows to claim his life.

“Please,” Hana’s words were gurgled by blood as the killer slowly straightened back up. Twisting ever so slightly, the assailant plucked out one of the clubs from the gold bag that leaned against one of the tall bookcases, “just let me go,” your last living friend begged as you watched the murderer wrap his long fingers around the handle and take the few steps to where Hana lied, “just let me–”

As he took a wide swing and hit your friend right in her temple, the loud crack that echoed throughout the cabin made you shutter in terror and let out an uncontrollable scream, causing the killer’s head to snap up to spot you in the dark hallway.

For a second you both just stood there, frozen and staring at one another, like two deer in headlights. But then, as he began to move, taking his time as he stepped over the bodies littering his path, you stumbled back and collided with the wall directly behind you.

You tried to run, but even though you managed to slip out the wide glass doors and escape a good distance into the dark forest surrounding the house, the masked man still caught up to you and flung you against a tree. As he had you cornered, you felt him drag the cold tip of the golf club up your right leg and over your shuttering skin, drawing a crimson line of your beloved’s blood across your goosebump-ridden flesh.

“P-please don’t kill me, please–,” you cried, but just then, the moonlight that streamed through the dense treetops caught in a glint of gold that adorned the hand that clutched the club, a recognizable ring that caused your heart to drop.

As your eyes then flickered up to the dark helmet, that too seemed oddly familiar now that you truly looked at it.

In some sick and twisted way, you hoped that the killer had just stolen the jewellery from your boyfriend as a trophy of the night’s conquest and not the horrifying alternative.

But when you then tried to slip away and the man pushed you back, your hands defensively shot up, though only managed to knock the helmet off his head and let it tumble to the dark forest floor below, unveiling the earth-shattering truth.

“Oh my god…” you gasped, eyes wide as you now stood face to face with your boyfriend.

“Shh,” he took a step closer to you, caging you in even further, “calm down, baby. Don’t do anything stupid now.”

“They–… they were right…” the warnings your now deceased friends had given you since the moment you got involved with the frat boy buzzed in your mind, though when they’d light-heartedly called him a psycho, you never in your wildest dreams thought that they would have been correct in their choice of words, “I can’t believe they were right…”

A low sigh then escaped Rafe’s lungs.

“You really should have just stayed hidden like I told you to… I didn’t want you to find out this way… it would have been so much simpler if you’d just bought into the story I made up…”

“You killed my friends…” your chest ached with every painful gasp of air, “how–… how could you?”

“Oh, honey…” his head tilted slightly as the corners of his lips twitched, “do you really think this is my first time?”

Staring back at him in horror, you sputtered, “w-why?”

“Because of you,” he uttered as if it was obvious, “it was all for you,” his feet shifted him even closer to you, “they were a bad influence, so this was the only way.”

“They were my family!”

“They were like a poison, all of them, trying to control you, trying to take you away from me,” he inched in even closer, making you wish the harsh bark that scratched up your spine would simply open up like a portal and let you escape, “I know Hana was trying to get you to break up with me… Oliver always followed you around like a lost puppy, just hoping you’d one day spread your legs for him… and Jerome and Brian? They were just plain annoying,” his hot breath fanned across your skin as he petted the edges of your features with a knuckle of the hand clutching the golf club, “I did it all for you, for us, because I love you… fuck, you have no idea how much I fucking love you, baby…” he uttered before bringing the bud of the improvised weapon down upon the side of your head and knocking you clean out.

When you came to, the flicking light from a lit fireplace was the only source of light in the dim room you found yourself in. Arms folded up behind your head, a long rope was tangled around them and stretched up to a beam in the ceiling above. Your legs too were tied, keeping your naked frame upright and locked in place in the middle of the room.

“Fucking finally,” a low voice echoed from the chair across the chamber, causing you to wince as the tone pierced your soul and worsened your splitting headache, “you really took your sweet time waking up.”

Blinking back at your boyfriend as he leaned back in the seat, pants undone and his hard length tight in his fist, a murmur escaped your lips, “…you knocked me out…”

“Yeah, I’m sorry about that,” he got up and walked towards your suspended form, “but you didn’t give me any other choice.”

As he slowly neared you, your glossy eyes flickered up to meet his.

“Rafe, please,” you heard your voice break as you tried to keep your tone soft, “you don’t have to do this. Just untie me, I promise I won’t be mad at you.”

“Oh yeah?” a small scoff slipped through his smirk.

“Yes. I’ll do whatever you want, just please let me go,” you begged, “please don’t hurt me.”

“Shh, shh,” his palm rose up to stroke your hair before letting it rush down and over the curves of your exposed body, “but you’ve been such a bad girl. I think you deserve a lesson that hurts a little bit,” his palm then slapped your pussy, still soaked and sore from earlier, rendering you to let out a shrill yelp, “it’s okay, you can cry…” he briefly leaned in to kiss your cheek before he shifted, though still staying so close that his nose ghosted along your skin as he made his way around to stand directly behind you, “you look so pretty when you do…”

You then squirmed as he reached down to grasp his cock and nudge at your sensitive entrance, “Rafe, please–, ah!” a cry then left your form as he ruthlessly rammed his way inside, plugging you up so completely that his balls nuzzled against your slick skin.

“Fuck!” his moan tickled the shell of your ear as he tangled his arms around your torso, “you’re so perfect…” he began to move, finding a selfish pace to wreck you with, “so perfect and all mine…”

As his thrusts caused your tits to jiggle, one of his wide hands soared up to grasp one while the other one snaked up to wrap around your throat. He then squeezed it fiercely enough that all your noises eventually faded away and he kept you completely quiet for a good moment before his hold slackened and he once again granted you the privilege of gasping for air.

“This is all you need, just me, only me,” he grunted, “just like this, using your pretty little hole for exactly what it was made for… you were made for me and nobody else… no one…”

His grip then drifted down to dent your hips before he lifted them, raising your bound frame till your tip toes were barely grazing the cold floor. Your back arched slightly as he repeatedly brought your hips back to him, his balls sloppily slapping against your swollen clit each time he manoeuvred your body and treated you like a toy.

When he then hooked an arm around your front to keep moving your body greedily against him, it granted the other one the grace to roam your frame freely.

As his fingers found one of your nipples in a harsh pinch, he let out a groan at the way you began to clamper down around his fat girth, “are you gonna cum, baby? Huh?” his palm then slapped your tit, “because it sure fucking feels like you’re close,” before he suddenly retracted completely, slipping out of your drooling cunt and causing a shy whimper to slip from your lips, one he swiftly cut off when he smacked your cheek, “too bad. You’re not allowed to.”

As you shakily struggled to stay on your unsteady feet, you panted, “Rafe, my legs, I can’t–”

“Oh yeah?” he mockingly pouted at you as he sauntered around to your front, “do they hurt? Are you tired?” and as you offered him a nod, his fingers grasped your chin, “well,” his thumb slowly stretched up to trace your bottom lip, “if you promise that you’ll be a good girl for me, then I’ll give you a little break.”

“Yes, I will,” a tear rolled down your still stinging cheek.

“You will what?” his palm briefly slapped the side of your face once again before returning to the same hold.

“I’ll be your good girl, I’ll do whatever you want,” you begged and as he then sank down to his knees, grabbed a pocketknife resting on a nearby table and held up his end of the bargain, slicing through the ropes at your legs and cutting them loose. A new wave of sobs tumbled out of your form, “thank you! Oh, thank you so much!”

Tossing the blade far away before he rose back up, “you’re fucking welcome, baby,” he then caught you off guard as he suddenly plucked your lower half up into his arms.

“W-wait, I thought you’d give me a break!” your legs trembled in his grasp as he slide you back onto his fat cock.

“Yeah, your legs were tired, so I’m being nice and giving them a break,” the wet claps of your skin roughly colliding once again filled the dark room, “your pussy doesn’t deserve one yet… unless of course, this is you begging me to fuck your ass…” a wicked wish that he’d been begging you for ever since the very first time he banged you.

“No! No, not there, please, I’ve never–”

“Oh, I know you haven’t,” he smirked, “that’s what makes it so much more fun…”

“Please, Rafe,” you blinked back at him, “don’t.”

“You told me I could do whatever I want…” he angled his bucks right against that spot that caused your teeth to dig into your lower lip, “you promised to be a good girl for me and just take whatever I give you…”

“I will,” your eyes couldn’t help but flutter, “just please not that.”

He then let a dollop of his spit splatter directly against your face, “alright, but only because I love you,” before he dipped down to plant a feverish kiss against your lips, “tell me that you love me too.”

“I love you,” you murmured against his mouth.

“Huh?” one of his hands let go of you and he shifted to balance you with only one, letting the other instead drift down between your forms to bully your puffy pearl, “what was that?”

“I lo–, a-ah!” you suddenly whined as he pressed one of his fingers inside your pussy, not caring in the slightest that you were already completely filled up as he forced his digit in alongside his fat cock.

“Come on, baby,” he stared down at you, “tell me you love me,” and kept up his ruthless pace as he hooked the finger inside of you, “tell your soulmate just how much you love and adore him, how you want nothing more than to worship him at his feet.”

“I–, I–, Rafe,” you gasped, feeling as if he was splitting you in half, “it’s too much–”

“No, it’s not too much, it’s exactly right, you can take it, baby.”

“I can’t–”

“I don’t fucking care,” he continued to fuck you without remorse, slamming his intimidating length so deep inside of you that you nearly couldn’t breathe, “I wanna feel you cum, just like this.”

“Rafe–”

“Do it or I’ll get a lot meaner,” he warned you before he finally got what he wanted. Your squirt drizzled down on the floor as the intensity caused a scream to erupt from your form, “there you go, fuck,” he groaned as he watched your pussy gush around his girth, “that’s it,” before the way your cunt clambered down around him caused him to let go as well, “shit,” and pump you full of his cum.

Rafe pressed a peck to your forehead before he pulled out of your warmth and you breathlessly glanced down to watch as his hot load began to leak out of your quivering hole.

“Alright, baby,” he exhaled and then uttered words that caused a shiver to trickle down your spine, “foreplay’s over. I think you’re ready for your punishment now.”

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marcyvamp1re-blog · 3 months ago

Text

SILLY LITTLE BAT

pairings ⸺ Yandere! Platonic! Batfamily x Anti-Hero! Fem!reader.

sinopsis ⸺ In the shadowed halls of Wayne Manor, a girl lost among the darkness seeks the connection she never had. Her mother, a kleptomaniac with a broken heart, vanished, leaving only echoes of empty promises. Surrounded by a family that never sees her, her pain turns into a deafening silence. The void left by her past traps her in a limbo of solitude and sorrow.

One dark night, seeking her own way, she became what she once despised. Now, like the albino bat rejected by its own flock, she flies alone in the twilight. Her pale skin glows in the dark, but her heart still yearns for the warmth of a home she never came to know.

warnings ⸺ Dark Themes, Dead, murdering,Disturbing Content, Unhealthy Obsession, Discrimination, Violence, Blood, LGBT Content, Child Abuse, Kidnapping, Implicit Sexual Content, Mental Illness, Addiction, Suicide, Torture, Corruption, Isolation, Trauma, Phobias, Paranoia, Manipulation

Chapter Guide! Pt 2. Pt 3. Pt4

A/N — English is not my first language—Spanish is—so there might be some grammar or spelling mistakes here and there. This is the first part of a story I’m writing for a friend (Isabel, I love you, you brat), and also an experiment to see what it’s like to write on Tumblr. Please support me! :"((

Nobody is coming to save you

Get up.

Your mother was not a good woman, and that was an undeniable fact, heavy as the shadow that covers Gotham City at nightfall. She was a creature of the underworld, one among the specters that wandered under the yoke of crime, walking among dangerous names like Selina Kyle or Harleen Quinzel, yet always remaining in the background, never reaching their fame or infamy.

She was nothing more than a kleptomaniac and a mythomaniac, doomed to live by cunning and deceit. She took advantage of the men who crossed her path, from the lowest criminals, like The Penguin, to the most powerful man in the city: Bruce Wayne.

You never called him Dad. To you, he was always Bruce, and on the rare occasions you addressed him, you did so with distant formality, "Mr. Wayne." Richard, your adoptive brother, found in him a father figure, while to you, he was just another shadow in the mansion, that huge, cold house you arrived at after your mother’s death.

You remember how, time and again, you tried to warn your mother to stop stealing, to stop lying, that those dark paths would inevitably lead her to Arkham Asylum, surrounded by all the lunatics you feared so much, or even worse: to death. But she always responded with a playful smile, stroking your head with her delicate hands, adorned with stolen jewelry and crude tattoos. "Those are just fantasies of an eight-year-old girl," she would say sweetly, while her ring-laden fingers assured you that you needn’t worry, "I will always come back for you," she promised, "because you are the only thing more valuable than any diamond I’ve ever held."

But the cruel truth was that was the last time you saw her. That night she left, and she never returned. It was then that the last vestiges of innocence faded with her absence. From that moment on, you ceased to be a child.

And that was one of the few things you understood with absolute clarity. There were no more empty promises, no more caresses tinged with lies. All that remained was the silence of a life fading away, like a stolen jewel that never returns to its rightful owner.

The only thing you knew after calling the police when your mother didn’t show up after two days was that they found her corpse in a back alley far from Gotham, showing signs of having been beaten and bruised by some underground gang.

Commissioner Gordon searched the entire house for illicit substances and signs of debts to mobsters, but he only ended up finding documents, stolen jewelry, and letters from your mother that were never sent, and most importantly, DNA evidence implicating that the city’s millionaire was your biological father.

From then on, your life was stained with eternal gray, that muted shade that erased all traces of light or shadow. There was no more white or black, only a silent fog that, day by day, enveloped you and dragged you into a madness that seemed inevitable. Gotham itself seemed more alive than the place you called home, although "home" was never the right word.

You didn’t love any of the Wayne family members. Bruce, your biological father, never listened to you. To him, you were always just another shadow, a ghost in the vast mansion that he prioritized over his other children, his "true" heirs. There was always something more important, something more urgent, and your presence faded among the cold walls and the echo of his hurried footsteps. With each passing day, you became more invisible to him, as if your very existence were a mistake he preferred to ignore.

Richard, the perfect brother, was kind on some occasions. He spoke to you courteously, but when you needed him, when you asked him to attend one of your performances, there was always an excuse, something that kept him away, as if your passion and accomplishments were insignificant details in his heroic life.

Jason, on the other hand, despised you from the start. He saw you as an intruder, a child of gold—but not of that pure and valuable gold, but of a dirty and false one, which he always mocked with disdain. And although you never cared for him, when he died, silent tears rolled down your face. It wasn’t out of love, but out of respect for what he represented, for the brutal reality of his fall.

Tim, in contrast, was the most indifferent. To him, you were a nobody, so irrelevant that you weren’t even worth a glance. Spending time with his friends or being the Robin of the moment mattered more than you did. You lived on his periphery, in a limbo where neither your name nor your face seemed to exist.

Cassandra, Stephanie, Barbara… at least they treated you with politeness, but you knew they didn’t really remember who you were. They saw you, smiled at you out of obligation, but deep down you knew they had no idea of your name, your story, your struggle to be more than a shadow in that world.

The worst of all was Damian, your younger half-brother. When he arrived at the mansion, Alfred introduced him to you with that serene formality he always had, and you, driven by an almost desperate impulse, tried to reach out to him. You wanted to offer him the support and affection of an older sister, that warmth you would have longed for in his situation. But all you received in return was a cold response: a katana piercing your abdomen. I wish I could say it was just a metaphor, but no, that wound was as real as the blade that cut your skin.

You would have liked to think that the pain was symbolic, that Damian had only rejected your affection with harsh words or his usual arrogance. But no, it was much more than that. The only thing you received in exchange for your attempt at fraternal love was a stab, a scar you still carry not only on your body but also in your soul. Because in that brutal gesture, you understood that the blood that united you also separated you, sharper than any weapon. And that was how you tried to connect.

You strived to stand out, to learn, to shine in your own ambitions, wishing that your success would be enough to earn you a place, a bit of affection. But no matter how hard you tried, it was never enough. Your talent crashed against indifference, your achievements faded into the air, as if they had no weight in the lives of others.

The only light, the only beacon in that storm of gray, was Alfred. The only one who smiled at you with genuine tenderness, the only one you truly loved. To you, he was the real father, the one who was always there, expecting nothing in return, offering you a silent but firm love. You did call him father, and his presence was the only thing that kept your sanity, the only thing preventing the gray from consuming you completely.

But even that love, so genuine and deep, was not enough to fill the void that your own family left you. And in that void, you continue to float, trapped between the girl you were and the woman you are trying to be, searching for a place you can truly call home.

Y/n's small room, though modest, had always been her refuge. The walls were adorned with unfinished sketches, trophies from various activities, and some paintings she had completed with dedication, showcasing her passion for both manual and performing arts.

The dawn light filtered softly through the curtains, bathing the space in golden tones, giving it a warmth that contrasted with the coldness of the rest of Wayne Manor.

On the desk, a small cake rested on a plate, simple yet made with love. Beside it, Alfred, with his usual understated elegance, watched Y/n with a mixture of nostalgia and concern. He, the only one who seemed to remember her birthday, offered her a delicate professional drawing set, wrapped in smooth, elegant paper.

"Happy birthday, Miss," Alfred said with a gentle smile, although his eyes reflected a sadness that was hard to conceal. "I know how much you love art, so I thought this would be helpful for your new projects."

Y/n took the gift in her hands with a genuine smile. It had been so hard for her to find moments of joy lately, but Alfred's gesture filled her with a warmth in her chest that she hadn't experienced in a long time. She placed the gift into one of the many brown boxes she had prepared for her upcoming move.

"Thank you, Alfred. It's perfect," she said, examining the set carefully, as if each detail were a reminder of the affection he held for her. "It will help me a lot... although, well," she sighed, as if searching for the right words. "Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that." Alfred raised an eyebrow, attentive, as she continued, glancing at the small space that had been her home within the vast mansion.

"Today... today is not just my birthday. It's the day I leave here." Her voice was firm, yet there was a sense of liberation in it, as if this were a long-awaited step. "I am finally no longer a Wayne. I go back to being a L/n."

Silence filled the room for a moment, heavy and dense. Alfred clasped his hands, striving to maintain his composure.

"Miss, I can't help but feel a certain unease hearing this. Are you sure this is what you want? This house, though empty in many ways, has always been your home..."

"Home?" Y/n looked at him with a mix of sadness and determination. "This house has never been my home, Alfred. Not like it was for Dick, nor even for Bruce. I have always been a stranger here, the daughter of a woman who never fit into this world, the bastard child. My mother taught me to find my own path, to not cling to what doesn’t belong to me... and being here, being called Wayne, has never belonged to me." Alfred sighed softly, turning his gaze toward the window. He knew there was truth in her words, but that didn’t lessen the pain of her leaving. "I know it’s hard to understand," Y/n continued, "but for the first time in a long time, I feel happy, Alfred. I’ve graduated, college is just around the corner, and I want to start anew. I want to find what truly makes me, me... not what others expect of me."

The old butler remained silent for a few moments, nodding slowly. He knew he couldn't retain her, that it was not his place to interfere in the young woman's dreams. But still, he couldn’t help but feel a pang in his heart at the thought of the house being even emptier without her. "I just wish you find what you’re looking for, Miss. And if you ever need a place to return to... this door will always be open for you."

Y/n stepped closer to him, gently hugging him, something she had rarely done. "Thank you, Alfred," she whispered against his shoulder. "You will always be my family, but I need this. I need to discover who I am outside of this last name."

The old butler felt the lump in his throat as he tightened the embrace a little longer before letting her go. He knew that deep down, she was doing the right thing. But that didn’t make it hurt any less to see her leave.

"Alfred, can you call the movers? I’ll be leaving tonight," Y/n said as she closed the last box with trembling hands, her gaze lost in the empty corners of the room she once considered her refuge. The butler, ever serene, nodded with his unwavering calmness.

"Don't worry, Miss, I assure you they will be here on time." His voice was soft, almost an echo of the ancient walls of the mansion, as if he himself were part of that structure that had seen so many comings and goings, so many lives broken and healed in silence.

Alfred turned halfway to leave, but Y/n's voice stopped him, broken yet sweet, like a melody at sunset. "Alfred..."

The man turned slowly, his eyes filled with paternal warmth, though always contained behind a formal gesture. "Yes, Miss?" he replied, with that tranquility that had always brought Y/n peace in her worst moments.

She took a breath, feeling how the words she had kept for so long fought to come out, to break the shell she had built since childhood. "I’ve never told you, but... thank you. Thank you for being the father I never had, for being there when no one else was."

For a moment, the silence in the room was heavier than all the accumulated boxes, deeper than any word. Alfred, who had been a witness to so many confessions and secrets in that house, stood still, his eyes shining with an emotion he rarely showed. "Miss," he murmured, his voice slightly choked, "it was an honor and a privilege to take care of you. If I ever gave you anything close to what you deserved, then my life has had true purpose."

Y/n smiled sadly, nodding slowly. "You did, Alfred. You did. And for that, I will always carry you with me, even if I leave here."

The butler slightly bowed his head in respect, swallowing any emotion that might betray his composure. "Wherever you go, you will always have a home here, Miss."

"I know," she said, though in her heart, she knew she wouldn’t return.

And as Alfred left the room to make the call, Y/n let out a long sigh, as if with it, she were leaving behind a part of herself, a part she could no longer carry with her.

Life in Gotham is like constantly walking on the edge of a razor blade. The city never sleeps, always alert, always dangerous, and for someone with the Wayne surname, the risks multiply. It has been a year since you left the mansion, trying to erase any ties that bound you to that life, desperately wishing the name would fade into the echo of the dirty streets and crumbling buildings. But it's not that easy. The name Wayne remains an indelible mark that the media and the people of Gotham refuse to let fade. The forgotten child, the silent accident of billionaire Bruce Wayne. And although you try to live as if you don’t exist under that shadow, the weight of the legacy haunts you.

You left with little, barely enough money to rent a small apartment in one of the worst corners of the city. You share the space with a friend, a plant-loving girl who has filled every nook of the place with leaves and pots, as if trying to make green defy the constant darkness of Gotham. You get along well with her; her love for nature is almost an antithesis to the chaos of the city, and she has taught you that even in the hardest concrete, something can bloom. She always accompanied you on the coldest, loneliest nights, giving you a warmth that, although ethereal, was very welcome. But still, life is not easy. You barely survive, spending the little you have on cheap food and paying the rent. There are days when the cold seeps through the poorly sealed windows, and you wonder if it was really better to be in the mansion instead of this little trench. However, you prefer this rough freedom to the soulless luxury of Wayne Manor.

Freedom, however, comes at a price. It wasn't enough to distance yourself, to change your life, or even to always carry a knife for defense. Gotham does not forget. People recognize you in the shadows, whisper your name, and approach you, sometimes with curiosity and other times with disdain. You have been beaten more than once. Some just for being a Wayne, others because they think they can extort you, even though they have no idea you can barely get by. The scars on your body bear witness to those beatings, but you refuse to give up. You get up every morning, despite the pain, and continue on your way. You don’t need Batman. You don’t need Bruce. You learned long ago that he wouldn't come to save you.

That night, like so many others, you were heading to the subway for your night shift, with the hood of your coat covering your face, trying to go unnoticed. The sound of the tracks echoed in your ears, a constant reminder of the city's hustle. You had gotten used to walking fast, avoiding eye contact, as if each step was a small battle won against the city. But this time, something was different.

"So it was true, the little Wayne girl is roaming the city... how lovely." The raspy, mocking voice rang out beside you, cutting through the heavy air of the train station. The man speaking wore a suit that, at first glance, seemed elegant, but there was something about his extreme thinness, his skin clinging to his bones and his disheveled hair, that made him look more like a specter of Gotham than a distinguished figure. A ghost from the shadows that had stalked you since you set foot on the streets.

If it weren't for his gaunt appearance and unsettling aura, you might have mistaken him for one of your father's employees. "I'm not a Wayne anymore," you said disdainfully, your voice sharp like the edge of a dagger refusing to be touched. "If you want money, I don’t have any. And Mr. Wayne wouldn’t give a cent for me either."

Your gaze drifted to the station clock. 8 minutes until the train that would take you away from this corner of Gotham, far from the shadows and faces that always seemed to recognize you.

The man let out a dry, raspy laugh that sent chills down your spine. "I don’t want your money, pretty girl," he replied, moving closer, invading your space with the same familiarity that Gotham’s filth slipped into every corner. "You’re worth more than that." You felt his calloused, scarred hand rest on your hip, with a pressure that was neither violent nor friendly. The contact filled you with disgust.

7 minutes.

You clenched your fist, your jaw tight as you struggled to maintain your composure. "I don’t want sex either, idiot," you spat, your words loaded with contained fury. Your hand subtly slid toward your bag, where your knife lay, waiting to be used.

6 minutes.

The man didn’t flinch. In fact, he let out a low, mocking laugh. "And I don’t want that either, little girl," he murmured, his cold, deep blue eyes scrutinizing you as if they could read every dark corner of your soul. "I want something more from you."

5 minutes.

"What do you want then?" you asked, forcing yourself to keep your voice steady, even as the ice of fear began to creep down your spine. Your eyes scrutinized him, searching his gaze for any hint of his true intentions, but all you saw was darkness.

4 minutes.

He let out a long, chilling laugh, tightening his grip on your hip. "Do you know what I want, Y/n?"

3 minutes.

His voice dropped, as if his words were a cursed secret the wind refused to carry away. "I want you."

2 minutes.

The world seemed to stop. You knew there was no time to run. There was no time to pull out the knife or to scream. It was as if the clock itself had conspired against you, reducing those last minutes to mere seconds.

1 minute.

The blow was sharp, a flash of excruciating pain at the back of your head. The cold metal of the station, the hum of the city, everything faded abruptly. The last thought that crossed your mind, before the world vanished into darkness, was that this time, you didn’t expect Batman to save you. It wasn’t a mere thief or a street threat that was taking you.

Gotham, with all its cruelty, always had new ways to remind you that there is no escape.

That night, when the Gotham subway stopped at the station, there was no one to pick up.

The mansion felt emptier than ever, like a deserted and cold labyrinth, where each hallway seemed to stretch into an infinite tunnel, devouring the light.

The silence was overwhelming, an oppression that enveloped every corner, as if even the ancient walls had run out of words. It was so heavy that the few who remained in the mansion couldn’t help but move uncomfortably, trying to fill that void with something, anything.

Bruce Wayne walked through those same hallways with a strange feeling, as if something was missing, though he didn’t know what. An unease, a persistent discomfort that he couldn’t shake off.

He had been like this for months, with that absence haunting his mind, a gap he couldn't identify. And then, suddenly, like a gust of icy wind, the truth struck him.

You.

His daughter.

His little daughter.

How long had it been since he last saw you? When was the last time he heard your laughter, the one that always seemed too sarcastic, too filled with resentment? He stopped abruptly, frowning. Why couldn’t he remember you? He couldn’t bring to mind a clear image of your face, not even how you used to look at him... why? How could he have forgotten you like that?

Damn.

It was as if time had stopped. It had been a year, maybe more, since he had really thought about you. He felt a pang of guilt pierce his chest, a heavy, silent guilt that dragged him into the abyss of his own negligence. Not knowing what else to do, he began to check the rooms, one after another.

Each door he opened was another blow to his conscience. Where was your room? The more he searched, the more confused he felt. The mansion was enormous, but how could he have forgotten where you slept? How was it possible that he didn’t know where you lived in the house where both of you grew up? Had you been here all this time?

Each door he opened was identical to the last, as if all the rooms had fused into one.

None showed a trace of you.

None seemed to have a hint of your presence. Didn’t you decorate your room? He thought frantically, didn’t you even mark it as yours? Panic began to take hold of him. Anxiety wrapped around him like a fist tightening on his chest. Were you still living in the mansion? Or had you left without saying a word, like a shadow fading at dawn? But... no, you hadn’t mentioned anything. You hadn’t said you were leaving. Or had you? And if you had, why didn’t he remember? How could he have ignored you for so long that now he didn’t even know if you were still under the same roof?

“Ah!” he exclaimed in a whisper, unable to contain the dread he felt.

Frustration consumed him from within. He stopped in the middle of the hallway, breathing heavily, and the echo of his voice faded into the empty walls. He tried to remember something, anything about you, about the last time they spoke, about how you were... but everything was blurry, as if his mind was betraying him, hiding you behind an impenetrable fog.

How could he have forgotten so much?

He brought his hands to his head, trying to calm himself, but only felt more confusion, more desperation. The mansion, which had once been his home, now felt like a strange and foreign place.

Had you been the one who made it feel like home? The question echoed in his mind, but he had no answer. Just more questions. More uncertainties. Finally, he let his arms fall, exhausted. He had checked almost all the rooms and had found not a trace of you. Not a clue. Not a sign that you had been there. And at that moment, something dark and painful began to settle in his heart.

Had you ever really been there?

Then something caught his attention as he passed by the cleaning room. In a dusty corner, next to a forgotten bag, something was protruding. Something small, old, and faded. He bent down and pulled it from the dirty clothes. It was a stuffed animal, or what was left of one. The faded black of its suit left no doubt. It was a figure of Batman, but worn down by time, battered to the point of looking forgotten.

Bruce's eyes were fixed on the small piece of fabric hanging from the doll's neck. A tag.

Your name.

Your name, handwritten, in ink that was already fading.

Bruce felt a lump in his throat, a mix of guilt and rage. How could he have forgotten something so important?

He clutched the doll tightly, as if doing so would return a piece of you to him, but instead of comfort, he only felt more emptiness. Where were you? He ran to Alfred, who looked at him with a mix of concern and pity.

"Alfred..." Bruce said, his voice breaking. "Where is she? Where is my daughter?"

The butler, with his always serene face, seemed to age suddenly. A long silence settled between them, as if time was fading away. "Mr. Bruce, I didn’t mean to..." Alfred lowered his gaze. "I didn’t want to burden you with that truth, but... it’s time you know."

Bruce felt a chill run down his spine. Truth? What truth?

"She left almost a year ago. She didn’t say where. She just... she took all her belongings, though they weren’t many, and left. She said she didn’t want to be a burden. That you and the other family members had too many things to worry about."

Bruce took a step back, as if the words had physically struck him. Did she have enough age to leave? A burden? Never, not for a second, did he think that of you, of his little daughter who, even though she wasn’t wanted, he embraced under his wing just like Damian.

You were never a burden.

...or were you?

No, he refused to acknowledge it; he just... he hadn’t spent time with you because Gotham needed him!

But when you needed him, where was Batman?

Where was Bruce Wayne when his only biological daughter needed him?

"Alfred, do you know anything about Y/n?" the hero asked, worry clear on his face.

Alfred didn’t look at him; he only stared into nothingness. "...I haven’t heard anything about her for two months...

And honestly... I'm starting to think...

that she might be lost to us forever..."

A/N — This is definitely apart from being my first official Tumblr post, it is also my first DC post and especially the first from the Lord of the Night xD

Don't hesitate to ask me anything if you want.

Isabel, I dedicate this to you, my love. Eat more to be well, you fucking anorexic, don't suck.

take a bath!

inspiration: @acid-ixx with his Again & Again series, @gotham-daydreams' work, @i-cant-sing's work and @klemen-tine's work, be sure to check them out!

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i-cant-sing · 9 months ago

Note

To that one thought about the different monarchs YES TO ALL

Ahahaha im so glad so many people liked that idea (OG post here), so ive decided to work on it. So, lets set the story okay? (also btw do not @ me with historical inaccuracies and dates because i simply dont care about all of this that deeply). This AU will have multiple parts, where reader gets to travel through different time periods (and some of them will be real historic figures, others would be created by me).

Reader is a scientist, was working on her time machine (which is just a small box with time/year slots on it), and decides to travel to the past to solve some mysteries, or perhaps simply for the love of history.

So, where does reader travel to first?

1180. Landing right in the kingdom of Jerusalem. And who does she meet?

King Baldwin IV- the leper king.

Reader wanted to see how leprosy, a deadly disease at the time, had affected the king, who despite his conditions, still managed to possess great military strategies and IQ. And how even though his people knew about his outcome, still pledged their loyalty and unwavering support.

You, a scientist of the modern time ofc brought along futuristic gadgets with you. Knowing how youd look in your present era clothes, you wore a watch that allowed you to change into clothes of old times, to blend in easily. All of your gadgets were concealed easily because of their "invisibility cloak" feature.

You made your way towards the castle, making sure to not let awe be apparent in your face as you took in your surroundings, thinking of all the questions youd like to ask the wise king. Of course, you had to make sure you dont do anything to disturb the historic timeline, because then it just might lead to disastrous results.

Getting into the castle was easy, after all you had equipment to sneak you in undetected. You looked around as the servants rushed around, talking about making the arrangements perfect for the feast. You figured out that the feast was probably for another victory the king had gotten, which meant that everyone would be too busy to notice you snooping around.

With everyone engaged downstairs, you had your way up to the king's study, where you opened the door only to be met with a tall burly man standing there, looking surprised to see you.

"Who are you?" He barked, and you got the worst vibes from this man.

"Uh- Im a servant!" You said,backing up a little, just in case you needed to make a run. The man narrowed his eyes as he looked you up and down. "A servant? No servants are allowed in the king's study!"

"The king sent me here." You lied. "And why are you here if servants are not allowed?"

The man's eyes widened in rage before grabbing you by the neck. "Because Im not a servant, fool! I'm his brother in law!" He shook you hard. "And I dont think youre a servant, if you couldnt recognise me! I will have your head, spy!"

"GUY!" Someone yelled from behind you, making Guy look up as his grip around your neck loosened. "Let her go!"

"Your majesty, she's a spy-"

"She's a servant. I sent her up to retrieve my papers." Guy let you go, as you quickly turned around to see him- King Baldwin. You bowed to him as you gave him a glance, noticing his piercing gaze through his iron mask. His gaze shifted from you to Guy. "And what were you doing here, Guy?"

"I was looking for Sibylia, your majesty." He said.

"In my study? My sister is waiting for you downstairs. Go." Guy scrambled away with his tail tucked between his legs, while you watched as the king made his way into his study, leaving you outside.

You took a step back, about to leave-

"Well, come on in." He called you. You ponder over it for a second before walking in. Look, how many times can you meet a historical figure like him?

Baldwin was sitting in his chair, his eyes looking at you through his mask. "So, who are you and what were you doing here? And dont bother lying, unless you want to be tortured for attempted assassination on the king."

You bit your lip before sighing. "Im Y/n L/n." Clasping your hands together, you took a deep breath. "I came here because... I wanted to know about you."

He rested his chin on his palm. "Why? Do you not know about the king of Jerusalem? Where are you from?" He's not vain, but he knows that his numerous victories have made him popular over the years. So why do you not know of him? Or his brother in law, Guy, who is very vain.

"Im from nowhere. For as long as I can remember, Ive been travelling from place to another. Of course, Ive heard about you, but... I crave to know more." You said, partly telling the truth because you do want to know more about him.

His eyes remained on you, the same intense gaze. "And why should I allow you to know more? Do you mistake yourself to be worthy enough to even be in the presence of a king?"

Shit. He was trying to put you in the corner. You had to play this smart.

You smiled softly. "Of course not. Then again, none of us are worthy of anything God blesses us with." You paused, letting the words settle. "Your majesty, I only wish to know more about you because I like to write. I like to write about history, and when one day, God forbid, you succumb to your illness, wouldn't you like to be known for more than just your victories?" You'd read about how Baldwin IV was a fan of history and stories.

His eyes stared at you- no, through you. Unmoving, he replied. "Man shouldnt be so narcissistic to have someone write about his deeds."

You gave a nod. "Jesus wasnt a narcissist. Neither was Mary, nor Abraham. Muhammad wasnt a narcissist either, yet theyre mentioned in books- holy books, nonetheless."

The room fell silent for a few seconds, before he spoke. "True. But why should I have you write it, instead of using one of my scribes?"

"Precisely for the reason you just said." You raised your head a bit. "They'd write never ending praises for you, portray you as this omnipotent ruler, make you look like a narcissit even. I have a keen eye, your majesty. I like to look at what there is beyond the surface. If you let me be your scribe, I could write about details you dont even know. Id write about your strengths as well as weaknesses, for the generations to read and learn from you."

Baldwin remained still for a few moments before finally standing up, walking directly towards you until he was face to face. His blue eyes shining bright under his iron mask.

"I will let you write, under two conditions. First- I approve what gets to be in the book. And second... you spy for me."

"Wait, spy?"

He hummed. "Well, not a conventional spy. You wont have to leave this castle and penetrate enemy territories to eavesdrop. I still dont trust you enough. No- you- you will spy on my court. I want to know what is happening, when, where, and who says what." Under his mask, he raised a brow. "Do you accept?"

You pretended to hesitate, when in reality this was the exact situation you wanted to be in. "Hmm... yes. I accept."

"Good." He walks back towards his desk. "I expect that it goes without saying- complete discretion." You smiled. "Of course, your majesty."

Months passed by as you worked for the king. He let you in on details, allowed you to ask personal questions, and in return you kept an eye on everything that happened in court. Listening on to what the servants whispered to eavesdropping on "secret meetings" of the nobles- of course, headed by Guy. Oh how you loathed that vermin's guts. No- he had no guts. A spineless creature, who blatantly talked of the king's eventual demise and all the ways he'd make the kingdom flourish again, how he'd show "no mercy to Salauddin and his muslims". You have no idea how Sibylla was attracted to him- a man who plans her brother's demise openly.

As for the king, working with him- or for him, wasnt all bad. In fact, it was quite fun. The amount of stories, the secrets youve been able to discover- none of it could ever be found in any history book. Most of all, you respect Baldwin on a whole new level now.

His struggles, ever since he was kid- not being a legitmate ruler, his parents being forced to separate, then being diagnosed with leprosy but forced to keep it a secret, the competition with his other sibling to be the heir, and of course, even when he did become the king, he still had to prove his mettle- his worth that he's worthy of ruling even with his disease.

With his life expectancy being uncertain and a huge amount of responsibility being shovelled onto him, he had to learn a lot and master various skills in very short time.

Heavy is the head that wears the crown.

Y/n could only imagine how isolated he must feel. Not being able to touch anyone, to have a significant other, to constantly win battles and do everything in your power to help the kingdom flourish, just for him to not even be alive to enjoy the fruits of his efforts. And worse, he's forced to give it away to his brother in law, that useless piece of shit.

Its one thing that confuses you about Baldwin. You know how persistent he is, how when he sets his eyes on something, he does everything in power and BEYOND to achieve it. For example, when he was only a child and had started to lose the ability to use his hands, he quickly learned to use his thighs to steer his horse. He did not let his disease hold him back, so how does a person as motivated as him simply allow his kingdom to be left in the hands of someone as incapable as Guy?

Then again, you suppose he's doing it for the sake of his sister. Baldwin adores Sibylla, and you could see why. Sibylla was his older sister, she took care of him, and she was forced to marry early because the court would only allow Baldwin to be king IF she were married, so that when Baldwin dies of leprosy, her husband could take care of the kingdom. Baldwin views it as the ultimate sacrifice, so even though he has tried to separate his sister from Guy, she has refused because she's in love with him.

God knows how. You wondered. Guy does not have any redeeming qualities, then again youre thinking like a 21st century woman. Woman of this time had the bar for men set below the deepest level in hell.

"So, what do you have for me today?" Baldwin asked you, snapping you out of your thoughts. You sighed, shaking your head. "Nothing new, really. Your brother in law, pardon my language your majesty, has been spewing shit about how he'll make the kingdom great again when you die. But when those nobles ask him how, he either has no answer and tries to cover it up by saying its a secret, or he'd say something so ridiculous- his ideas are bound to not only fail, but actually destroy the kingdom even more. I am surprised he doesnt give himself a headache by his own voice. God knows i get one whenever he opens his mouth." You complained, rubbing your temples making the king chuckle. Baldwin seemed to enjoy how informally you spoke.

"Guy is... something else. I apologise on his behalf." You could sense him smiling under his mask. You gave a small smile, but truthfully, your head was actually hurting a lot. You could only hope this was not a migraine developing.

"Would you like tea? Or wine?" He asked as he called in a servant. "Just water for me, thank you." You said, closing your eyes for a few moments as the sharp ache in your head increased.

Baldwin's eyes remained on you, a calculated gaze. "Are you alright? Should I call in the physician?" You shook your head. As if you could trust physicians of this time. "No, I'll be fine after I sleep." You have some medical potions with you that could heal your basic diseases and pains. A gift of modern medicine. But you'll have to use it discreetly, lest someone from this era discovers it and calls you a witch.

The servant soon brought in a chalice filled with water for you and you immediately took a sip of the cool water. Baldwin stood up as he walked over to the window, looking out into the dark night.

"Can I ask you something personal?" You asked. He hummed. You stared at his back, the white cloak he was dressed in. "Do you think if you never had this disease, would you still be a great king? A king who is so motivated to make his kingdom as successful as he can before his time is up?"

He looked back at you, and for a second you wondered if you had slighted him. But these past few months, you've learned to read his body language, despite how hard he conceals both himself and his thoughts.

"No." He said, turning back to the window. "I probably would've been a spoiled brat, I don't think I would've even been chosen to be king. I would've lost it to my half brothers." He tilted his head as he looked at a particular star in the sky. "I suppose my disease is a blessing. God blessed me with it to humble me. Had He not, I probably wouldn't be religious."

"And is that how you see your suffering? A blessing from God?" You asked as you pulled out the medical vial from your cloak and poured it in your chalice. Your headache had started to pulsate now and you needed this.

"I do. I have to serve my people, and my suffering has brought me closer to them and to God. And even with my disease, I was made a king. Isn't that divine intervention? My purpose on earth?" He said almost monotonously, as if he's had this conversation a thousand times.

You took sip of your medicated water, headache immeadiately reducing in intensity. "So... if you had the chance, would you still be the leper king? Or would you be healthy but... not a king? Just a man who gets to experience life like the rest of us, eat normal food, play with others, walk without having to wear a mask, or even fall in love?"

He remained silent, but his shoulders dropped ever so slightly. Tired? Or defeated?

"I prefer not to think about things I have no control over, Y/n." He finally turned around and his blue eyes looked at yours, though this time, there was something else swirling in them. "Finish your water and head to bed. I don't think you're well enough to tell me a story tonight." You smiled gratefully. Over these past few months, the king had enjoyed the modern world stories you told him. Some were literature classics, like Romeo and Juliet, others were straight up fanfic plots with details missing because he wouldn't have understood them anyways.

You were about to pick up your chalice when suddenly Baldwin fell to the ground.

"Your Majesty!" You rushed over to him, watching him tremble on the ground as he struggled to breathe. You dropped to your knees and attempted to remove his mask, only for him swat your hand away.

"No! You'll get it too!" He said, his eyes screwing shut in pain. He was worried about you contracting leprosy.

"Just- trust me." You pursed your lips as you moved his hand away and removed his mask, before removing the white veil underneath it, which was there to prevent his peeling skin and sores from sticking to the iron mask.

You didn't gasp when you saw his disfigured face. No, you'd seen it already when they constructed his face using modern technology. You touched his forehead with your palm, noticing how warm it was. This was one of his leprosy fevers, it was serious and quiet painful. But you already know he doesn't die until 1185 and it's still 1180.

"I'll go fetch the physician-"

"No!" Baldwin yelled, struggling to breathe. "No- just-" He suddenly whimpered as pain shot through every fiber of his body, making him dig his heels into the ground. Your heart wrenched at the sight.

"Its- too- hot- i-" you looked around before grabbing your chalice and bringing it to his lips, holding his head in your lap, you helped him drink the water. He drank it all, his forehead now covered in sweat and his face still contorted in pain. You held his hand and squeezed it.

"Its okay, Baldwin. I'm here. I'm right here." You whispered, his head resting in your lap as you gently wiped his forehead with your sleeve.

Baldwin stared up into your worried eyes, and that was the last thing he saw before he passed out.

Baldwin woke upto screaming. Opening his eyes, his blurred vision slowly cleared upto watch you and Guy screaming at each other, the latter had his hand clawed into your hair.

"WHO DO YOU THINK YOURE TALKING TO, YOU WENCH?!" Guy yelled as he shook you harshly.

"A SPINLESS BEING NOT WORTHY OF BEING CALLED A MAN!" You spat back, eyes red with rage.

Guy's eyes widened at the insult before he raised his hand to strike you, but was stopped by Baldwin.

"Guy! Let her go!" Both of your heads snapped towards the king.

"Y-your Majesty?" Guy couldn't believe his eyes. He survived?

"I said- let. Her. Go!" Baldwin commanded as he stood up and walked over to them, making Guy immeadiately let you go and bow to him. Baldwin's eyes landed on you, and you gave him a small bow.

"Leave." Baldwin commanded, eyes fixed on you.

Guy looked up from his his bowing position. "Your Majesty, I'm so glad you're well-"

"I said, LEAVE!" Baldwin's voice boomed, his eyes never leaving yours. Guy scrambled put of the room quickly, and you started to leave as well, but Baldwin grabbed your wrist.

"Not you." He said, those blue eyes piercing into you. "I- how long was I out?"

"2 weeks." You replied.

Baldwin let out small gasp as he let go of your hand and slowly walked towards the mirror in his room. It was quiet for a minute.

"What... happened?" He asked, looking at his reflection.

"Well, after you fainted, I called in the physicians and they took you to your chambers. They had prepared some medication but were hesitant to apply it on you, fearing they'd contract your disease. So, I convinced them to let me do it since I had already touched you. When I was done, your sister, princess Sibylla and Guy came. Guy asked the physicians when you would be dying, and the physicians said a few days and that this time- you may not wake up from your fever. While your sister broke down, and honestly I'm not trying to create problems for you guys, but you could ask anyone and they'd tell you just how much Guy beamed at the news. Anyways, they both left soon after that. Things were quite for a week, with the physicians coming in to give me the medication to apply on you. Then-" you paused trying not to show your frustration in your voice. "In the second week, Guy started fussing around and throwing tantrums since you didn't die yet. I mean, I was in your room but I could still hear him yelling at the physicians outside about how his coronation was being delayed because you were still here. It pissed me off, but you know me- I'm not one to get into family matters. So I didn't do anything. Then today-! Ugh, he came in while I was in your bathroom and I saw him grabbing a pillow and bringing it near your face. He stopped when I chucked your bible at him- so sorry about that but it was nearest thing next to me- and I just asked what he was doing. And do you know what he said? He had the nerve- THE NERVE to say 'I'm just trying to end his suffering, in fact you should do it. I can't risk contracting leprosy, I'm the future king!' And then I chucked your golden cross at him- again very sorry for that. And then we got into an argument and well- that's what you woke up to."

It was quiet again. You looked at Baldwin staring at his reflection, and for a moment, you thought he wasn't listening to you.

Baldwin nodded. "Okay. Thank you, Y/n. You may go to your room now. I will send in some physicians to check if you've contracted leprosy."

You frowned. "I havent-" but you stopped. How were you supposed to explain to him that you're "vaccinated".

In the mirror, his eyes shifted to you. "I know, but I'd like to know for sure. For my peace of mind."

You nodded. "Look, I'll go apologise to Guy right now-"

"No. There's no need. I'll talk to him myself. You've done enough. Please go to your room and wait for me." Baldwin gave you a small smile and watched you leave.

Moments later, he had a guard fetch the head physician in, who confirmed your story.

"Its true, your Majesty. Y/n risked her life to be with you for the past 2 weeks. She didn't leave the room and would apply medication on you herself, changed your clothes, wiped your sweat and even fed you some soup herself. She seemed very determined- almost as if she knew you'd recover. I'm ashamed to admit that I... I did not think you would." The physician even confirmed all the shit Guy had been doing, but Baldwin didn't need anyone's testimony to know that Guy was planning his downfall- and celebrating it. He wasn't surprised by that.

He was surprised by 2 things:

1. You hadn't contracted leprosy.

2. He was recovering from his disease.

"Its true. As you'd asked, I had done a check up on Y/n and I did not find any signs of leprosy... or any disease. She's as fit as can be!" The physician said in awe.

Baldwin smiled at that, looking at the mirror again. His own skin had begun healing. Many of his sores had already disappeared, and his complexion was returning to normal. And physical appearance was one thing, but Baldwin could even feel himself healthy on the inside. That constant ache in his bones was gone, the fatigue was gone, the suffering was gone.

But how? How could it just go away like that?

It's been 2 days since he woke up, and his health only seems to be improving at an exponential rate. And he's still trying to figure out how he got well out of nowhere. Closing his eyes, he tried to recall the events of that night.

All he remembers is falling down, fever enveloping his body so quickly, he felt like he was burning up, and then you were there and you helped him drink-

Baldwin eyes snapped open. It made sense.

He called in the guard and had him fetch his senior council members in his court room.

"I have 2 surprises for you." Baldwin said as he sat on his throne, looking over the members (Sibylla and Guy were also present), all staring and perhaps gawking at how well he looked now. "My disease is cured. I no longer suffer from leprosy." The court immeadiately fell into whispers and mutterings before going silent when he raised a hand. "I know it sounds impossible, but as you can all see, my health has not only improved but in fact I have become stronger. My body is no longer ridden with sores and boils. I no longer wear a mask, neither do I require assistance in walking. In fact, I am even able to use both of my hands to not only use a sword but also-" He pulled out a dagger and aimed it an apple he threw in the air, piercing right through it. "- I am no longer blind in one eye."

The court erupted in cheer, congratulating the king and praising God for saving Baldwin and the kingdom. From his throne, he could see Sibylla clapping in joy and wiping tears from her eyes as she smiled at him, while Guy looked at him in shock.

"Your majesty! What's the other surprise?" One of the members asked.

Baldwin smiled as he stood up.

"I have found a wife. She's the one who healed me."

He looked at the court that had once again erupted into cheer.

"Jerusalem has a new Queen."

"What do you mean I can't leave?" You asked the guard who was stationed outside your door.

"Ma'am, as I said before, the king has asked you to wait for him and ordered us to not let you leave until he comes." He said before closing the door again.

You scoffed. Can't leave? Why the hell not?

It's probably because I insulted Guy. He wants to punish me because of that. Will he throw me in the dungeons? Or will he just have my head chopped off?

You pulled out your time machine, the small box in your hands.

Well, I'm not sticking around to find out. Time to leave-

Just then, you heard the door open, making you hide the machine again. Is he finally here?

"Princess Sibylla." You bowed.

She chuckled, grabbing your shoulders. "Now, now. There's no need for that. In fact, I have to be the one bowing to you now." She said before kissing your cheeks. She's always been very humble and kind, and over the past few months, you've developed a good friendship with her.

You gave her a quizzical look. "What do you mean?" She laughed again. "Oh come on. You don't have to hide it anymore. Tell me, how did you persuade Baldwin to marry?"

"The king is getting married? To who?"

Sibylla raised a brow at you. "To-"

"Sibylla." A voice cut her off.

Baldwin was standing at your door. You bowed quickly, he looked at you before shaking his head at his sister.

"Will you leave? I have to talk to Y/n."

Sibylla nodded as she walked towards the door, but not before giving him a hug and congratulating him.

You two were alone now.

Baldwin had his hands clasped behind him as he walked closer to you.

"How are you feeling?" You asked him, eyes shifting to his hands. Is he holding a knife? To punish you for insulting Guy?

"I'm well, all thanks to you." He replied.

"Huh?" You looked at him confused, but your mind was still occupied with his hands. What is he hiding?

I need to delay this and find an escape route to use my time machine. You thought.

"Um- I uh- I heard you're getting married." You gulped, eyes still fixed on his hands, trying to anticipate any sudden movements.

"I am."

"Oh um, congratulations."

"Thank you." Baldwin said, tilting his head slightly at your wide eyes fixed on his hidden hands.

Cute.

"Y/n." He called out to you.

"Look, if you- if you're still mad at me about what I said to Guy, I apologise. But- but just so you know, I- I DONT THINKS ITS GOOD OMEN TO MURDER ME BEFORE YOU GET MARRIED!"

"Y/n."

"I WILL HAUNT YOU-! IM SORRY BUT I WILL AND I WILL HAUNT YOUR WIFE AND YOUR KIDS-"

"Y/n!" You looked at him as he stared at you with amusement. "You're being ridiculous."

"Huh?"

With one hand, he cupped your cheek as he brought himself closer.

"Why would I kill my soon-to-be wife?"

What? Wait-

"What?!" You shrieked backing away. "What kind of joke is that?!"

Baldwin looked insulted. "I wouldn't joke about this. You're very important to me."

"No- I- what?!"

He sighed as he sat on your bed. "Well, it makes sense, doesn't it? You saved me from an incurable disease, clearly you're the Chosen One, sent to me by God, and now I'll marry you."

You looked at him perplexed. "What are you talking about?! Saved you? All I did was help you drink water, apply your medication and-" you paused.

Helped him drink water... from my chalice... the one with... the medicinal vial.

"No." You covered your mouth in shock. What have I done?! This would change history completely! Shit. Shit. shit shit shit-

"Yes. You dont have to be so worried. The council is actually quiet happy that Im marrying someone, and they agree that there is no better match than the woman who saved my life-"

"I did not save your life!"

"Of course, you did. You gave your chalice-" "How is that even possible?! It only had water!" "Water that touched your lips first. Of course, it mustve been your essence, your saliva that healed me-" "Ew, no. Do you even yourself?! This is all unbelievable!"

Baldwin furrowed his brows slightly. "Its... not. I mean, look at you. You spent weeks taking care of me, you touched me, and yet did not even show signs of any illness, let alone leprosy! Of course, youre the chosen one!"

"I am not the chosen one!" You yelled as you pulled at your hair frustratedly. How could you fuck up so bad? If Baldwin really is cured, then history will be changed- and it will have disastrous impacts on future-

Baldwin pulled your hands away from your hair, tutting at you. "Dont do that. Youre the Queen, you cant hurt yourself."

"I am not the Queen."

He nodded. "Yet. But you are a princess now." Baldwin said as he pulled out the box hed been hiding behind his back all this time. Before you could even react, he'd already pulled out the big gold ring with a sapphire that had tiny diamonds around it and he slipped the ring onto your finger. You gawked at the ring making him chuckle.

Baldwin bent down to kiss your forehead sweetly before tapping your cheek admonishingly.

"Now, no hurting yourself princess. I want my queen in perfect health." Your cheeks reddened at how close he was, making him laugh even more as he pecked your forehead again and turned to leave.

You couldn't even say anything, he'd left you speechless. He looked back once, a lazy smile on his face.

"I should leave you to rest now, before Sibylla returns and starts pestering you with wedding preparations. She told me that shed been looking forward to this day for a very long time."

so this is part 1. thoughts????

PART 2 here!

#yandere baldwin #yandere king baldwin #yandere leper king #yandere baldwin iv #male yandere #bnha headcanon #yandere male #tw yandere #yandere #yandere x darling #male yandere x reader #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x y/n #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #yandere headcanons #yandere scenarios

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fvsm4x · 1 year ago

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#MAYBE IN ANOTHER LIFE? [Gojo Satoru] part II

SUMMARY: Your boyfriend, who you loved more than anything, who was your will to live, broke up with you.

— C.W: ex-boyfriend! Gojo satoru x depressed! female reader , Geto Suguru x female reader , dark themes , no happy ending w gojo , no curses au.

— WORD COUNT: 5.1k+

— A/N: I was supposed to finish this next week but- oh well..I hope you like it.

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read part I for better understanding

It has been several months since your breakup with Gojo, and you find yourself still living with Geto. Despite the change in your relationship status, your bad habits are still there. However, there is a silver lining to this situation - you no longer struggle as much as you have, because you no longer have the burden of paying the bills due time.

At first, you felt guilty about letting Geto pay the financial responsibility alone. You insisted on contributing your fair share. However, Geto, being the persuasive individual he is, somehow managed to convince you otherwise. He made a compelling argument, suggesting that it would be wiser for you to save up the money you earn through your work. By doing so, you would have the means to purchase necessary items for yourself in the future.

But in return geto wanted you to go grocery shopping and cook meals for him. It became a daily routine for you to venture out and purchase the necessary ingredients. Despite the repetitive nature of this task, you never complained. After all, Geto had provided you with a roof over your head and so much more. It was your way of expressing gratitude and repaying him for his generosity.

Living with Geto turned out to be a pleasant experience. He was not only caring but also incredibly kind. Whenever you found yourself in the midst of a mental breakdown, he was there to offer support. His comforting presence was like a soothing balm for your troubled mind. He would hold you close, whispering words of reassurance and understanding into your ear, doing whatever it took to make you feel okay again.

One incident that truly showcased Geto's empathy and understanding was when you were cutting yourself in the bathroom. Instead of scolding you or telling you to stop, he patiently waited behind the closed door until you had calmed down. Only then would he enter, carefully addressing your wounds with a gentle touch. It was evident that he understood the pain of depression and the toll it took on one's well-being.

After all - he had once also experienced depression.

Today, as usual, you found yourself needing to go shopping for fresh ingredients. With a shopping bag in hand, you left the room and made your way to the door that led outside.

Before stepping out, you reached for the jacket hanging near the door. It was Geto's jacket. Although you had your own jacket, Geto insisted that you wear his to protect yourself from the cold. It was that time of year when snowflakes gracefully fell from the sky and the air had a biting chill to it.

At first, Geto had wanted to buy you a new jacket, but you kindly declined, not wanting him to spend any more money on you. Instead, he offered you the option of wearing his jacket.

And so, you found yourself slipping into his jacket, feeling a sense of warmth and comfort as you prepared to face the wintry weather outside.

You stepped outside, and were greeted by a winter wonderland. The world around you was transformed into a picturesque scene straight out of a postcard. The ground was blanketed in a pristine layer of snow, untouched by footprints. The trees stood tall and proud, their branches adorned with delicate icicles that shimmered in the soft sunlight. The air was crisp and invigorating, carrying with it the faint scent of pine and the promise of a magical day ahead.

As you made your way through the snowy landscape, you couldn’t help but marvel at the beauty that surrounded you. The snowflakes gently fell from the sky, dancing and twirling as they made their descent, creating a mesmerizing spectacle. Each flake was unique, with intricate patterns and delicate edges that seemed to defy the laws of nature.

The sound of your footsteps crunching in the snow echoed through the stillness, breaking the silence and adding a touch of life to the serene atmosphere. The cold air nipped at your cheeks.

The sight of children building snowmen and families engaged in friendly snowball fights filled your heart with a bittersweet mix of joy and longing. The laughter and playful shouts echoed through the air, creating an atmosphere of pure happiness. It reminded you of the times you had dreamt of a future with gojo, imagining what it would be like to have children of your own, to experience these simple joys as a family.

But reality hit you hard, like a cold gust of wind cutting through your thoughts. Gojo had moved on, finding happiness with someone else. It was a painful truth that you had to accept, even though it still stung deep within. The image of Gojo laughing and playing in the snow with that girl flashed in your mind, a reminder that he had chosen a different path, a different future.

You took a deep breath, pushing away the thoughts that threatened to dampen your spirits.

„Y/n?“ a voice spoke from behind. Your eyes widened as you saw him standing there, your ex, with his signature white hair, piercing sky blue eyes, and tall frame. It was Gojo, the person who had once held your heart in his hands.

He stood before you, his gaze scanning your form before settling on your face. The intensity of his stare made you feel both nervous and vulnerable. You instinctively took a step back, creating a physical distance between you. Gojo noticed your retreat and froze, his eyes narrowing as he tried to decipher your reaction. Your slightly closed eyes and the way you avoided his gaze spoke volumes, revealing the pain and longing that still lingered within you.

“Gojo…” you whispered, your voice barely audible as you nervously fidgeted with the collar of your jacket. The mention of his name caused Gojo’s eyes to drop, a mixture of guilt and regret washing over his features. He had always been used to being called by his first name, but hearing his last name from your lips felt like a painful reminder of the distance that now existed between you.

“How are you?” he asked, attempting to regain eye contact with you.

“I’m okay… I guess,” you replied, finally meeting his gaze. Gojo took a step forward, closing the physical gap between you. His hand gently rested on both of your shoulders, sending a wave of shivers down your spine. The touch was both familiar and foreign, stirring up a mix of emotions within you. You felt nervous, almost scared, unsure of how to navigate this unexpected encounter.

“Listen, I’m sorry for… you know… that we fired you from work. It was really not my intention,” Gojo apologized. You interrupted him, trying to downplay the significance of his actions.

“It’s fine, I forgive you,” you said, your voice lacking conviction. You tried your best to ignore the warmth of his hands on your shoulders, focusing on maintaining your composure. Gojo’s eyes widened as he observed your dropped gaze, uncertain if you were truly okay with what had transpired.

“What?” he asked again, his fingers tightening around your shoulders. That’s when he noticed your jacket, a sense of familiarity washing over him. His fingers instinctively moved to the back of your neck, pulling down the collar to read the name written there.

Geto Suguru.

His best friend’s name was emblazoned on the collar of the jacket you were wearing. It suddenly dawned on him that this was not your jacket, but Geto’s. The scent of Geto’s cologne lingered faintly, intertwining with your own. Gojo’s eyebrows furrowed as a whirlwind of thoughts flooded his mind. Was this some sort of revenge? Did you pursue Geto to get back at him, to gain his attention? How did Geto even know about your breakup, despite Gojo never mentioning it to him?

He never expected you to move on so quickly. He knew you had your fair share of struggles, and he had always been the one to bring light into your life. He had believed that you would do anything for him. But the realization that you had seemingly moved on so swiftly ignited a pang of jealousy within him. He had a girlfriend now, he shouldn’t feel this way. His girlfriend was better for him than you, but the sight of you wearing Geto’s jacket still managed to stir something deep within him.

The way you shivered under his touch made him quickly withdraw his hands. “I said it’s okay, I forgive you,” you mumbled, your voice barely audible.

“So, you and Suguru?” he asked, ignoring your response. You raised an eyebrow, ready to answer his question, but before you could speak, your phone began to ring. You quickly retrieved it from your pocket, glancing at the caller ID.

Suguru.

Gojo awkwardly stood there, his gaze shifting between you and the phone in your hand. He couldn’t help but notice that the phone you were holding was different from the one he had once bought you. The mark on the phone indicated that it was a cheaper model, a flip phone, unlike the expensive one he had gifted you. Confusion washed over him as he wondered why you would exchange a high-end phone for a cheaper alternative.

Little did he know that you had sold the phone he had given you out of necessity. You had run out of money and needed to pay the bills for the motel you were staying in. Desperate times had forced you to part with the precious gift, opting for a more affordable option.

After answering the call, you quickly excused yourself, explaining that you needed to go buy groceries. However, before you could make your way out, Gojo reached out and gently grabbed your arm, in which you hissed.

"Wait," he said, "Are you and Suguru dating?" His question hung in the air, his eyes searching yours for any hint of confirmation or denial.

You took a deep breath, trying to find the right words to explain the situation. "No, Gojo," you replied, your voice soft but firm. "I just live with him. We're roommates."

Gojo's grip on your arm loosened slightly, his expression shifting from confusion to relief. The relief was evident in his eyes, as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

"I see," he said, "I'm glad to hear that." There was a brief pause between the two of you as you tried to progress what he just said.

Why would Gojo be glad to hear that you and Geto weren't dating? As you tried to process his reaction, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a key, extending it towards you.

"Uh, since you live with Suguru, it must be bothersome for you," he stammered, struggling to find the right words. "Take this apartment key. It's for you, as an apology for getting you fired."

You hesitated, unsure of what to do. You didn't want anything from Gojo, especially not as a form of apology. "I'm fine being with Suguru. I don't need this key," you replied, pressing it back into his chest. You turned around, ready to walk away and put this painful encounter behind you.

But before you could take another step, Gojo's voice called out, desperation lacing his words. "Wait, please take it!" His hand shot out and grabbed your wrist, causing you to flinch. The pain from the cuts on your arms intensified, and tears welled up in your eyes.

You quickly shrugged off his hand, wanting to escape the physical pain. As you looked up at Gojo, you saw his eyes downcast, filled with remorse. It hurt to see him like this, knowing that you still hadn't fully moved on from him. You wanted him to be happy, to see him smile, but it seemed like that was a distant dream.

"Okay, I'll take it. Thank you," you whispered, your voice barely audible. You reached out and took the key from his hand. With a heavy heart, you turned away from him, determined to focus on the task at hand. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go buy groceries."

"Right, uh... have a good day, Y/n!" Gojo called after you. Your heart pounded in your chest as you walked away,

—

"Suguru, I'm home," you called out, stepping into his house and slipping off your shoes and jacket. The familiar scent of Suguru's home enveloped you as you made your way to the living room, where Geto was lounging on the sofa, engrossed in a TV show.

"Welcome back," he greeted, turning his head to meet your gaze with a warm smile.

"I have some news," you announced, making your way to the kitchen to unload the groceries. Geto followed you, his curiosity piqued, and settled on a chair at the kitchen island, facing you.

As you began to unpack the grocery bag, placing items into the fridge, you tossed a bag of chips to Geto. He caught it effortlessly, his eyes lighting up with gratitude as he opened the bag and popped a chip into his mouth.

"So, what's the news?" he asked, his voice muffled by the chips.

"Well," you started, carefully choosing your words, "I found an apartment." You decided not to mention that it was Gojo who had bought it for you. The thought of Gojo's gesture still stirred up conflicting emotions within you.

Geto's eyebrows raised,"Where is it?"

You continued to organize the groceries, avoiding eye contact as you replied, "It's not too far from here, and it‘s quite big too, so if you want you can move in with me. You know, it‘s really nice to finally have someone who cares for me other than satoru.." you trailed off.

You mustered the courage to look back at Geto's face, and your heart skipped a beat at the wide-open eyes staring back at you. "You want me to move in with you...?" he asked,

"Yeah... I'm afraid I got attached to you... sorry," you muttered, your hands finding their way onto the counter as you looked down, unable to meet his gaze.

Geto was taken aback by your confession. He had always known about your deep love for Satoru, as you would often seek solace in his room after a nightmare, finding comfort in his presence. In those vulnerable moments, you would whisper Satoru's name as you fell asleep, leaving Geto to silently bear the weight of unrequited love.

From the moment he first laid eyes on you, fate seemed to have decided that he would fall in love with you. But to his surprise, you were already dating his best friend when you first crossed paths. He had initially dismissed you as one of Satoru's chicks, assuming that you would be discarded after a short while. But it turned out that your relationship with Satoru was serious, and his heart couldn't help but ache with jealousy.

He couldn't help but steal glances at the way you looked at Satoru, the admiration in your eyes and the way your lips curved into a smile whenever he was around. It made him envious, but he knew he had no right to feel that way towards his best friend. So he buried his own feelings and pretended to like you only as a friend, even though his heart yearned for more.

As time went on, Geto began to notice a change in Satoru's behavior. The manwhore tendencies he had abandoned when you and he started dating seemed to resurface. It was as if he had grown tired of the commitment and started seeking the attention of other women right in front of Geto's eyes.

The pain of witnessing Satoru's infidelity gnawed at Geto's heart. He wanted to protect you, to tell you about Satoru's behaviour, but he couldn't bear the thought of hurting you with those words. He knew how deeply attached you were to Satoru, how you would forgive him for every transgression, even something as devastating as cheating. You simply couldn't let him go.

Until one day, the inevitable happened. The two of you broke up.

The news hit Geto like a punch to the gut. On one hand, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of relief that you were no longer tied to Satoru's unfaithfulness. But on the other hand, he knew that your heart would be shattered, and he couldn't bear the thought of seeing you in pain.

You stood there in the kitchen, glare dropped as you mentioned your ex‘s name. Geto's heart ached for you. He wanted to offer comfort, to hold you close and assure you that everything would be okay. But he knew that the wounds were fresh, and he would have to tread carefully, waiting for the right moment to reveal his own feelings.

For now, all he could do was be there for you, offering a shoulder to lean on and a listening ear.

„Sure..I can move in with you if that‘s what you would like.“ he spoke, forcing a smile.

Your eyes immediately lightened up as you heard his words,“really?“ you asked.

Geto nodded, his smile growing wider as he saw the genuine happiness radiating from your face. "Yes, really," he replied,“I want to be there for you, to support you and care for you in ways that Satoru couldn't."

A wave of gratitude washed over you as you realized the depth of Geto's commitment. It was a stark contrast to the fleeting affection you had experienced with Satoru. You had always yearned for someone who would truly see you, who would cherish and prioritize your happiness above all else. And now, standing before you, was Geto, offering you just that.

A mixture of emotions swirled within you - excitement, relief, and a tinge of sadness for the end of your relationship with Satoru. You took a step closer to Geto, your eyes locked with his, as you whispered, "Thank you. Thank you for being here for me."

Geto's smile softened,"You don't have to thank me," he replied gently.

No.

No. No. No..

What is this?

This is not what Gojo expected when he entered his apartment after being away for a week. The first thing he heard were moans coming from his and his girlfriend's bedroom, and immediately he made his way there to investigate. What he saw was something he never could have imagined. His girlfriend, completely naked, was on top of someone else, riding them on their shared bed where they used to make love. It was a scene that shattered his heart and left him feeling betrayed.

She was cheating on him.

Gojo stood frozen by the door, his eyes wide with shock, his eyebrows furrowed in disbelief, and his once joyful smile replaced by a look of pain.

As he looked at the girl who had been his girlfriend just moments ago, Gojo couldn't help but draw parallels between her and you. The guilt he had felt then was nothing compared to the remorse that now gnawed at his soul.

In that moment, he couldn't fully comprehend the impact of his actions, but now, as he stood in that bedroom, he felt the weight of his betrayal crashing down upon him.

Gojo's gaze shifted from his ex-girlfriend to the guy who had been underneath her. A surge of jealousy and insecurity coursed through him, as he couldn't help but compare himself to this unknown person. Who was he? What did he possess that Gojo lacked? The comparison was inevitable, and it only added fuel to the fire of pain that already consumed him. Doubts gnawed at his mind, questioning his worthiness and wondering if he had failed to measure up, if he had been inadequate in some way.

The room felt suffocating. Gojo's heart pounded in his chest, each beat a painful reminder of the shattered love and trust that lay in ruins.

Gojo stormed into the bedroom, his anger and hurt fueling his every step. The force with which he swung the door open was a reflection of the turmoil raging within him, a physical manifestation of the chaos that had erupted in his life. His eyes, filled with a mix of desperation and fury, locked onto the figure lying beneath his now ex-girlfriend.

"Satoru, wait!" the girl cried out, her voice laced with panic and fear, as she was pushed away from the person beneath her. But Gojo was beyond reason, consumed by a maelstrom of emotions that drowned out any pleas for mercy.

Gojo lunged forward, his hand shooting out to seize a handful of her hair. The pain of his grip was a stark contrast to the tenderness he had once shown her, a cruel reminder of the power he held over her in that moment. Their eyes locked, and in that intense gaze, he saw her pupils constrict, a sign of both fear and resignation. Her lower lip quivered, a silent plea for him to release her from his grasp.

But Gojo was deaf to her pleas, his grip on her hair only tightening as she desperately tried to free herself. The sound of her voice, trembling with vulnerability, fell upon deaf ears as he murmured a single word, "Why..." His voice was filled with a mix of confusion and betrayal, unmoved by the smaller hands that desperately attempted to pry his hold loose.

And then, like a dagger to his heart, she uttered the words that shattered his world. "I'm sorry! I found someone else—I love him... please, let go!" Her voice trembled with a mixture of guilt and desperation, her words echoing in the air like a painful confession.

The weight of those words crashed into Gojo's consciousness like a tidal wave, the impact reverberating through his entire being. Found someone else...? The realization hit him with a force that stole the breath from his lungs. These were the same words he had once spoken to you, the words that had torn your world apart.

As if struck by lightning, Gojo released his grip on her hair, his hand falling limply to his side. He stepped back, his eyes filled with a mix of shock and disbelief. The girl, now free from his hold, collapsed onto the bed, her body crumpling under the weight of the emotional turmoil that had unfolded before her.

Was this the same anguish you had felt when he had confessed he had found someone else? Did he truly forsake someone as remarkable as you for this girl? The weight of his actions settled heavily upon his shoulders, a burden he could no longer ignore.

As he turned away from the girl and the person she had been with, Gojo's mind became a whirlwind of regrets and what-ifs. Memories of your time together flashed before his eyes, each one a painful reminder of what he had lost. The pain of his own betrayal and the pain he had inflicted upon you mingled within him, creating a storm of guilt and remorse.

Gojo found himself in the living room, his body sinking into the couch as he attempted to make sense of it all. The weight of betrayal pressed upon him, threatening to crush him beneath its burden. It was as if his entire world had crumbled in an instant, leaving him feeling adrift and broken.

His mind was swirling with regrets and unanswered questions, he couldn't help but wonder if there was any way to mend what had been irreparably broken. Could he ever earn back your trust? Could he ever make amends for the pain he had caused? The questions plagued his thoughts, but the answers remained elusive.

With a heavy heart weighing him down, Gojo rose from the comfort of the couch and made his way towards the front door. The weight of his emotions pushed him to leave, to escape the haunting memories that seemed to linger within the walls of the apartment. His mind was consumed by a single thought - he needed to find you, to apologize before it was too late. Perhaps, just maybe, you would find it in your heart to forgive him.

However, little did Gojo know that time was not on his side. As he hurriedly made his way to the apartment he had given you, a place that was meant to be his girlfriend’s sanctuary, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief that he had entrusted you with the key instead. The thought of seeing you again, of having the chance to make things right, gave him a glimmer of hope amidst the darkness that surrounded him.

Arriving at the apartment, Gojo rushed up the stairs, his mind filled with a whirlwind of thoughts about what he would say when he finally saw you. His hand instinctively reached into his pocket, grasping onto the spare keys that he had kept for emergencies. With a mix of anticipation and anxiety, he approached the door that was supposed to lead him to you. Taking a deep breath, he inserted the key into the lock, turning it slowly and opening the door.

However, instead of being greeted by an empty room, Gojo found himself standing in the midst of a completely transformed space. The apartment had undergone a complete renovation, a stark contrast to the memories he had held onto. But amidst the unfamiliar surroundings, his eyes were drawn to something that instantly caught his attention - clothes scattered across the floor. A shirt, two pairs of pants, and a bra lay haphazardly, creating a puzzle that Gojo couldn’t help but try to piece together.

Confusion furrowed his brow as he pondered the presence of the bra on the floor. If there was no sound of moaning or clapping, then it meant that you didn’t have anyone over, right? But the pants… they were definitely not yours. They were too wide, too different from your usual style. Gojo’s gaze swept the room, searching for answers, before he made his way through the apartment, his steps guided by an unexplainable instinct.

He stopped in front of a closed door, hesitating for a moment before gently pushing it open, revealing a sight that shattered his heart into a million pieces. His eyes widened in disbelief as they landed on Geto, his best friend, lying in bed with you cradled in his arms. The sight of Geto’s upper body, partially exposed, showcased his muscular chest and abs, while your figure rested against him, your shoulders and neck adorned with small, telltale bruises. Both of you were fast asleep, blissfully unaware of the presence of another person standing by the door.

A mixture of shock, betrayal, and anger coursed through Gojo’s veins as he tried to comprehend what he was witnessing. Why was Geto here? He had always been aware of Geto’s secret crush on you, but he had never expected his best friend to make a move, especially not with you. The pain in Gojo’s heart intensified as he saw you, the person he believed to be his and his alone, in someone else’s arms, covered in another person’s kisses and bruises.

Gojo stood there, his heart heavy with disbelief and heartbreak. Tears welled up in his eyes, threatening to spill over. Was it too late? Was there no way to fix what he had done?

Suddenly, a voice broke through his thoughts, bringing him back to reality. It was his best friend, looking at him with a mix of concern and frustration. Gojo's eyes met his, and he could see the unspoken question in them.

"You gonna continue staring or what?" his best friend asked, his tone slightly teasing.

Gojo's emotions surged, and he couldn't hold back the words any longer. "You did it on purpose, didn't you? You waited for the moment she was vulnerable so you could swoop in and be her hero. All in the hope of leading her into bed."

His fists clenched, and he wiped away the tears with the back of his sleeve. His best friend remained calm, his gaze steady. "I'm merely doing what you couldn't. I'm here for her, offering support and care in ways you never could, Satoru."

Gojo's anger flared, and he shouted, "What do you mean?!" But his best friend cut him off, his voice firm but gentle.

"Don't shout, she's had a tough night and deserves some rest," he said, covering you with a blanket.

"You act like you're some kind of savior. What gives you the right to step in and play hero in her life?"

His best friend sighed, meeting Gojo's gaze with unwavering resolve. "I'm doing it because she deserves genuine care and someone who will love her just the way she does."

Gojo's eyes widened, his mouth falling open in disbelief. "I love her just the way she does!"

"If you did," his best friend calmly replied, "you wouldn't have cheated on her multiple times and then left her for someone else."

The accusation hung heavily in the air, shattering any pretense of composure between the two friends. Gojo felt the weight of his best friend's words, realizing the depth of the hurt he had caused. The room seemed to echo with the fractured friendship and the complex emotions entangled in this unexpected confrontation.

"I never wanted things to turn out like this," Gojo confessed, his voice filled with regret. "What do you expect me to do now?"

His best friend's gaze hardened, his voice firm. "Face the consequences of your actions, Satoru. But understand this: she doesn't want anything to do with you now. Give up and let her find the happiness she deserves elsewhere."

A heavy silence fell over the room. Gojo struggled to find a response, a knot forming in his stomach. His best friend continued, his voice softer this time.

"She moved on, Satoru," he said, his eyes filled with a mix of empathy and deception. "You broke her trust, and she's found someone who treats her with the respect and love she deserves. Don't complicate her life any further."

Gojo's jaw clenched, his hands balling into fists as the realization hit him. The person beneath the blanket, blissfully unaware of the turmoil surrounding them, remained a symbol of the consequences of his actions.

"I messed up, I know that," Gojo admitted, his voice filled with remorse. "But I can't just give up on her."

His best friend's expression hardened. "Giving up isn't about abandoning her; it's about respecting her choices. She doesn't want you in her life anymore. Accept that and move forward."

"You had your chance, Satoru. Now it's time to let her go," his best friend said, his voice filled with finality.

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writingoddess1125 · 1 year ago

Text

The old men of One Piece finding out they have a child with you. Pt. 2

Due to popular demand I have a part two for you guys!

Shanks, Buggy, Mihawk xFemreader

Healthy Mix of Angst and Fluff

Support me on Ko-Fi

Part 1 <- -> Part 3

Buggy

The crew was quick to follow orders, Cabaji grabbing you as others grabbed your sons. Dragging you from the restaurant you called a home and out onto the streets, screamed fill the air as the village was being ripped apart. Your boys crying out in fear as the crew harshly brought you onto the ship you once were apart of.

You yelped as you were thrown into Buggy's room. Your boys being tossed in as well, you quickly grabbed Dee and Bee and brought them to your chest. Running your hands through their hair as they sobbed against you, shaking like a leaf and terrified.

"Ssshh it's okay my loves it's okay" you whisper trying to soothe them, holding them tightly to try and ward away the bad dream. After a few hours they finally fell asleep, You carefully rolling up and placing them on Buggy's large bed. It wouldn't be best to let them sleep in your arms since they were fairly large and when asleep could kick and roll. You couldn't risk injury if you were going to escape with the twins.

You tucked them into the big stripped bed and sighed- Surrounded by more of this circus shit made them look way more like Buggy then you cared to admit. Smoothing Dee and Bee wild blue locks with your hand you sighed heavily. Trying to come up with a plan to escape- but the plotting was short lived as the bedroom door opened.

Buggy stared at you and then glanced at the boys as they slept soundly in his bed. He was holding a large tray and set it down on the side table, meeting your eyes as he picked up a fork and took a bite from each both and even a bite of the bread, before taking a seat clearly wanting to show it was safe to eat and feed the children. You looked at the food it was 3 healthy servings of pasta with fresh bread and 3 drinks, 2 milks and a ale. You looked at him in question but you didn't dare voice anything. Instead gently shaking the twins awake-

"Eh? Mom?..." Dee mumbled as he rubbed his sleepy eyes. "Dinner is here" You say calmly, holding a bowl out to Dee who gently took it in his tiny hands before waking up Bee with a bit more force and doing the same. Splitting the bread in half and giving each half to your sons to make sure they had full bellies.

You ate your own food, Watching as the twins hungrily ate there like they hadn't had a meal before, havjng to make sure they didnt mess up the nice bed. However you kept glancing back at Buggy, feeling his eyes on you.

He sat across the room stull, watching you closely as you wiped their faces clean with your dress and handing them their drinks and even taking your own ale and sipping it. You saw Bee wat hibg Buggy closely, the two staring at each other silently.

"What are you looking at Old Man?-" Bee snapped as he glared at Buggy. You snapping your finger quickly at him.

"Attitude-" You hissed in warning. However heard a shuffle to see Buggy snorting a laugh and turning away to giggle-

"Damn these really are my Kids- I was at least 90% sure before but now it's 100%!" He laughed, actually Wiping the tears from his face.

"Mom what is he talking about?" Dee questioned first, raising a brow at the Clown in their room.

"Yeah and whats with hi-" You smacked your hand over your sons mouth. Knowing that the following question would lead to a fight you didn't have the strength for.

"Boys this is your father... Buggy the Clown. He's a Pirate Captian"

"Our Dads a clown-" Bee deadpanned as his face looked at you in what can only be described as confused horror. You sighing mentally by this, as Dee stared at Buggy suspiciously.

"How do we know?-" Dee started, But Buggy pulled the hat from his head and bandana to show his blue locks that were identical to their.

"Our Dads a Clown!?" Bee said again this time

"I'm a porate clown-" Buggy shot back as he frowned at the boy. The two locking in gaze of equal stubbornness and attitude.

Dee started to say"Is that why you took us?" But was cut off gloriously by Bee"If you're our dad then you suck! Why did you grab mom by her hair and make her cry!" He proclaimed, Jumping up on the bed and pointing to Buggy angrily. You urging the boy to sit down, But Buggy's gaze softened.

"I apologize- I didn't see it was her or else I would have never raided you town. Instead just picked you three up to take with me" He admitted calmly. The seemed to take the wind from Bee's sails as he sat back down- You also surprised to hear Buggy apologize or be so vulnerable.

"I want to have you three here with me and be apart of my children's life" Buggy started as he stared at you- You started to protest but he held up a hand.

"60 Days, that's all I ask. If in 60 days you don't want me in their lives I'll drop you and the boys off at a Marine Base with some berry. Enough to be comforble for the rest of your lives"

It was a good deal- a damn good deal. It's not like you had a berry to your name or a place to return to. That and he genuinely seemed interested in the boys, you gave a defeated sigh.

"Alright... 60 days- then we will talk from there" Buggy smiled at hearing you agreeing to this. Excitement shining in his eyes as he jumped up from his seat.

"Perfect! You all rest here. I'll leave and bring some supplies for you all" Buggy said calmly as he stood up and quickly left, a grin plastered on his face as he left you.

You should have known that Buggy was planning something. For the next 3 days it was like he turned the ship into a child's dream. There was suddently a absurd about of toys, sweets, every game imaginable too seemed to have suddently appeared. Buggy all to happy to shower the twins in anything they asked for, played any game they wanted.

You inwardly sighed as you watched the twins start to warm up to Buggy, More like clinging to him. Bee seemingly the most interested in him while Dee seemed to just love sailing. Having to be coaxed down from the crows nest were he would hide all day. At the mess hall however is were they fit in the best- It was like Buggy had cloned himself the two perfect best friends, aka himself.

Dee had taken to keeping his hair up due to his time in the crows nest and also had become more confident- pushing his brother back whenever he messed with him a bit too much- As for Bee it was like Buggy 2.0- Loud, flashy and ready to find trouble. It had been only 3 days but so much had changed, Currently it being evening dinner time.

Sitting next to Buggy in the mess hall, who had made it a habit of keeping you close you glared as your son then Buggy who was just laugjing "Benny (Y/L/N) get your monkey ass here right now!" You yelled as you saw your son running down the tables of the mess hall. Singing a made of sea shanty that the rest of the freaks were actually drinking and singing along to.

"Let the boy have some fun (Y/N)! It's not like he's hurting anyone- Besides what's the worse that can happen! Stop with the snooty attitude" Buggy proclaimed with a laugh, you saw Dee get a mischievous look in his eye before slipping under the table. You give a sarcastic smile, knowing your twins all too well.

"Fine then, I won't be snooty for the next hour whatever they damage you gotta clean" You proposes with a smile. He laughed and nodded.

"Deal! Finally now we can have some fu-"

And like a symphony of madness all hell broke lose. Dee had popped put from under the table and grabbed Bee's foot nid step. The singing child falling into a massive bowl of mashed potatos which managed to spray everywhere- coating all the people at the table in potatos and the floor which made a few Crewmates who had been walking slip and slam into tables flinging more food and creating more mess paired with a hunk of cake landing right in Buggy's face. Wiping the frosting as he watched the two boys make a run from the mess hall cackling like two Imps.

"Boys!!" He yelled, trying to wipe more of the pink frosting from his face. You smiled and handed him a napkin.

"Have fun Captian!~" You said with a grin and patted his shoulder as Buggy sat there red faced and glaring at you half heartedly. As if taking your cue, you got up and left. Giggling as you hear Buggy snap at some crewmates to grab something to help clean the mess.

Deciding to take the time for yourself you went to the main deck. Leaning against the rails as you watched the dark waves of the ocean and the setting sun. You couldn't lie and say you didn't miss the ocean, or the time to yourself. You stood there watching as the sun set and plunged the ship into darkness, the lanterns of the ship turning on as well as the ship seemed to be sailing in darkness.

"Enjoying your free time?" A deep voice snapped you from your thoughts. Seeing Buggy walking towards you, his face washed of makeup and hair in a ponytail. Having clearly just bathed after getting the mess hall cleaned.

"Yeah, I forgot how nice it is being on this ship.. How are the boys?" Buggy smiled at hearing you enjoying yourself before shrugging.

"Got them washed up and put them to bed.....They seem to like me" He boated, seemingly proud he had formed such a strong bond.

"That they do" You reply. Watching as he put his hands in his pockets a bit awkwardly, that tough Captian Facade crumbling a bit under his own anxiety.

"(Y/N) Why did you leave?... Was it me? Were you ashamed of me or-" He started, the back of his hand brushing against his nose as the enxiety slammed into his chest.

"What?.. No that's not why I left Buggy- I was scared. How the hell was I suppose to go through pregnancy on a ship? Hell the labor?! That was 36 hours to give birth to both of them!" Buggy winced at the thought, you leaned against the railing and stared at him.

"It was the fact that I couldn't predict how you would react and no idea how to raise a baby here. So in a village with at least some stability seemed like the best option- Even if it ment having to do it alone"

You admit, Buggy messing with his gloved hands. Sadness bleeding through his gaze as he sighed.

"I suppose- I can see your point... but I would have put everything on hold if I knew-" Buggy admitted, before rubbing the back of his head a bit hesitantly.

"You know- We only got 60 days and I've been wanting to take a vacation. Drop off the crew maybe for a bit and I know this really nice island" Buggy said casually. Your eyebrows raising at hearing this- He wanted to stop pirating just for you and the twins?

"What?-" You started but he cut you off quickly. "I mean it would only be a little bit of course- unless something urged me to stay a bit longer. However I think being on the open ocean can be damaging for super long term- I mean the meals can cause scurvy and who knows what else" He quickly justified, even at this distance you could see his ears turning red. You couldn't help but giggle at this, which caught his attention quickly.

"I'd like that Buggy.. But I don't want to take you away from what you love" you say, Watching Buggy take a hesitant step towards you.

"Who knows... 60 days can quickly turn into eternity.. if you want it to.. and i lost what i loved once- Ill never let that happen again" He said locking eyes with you which made you smile brighter.

Shanks

It had been 3 weeks since Shanks arrived- and it had been one journey, The man clearly loved to be a father. Willing to do anything for Vivian, her having the powerful pirate wrapped around her little finger and not even knowing it.

Shanks having let his crew take the time for essentially a vacation on his dime while ge stayed in your guestroom. Excited every morning to wake up and play with his daughter. He bought her so many toys, a chest full of pretty dresses, a giant stuffed monkey and a play wood sword since she had been so interest in his.

She had even taken to tying her favorite green ribbon on his sword since "It looks pretty" and he didn't have the will power to take it off. So for the most part, it had been complete and total bliss.

It was early morning when you heard some loud Noises coming from the kitchen area of your home- Getting up from bed and put on your robe and walked to see what all the noise was.

You stood in the kitchen with a raised eyebrow, the only word fitting this situation was- Hilarious. There sat Shanks, sat on the floor with his back leanes against the oven holding a old muffin. His eyes were covered in a thick layer of green glittery eyeshadow (from your makeup bag) hot red lipstick that was sneered on other parts of his face. Some bows randomly scattered in his red hair. His coat that usually covered his missing arm dropped over your daughter who was still in her baby blue tight gown and she was dragging behind her as she adding things to the spread on the floor. A bag of sugar, some water, a scattering of teabags and whatever had been in the fridge- including half eaten sandwiches and cupcakes which Shanks was currently chewing on.

"Starlight, I don't think there is anyway you can make the wate- I mean tea any sweeter" He said calmly, Watching Vi try to pour more sugar into her little China set with her chubby hands. Shanks cringing a bit at this as she poured him a cup and handed it to him.

"See! Now it's perfect!" She chimed and giggled loudly. He gave a smile as he set aside his muffin and sipped the tea, trying to suppress the cringe from the unholy amount of sugar that was mixed with water and a hint of a poor teabag.

"It's delicious Baby Girl- Fantastic" He choked out, working through a smile as he forced himself to take another sip. You couldn't help bit to laugh, which brought the attention of both Red Heads.

"Mommy!" Vivian chimed loudly running towards you still wearing Shank's cloak and you scooped her up carefully.

"I must say Shanks, you look fabulous" You said with a smile. Shanks Grinning up at you as he sat on the floor.

"I always thought I'd look good in green" He said, Gesturing to the sloppy eyeshadow. Rolling himself up to his feet as he smiled down at you.

"By the way are you ready for today?" You raised a brow-

"Oh boy what do you have planned?" Shanks only gave a wide smile before grabbing a box from the kitchen table and holding up a lovely yellow sundress for you and a similar one for Vivian.

"Fun day out!"

Shanks hadnt beem kidding about a fun day, staring with a lovely resturant on the island, sailing, having in a meadow and then time out at the park the sun started to set. Shanks held Vivian who was passed out against him, walking back to your home. The two of you talking about the time you two where together in the past.

"Thank you (Y/N).." He said softly, Smiling as he watched the sun set and the two of you walked up hill.

"For what?" He smiled brightly at you "Making me the happiest man in the world" You couldn't help but blush at hearing this. Looking away bashfully as you came up to your home, Seeing a man standing there a bit awkwardly.

"Yasopp! Glad you stopped by, This is (Y/N) and my darling daughter Vivian. She's asleep right now but I'm sure she'd love to meet ya"

Shank smiled brightly at seeing his fellow crewmate. However the look on Yasopp face said otherwise.

"Its lovely to meet you (Y/N)... but Captian- we have to talk.." He said softly, Shanks frowning at the tone he gave before gently passing Vivian to you.

"I'll be in a sec" He said, nodding you quickly head inside to get Vivian ready for bed. Yasopp and him talked outside, Shanks looked angry. Staring at the letter and running his hand through his hair clearly stressed. You finished cleaning Vivians face and got her in her PJs, tuckering her in for the night. In the hallway you could hear the should of bottles shifting, turning to see Shanks in the kitchen grabbing the bottle of whiskey you kept on the top shelf- his face twisted in anger as he plopped on the couch.

"You have to leave.. don't you-" You finally blurted out, watching him open the bottle with his teeth and take a sip. His eyes shiny with unshed tears, he nodded soberly as he took a hard swig of the drink.

"Shanks you can't finally meet her and just leave her life-" You stressed, anger bubbling in your chest as you stared at him. He sat slunched in the chair a swirling of different emotions in his eyes.

"They need my help.. and I can't risk it (Y/N).... I can't risk them finding out about you and Vi... they would kill you both" He whispered, shock slamming into you. Your eyes drifting to Vivian's room were she laid sleeping.

"...How long will you be gone" You whispered finally, sitting down on your sofa sadly.

"I don't know..." He whispered, defeat written on his face. Holding the bottle out to you, which you took and started to sip before passing it back.

"When do you leave?" Shanks took another heavy swig of the drink and held it out to you. "Tomorrow morning..." You nod at this- Taking another sip of the whiskey.

"...I-Is she going to hate me?" Shanks whispered, Looking up at were he knew Vi was. You shook your head "She doesn't have it in her heart to hate.." You said softly. He nodded at this and messed with the ribbon she tied on his sword, staring at it hard.

"I love her (Y/N).... so much it hurts.." His voice cracked. But he instead stood up, taking a heavy breath.

"I'm going to get some sleep... you should as well" He said softly, Turning and walking back to the guest room. Leaving you alone with the whiskey bottle, as you put it back in its rightful place. You could have sworn you heard hushed sobs... but left them be and went to cry in your own bed as well.

In the morning, the nice breakfast was made. Shanks feeding Vivian her oatmeal and letting her talk his ear off, you knew he needed this moment. Needed to have this with her. Once breakfast was finishes the three of you started the walk to the docks, Vivian holding Shanks hand as they talked about the pretty ocean.

Walking to the docks he saw the ship being loaded up, Vivian staring in awe at the massive vessel and giggled at the sight of all the men who stared at her and gave friendly waves. Shanks taking a deep breath to look at you both. Hurt shining in his eyes as he swallowed a hard lump in his throat. Kneeling down he looked at Vivian, his hand cupping her chubby cheek as he took a shaky breath holding back tears clearly. "Princess, I've got to go for a while.."

"But why?... you just got here?"

"I know baby girl- But, see there is this trouble maker- His name is Luffy. Think of him as your big brother, he needs my help.. And I don't want to put you and your Mommy in danger while I go get him. So I have to leave-"

He said, Biting his bottom lip for a second as he let a few tears roll down his cheek. Reaching into his pocket and pulling out a solid gold coin- it was quite large and he carefully handed it to Vivian. Her little fingers holding the big coin and touching the detailed design thay decorated it, his Jolly Roger.

"But I promise I'll be back.. but until I do- you have to keep this with you. It's special, it will protect you from Pirates- And when I come back, and I promise I will. I'll trade you that coin for your ribbon back okay?"

He said softly, watching Vivian smile up at him at the promise.

"Okay Daddy.." She said softly before jumping and hugging around his neck. He held her tightly, wrapping his arm around her as if he didn't want to let go.

"Captian-" Yassop said softly, Shanks nodding and carefully standing up. Handing Vivian to you a bit reluctantly, Vivian own eyes starting to water. You held her close as tears rolled down your own cheeks. Shanks leaning in and kissing the tears on your face and one gingerly on your lips.

"I'll see you two again, I swear" He said softly, Stepping back as he followed after his crew. The crew somber like their Captian as he boarded, yelling out commands to set sail. Looking back as the ship began to leave the harbor, Waving at the two of you. Vivian waving back gently as tears rolled down her chubby cheeks clutching the coin close to her chest.

You and Vivian standing on the docks as you watched the ship sail and disapear over the horizon. You sniffles and wiped your eyes of the tears you didn't know had still been running down your cheeks.

Your daughter looking at you and wiping your tears, giving you a smile just like Shanks "Don't worry Mommy.. Daddy said he'd be back"

Mihawk

You stood in your tiny kitchen, rubbing your temple as the days situation settled on your bones. Your son standing next to you chopping vegetables silently, Clearly ignoring the elephant in the room.

"Alucare- Do you want to-"

"No" He cut you off quickly, quickly cutting down on a carrot like it had wronged him. You sighed at this setting the kettle on the stove to start a pot of tea. Knowing damn well what was coming- right on cue there was a knock to the door.

Turning you went to let in the Warlord, he looked like a kicked puppy. Awkwardly standing there at your door with his hat removed, his eyes glancing up at you hesitantly.

"(Y/N)..." He said softly, surprising you that he had even remembered your name. He stepped to the side, inviting him into your home and guiding him to your dining room were he took a seat at the kitchen table.

You took a seat as well, Alucare not turning from preparing the vegetables. A awkward silence following the trio as there was only the sound of chopping.

"Mihawk.. It's been a while" You finally speak, the Warlord nodding in agreement. Silence falling over you two again.

"Oh for God's sake. Alucare sit down please, we are going to get this out" You said, Hearing the shuffle of your son moving from his spot and sitting next to you. You couldn't help but stare in awe- The two sitting across from each other made it seem like they were looking at some odd mirror, they looked almost identical except for the age and minor changes.

"Mihawk this is Alucare, your son. As we can clearly can see. Alucare this is your father Dracule Mihawk"

You introduce, swallowing thickly as the two continued to stare at each other. Silence falling again over you all, Mihawk sighed and rubbed his temple. Turning his eyes away from this odd sort of staring contest.

"Alucare.. That's a good name.. How old are you?" Mihawk asked, staring at his child for a moment before Alucare looked away.

"I'm 16..." He said softly, Mihawk nodding at this before his eyes landed on you.

"How come you didn't tell me- I would have been here, helped you. I have a home and more" He asked, his eyebrows betraying him in pure confusion and he frowned. You sighed and rubbed the back of your neck.

"I was scared- How would it look like if some random person claimed to have some famed Warlords child.." You mumbled, still embarrassed by the whole ordeal. "Besides it wasn't even until after are alleyway escapades that I understood who you were-"

"I see..." Mihawk sighed as he stared at Alucare again, who seemed to grow a bit uncomforble at the direction of this conversation.

"Alucare do you wish to ask something of your father?-" You encouraged. Wanting to create a olive branch between the two.

"What is there me to ask? It's not like it's a secret that we are related or his reputation. The only thing I would wonder is how you found out about us-" Alucare said a bit dismissively, you felt genuine surprise at this. He had never shown anyone disrespect before until now-

"There were rumors of you that traveled to a Marine Base I was at- how a child looked like the famed Mihawk... eyes and all" Mihawk clarified. Alucare only rolling his matching yellow eyes at this, standing up from his seat.

"I'll be dismissing myself. Thanks for the talk" He said calmly, walking out the back door and slamming it shut behind him. You sighed and looked to Mihawk

"Hes normally not like that, I don't know what to say" You admit. But the Warlord just stood up with a understanding nod.

"Hes angry... that I understood.. I'll return" He said before following out the back door as well.

Standing by the grove of trees next to the house Alucare let the cool blade of the knives brush over his fingers, sighing as he quickly released the blade at lightning speed at the carved target on the old tree hitting bulls eye. Alucare walking to retrieve the lone blade and repeat the process.

"Impressive shot-" The deep voice only belonging to Mihawk sounded behind the teen. Alucare glancing back at the man as he resumed his position and went back to throwing his blade.

"Thanks I suppose-" Alucare mumbled as he continued to task. Mihawk sighing softly as he glanced at the sky.

"What is the true reason you resent me- One that you don't wish to express with your mother around" He finally asked, staring at the sky. Alucare faltering in his movements for a moment, keeping the blade in his hands for a moment.

"If you had been anyone else she wouldn't have had to suffer so much-" He admitted, his eyes showing a deep sadness as he sighed "I saw the way they looked at her, despite her smiling and ignoring it.. how she acted as a human shield for me. Because we share blood- How she would sit on the bed after working day and night to put that home over our head... how tired she was and then emotionally carying the brunt of people looking at her in either pity, fear otlr disgust for my sake"

He admitted, throwing the blade once again watching the blade stick deeply into the tree the handle being the only thing that showed. Mihawk quietly listened and clenched his hands.

"I understand... if I had known I would have protected her... I would have protected you- Nothing I can say can make up for 16 years of hardship... but I do apologize" Mihawk said, bowing his head gently.

Alucare looked at him silently for a moment. Looking away for a moment and went to grab the blade.

"...How do you sharpen a blade-" Alucare asked, In his own way accepting Mihawk apology and extending a form of communication. Mihawk gave a hint of a smile on his lips as he stepped forward.

"I can show you-"

Tag List-

For all the people who requested Pt. 2

@lunanight1021 @lolavegas20 @cuteastrash @thatcharmingmushroom @marsilis @thesadvampire @amecchii @zaphira-san @matronofthevoid @mothmans-left-nipple

#x reader #one peice x reader #buggy the clown x reader #one piece #buggy one piece #buggy x reader #one peice live action #hawkeye mihawk #mihawk x reader #one piece mihawk #dracule mihawk #one piece shanks #shanks x reader #shanks one piece #red hair shanks

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dcxdpdabbles · 14 days ago

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The Summoned Demon Part 4

#Holiday Requests I would love updates to Child Support, The Summoned Demon, and Passion For Fashion

Danny had no idea where he was.

No one around him could understand what he was saying, and he couldn't read anything either. After running through the suburbs, Danny had made his way on foot into the large city. There was nothing familiar about where the cults had summoned him to.

Everything looked wrong. The clothes, the cars, the street ads, and even the people. He stood on the side of a corner, attempting to make heads or tails of his surroundings, but people passed by him like water in a river.

It must have been the fact he was covered in dirt.

Thankfully, a group of teens had been willing to stop his frantic shouting. One girl had snapped her fingers, then waved rectangular screens at him- What was that thing?- speaking into it.

The rectangular screen spoke in what he thinks is a different language, but not anything Danny could understand. Her face fell but she seemed determined to get him to talk into her rectangle. When he did, it gave her soft buz like the ones that are played on game shows where a constant gets a wrong answer.

The girl had looked at her companions, utterly lost, until one of them stepped forward and started playing charades. There were a lot of vague hand motions and desperate gestures when he attempted to explain his situation, and the children were able to direct him to the police station.

No one on staff was able to translate what he was saying. However, they did seem mighty alarmed by how he was covered in dirt and speaking a foreign language. They had given him some water and a change of clothes and sat him in a room with a two-way mirror. Danny felt safe knowing the authorities were on his side, sipping his water at the little table while he waited.

Time moved slowly when more and more police officers entered, attempting to establish communication with him. They placed a list of writing in front of him, each line a different symbol, and he knew they were meant to be a language.

The aging man with white streaks dusting his red hair adjusted his glasses, then pointed to the first sentence on the list. Danny said something slowly, patting his chest with an open palm, then pointing more determinedly at the line.

"Is that your language?" Danny asks, scanning the lines and realizing he can't read one. He shakes his head "I'm sorry I don't understand."

The old man frowns then stands. He places a chocolate bar on the table- or what Danny thinks is one, he can't read what it says, and it's quickly frustrating- before heading out of the room. A few more minutes go by when a man wearing one of the police uniforms but a long, more outdated one walks through the door.

Danny blinks up at him as the man carefully considers his face. He avoids looking at the bullet holes decorating the cop's chest. "Wow, you seem pretty young. Wonder what you did to get old Gordon to personally question you?"

Danny chances to look at the two-way mirror before muttering. "I didn't do anything, sir. I got kidnapped."

The man turns around, arms still folded over his chest, but the second he realizes the door has remained firmly shut, he whirls around, gawking at Danny. "You can see me?"

"Yes, sir. I'm half ghost on my mother's side." He jokes but still maintains a level of respect. The Fentons joked around often, but they always respected those in service until the person proved unworthy of the uniform.

"Holy shit!" The policeman laughs. "I don't think you can pass down the family tree like that kid."

Danny cracks a smile. "You be surpirse."

"Guess I am. Who knew I would be shocked twice after my death?!" The man's jolly laugh makes Danny relax just a little. He doesn't even mind that the ghost's heaving chest is splatting a few drops of red on the table. "Haven't laughed like that in years. By the way, kid, my name is Alex. Alex Anderson."

"I'm Danny Fenton." Danny smiles, offering his hand for a shake. Alex hesitates, reaching out only to have his face brighten when he makes solid contact and eagerly pumps their joint limbs up and down. "It's nice to meet you, sir."

"Pleasure is all mine." Alex claps his hands, settling- somewhat as he goes slightly through the metal- in the chair opposite Danny. He laces his fingers under his chin and offers another impish grin. "So what's this about a kidnapping?"

Danny straightens, rapidly recapping his last few days. Alex doesn't interrupt, listening with an intensity that tells Danny he's being taken seriously even if he's still smiling like there is nothing wrong in the world. When Danny is done, he has to take a breath and top off his drink as Alex considers his words.

"That's a rough couple of days, Kid," Alex says at the end, leaning more on his hands. Danny nods sadly, feeling utterly exhausted. He's not sure where the nice older man went, but no one had come to check up on him for a while, and he's starting to feel cagy.

Alex considers him a little longer before throwing his head back with a sigh. "Alright. I guess I need to help you escape. I feel too guilty if I just let Gordon hand you over."

"What?"

Alex stands, pretending to stretch his arms over his head. He nods to the two-way mirror, clicking his tongue at it. "Yeah, Gordon called Batman a while ago when they were trying to figure out your language. This place will be swarming with vigilantes and their magic users any minute now."

"Batman?" Danny repeats, rising to his feet. "What's Batman?"

"The guy who put you in that cave cage." Alarm fills Danny's veins as he realizes that this whole time, the police were setting him up to be returned to the cultist. Was the entire city in on this!? "Normally, I wouldn't be making deals with people Gordon deems unsafe, but given that you're half ghost, I've chosen to ignore my morals in solitary."

"But why?! Why would they give me back to them!?" He demands, rising to his feet and backing away until his back hits a wall.

"I was Gordon's first partner," Alex tells him, gesturing at his chest. "I died to make sure the idiot got back to his wife and kids. Ever since he's done everything he could to make Gotham safe. As much as Batman makes me uneasy, he is doing a good job cleaning this place up and doing what I can't do anymore. I'm trapped inside this building, but I've seen the bats plenty of times, so I know they are not dangerous. I also know they will not shoot first or ask questions later; this is your only chance to get away until you can establish communication. Take it."

Alex gestures to the wall behind Danny. "Can you faze through?"

Danny lets himself sink through the stone just as the door is kicked up, and three cops rush in with raised guns. He ends up in another interrogation room- because that's where he was. They had not placed him somewhere safe; they had set him up for capture- where a man handcuffed to the table screams. Danny apologizes desperately, trying to get the guy to stop yelling, as Alex yanks him by the collar of his shirt.

"No time for manners, Kid! You have to get out of the building. Bat's just landed on the roof!" Danny races through the walls, ignoring the people who shout and scatter at his sight until Alex leads him straight out of the building. The ghost stops behind a window, where chains had manifested and wrapped around him, preventing him from going forward.

Alex doesn't seem to pay them any mind as he points in a direction. "Head that way until you see a giant clown. The Joker is currently in custody, but there are thousands of ghosts in his old hideout. Someone is bound to know what to do. If that fails follow the road with the white bricks to Old Gotham. Lots of Magic rooted there. Maybe you'll find something."

"How do you know that?"

"My mom was a professional card reader. I inherited some of her ability to sense the paranormal, and trust me when I say Old Gotham always felt cursed." Alex pauses before tilting his head. "If you ever get to talk to Gordon, tell him I forgive him. And the key to our treasure is at our old hideout. Tell him I still love him even if he picked her."

Danny's eyes fill with water. "I promise."

"Good." There was a loud thump as a man in a trench coat raced down the hallway, aiming his glowing hands at Danny. Alex threw himself before the bright yellow beam, spreading his arms wide as he made a shield. For a second, Danny's vision overlaps with a similar image of Alex blocking a young redhead man in the same position. "Now go, Kid!"

Danny shifts into Phantom, flying at his top speed without further comment. Behind him, he hears someone with a British accent swear, and Alex's cries of pain nearly cause him to forge turn intangible when he flies through traffic.

There had to be some way he could find a living person who understood him

_____________________________________________________

"What happened?" Bruce demands as John pushes something in a jar. Since it looks like an impressive mime trick, he's fairly sure it's actually a ghost causing problems for the Brit.

"Bloody demon had help from a human soul," The blond grunted, grabbing at the air. "Stubborn one that seemed convinced it was helping a child."

"Why?"

"Hmm?"

Bruce feels his eyebrow twitch but remains impassive overall. Right now, he's Batman, and Batman does not let emotions cloud his mind. "Why would a ghost think it was helping a child? Demons can't hide their nature from paranormals. John, are we chasing a child?"

"Normally, I would say, yeah, the thing is a child, but this one isn't your average spook. It's powerful. You saw it, right? The demon shifted forms, and I couldn't even see its second form until the two bright rings of light. If it could fool me into thinking the human flesh suit was its real form, it can easily fool a ghost."

"If it's so powerful," Tim cuts in, walking towards the pair with a floating hologram from his wrist. The integration room security camera plays on it, displaying the demon calmly sipping water. "Then why didn't it escaped before? All it did for three hours before Gordon was alerted was wait."

John frowns at the camera, sealing the jar with a wax melt. "That is odd. Normally, things on that power level do everything, but be calm."

Bruce didn't like this. They had lost something powerful in his city; it had evaded detection only to waltz right into custody, where it had just as easily escaped. They had also confirmed that the demon was visiting the children previously offered to him as sacrifice.

In fact, when Steph interviewed her, the teenager insisted that the demon seemed lost and frightened.

First, there was young Jack, then Molly, who had attempted to help him with a translation app. The girl didn't seem to consider otherworldly language was untransltable. She behaved as if the demon with its harsh, raspy voice and chilling presence was not there to harm her.

Which one was the truth? His experts of the supernatural or the signs that the possible demon was dropping. That it was just a lost child terrified out of his mind?

Bruce had too many questions and not nearly enough to get any kind of answers. They needed to capture the boy again.

#dcxdpdabbles #dcxdp crossover #the summoned demon #holiday requests #Part 4 #Bruce is starting to have doubts #Danny is actaully becoming scared #The Gotham Police are never on your side unless their gay #Gordon dead secert lover is still around #Danny guns it from the cops

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shysuccubusstuff · 1 month ago

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Yandere! Mr. Scarletella:

Content: violence + stalking + voyerism + picture taking + masturbation + stealing + break of privacy + neutral reader + tampering with your food + noncon content + Stockholm syndrome. + mindbreak.

Summary: Human! Scarletella just wasn't able to stop himself from stalking falling in love with such an amazing person, God, he just loves stealing borrowing your stuff!

Note: So, I just had to write something about this amazing game, feel free to check it out and support the creator!!

SFW:

Yandere! Scarletella who fell in love since the first time he saw you around university, always being around those other guys... But he knew he just had to wait, yeah, wait for the right moment to approach you.

Yandere! Scarlatella who keeps randomly appearing on your classes from time to time. Oh, he isn't even in your course, but taking a few extra classes or even skipping some of his is no issue for him.

Yandere! Scarlatella who makes sure to get close enough so he can steal a few things from you while in class, sometimes it's your old pencil, other times he just takes whatever has touched your hand that class. That includes waiting until the university is closing to take your thrown away coffe cup (it still has your salive, so he has definitely kissed you, right?).

Yandere! Scarlatella who keeps on appearing on your daily life, you try to act as if the constant encounters are just mere coincidences, not like he even tried to strike up a conversation with you, so there must be no danger, right?

Yandere! Scarlatella who sometimes follows you back to your doorm. He always makes sure to walk quite far away from you trying to avoid freaking you out as he knows it would affect your daily routine.

Yandere! Scarlatella who climbs up the tree just to be able to catch a glimpse of your face while you're sleeping. You look so beautiful with your lips sligthly parted! ♡ You don't know it, but he has found a way of opening your window while you're sleeping. When he feels extra bold, he lets himself run his fingers through your soft lips feeling your warm breath is just enough to get him hot and bothered ♡.

Yandere! Scarlatella who begins to be feared by all your friends. They keep warning you about him, but it's not like you have any proof of what he's doing, such a shame :(( jk. He made sure to state his point, beating your poor friends to a pulp if he saw them getting a bit too close to you, he made sure to leave no visible marks, he doesn't want you worrying your pretty little head.

Yandere! Scarlatella who loses it after seeing that creepy long-haired guy far too close to you, if you wanted him to kidnap take you with him already you could've just said so dummy! Of course he wastes no time taking you from those filthy guys. You will be safe with him ♡.

Yandere! Scarlatella who breaks your poor mind after being trapped several months. Maybe being taken care of isn't so bad, right?

NSFW:

Yandere! Scarlatella who masturbates to your sleeping face, his tip being dangerously close to your lips. He can't stop imagining them surrounding his lenght...♡ He knows he has to keep patient but each day it becomes harder to act neutral.

Yandere! Scarlatella who takes photos of your clothed cunt for his collection. This collection includes many versions, from more tame ones (you smiling) to less... ethical ones (your sleeping face).

Yandere! Scarlatella who robs your underwear while you sleep. He just needs some... extra motivation. So he uses them, wrapping them around his cock as he keeps moving his hand up and down, making sure to stain your poor underwear with his sperm. He makes sure to clean them throughly before giving them back to you, although he sometimes wishes he could just cum inside the underwear you're currently using.

Yandere! Scarlatella who keeps on putting his own fluids on the stuff he feeds you. Most days he keeps it tame, deciding to introduce a bit of his salive on your food/drink, but when you behave extremely bad, he uses his cum, mixing it with your food together with some aphrodisiac, just enough to make you lose a bit of your sanity from not being able to masturbate.

Yandere! Scarlatella who keeps cameras all around his house so he can see you from different angles (all make you look like an angel ♡). He may or may not use those videos to masturbate, just maybe.

Yandere! Scarlatella who begins to use your mouth to release himself as a reward. You were just so eager to be touched! He just knew you were in love with him! It has definitely nothing to do with him being the only human contact for over six months! You let him use your mouth as he wants, forcing his cock into your throat, those sinful sounds filling his room as you try not to puke from his tip hitting the back of your throat.

Yandere! Scarlatella who slowly begins to mark your whole body as his. He started by marking your face with his cum, moving on to your mouth and then to your beautiful chest, the next step was of course cumming all over your low abdomen.

Yandere! Scarlatella who refuses to cum inside of you. He keeps controlling himself by saying that he wants to make sure both of you truly love each other... that's... well. Let's just say that he is just another level of delusion, but don't worry, he would never give up on his sweet and precious darling ♡ !

#fanfiction #x reader #smut #homicipher #mr scarletella #homicipher scarletella #homicipher smut #homicipher headcanons #yandere x reader #tw yandere #yandere male #yandere smut #yandere scenarios #mr scarletta #mr scarlatella x reader

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rafesbabygirlx · 2 months ago

Text

A Lot of Time has Passed | Part 3

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

Season 4 Rafe x Maybank reader

Summary:Beginning at the time jump, the Pogues seemingly succeeded at something, Rafe is struggling with making amends and being a better person. JJs sister left the island after returning from South America. Returning after 18 months with a secret.

A/N: you’re in for a treat. this one’s a little longer than part 1 and 2. I hope you enjoy.

Not proofread

Word count: 4.7k

Warnings: MDNI, SMUT (oral, f & m receiving, p in v different positions, overstimulation) more talk of loss, arguing, physical altercation, (just a slap) discussion of abortion

You woke up in a daze, your mind still foggy, completely unprepared for the challenges that the day ahead might hold. The clock on the wall blares that it’s already 10:30 AM, a clear indication that time has slipped away from you. With a reluctant sigh, you muster the energy to pull yourself out of bed. As you make your way into the living room, the sight that greets you is heartwarming: Kie and Cleo are sprawled on the floor, engaged in playful antics with Vivienne, affectionately known as V.

“Good morning!” Cleo chirps cheerfully. “She had a big girl breakfast, took her morning nap, and now we’re playing with her stuffed turtles!” The joy in her voice is infectious, instantly brightening your mood.

Vivienne, who is typically up by 5:30 AM, has already had her morning nap around 9:00 or 9:30, and now she’s fully awake and eager for attention. As soon as she notices you, she struggles to pull herself up to her feet, wobbling slightly as she makes her way toward you. It’s remarkable to see how far she’s come in just two short months since she took her first steps. With her determination, you wouldn’t be surprised if she becomes a sprinter by the time she turns two. Clutching a toy turtle in her tiny hand, you scoop her up, noticing the adorable purple onesie she’s wearing, which is adorned with a delightful array of baby turtles. It seems that this little one has developed quite the fascination with them.

You plant a big kiss on her cheek, savoring the sweet moment, before gently returning her to Kie and Cleo, who are more than eager to continue their play. Just as you are about to settle into your morning routine, Pope arrives, bringing with him a spread of delicious food for everyone. You share a leisurely breakfast as the others entertain Vivienne, allowing you some precious moments to gather your thoughts and prepare for the day ahead.

Once you feel awake and refreshed, you take your time adding the finishing touches to your makeup and styling your hair. By the time you emerge, Kie, Cleo, and Pope are ready to head out for the day, each of them aware of the importance of giving you space to handle things on your own, especially when it comes to Rafe. There’s a sense of camaraderie as the girls envelop you in warm hugs, offering encouraging words that bolster your spirits. Pope extends a fist bump in playful camaraderie, but you choose instead to lean in for a heartfelt hug, expressing your gratitude for the breakfast and their unwavering support. It’s these little moments that remind you just how fortunate you are to have such a loving and supportive circle around you.

You spend some delightful time playing with Vivienne, losing track of the minutes as her laughter fills the room. Before you know it, the clock strikes 12:30, signaling her lunchtime. You prepare a small feast of bite-sized turkey sandwich pieces, fresh raspberries, and tender steamed broccoli, watching as she eagerly indulges in each morsel. By 1 PM, she finishes her meal, perfectly timed for her afternoon nap. You gently feed her a bottle, rocking her softly in your arms until her eyelids grow heavy, and finally lay her down in your bed, surrounded by her favorite stuffed animals.

With Vivienne peacefully asleep, the quiet of the house settles in around you, leaving you alone with your thoughts as you wait for Rafe’s arrival. You grab your phone, scrolling through messages and social media, then take a moment to tidy up her toys scattered across the living room floor. As the minutes tick by, the silence becomes almost palpable, and you find yourself nervously biting your nails, anxiety bubbling to the surface.

You briefly forget just how punctual Rafe is. At 1:58, the familiar sound of his truck crunching over the gravel outside jolts you from your thoughts, and by 2 PM on the dot, there’s a knock at the door. Taking a deep breath to steady your nerves, you open the door to find Rafe standing there, arms laden with a dozen shopping bags.

“Hey—what the hell is this, Rafe?” you exclaim, surprised at the sight. He breezes past you, making himself at home as he sets the bags down in the living room.

“I didn’t want to come empty-handed, and since I didn’t know what she likes or what size she really is, I may have bought one of every toy and a couple of sizes of clothes,” he explains, a hint of pride in his voice.

“She’s one, Rafe. She wouldn’t be offended if you didn’t bring anything at all. So much for my hope of not spoiling her,” you reply, your voice laced with frustration.

“Yeah, well, I never knew that was your plan,” he counters, and you can feel the guilt creeping in as your gaze drops to your feet, the weight of the moment settling heavily on your shoulders.

“So where is she?” he asks, looking around the room.

“She’s in my room, napping,” you respond.

He looks at you, clearly puzzled. “You invited me here at this time, and she’s not even up?!”

You roll your eyes and huff a breath, trying to keep your composure. “Her lunch is at 12:30, and she naps from 1 to 2. Do you really think I’d invite you over without a plan?”

“Alright, sure, whatever you say,” he replies, his tone dismissive.

You grab his arm, urgency in your voice. “I wanted you to come at this time because I wanted you to help me get her up. It’s one of my favorite moments. I thought it’d be a good one for you to experience first.”

“Oh, okay, sorry,” he replies, his demeanor shifting as he follows you into the bedroom.

You approach the bed, softly rubbing Vivienne’s temple as you gently speak to her. “Wake up, baby girl, it’s time to get up.” She stirs, tiny hands rubbing her eyes as she shifts under the covers. When she finally opens her bright blue eyes, a radiant smile spreads across her face, and she giggles as you tickle her stomach.

“Mama,” she says, her voice breaking through the laughter, and your heart swells with joy. You scoop her up into your arms, beaming as you turn to Rafe, who stands there, mouth slightly agape and eyes wide in disbelief. The sight of you and Vivienne together is a moment of pure magic, one that he seems to be taking in entirely, a mixture of awe and wonder painted across his face.

You both make your way into the living room, where you gently set Vivienne down on the floor, right in the midst of the colorful bags Rafe brought with him. “Watch her for a second,” you say, casting a playful glance back at Rafe. He looks startled, his eyes wide with uncertainty. “You’ll be fine, Rafe,” you giggle, heading toward the kitchen.

As you prepare a snack for Vivienne, you glance back at Rafe, who is now on the floor with her. His hand hovers hesitantly above her, clearly unsure of how to engage, but a broad smile spreads across his face as he watches her. This sight warms your heart, and a blush creeps onto your cheeks as you admire the moment.

You return to the living room, placing the snack on the floor, and Vivienne crawls over to it eagerly. The sight of the bags scattered around fills you with a mix of surprise and amusement. “You really didn’t need to do all of this,” you tease, looking at Rafe with a playful smirk.

“I wanted to,” he replies earnestly. “Aside from not knowing anything about her or her size, I wanted her to have these things.” You start pulling items out of the bags: baby books, clothes in three different sizes—thankfully he included larger sizes, too, anticipating her growth. Among the bags, you find a collection of stuffed animals, and as you pull out a plush sea turtle, Vivienne snatches it from your hands, tossing her snack aside in her excitement.

“She’s definitely in a bit of a turtle phase,” you and Rafe laugh together, the tension from earlier dissipating as the day unfolds without a hint of awkwardness. Rafe quickly becomes comfortable, diving into playtime with Vivienne while you join in at points. As you watch them together, it’s undeniable how much she resembles him. Even the features you often claim to be yours seem to fade away, overshadowed by the undeniable similarities. It’s as if you’re gazing at two twins, a striking reflection of one another.

When dinner time rolls around, you enlist Rafe's help to prepare Vivienne’s meal, allowing him to learn what she likes. After dinner, he helps give her a bath, and you both share in the delight of her giggles and splashes. Once she’s tucked into bed, you leave the room, expecting him to follow you. You turn around to find him lingering in the doorway, watching her with a soft smile, his thumb brushing over his cheek. In that moment, you realize you’ve never seen him look so utterly in love.

Eventually, he joins you on the couch, the atmosphere cozy and peaceful. “I don’t know how you ever get any sleep; I could watch her for hours,” he remarks, and you smile, though you can’t bring yourself to meet his gaze. “Yeah, she’s a little sleeping beauty. She’s just perfect.”

Now that the two of you are alone, you know some difficult conversations need to happen. Rafe lets out a sigh, settling into the old, beat-up couch. The silence stretches between you for several moments before you decide to break it. “I’m not sorry for being okay with your dad being dead,” you state, the words hanging heavily in the air.

Rafe jolts his head in your direction, disbelief etched across his features. “Are you fucking serious?”

“Yes,” you reply firmly.

“After all this time, this is what you say to me? After an amazing day?” His frustration is palpable.

“Yes,” you insist again.

“I know it’s your dad, and I know you loved him, but how do you not understand, even after everything, how awful he was?”

“Maybank enou—”

“NO! What he did to Sarah, how he barely cared about Wheezie, and how he turned you into a monster!” Your voice rises, but you simultaneously remain calm, determined to explain your perspective.

“You can be an asshole sometimes, but the way he turned you into a self-destructive shell of yourself was more than enough reason for me. The way he abused you, almost strangling me and Sarah to death on the ship—all over greed. He was an evil man, and I will never miss him.”

Rafe stands, his face flushing with anger. “That is my father! Your precious Pogues had him killed, and you have the nerve to not even be slightly remorseful?! What the hell is wrong with you?”

You roll your eyes, frustration bubbling up inside you. “You never even gave me the chance to explain! You pushed me away, and you probably don’t even know the truth. I’m not trying to make you hate him, but you need to understand where I’m coming from.”

You urge Rafe to sit back down, hoping to calm his nerves, mindful of Vivienne’s peaceful slumber. You take a deep breath and begin explaining everything that led up to Ward and Big John’s deaths, carefully detailing the events without glossing over the pain that was inflicted on everyone involved. Including John B, who also lost his father that day, for a second time.

Rafe listens in silence, absorbing the weight of your words. He remains speechless, unable to formulate a response, and eventually, he pulls you into him, resting his head on your shoulder. You can feel the warmth of his tears soaking into your arm, and you cradle his head gently, offering him comfort.

After a moment, you pull away slightly and ask him to stay the night. “I, uh… I had plans with Sofia to meet Topper and his girl in a bit,” he admits, and you feel a wave of disappointment wash over you.

“Oh, right, of course you do,” you reply, attempting to laugh it off, but the sting of that reality lingers. You had forgotten that Rafe had built a new life while you were gone.

As you get up, preparing to head to bed, he suddenly yanks you back down into his lap, brushing the hair that has fallen around your face behind your ear. “I guess I technically have a valid excuse for not making it,” he says with a smirk, and before you can respond, he pulls you in for a kiss.

You deepen the kiss, your fingers tangling in the back of his neck as he lifts you effortlessly, laying you back down on the couch without breaking the kiss. “I’ve fucking missed these lips,” he murmurs between kisses, each one igniting a spark of passion.

In the heat of the moment, you almost miss the front door slamming open. A drunken JJ comes barreling in, followed closely by Kie, Pope, and Cleo. “I thought it smelled like shit in here!” he exclaims, loud and boisterous.

“Be quiet, JJ. V is sleeping,” you say, your voice firm but playful. Rafe turns his head to reply, but you quickly pull him back to face you, giving him a quick peck on the lips. “Let’s go to my room,” you whisper, your heart racing with excitement and a hint of mischief, as the evening takes an unexpected turn.

As you head toward your door, JJ interrupts with a piercing remark. “King Rafe, self-proclaimed good at everything he does except being a stand-up father. Leaving my sister like that just to let you back in so easily? I’d think something was wrong with her if you weren’t a world-class manipulator just like your father.”

“JJ!” you exclaim, your voice sharp with disbelief.

Rafe starts to move toward him, clearly bewildered by JJ's accusations. You quickly intervene, urging him to go into your room. Standing on the opposite side of the kitchen island, you confront JJ, frustration boiling over. “What the hell is wrong with you? Why would you say that to him?”

JJ scoffs, crossing his arms defiantly. “Please, he deserves it! After everything he did to you?! You’re defending him?”

You raise your hand, your patience wearing thin. “JJ, lower your fucking voice! I told you V is sleeping.” But he continues to rant about how much of a piece of shit he thinks Rafe is, and you finally reach your breaking point.

“I LIED!” you yell, your voice echoing in the tense atmosphere, completely disregarding your own advice to keep it down.

“I lied, JJ. Everything I told you about what happened after I left wasn’t true. He never knew. He never knew I was pregnant; he never knew I had V. I tried to push down my feelings about what he said to me the last time I saw him, and I tried to convince myself he didn’t want either of us. It was easier. You hated him anyway, so it was simpler to tell you guys that, too. The guilt ate me up every day! That’s why he’s here. He deserves the chance to meet her, whether you all like it or not.”

JJ leans over the counter, slurring his words. “You should’ve just gotten that abortion like you planned to, so we didn’t have to deal with this mess and have him around.”

“JJ!” Kie yells, her tone sharp and reprimanding.

Without thinking, you slap JJ across the face, the sound echoing in the room. His head jolts to the side, and to your shock, he laughs. The gasps from everyone else in the room create a heavy tension, and for a split second, your own face falls in disbelief at your actions. But anger quickly replaces that disbelief as you stare at him, furious that he could say something so hurtful to you. “Good, maybe that’ll sober him up a bit,” you retort and turn toward your room, feeling a rush of adrenaline.

As you slip past Rafe, you barely register that he has been standing there the entire time, watching the confrontation unfold. He closes the door behind him, the soft click resonating in the tense silence.

He sits down on the bed, a weighty silence hanging in the air. Without a word, you straddle his lap, pulling him into a feverish kiss, desperate to drown out the chaos that just erupted. You can’t talk about it now; you just need to feel something else, something that’s yours.

Rafe responds instantly, his hands gripping your waist, pulling you in closer. “We don’t have to talk now. Let me take care of you instead,” he murmurs against your lips. With that, he stands up, holding you effortlessly, and lays you down on the bed, his body pressing against yours as the world outside fades away. In this moment, you find solace in each other, the storm of emotions momentarily forgotten as you lose yourselves in one another.

He holds you tightly at the waist, leaning over while kissing you passionately. As he slips his tongue into your mouth, he senses the familiar thrill he remembers. Slowly, he starts to lift your shirt. Realizing what he’s doing, you arch your back, eagerly yanking it off, and pull his shirt off in one swift motion. You grab his face, pulling him in to kiss him again, lost in the moment.

Rafe breaks the kiss, trailing his lips over your cheek, then along your jawline, and down to your neck. He gazes at your breasts, gently cupping both in his hands. Slowly, he takes your left nipple into his mouth, licking and sucking, lavishing attention on it for a few minutes before moving to the right. Soft moans escape your lips as pleasure courses through you.

Once he shifts his focus from your chest, his kisses travel down your stomach. He pauses at the waistband of your shorts, teasingly licking his way back up, over your stomach, between your breasts, and up to your neck and chin, before crashing his lips back against yours.

Kneeling before you, Rafe grabs your calves and plants soft kisses all over your legs. He takes hold of the waistband of your shorts, looking up at you for confirmation. You nod, heart racing, and he slowly pulls them off. A small whimper escapes you, fueled by the overwhelming desire to be closer to him. Once your shorts are discarded, his hands explore your thighs, rubbing and massaging the skin, warm kisses trailing behind.

Unable to contain himself any longer, Rafe spreads your legs apart, positioning himself perfectly in line with your core. He licks his lips. “I’m going to make you feel so fucking good with just my mouth. I want you to cum all over my face,” he whispers, igniting a wave of pleasure in you at his words. He hasn’t even begun yet, and you’re already lost in the anticipation.

With a starving look in his eyes, he gently spreads your folds apart with his fingers, laying his tongue flat against you. A cry of ecstasy escapes your lips, and you don’t care if anyone outside can hear you. You secretly relish the thought of teasing your brother for what he said. It’s been so long since you’ve felt this kind of touch, and it’s all the more intoxicating that it’s Rafe’s tongue amidst your thighs.

Rafe begins to work his magic, he usually watches you from down there but he’s so into it and missed it he could only keep his eyes shut. Licking up and down your folds shaking his head left and right to build you up. You’re moaning like crazy. “Rafe… fuck!” You throw your head back. He begins to stick his tongue in and out of you circling your hole. You still can’t believe the speed he’s able to do this. He moves back up flicking your clit before fully engulfing his mouth over it and sucking on it hard. You begin to pant, it’s hard to breath, feeling the build up in your stomach. Your legs he’s holding back beginning to shake. It’s feels unreal. He won’t let up, moving back and forth from sucking on your clit, to laying his tongue flat and shaking the hell out of his head.

“Oh my god, Rafe I’m fucking - ah.” You arch your back and throw your head into the comforter, you cry out as you cum. He doesn’t let up, eating you out through your orgasm. Cleaning up every last drop of you. Once you’ve calm down he finally looks up at you. You meet his eyes and smile. Reaching down to wipe your arousal off his chin, pulling him to taste yourself on his tongue.

While kissing you reach down and begin to fumble with his belt. He smiles into your mouth. Standing he unbuckles his belt and pulls his pants and boxer briefs off in a swift motion. You lift you legs up and he slides comfortably in between them his hard cock laying on top of you. He’s looking down at you and you up at him. Maintaining eye contact you lick your hand and reach down and begin to pump him. He shivers at the motion and can’t help but watch you at this angle jerk him off with his mouth agape. He begins to fuck your hand throwing his head back when he can’t stand how good this feels. “Fuck baby, just like that.” He groans.

You loosen your grip when he looks back down. “Eyes on me, daddy.” A word you never used before, but it seems fitting because you’ve never seen him more sexy than today, being a father. He grunts at the demand (and the pet name.) You tighten your grip again now leaning down to like his tip. You hold your tongue flat out as he bumps into it with every thrust. You’ve know Rafe long enough to know when he’s about to cum. He doesn’t even need to warn you. His thrusts get faster and sloppier and he grunts above you. “Mama, shit stay just like that, ugh.”

He throws his head back again as he cums. Quickly regaining composure to look back down at you as your mouth fills with his hot liquid and you swallow it all. Finger grazing your upper lip to catch some strays and suck it off.

Before you know it, he’s grabbing you by the waist and moving up to your pillows. Lifting your legs up and finding himself back in between your legs. He’s already hard again, not at all ready to stop at one round.

He aligns himself up with your entrance. But he decides to tease you a bit first. Rubbing his tip between your folds. Rubbing circles around your clit as you squirm beneath him. “Rafe, please I need you.” You plead reaching your hand down to push him in. He swiftly grabs your wrist pinning it above you. Leaning in lips brushing against you. “You had me wait for almost 2 years, you can wait a second.” You stay in this position, so lost in his eyes you don’t prepare for him to smash into you.

He lets you adjust for a second before slowly pulling out and push back into you. He takes his time you both moaning at the feeling. “Faster baby please. I need you harder” you plead. He doesn’t need anymore more convincing. Just like that, he’s thrusting in and out of you at a pace that has your mind racing. You can’t focus on anything but the pleasure. Your eyes moving around the room, rolling to the back of your head and back to him to maintain eye contact. Looking into his even though everything is blurry, you still see the sharpness of the blue staring back at you.

You let out a bunch of oos and ahs that has him gritting his teeth. “You like that baby girl? When I pound into you like this? You were always a little slut for me fucking you like this.” You nod but that isn’t enough for him. He wraps his arm around your neck gripping your hair and pulling your head back. “I didn’t hear you baby.”

“Yes. I’m your little slut, I love when you split me in half just like that. Right there, uhhh, keep doing that.”

Rafe was always smug about his length. Not only his length but the width of him is what had you drooling every time. The way he’d stretch you and brush against your walls is what kept you so enamored with him. It was the ultimate pleasure.

You feel yourself getting closer again. The way you scratch his back and arch into him her could tell too. Before he can let you go, he pulls out and flips you. On his knees he pulls you onto all fours. Dropping a glob of spit on your slit, he gathers it with his tips and slams back into you. This angle causes you to see stars and he hits your cervix every thrust. The grip on your hips has him plunging in even faster. He can’t get enough of feeling you around him.

“Rafe I’m close!” You belt out.

“Not yet baby, let me meet you, come with me.” You cry out not sure you’ll be able to do it. His thrusts start getting sloppy. You clench around him once you start to feel him throb in you. He reaches one hand into your hair yanking you up flush against his chest. Wrapping g that hand around your throat now while the other enters your mouth to graze onto your tongue and then down to your clit to run circles ferociously. You legs start to give out but he holds you up by your throat not giving f you any place to go.

“Raaafee, oh my god” you cry out. Tears streaming down your face.

“Come on baby, come for me now, I’m right behind you.” Your legs shake again, the overstimulation is unbearable now. Both hand still occupied around your throat and your clit. He doesn’t stop as you cum, hand still circling him still thrusting.

“Baby. Fill me up. Please cum inside me.” That’s all it takes for him to give you a couple of more deep thrusts and he fills you up. You feel so warm inside as you feel his come deep inside you.

He stays inside as you drop to the bed. Holding his position for a few seconds as he tries to catch his breath. He stands up and finds a towel hanging on your door. You flip over to lie in your back and he cleans you up. Annoying as he can be he was very attentive to aftercare with you.

He goes to toss the towel in your hamper as you get under the covers. He follow suit. You nuzzle your head into his neck as he wraps his arms around you. The warmth of his naked body is so soothing to you. All the lost memories of you and him come flooding back to you. You never want this feeling to end. He gives you repeated kisses on the forehead.

However, you know that in the morning reality will set back in and you realize he isn’t yours anymore.

You let emotions get the best of you and all you could think of was how terrible this is for Sofia. You aren’t the type of person to sleep with another woman’s man. You silently begin to cry. Happy tears at the thought of laying her with Rafe again mixed with sadness.

Rafe looks down at you concerned. You play it off as a yawn and just try to enjoy the moment you two are sharing now. He rubs your back and you just lay staring at each other until you begin falling asleep.

“God, how I’ve missed that pretty face.” Is the last thing you hear before sleep takes over.

Taglist-

@maybankslover @eringaitskill @luissa266 @lolll505 @dayyzlol @livie4lifestarkeyblyth @calaryssia @leilanizcals @eg-dr3amer3 @ilove-tswizzle @ggggggbu @rafestar

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aly4khq · 1 month ago

Text

INCIDENTS, INCIDENTS...

characters: xavier, zayne, rafayel, sylus

summary: you are a idol who is known worldwide for your amazing talent and dedication, you loved your group and your career, but at one performance you stumble into a problem when you have an accident on stage.

warnings: described injuries, mention of an 0verdosage in medication, fainting, weird fans, mentions of death (not mc), falling like a silly, 1 pinch (sylus)

wc: written on the separate info!

XAVIER : a hunter's instinct

wc, 1.1K — boyfriend!xavier, falling, injuries, xavier fighting for your right after

xavier was your biggest fan, whenever he would find that any of your merch was on stock again, they'd be sold out because of him in less than an hour. he was always wishing you a good performance, making that you ate well and sleep well the day you were performing.

he was always there, in the front row cheering you on and just admiring how beautiful you looked on stage with the mic in your hand and the lights shining of your face. meanwhile, the fans around him are screaming and yelling, the absolute opposite of him.

now; when you were rehearsing on the stage, you realised that your spot on the rising platform was very loose and unstable. the platform would rather get jambed in the middle, start to drop at random points or sway dramatically which affected your beginning of your dance. it felt like it was missing a few nails, so you reported it. yet you were only given back a, "you'll be alright, it's probably getting used to being stepped on."

you dealt with it, and managed to figure out a way to manoeuvre it so you could rise from under onto the stage above without swaying or falling. but every day it got more worse until i was way too late to get it permantely fixed.

the day had come and fans with their sighs, inspired outfits and light sticks had arrived at the big stadium where your group was performing. xavier was absolutely there first, making sure to give you a few reassuring texts once he got in.

✧: Are U Ready

✧: I can't wait 2 see U on the stage

✧: Drink water and be safe, see U

as soon as the introduction ended, the platform's rose and you began to sing the intro to the first song of the night. many fans sang along whenever you'd turn the mic to them.

as much as xavier loved your amazing skills in dancing, his eyes were focused on that platform your life was apparently in the hands of. it was wobbling like crazy and the side of it was dropping down like there was nothing supporting it anymore. xavier tried to alert you, pointing at the platform whenever you made eye contact but you just had to shrug it off.

whilst another member was singing her part, a member on your right whispered to you, trying to talk to you about it. "walk around it." they said, step over it or all of us stop in front of the platforms." but despite the talking, you couldn't alert the others in time until you had to continue performing.

you and your members walked back due to the steps in your choreography, making your way to the other side of the platform to dance to the other side of the audience on your right and left. everyone was clapping along a s you all strutted down the stage to your places with the mic by your ear.

as soon as your foot met that platform, you heard a clack! and you were going down. the platform snapped, drooling you down to the place where you originated from with a thud. you let out a pained scream from the impact of your body on the harsh material of the platform's floor and it's mechanics.

"ahh!" you took a deep breath before closing your eyes to endure the pain that shot through your body. the metal rods that connected to the top of the platform dug into your skin and scratched the surrounding areas.

your members ran to your platform, trying to each for your arms as you laid there in pain, many backstage crew coming onto the stage. the fans all gasped and stopped cheering after you fell, all of them quietly asking each other what even happened.

but xavier..that man was already there. you opened your eyes again after closing them due to the pain and he was there in the slightly tight space, holding you in his arms before teleporting back up to the stage where the medics were currently heading. the crowd nearly instantly erupting into more gasps and slightly yells, asking if you were okay.

"hey..." xavier pants, "it's me, just breathe—" you began to hiss at the feeling of your body aching, reminding your brain that you were injured. your body tensed weirdly as you held onto xavier's hand. "—hey hey hey, relax, you're okay...you're okay..."

"ow..." you whined as medics surrounded you, opening their large briefcases filled with medical equipment and started to examine you.

the bruises lingered on your poor body; staining your side, hip and inner thigh with a reddish colour which was soon to turn into a deep bruise. the sharp metal parts cut into the skin behind your thigh, small pea sized blood escaping the small scratch.

meanwhile, the directors came out, telling the other members to say their ending speech now whilst you were taken backstage. many fans were upset, leaving out of the door that were assisted by the bodyguards. the whole performance was being rescheduled for another time.

"baby," xavier gently caressed your cheek, turning you face to him as the medics cleaned the cut and bandages up other wounds. "are you sure you don't want to report this?"

with a tired shake of your head, you murmured, "i reported it already, it was just ignored again." he didn't like that at all, gently holding your hand in his whilst he thought about all that happened. "i couldn't even breath for a second when you screamed, fear like that...? it could be deadly."

"i'm sorry xavier," he quickly cut you off with a kiss on your forehead. "don't be sorry, it's alright, it's the people who are in charge who are at fault."

you laughed before the medics helped you get up, helping you to the backstage first aid station where your members were waiting.

"are you okay?!!" one asked, holding your arm as you walked together. you smile at her concern before replying, "i'm alright, i should be fine by tomorrow or the day after—"

xavier took your chin in his index and thumb, turning your head to his direction. you spotted his confused gaze. "are you sure that you want to perform? those bruises could get worse, it's bad for your health for you to be injured and perform."

"i'll be okay xavier, i'll be extra careful." despite the amount of fear xavier felt in his heart for you, he wasn't going to force you to stop performing. he'll just be extra cautious with you, more than normal.

ZAYNE : a doctor's concern

wc, 0.8K — husband!zayne, mentions of an over dosage, fainting

zayne has known about your passion for performance and singing since you were young, he was one of the first people to ever hear your singing and skills in songwriting. and he was now the most popular fan for being spotted nearly everywhere.

he would buy your photo cards and have them on his desk in his office where he could remember those eras inside of his comfort place at work whilst also doing paperwork. he'd always be in the backstage or the seats at the front.

the only reason why he was backstage was because he was your primary care physician and they needed him to make sure that you were in perfect shape and health whenever time would come that you needed to perform. he made sure that your medicine was given to you properly. mostly he would do it himself but today he was busy for the first few hours before your show.

one of the backstage crew were put in charger to put the dosage of medicine into your system, only because they had been proven to have studied medicine once in their lifetime.

you went backstage as normal when the beginning of your concert was near and the member of the crew gave you that dosage of medicine. "thank you," you replied with a smile before walking to the bench and hydrating.

you started to feel a dizzy, your head beginning to throb in the right wide out of nowhere. your eyebrows furrowed we you tried to figure out what to do in this situation. you couldn't call zayne to ask if there was any side effects to the medicine you were given because he wasn't avaliable for that hour, you were reminded when you check your messages. "...what am i supposed to do now??"

❅ : Don't forget your medicine.

❅ : I'll be there in an hour.

❅ : I love you.

despite the weird feeling in your body, you forced yourself to deal with it and get ready to perform.

the introduction came on as your appeared from the starting point, smiling and putting the mic to your lips. you started to sing out your heart; enjoying the moment.

that's when you could hear zayne in the back, asking the backstage crew for something. but that wasn't your concern, you had a job to do.

you danced along with the back up dancers, singing and just messing around with the screaming fans around you. many of them waving around signs and wearing your merch, even those that just dropping a little while ago.

that was until you felt it. a banging pain in your chest which instantly caused you to slow down on the movements, sitting down on the chair you came from with elegance, turing to make it seem like it was apart of the plan despite your face full of fear and pain. the fans around you were yelling out, not realising what was happening right in front of them.

you sang one more verse before you tried to focus. your mind was elsewhere as you started to dissociate, out of this world. "...um, shit..." you grasped onto the chair with fear before your vision got bouquet then went completely black.

tha last thing you heard was a loud thud and people gasping, people running across the stage and that familiar voice: that voice that made your heart relaxed at the sound of it. zayne.

when you woke up, you were in a pristine white environment; white bedcovers and walls, fhe trays and tablets were placed between you and the wall of your bed, the bed centred in the middle of the room. there was an iv beside you which gave you the answers that you needed, you were in the hospital.

with a little whimper, you rose your head to try and remember your reason of even being here. the door opened as zayne, in his work clothes, entered with a tray of food and water. he was already in his work clothes, which indicated that it was the next day and you've already been here for a day or so.

he was soft when talking to you.

"hello, how are you feeling?" his voice was calming, soothing yet there was a little bit of rage underneath that tone. he sat down beside you, "i heard what happened and rush to your aid."

then it clicked, the medicine, you fainting and more. "...oh that," who would know that a simple instruction of medicine could end up risking my life?

now as a reminder, you're only supposed to take a few millilitres before your performance and turns out that that same backstage crew member had seen the 1 as a 10 and give you the completely wrong dosage. a lethal dosage.

"i hope that you realise that i'm never leaving your team responsible of medicine ever again."

RAFAYEL : an artist's sharpness

wc, 1.1K — boyfriend!rafayel, he gets angry, flashing??, crying

rafayel and you were known as the biggest power couple known to man. his famous art exhibition was a form of performance in his eyes, and your famous display of your performances was the best duo ever. he was there for your concerts, just as much as you were there for his art work and interview work.

only this amount rafayel is that he has an AMAZING choice in fashion, his outfits were always fitting and well tailored. this led to him always making sure that your clothes were made nicely as well as your other members and that you weren't being left out from the theme/other clothing.

there were times that this man would fight with your stylist about their clothes that they gave you, leading to him taking over himself and obviously making sure that you were comfortable in those clothes.

now, today was another important day with a concert coming up. this latest album was focused on maturity and professionalism , which was why your outfits were slight revealing but also very teasing in a way. your outfit was adorable and fit in well, but there was one little problem.

whilst practice, your shirt kept falling apart, nearly exposing your whole upper half to your members and the directors around you. whenever you did a particular move in your dance where you'd push your right leg out and roll your chest to the right, the fabric would fall apart and fall off of your body.

you instantly went to the stylists once it became enough 'mistakes', reporting it as it being too loose and interrupting your dancing. but they only replied with, "you're being too aggressive," "maybe it's the dance, not us." and "i can't do anything honey,"

this was becoming an ongoing issue, and no one was taking it into mind properly. no one except rafayel.

𓇼 : wdym ur shirt is falling off

𓇼 : ????

𓇼 : don't worry cutie

𓇼 : i'll fix this.

when your concert started; you had already had doubts about that shirt that you were told to wear. it was once, twice, thrice that you had to correct it and not flash everyone. but now it was way too late to argue about it because the stage was opening up and your members were just about ready.

you all walked onto the stage, getting into position as the other dancers did their thing — dancing and introducing the next song with they famous move. the beginning of the song started and you could see rafayel in the VIP seats, along with his bodyguards, staring at you with awe.

...until he landed his eyes on your shirt. even though he knew about the mistakes that it brought, from one look he could see the problem. the stitching was too loose and the material wasn't good quality for a shirt that type.

halfway through, you thought that your outfit was behaving and it wasn't making you seem weird. there was one move in the dance when all the group members put your hands on your hips and move your chest up and down whilst moving to the side.

it went well, then you heard a big rip! and a cold breeze met your chest. your hand flew to your shirt, catching it just in time to cover your chest with a yelp. you turned around, trying to fix it when the back ripped as well.

luckily, rafayel managed to get one of the bodyguard by the stage to hand you his jacket. you wrapped it around your chest and zipped it up, it fit nicely and also held the old shirt fabric tightly. you continued to dance and perform despite the feeling to cry in your throat.

as soon as the concert finished and you all said your private thank you's, you ran backstage as you saw a familiar figure in the audience rush as well. you were devastated, you felt disgusted and you had humiliated yourself in front of your own fans.

you sat in your design room, sitting at your desk as you found an older shirt to put on. with tears in your eyes, you put the shirt on.

the door opened, "i'm changing!" you yelled, snapping at whoever decided to walk up unannounced. "it's me," you heard rafayel state, shutting the door behind him. he instantly saw how badly you were upset, putting his arms out.

"come here," he beckoned as you followed and hugging his chest, letting yourself cry into his chest. "there there.. he looked devastated seeing you so distressed and sad from your outfit malfunction. so he did what any boyfriend would.

with you in his arms, he left the room and went straight to the directors and stylist with an annoyed gaze.

they were currently in a deep conversation about todays and future concerts, concerning the members and stage crew when the door slammed open with rafayel.

"um...this is a confidential meeting mr rafayel..are you alright?—" "confidential my ass, it wasn't so confidential that your directing skills were shit when my girlfriend was literally humiliated on stage because of you."

he turned to you, "you looked beautiful cutie, dont worry." you let out a smile before covering my face with your hands. rafayel sighed, "what if i wasn't there at that moment? would she have had to continue with her chest exposed? or would she have had to run off stage and risk being scolded by you assholes."

the room was completely silent once rafayel was finished with his rant, no one dared to speak, not when he could easily speak out about this incident to thousands and get them fired.

"what do you say to her?", rafayel spoke nicely, but you instantly went out of your way and dismissed him. "rafayel what?- that's not—"

he put his finger over your mouth and let them speak and in unison they all responded, "we're sorry," rafayel interrupted, "for what?" you tried not to laugh as you mouthed to them to just continue with their meeting. but rafayel's gaze was more intimidating. the main stylist spoke our, "we're sorry for...invalidating your..um..concerns and not being...more keen on making you see comfortable on stage."

"it's alright—" you tried to speak but rafayel spoke, "and you better not do it again—ow!" you slammed his upper arm before excusing yourself and removing him from the room with a slight pull. you were shocked with what he was trying to accomplish.

whilst you were walking back to your room, he noticed your fake annoyed glare, "whatttt?? i was just telling them off." he defended himself, letting you drag him back. "yeah and risking my career, dickhead."

"no, its putting people in their place: i'll always be there to do that for you. don't forget it."

SYLUS : a leader's observation

wc, 0.8K — husband!sylus, mentions of death(not mc, not sylus!), kidn4pping attempt, he carry you, 1 pinch,

sylus was a secretive supporter when it came to your passion in music. he was always there on the sidelines, cheering you on from the VIP section along with luke and kieran who managed to become your two biggest supporters in the world.

he was there whenever you wanted him to be even when he had important things to do, he'd make sure that he is the first person to sit down and the last person to leave (if he's forced too).

lately, there's been a fan sending weird letters to places associating with you. your house, your workplace, any brands that you collabed with and even shops that you were seen constantly entering.

you brought this to the attention of sylus, hoping that he'll help. luckily, he managed to track down the letter and have them banned from your comfort homes.

𓅩: I'll be there tonight.

𓅩: Start whenever you'd like, I'll secure the area.

𓅩: Be safe.

now today was another concert, and you were standing on stage. the introduction performers were doing their thing — waving their flags and gracefully moving to the music of your first song.

as you sat in the middle of the stage, you had a piano in front and a microphone on top. you even singing nicely, hitting ever note that came across. the fans were silent, how you nicely asked them to be. some of them with their phones, recording the beautiful songs you sang.

until a few gasps and confused noises came from the crowd before, all of them focused on someone behind you. after a few seconds of you slowly stopping your singing, they started to speak...then get louder and start yelling.

'over there!' one of them yelled, pointing quickly, 'who is that??!!' you did as told and turned around to see a random man, dressed in all black with his hood down from his jacket. he walked towards you quickly before holding your hand and pulling you slowly. you stood from your seat, trying to understand what was going on.

"hey— wait! security!" you exclaims, suddenly realised what was going on. a random fan or whatever had gotten onto the stage and was trying to take you somewhere without your management knowing. "hello!!"

the security caught on, trying to get onto the stage fast before you were taken. but they were beaten to it.

crimson and black streaks wrapped around the fans body, straggling ghe man up by his chest. the pressure held onto his torso, leaving him to struggle the magic wrap. you escaped before rushing backstage as the security began to lead the people out until they stopped at the sight of sylus walking onto the stage with an annoyed glare.

the people rushed out faster and the stadium was cleared as sounds of gargling and choking came from inside.

you heard a loud burst of disgusting sounds before silence filled the stadium and the next thing you were hearing was sharp footsteps. everyone around you were wondering why someone was basically storming up to the room.

then a tall figure with his hands in his pockets and white locks came into view, you ran to him before hugging him. "sylus! oh my gosh..." he used his right hand to hug you back, wrapping it around your waist before rustling his chin against your hair, turning around with you in his arms.

"we'll be leaving." his deep gloomy voice was enough to make your colleagues agreed. "yes sir!" he sighed agaisnt your head, before his hand went further down your body to behind your knees. with one smooth move, he lifted you onto his shoulder, carrying you gently.

"sylus?" you called out quickly, and he responded by letting out a small hum. "where are you taking me?" with every step, he held into your body tighter.

he nearly felt offended by what you even asked, his other hand coming up to pinch the back of your thighs making you let out a shriek. "where do you think? we're going home."

"....this is not the direction to my home." you hesitantly replied after a beat or two.

you could sense the laugher in the area and then sylus let out a hearty chuckle, "you're adorable sweetie, we're going back home."

home meaning his base, you let out a small gasp of realisation. "oh!"

"yeah, oh."

this took took long for my liking, but anyway.

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becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys · 14 days ago

Note

All these ADHD success stories have me in tears because that could have been me, and sometimes it was me, but I still couldn't make it. Three years of attempting the same two semesters, countless meetings with counselors and support services and professors, med dosage increases, mental breakdowns, love and support from a classmate who unofficially adopted me (who I haven't spoken to since I dropped out)... Nothing to show for it but burnout and trauma.

Can it ever get better from here? I feel hopeless.

I'm so sorry. I'm not sure people realise just how fractured your self-esteem becomes when you fail out of an academic course; it properly haunts you, and for a long time afterwards.

I failed my first degree thanks to my own undiagnosed ADHD. I have a very typical story among our people - female, high-achieving in high school, fell apart in university. It was my second year where everything suddenly went wrong. I did not turn in a single assignment on time. I physically, mechanically, could not get myself to write them until the night before the final two-weeks-late deadline, when I'd have to pull an all-nighter and hate life and myself and eventually hand it in in the morning and then sleep for the rest of the day. My attendance was utterly appalling, particularly for a 9am lecture; trying to get up at 8 was a task roughly equivalent to trying to walk on water. I had to resit the exams I'd failed every summer. A particular low point was missing an exam because I didn't realise I even had it; I'd attended so few lectures that I hadn't heard the lecturer say it existed. I remember lying in bed at night and crying, full on sobbing, because I knew something was wrong with me but I didn't know what had happened. I'd always been so good at this, always had such good grades; it was part of my identity, both for myself and how others saw me.

And like. What else can you blame that on? What other explanation is there, other than 'laziness'?

I did better in my third year; I was determined to attend, and get assignments done. I was better; though still a long way from perfect. But so much damage had been done by then. I had better marks, but there was one single module whose assignment I passed but whose exam I failed; I just needed to resit the exam.

And I simply couldn't bring myself to do it. There was too much shame, too much guilt. I honestly couldn't fathom what the point of even trying was. I was so burnt out and broken by then. And then I had to pick up the pieces afterwards and return to life, surrounded by friends who had made it, with nothing of my own to show.

It was a few years later that I decided to go back to uni and try again. By then, I was doing it for a different reason - I wanted to prove to myself and the world that I could do it, I think. I was a bit older and a bit wiser by then; enough that I chose to be very honest with myself at every step, and could start putting systems in place to succeed. This time, it was a small class, so the lecturers all knew me by name rather than letting me fade into the background; I studied part-time to avoid overwhelm; I altered my own deadlines to be a week early, and I forced myself to write to them.

I think a crucial part was also changing how I viewed the degree, and my attitude to higher ed. Before, I did uni because "That's what you do after school". I saw it as a bigger high school with different teachers, like I HAD to be there and was doing assignments and attending because I HAD to, not because I fundamentally wanted to do the course for its own sake. The second time, I did it properly - I wanted a degree. I wanted a degree in that specific topic. I wanted to improve academically. I read the feedback this time, and applied it to each following assignment.

And, I got into the habit of going into the university computer room every day for a few hours so I could work on my assignments. Other course mates started joining me; one in particular, Chris, who later also got diagnosed with ADHD. I now know we were body doubling, but at the time, we both just saw it as getting into a good habit and working on assignments in a nicer environment.

I finished that degree with a first. Since then, I did a PG Cert with Oxford University, and a post-grad PCET, both of which required the same study-based skillset. Oxford in particular was hard, because the nature of the course was a distance learning one, and that is Very Bad for my ADHD; my brain requires routine and structure and accountability to work. That one gave me mild burnout, actually. But, my point is this:

It absolutely can get better. What that looks like is going to be different for everyone, because you need to be very honest with yourself about what works for you and what doesn't, and then choose a course accordingly; there are also specific types of support that you may need, which may or may not be available.

But you really, really can do it if you can get the right set-up and accommodations.

However, I would be wrong not to add this:

We connect university with intelligence, culturally, and we shouldn't. University is about depth of learning on a particular subject, done within and according to a particular system. Intelligence helps, but other skills are also needed to be able to complete a university degree; and that's not for everyone. You could be more than intelligent enough for it, and it still may be the wrong fit for you. That doesn't mean you're stupid or broken or useless - it just means this isn't the system for you. And there's no shame whatsoever in that.

That may or may not be true of you! We don't know each other, you could be in either bracket. But either way: you are not stupid, or useless, or broken. The system is simply not set up for your personal brain chemistry, any more than a tree-climbing test is set up for a fish. Hopefully any of this ramble is helpful!

#asks #adhd #tedious personal details

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novaursa · 3 months ago

Text

Web of Gold (aegon in love)

- Summary: Alicent could only watch as you handle her son like a lioness who plays with her food.

- Paring: lannister!reader/Aegon II Targaryen

- Rating: Mild 13+

- Previous part: 1

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

Alicent Hightower stands at the entrance of your solar, her brow furrowed, a determined gleam in her eyes. You can see her reflection in the mirror before you as you sit, surrounded by your ladies-in-waiting, a soft murmur of conversation filling the room. They are laughing at something you said, oblivious to the instant change that thickens as Alicent steps further inside.

The room quiets. Your ladies glance nervously at each other, sensing the charged air, but you remain poised, turning your head only slightly, as though the Queen Mother's arrival is of little concern.

"Your Grace," you greet her warmly, but there’s an undercurrent of something sharper beneath your voice. "How lovely of you to visit." You flash a charming smile, but the glint in your eyes betrays your amusement. Alicent’s sudden need to speak with you is, of course, no coincidence.

"Leave us," Alicent says to your ladies, her tone stern but not harsh. They all rise quickly, dropping curtsies before scampering out of the room, not wishing to be caught in whatever this confrontation might become.

You rise slowly, smoothing your gown, a rich crimson with golden embroidery that glistens in the candlelight, making you look every bit the queen you aspire to be. "To what do I owe this pleasure, Your Grace?" you ask, maintaining your sweet tone, though the question drips with false innocence.

Alicent steps closer, her lips pressed thin. She’s trying to appear calm, but you can sense the desperation simmering beneath her composure. "I wanted to speak with you," she begins, her voice softer than it was with your ladies, the sort of voice she uses when trying to remind others of her maternal presence. "About Aegon."

"Of course," you reply, as if it’s the most natural topic in the world. "I was just speaking of him with my ladies. His strength and wisdom are unparalleled, don’t you think?" You watch the flicker of annoyance cross her face, savoring the way her attempt to steer the conversation in her favor is already faltering.

Alicent shifts, clasping her hands in front of her, trying to appear serene. "Y/N, I understand that Aegon values your… opinions. And I do not wish to interfere. But…" She hesitates, searching for the right words, something that will make you listen to her. "He is still young, and he needs guidance. Proper guidance. From those who truly have his best interests at heart."

You raise an eyebrow, the smile never leaving your lips. "Proper guidance?" you echo, as though you are truly considering the meaning of her words. "But who could possibly care more for Aegon’s best interests than his own wife-to-be?" Your voice is light, playful, but the implication is clear. I am the one at his side now. Not you.

Alicent’s mouth tightens. "As his mother, I’ve always sought what is best for him. I’ve been by his side since he was born. I raised him. No one knows Aegon as I do."

You tilt your head slightly, stepping closer so that your presence looms just a bit. "Oh, I don’t doubt that, Your Grace. You have been a wonderful mother to him, no one would dare dispute that." You pause, letting the praise sink in, then adding with a soft, calculated edge, "But he’s no longer a boy, is he? Aegon is a king now, and kings must make their own decisions, form their own judgments." You take a step back, shrugging slightly. "It’s what all rulers must do."

Alicent stiffens, the tension rolling off her in waves. You see her jaw clench as she speaks, trying to keep her voice steady. "And what decisions has he made under your… influence?"

You laugh lightly, almost as though she’s told a joke. "Influence? Your Grace, I only seek to support Aegon. To give him the love and devotion he so richly deserves." You look at her knowingly, your eyes flicking up to meet hers. "A man like Aegon needs to feel appreciated, cherished for all he does."

Alicent's expression tightens further, but you can see the cracks forming. She knows what you're doing, yet she can’t stop you. "Y/N, you must understand, this is not about appreciation. This is about responsibility. You cannot simply—"

You cut her off with a gentle smile, stepping toward her with the grace of a predator that knows its prey is cornered. "Alicent," you say softly, dropping the formalities. "You needn't worry. I’m not here to replace you. You’ll always be his mother." The way you say it feels like a reassurance that holds no real comfort. "But I think we both know Aegon is happiest when he is free to act without feeling… pressured." Your eyes flicker with amusement. "And he seems so at ease with me, wouldn't you agree?"

Alicent looks like she’s about to snap, her eyes burning with frustration, but she holds herself back, her voice now low, tight with warning. "You don’t understand what it means to be close to power like this. It is not about flattery and affection. It is about duty, about making the hard decisions, even when they are painful."

You place a hand on your chest, pretending to be wounded. "Oh, Alicent, I understand more than you think. It’s just that I approach things… differently." You let your hand fall, turning toward the window to look out over the courtyard, where Aegon can be seen laughing with a group of knights. "Aegon deserves to be happy, doesn’t he? And I make him happy." You glance back at her, your smile serene. "Isn’t that what matters?"

For a moment, Alicent just stares at you, her hands clenched so tightly you think her knuckles might turn white. But she says nothing. She can’t. Because as much as she might want to fight you on this, she knows you’re right in one regard—Aegon is happy with you. And that happiness is what keeps her from lashing out, from saying what she truly wants to say.

Finally, Alicent exhales sharply, turning on her heel. "Enjoy your day," she says stiffly before sweeping from the room, the door closing behind her with a soft thud.

The moment she’s gone, you let out a small, satisfied sigh, turning back to the mirror. Your reflection smiles back at you, victorious. Alicent may have been the one to raise Aegon, but now? Now he is yours.

The courtyard of the Red Keep bustles with life, knights sparring and squires scurrying about, tending to their duties. Aegon stands in the middle of it all, his silver hair catching the sunlight as he watches the knights with a bemused grin, half-interested, half-distracted. A goblet of wine is clutched lazily in one hand, because of course he’s found a way to turn a casual morning stroll into an excuse for drinking.

"Did you see that, Ser Criston?" Aegon calls out, watching as two knights clash swords with a loud clang. "Not bad, but no match for me." He laughs, though he’s never been particularly interested in actual swordplay. He much prefers the idea of being a great fighter, especially when the wine is flowing.

Ser Criston Cole offers a tight-lipped smile, as he always does when Aegon starts boasting about things everyone knows aren’t true. "Indeed, Your Grace," he says, ever the dutiful Kingsguard, though even his patience is wearing thin.

Aegon takes another sip of wine, glancing toward the entrance to the courtyard just in time to see his younger brother, Aemond, striding purposefully toward him. Aemond, with his ever-straight posture and single piercing eye, always looks like he’s about to declare war on someone. Today is no different. He approaches with his usual air of superiority, his long coat billowing behind him as though he’s a dark storm about to sweep through.

"Aemond!" Aegon calls out cheerfully, raising his goblet in greeting. "You’ve arrived just in time. I was telling the knights here about how truly lucky I am." He lowers his voice conspiratorially, a grin spreading across his face. "To have Y/N as my future wife."

Aemond’s expression doesn’t change. He stops in front of Aegon, his eye narrowing slightly as if he’s trying to determine how much wine his brother has already consumed this morning. "Lucky, you say?" His tone is dry, unimpressed.

Aegon chuckles, seemingly oblivious to the fact that Aemond isn’t remotely interested in this conversation. "Oh, absolutely. She’s the most beautiful woman in the realm, wouldn’t you agree?" He claps a hand on Aemond’s shoulder, completely missing the way his younger brother stiffens. "And clever too. The way she speaks to me—like no one else ever has. It’s like she knows me better than I know myself." He sighs, lost in the fantasy of it all. "Aegon the Conqueror himself would be jealous, I swear."

Aemond blinks slowly, as if processing the absurdity of what he’s just heard. "Yes, I’m sure the original Aegon would be incredibly envious of your arrangement," he replies, his voice laced with sarcasm. His gaze flickers toward Ser Criston, who wisely keeps his face neutral, though one can see the amusement dancing in his eyes.

But Aegon is far too enamored to notice any of it. "Oh, Aemond, you just don’t understand. Y/N… she’s perfect. Beautiful, charming, sweet… and she’s so attentive to me." He leans in closer, his voice dropping to a dramatic whisper. "She calls me her king. All the time. Every morning, every night… my king." His eyes sparkle with pride as if this is the pinnacle of all achievements.

Aemond’s eye twitches, just the tiniest bit, though his expression remains otherwise unreadable. "I’m sure she does," he mutters, clearly unimpressed by the idea of his brother being doted upon like some pampered pet. "How fortunate for you."

Aegon nods enthusiastically, taking another sip of wine, his cheeks flushed with both alcohol and excitement. "It’s like she worships me," he says, completely missing the biting edge to Aemond’s tone. "I swear, no woman has ever made me feel this way before. I can’t wait for the wedding. She’ll be my queen soon enough."

Aemond crosses his arms, clearly struggling to maintain his composure. "Your queen," he repeats flatly, though the way he says it makes it sound more like a burden than a blessing. "And what exactly will she bring to this… royal arrangement of yours? Other than your own inflated ego?"

Aegon, completely unbothered by the jab, shrugs. "Love, devotion, all that. She just gets me, you know? It’s as if she was made for me. And gods, the way she speaks to me… she’s so… warm." He sighs contentedly, swirling the wine in his goblet. "Unlike some other women around here." He glances sideways, clearly referencing their mother, though he’s too drunk to bother hiding it.

Aemond’s lips thin into a line. "She manipulates you, brother," he says sharply, his patience wearing thin. "Or are you too blind to see that?"

Aegon blinks at him, confused, then bursts into laughter. "Manipulates me? Nonsense! She adores me. Why would she ever want to manipulate me when she can just… you know… bask in my presence?" He gestures to himself with a flourish, as if he’s presenting a grand prize.

Aemond pinches the bridge of his nose, visibly frustrated. "You are hopeless," he mutters under his breath.

But Aegon, ever oblivious, just grins at him. "Hopelessly in love, more like." He sways slightly, his eyes glazed over with more than just affection. "Ah, Y/N… my beautiful lioness…"

Aemond looks at him with something resembling pity, then shakes his head, clearly done with this conversation. "Just… try not to embarrass yourself at court later," he says before turning on his heel and walking away, the stiff set of his shoulders making it clear he’s already resigned to Aegon doing exactly that.

Aegon watches him go, then glances at Ser Criston, still grinning like a lovesick fool. "He’s just jealous, isn’t he?" he says, winking. "Who wouldn’t be, with a woman like mine?"

Ser Criston gives him a measured nod, his expression betraying nothing. "Of course, Your Grace."

And with that, Aegon takes another swig of wine, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

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