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nadvs · 5 months ago

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home before dark (part six)

pairing rafe cameron x kook! female reader

rating mature 18+

summary as children, you and rafe were best friends, but then tragedy suddenly struck his family and he shut everybody out. years later, you need his help when a pushy ex-boyfriend won’t leave you alone. rafe is perfect for the job because everybody’s afraid of him. except for you.

content warnings stalker ex, violence, substance abuse, death and mourning of parent

» masterlist

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Rafe didn’t have a drop of alcohol last night, yet he feels violently hungover this morning.

He stares up at the ceiling of your guest room, running on a few hours of broken sleep. He feels so exposed. Once he started talking to you, he couldn’t stop.

He was fine living an empty life. But then you walked back into it, completely unaware of how painful it is to be around you. But it feels so damn good, too.

Nonetheless, when he looks at you, he sees his doomed childhood, his lost happiness. He’s not sure the good will ever outweigh the bad. Especially because he’ll never be able to tell you the entire story. You’ll never completely understand why he is the way he is.

Maybe he shouldn’t have told you to leave last night. You were just trying to help. After so many instances of telling himself he’d stop brushing you away, he’d stop acting like your asshole of an ex, he did it again.

But telling himself he should do something and actually doing it are two very different things. Everything in this nonsensical world is easier said than done.

You’re making breakfast in your kitchen, your temples aching from the sadness that hasn’t left you.

Rafe wasn’t awake before you for once. You don’t know how you’ll face him. You feel just as powerless as you felt when you were ten, unsure of what to say to him or how to act around him.

He was in the car. It won’t stop clanging around in your head. He was with her the last minute she was alive.

And when you tried to hold him, to be there for him, he told you to go away. You know better than to attempt to get him to talk about it again.

“Hey.” Rafe’s deep voice pulls you out of your haze. You look up to see him standing by the far counter, then return your gaze back down to the pan. For once, you’re the one avoiding eye contact.

“Hey,” you reply. Your shoulders are stiff. You know he wants to leave. “Just a second.”

You pull the pan off the range and cross the kitchen, pacing to the front of the house. When you open the door and re-arm the security system, you step to the side, hand tight on the knob.

You will yourself to look up at him, meeting his blue eyes. He’s standing between you and the front step of your home, unmoving.

“Did you want to stay?” you ask. “Maybe have some breakfast?”

It’s like you’re standing on the edge of a cliff, taking another risk of rejection, expecting to fall but having a shred of hope that he’ll pull you to solid ground.

“I can’t.” He walks past you, a hard push off the edge. You’re disappointed. In him for denying you again. In yourself for thinking he wouldn’t.

You’ve always felt safe with him. But right now, while he’ll protect you physically, your heart isn’t even close to feeling whole. He’ll break it every chance he gets.

You spend your morning in a haze. You wish you could carry at least some of Rafe’s pain for him, but he’ll never fully open up to you. Last night, when he told you about the accident, he pushed you away the second you tried to comfort him.

After lunch, you realize you can’t handle being alone any longer. You text a friend and accept her invitation to hang out at her house.

Talking with your friend about everything but what’s been weighing on you is a welcome distraction for a couple of hours. Rafe is always at the back of your mind, but being with someone else helps ease the pain.

After you say your goodbyes, you walk down to the street where you parked. You notice a white paper rectangle tucked under your windshield wiper.

Your stomach drops. Normally, you’d assume it’s a ticket of some sort. That maybe you parked where you’re not supposed to. But you know that’s not what this is.

You pluck the paper from under the wiper and get into your car, trembling as you lock all the doors. You look around, terrified you’ll meet Ty’s stare.

But you’re alone. Nobody is around.

You rip open the envelope. On the top inner fold, in his messy writing: I always have my eyes on you.

Fear’s razor-sharp claws squeeze your insides when you pull out what’s in the envelope. Photos of you from the past few days. At the gas station. At the mall. At the pool.

Ty’s been following you. Taking pictures.

You lock your doors again, even though you know you already did. You’re at a loss for what to do. Where to go.

Just walking up the driveway back to your friend’s house is daunting. And going home to an empty house is just as scary.

So, you go to the one person you know will take away the fear. You drive, park, and find his name in your phone.

Rafe is sitting on the balcony leading out of his bedroom when his phone starts buzzing. He sees your name on the screen and scrambles to answer as fast as possible.

“You okay?” Rafe says.

“No.” Your voice is shaky. “No. He’s been following me.”

“Where are you?” he asks, standing and rushing to find his keys.

“I’m in front of your house.”

“Good,” he says. He tucks his gun into the band of his jeans. “Good. It’s okay. I’ll be right down.”

Rafe spots your car at the end of his driveway. When his eyes find you, he’s sure he’s never seen someone look so shell-shocked. He tugs at the passenger door handle a few times before you catch on that you need to unlock it.

He settles in the seat next to you, brows furrowed in worry, watching you stare ahead at your steering wheel.

“I don’t even know how I - I drove here,” you stutter with a humorless laugh. You’re in a fog.

“What’d he do?” he asks.

Your eyes dart down to the ripped open envelope in your cup holder. Rafe grabs it and leafs through the photos. Anger climbs up his body in half a second.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he mutters.

“He left it on my car,” you say.

You can’t let Ty do this to you anymore. You’re not above wishing Rafe would beat him within an inch of his life. You want to fight back in every possible way you can. You want him to lose.

“I think this is enough to go to the police,” you breathe. “I need a restraining order or something. I can’t just watch this happen. I mean, I have enough evidence of - of stalking, right?”

Saying the word out loud is what finally breaks you. The tears you’ve been pushing down rush up without any mercy. You start to cry quietly, your chest heaving.

“Listen to me,” Rafe says softly. “He’ll pay for this.”

All he can feel is a burning urge to protect you. To make sure you never feel this way again. He’s not leaving your side for a minute.

You sense Rafe’s hand on your knee. It’s like you’re watching this happen to someone who looks and sounds like you because he can’t possibly be happening to you.

“You want me to drive?” he asks.

You nod, tears rolling down your face, unbuckling your seatbelt.

You watch Rafe’s knuckles turn white as he drives your car down the street. You ask him to stop at your house to grab the letter Ty left for you, glad you didn’t throw it out in haste, and arrive at the police station carrying the proof of your ex’s incessant hounding.

Rafe tucks his gun under the seat before going inside.

The building is dingy. You approach the front desk, locking eyes with the man sitting behind a computer, his uniform dull and washed out.

“Can I help you?” he asks.

“I need to file a restraining order,” you say. The words feel odd coming out of your mouth.

The officer hands you a sheet of paper on a clipboard and a pen, instructing you to come back up to the desk after you fill it out.

It’s vile. You’re scared for your life and in response, a stranger hands you a form.

The waiting room is empty. You and Rafe settle in the worn, ripped up leather seats. You look down at the words in front of you, your hands trembling.

“Here,” he says, taking the clipboard and pen from you. You’re too shaken up to focus.

You watch Rafe write your full name at the top. Your address. Your date of birth. He remembers it all.

Then, he drags the pen over every box that applies to you.

The defendant and I are persons who are in or have been in a romantic relationship. He marks it with an X.

The defendant has inflicted emotional distress on me. X.

I want the Court to order the defendant not to assault, threaten, follow or harass me. X.

I believe I am in danger of serious or immediate injury.

Rafe looks to you.

“Not when you’re around,” you say honestly. “But you can check it.”

When Rafe comes across the blank sections, he sniffs in unease before reading the instructions out loud.

“Give specific dates and describe in detail what happened,” he recites. He doesn’t want to hear this. “Just talk. I’ll write.”

You go through it all from the beginning. The aggressive text messages. The in-person threats. The email. The letter. The photos. Rafe writes it all down. His stomach turns as he listens to you recount it all.

You take the clipboard to record what’s left: Ty’s contact information.

You drop the form off at the front desk and sit back down. Rafe watches you blankly stare ahead, your knees anxiously bouncing.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he mumbles. You nod, unconvinced.

“We can grant you an emergency protective order,” a police officer tells you after taking you and Rafe to a private room. “There’ll be a court hearing within ten days. You need an attorney to represent you and to help prove that the letter and photos are from him.”

“Okay,” you say. The old man across the table is speaking like he’s talking about something boring, like the weather.

“So, wait - are you saying - he can just walk around free until then?” Rafe asks.

The officer looks at Rafe, his face emotionless. Then he looks at you again.

“The defendant will be informed about the temporary order and he’ll be told not to contact you,” he responds. “If he violates the terms, you need to let us know. But a judge will determine if a permanent order should be granted. It’s up to them to decide if this person is a danger to you.”

“Are you kidding?” Rafe shuffles in his seat, shaking his head. “Someone’s gonna tell him to stay away from her and - and that’s it? Until a judge maybe makes it official?”

“That’s the way the law works,” the officer says.

“The law is bullshit.”

“Reconsider your tone, young man,” the cop warns.

Rafe scoffs, like he’s taking it as a challenge. You’re frustrated that the man is being so cold about this, but Rafe’s hostility isn’t helping.

“Rafe,” you say, placing your hand on his forearm. “Can you wait for me outside?”

He meets your eyes. He realizes he’s stressing you out. Times like these, he hates his temper.

Rafe has been standing by the front doors of the building for five minutes when you come out, your arms crossed.

“I didn’t mean to…” he mutters. “He was just so goddamn casual about the whole thing-”

“It’s okay,” you say. “I know.”

You still feel like this is a nightmare you’re waiting to wake up from. Your parents are overseas for work, totally oblivious to what’s happening. You need to call them. How the hell do you even deliver this kind of news?

“Did he say anything else?” Rafe asks as you make your way to your car.

“He just told me I should get a lawyer as soon as I can,” you say. “I found one in the area and I called her office. I have a meeting with her tomorrow.”

You’re still shaky and you’re glad Rafe is heading for the driver’s side without you having to ask him. You settle in your car, locking yourselves in silence.

He’s not starting the engine. He’s just looking at you. You meet his eyes and try not to think about last night.

“You’re scared,” he says. Your eyelids flutter. You are scared. The last twenty-four hours have been a mess.

Rafe wallows in the feelings of failure and self-pity. He’s supposed to make you feel safe and he’s fucking it up. You look terrified.

“I’m not gonna leave your side, alright?” he says. “I’ll make sure you’re never alone until he stops. And he will stop.”

Normally, you’d ask him if he can really take that on. But you have to ask yourself if you can take it on first. Being around someone who’s committed to keeping you at a distance is starting to wear on you. But this all started so he’d keep you safe. Whether you can handle it or not, you will.

Rafe grimaces when you don’t respond. Maybe he’s not enough. Maybe you need to feel like you have the power to keep yourself safe, too.

“I’m teaching you how to use a gun,” he decides.

“What?” you say. You can’t have heard him right.

“You won’t be scared if you know how to protect yourself,” he says. Then he shoves the key into the ignition and drives to his house to swap to his bike.

You cling onto Rafe as he drives his motorcycle along the coast. He approaches a clearing in an overgrown field. You can understand why he changed vehicles when you feel how choppy the terrain is. He navigates over the grass and stops under a tree.

“How do you even know about this place?” you ask once he kills the engine and you take off his helmet.

Rafe doesn’t want to admit that he passes by this barren corner of the island several times a month to pick up coke from his dealer. That he’s been here to shoot at nothing multiple times before.

“Just do,” he says. “Come on.”

You swing your leg off his motorcycle, wishing you didn’t feel the loss of his touch as deeply as you do.

When Rafe leads you deeper into the clearing under the cloudy afternoon sky, the road now out of sight, he pulls his gun out of the back of his jeans. It’s unreal watching him adjust the weapon in his hands, how casually he’s handling something that could kill a person.

You look over your shoulder, wondering if Ty is hiding somewhere. Will you always be on edge like this, worrying his eyes are on you?

You glance back at Rafe.

“Where’d… you learn?” you mumble. “To use it.”

Rafe looks up at you. Your eyes are wide. Maybe this was a bad idea.

He was being impulsive when he suggested this. He forgot how you looked at him when you noticed his gun at the party a few nights ago. He’s supposed to be making you feel safe. But you look freaked out.

“If this is a bad idea, we don’t have to do this,” he says. “I was-”

“No,” you interrupt. “You’re right. I’ll feel better knowing I can defend myself if it… if it comes to that.”

The thought sends a chill through your body. You try to shake away your fear.

“I was just wondering,” you say.

“I taught myself,” Rafe admits.

“How come?”

His jaw clenches.

“I told you, sometimes I get pissed off and…” He tries to bring down the sharpness of his tone. “This helps. It feels good. You’ll see.”

You can tell just how heavy his soul is as you watch him focus, sliding the magazine of the gun in and out. You wonder how many times he’s come out here, running towards a twisted form of solace.

You get it. You don’t know how you’d react if what happened to him happened to you, but you doubt it’d be very different from this. You’d be angry at the world, too. You’d want to take it out any way you can.

Rafe steps closer to you, opening the chamber, every column in it filled.

“It’s loaded,” he tells you. “You can see the bullets here. Safety’s on.”

He closes the chamber and offers the gun to you. It’s heavy in your hand as he rounds to stand behind you.

“You see that tree over there?” he says, his voice low. You follow his finger to see a tall, broken stump in the distance. It looks like it was hit by lightening and torn in half.

“Yeah,” you say.

“Aim at it,” he instructs you. “Use both hands. It’ll have some kick.”

You’re tense as you raise the gun towards the tree. You have one hand wrapped around the grip of the gun and tuck the other underneath the barrel.

“Like this,” he mumbles. His arms encircle you, his chest firm against your back. Your breath catches as he rests his hands over yours. He guides your left hand closer to your right, adjusting your fingers to spread wider.

“Safety’s on,” he reminds you. “Just get used to the feeling, alright?”

“Alright,” you say.

His forefinger settles over yours, pushing down on the blocked trigger.

“This is where you press down,” he says. You nod against him.

Rafe’s trying not to notice how nice your shampoo smells. The way your body feels enclosed in his. The fact that his heart started racing the second he gets close to you like this.

“You ready for me to turn off the safety?” he asks you, zeroing in on the reason he’s here. You nod and in seconds, the loaded gun in your hands is completely unguarded.

“It’ll be loud, okay?” he mumbles. You feel his warm breath against your cheek. “You don’t have to be scared. You have all the power here.”

You feel like you haven’t had any power in a long time. You take a few breaths before you pull the trigger. The bang is ear-splitting and force is hard, jolting your arm, sending the bark on the tree flying within a second. You actually hit your target.

You lose your stability, hands loosening beneath Rafe’s. He quickly pulls the gun back and turns the safety on again.

“Shit,” he says amusedly. “You did it.”

You’re in disbelief that you’re doing this and that it kind of felt good. You turn to look up at Rafe, who’s towering behind you.

Your eyes are locked as you stand together in the desolate patch of unkept greenery. You’re silent now and so is he, your breaths in unison.

“Feel better?” he finally asks.

“Yeah.”

Rafe has spent so long harboring hatred for everyone, including himself. But as he drinks in your features and the way they come together so beautifully, he’s sure he doesn’t hate you and never has. How could he when you look at him like this, like you’re expecting the best from him after all he’s done is disappoint you?

Just like last night, the words come rushing out of Rafe’s mouth. He’s getting worse at keeping them in around you. It’s still uncharted territory, so he’s struggling to find out how to say exactly what he’s thinking.

“I don’t…” he says. He starts over. “You should be… happy. I mean, you shouldn’t have to be dealing with all this.”

You chew on your lip. He’s right. Nobody should have to suffer like this, scared of a maniac who won’t leave them alone, who seems to find pleasure in inflicting fear.

Rafe hates that you’re fighting for your own comfort. You deserve to live in ease.

“Thanks,” you say. You gaze into his eyes, wishing they didn’t see what they saw when he was ten years old. “I want you to be happy, too.”

Rafe’s lids drop, his sharp jaw tightening as he grinds his teeth. He can’t cry in front of you. Not again.

“Give it another try,” he says, handing the gun back to you after turning off the safety. You take it in steady hands, aiming at the tree. He doesn’t hold you this time.

After a few seconds of concentration, you pull the trigger and miss. Then you try once more. You hit your target. You can’t imagine ever using this on a person. But if it comes down to it, to your life or Ty’s, you’re picking yours every time.

You lower the gun, realizing your breaths are faster now.

“I think that’s enough,” you say, your stare still fixed ahead. You feel Rafe slowly take the weapon out of your hands again, his fingers brushing yours.

“You wanna go home?” he asks.

“Yes.”

Without another word, you head back to your house, feeling Rafe’s heart thudding against your palm as you cling onto him on his bike.

Rafe waits in the front room while you try to call your parents. Neither of them answer, likely asleep in their timezone.

You put your phone away, looking defeated. He said he wouldn’t leave your side and you couldn’t be more grateful.

“I’ll try again in the morning,” you tell him. “You can just make yourself at home. There’s food in the fridge. I’m gonna go lie down.”

Rafe nods, his elbows on his knees as he sits forward on the couch, as if he’s ready to strike any threat that might come your way.

You stand and cross the space, then breathe out a slow exhale when you reach the end of the room, your hand on the edge of the wall.

“Thank you,” you say quietly, glancing back at him. “I know it’s hard for you to be around me. My parents will fly back after I talk to them and you won’t have to do this anymore.”

You round the corner, leaving him with his thoughts.

It’s not until after sunset that you come back downstairs, feeling trapped in your own home. Rafe is where you left him, scrolling on his phone, surely bored.

“Hey,” you say. You got a text from a friend a few minutes ago about a party at a house down the street. “You wanna get out of here?”

More people are drunk than sober when you arrive at the party, the music and chatter almost deafening. Rafe is brushing through the crowds in front of you.

You spot your friends on the other side of the room and find some relief in seeing people you know actually want to be in your company.

You tug at his shirt to get his attention. Rafe turns and leans down to hear you over the music.

“I’ll be with my friends,” you tell him. He pulls back, confusion in his stare.

“You sure you should go on your own?” he asks.

“You’ll be close, right?” you say.

Rafe shuffles in place, looking tense before he leans over to speak again.

“I’m fine being around you, okay?” he says, thinking about what you said back at your house. “If that’s what this is about.”

He’s fine. You don’t miss the coldness of his words. He’s simply fine being around you, while you ache for him when he’s gone.

“I don’t want to just be… tolerated,” you confess. “I’ll stand over there and I won’t move.”

“Aren’t we supposed to pretend we’re together?” he asks, suddenly desperate to feel you. He offers his hand. You look down at it.

For the first time, you don’t want to touch him. Because you’re so painfully aware that this is all a farce. Because you went through so much today that keeping up appearances feels ridiculous.

When you don’t take Rafe’s hand, the sting of rejection pools through him.

“I don’t care about fooling him anymore,” you say. “We don’t have to keep lying to everyone.”

You offer him a sad smile and brush past him. Your friends’ faces fall when they see you. That’s when you know you’re wearing your anguish for everyone to see.

You stand against the wall, alert and sharp-eyed in case Ty shows up. Maybe he won’t. Maybe the police scared him from even risking being in the same room as you.

He doesn’t seem to be here. But you’re drained of all hope a mere half-hour later when you suddenly see your ex in the crowd. When his gaze meets yours, his lips thin in anger.

Like an animal charging towards its prey, he rushes towards you, shoving past people. You look around and feel overwhelming relief when you see Rafe’s profile locked on Ty as he scrambles to get to him.

“You went to the fucking police?” Ty shouts, rushing towards you.

Even over the music, you can hear the sound of Rafe’s fist making contact with Ty’s jaw. The crowd quickly scatters, shouts erupting as they clear out the space.

Everyone runs away but you. You step forward, watching in disbelief as Rafe leans over, one hand on Ty’s collar, the other delivering blow after blow.

Rafe’s knuckles ache with every punch as Ty lies on the ground, absorbing every strike, slack-jawed. He sees red. Every punch is harder than the last.

“Don’t follow her, don’t talk to her, don’t even fucking look at her!” Rafe yells. “Do you hear me?”

Pure rage fills his veins as he takes everything out with his fist. Every reason he’s so painfully angry. The misery you’re going through. The loss he feels every single day. The fact that people like this get to live when his mother doesn’t.

“Rafe, that’s enough, man!” you hear. You watch two of Rafe’s friends pull him off. He scrambles to get out of their grip.

You can see Ty clearer now. His face is covered in blood, his head rocking side to side.

You turn to see Rafe is pinned against the wall, a third friend now holding him back. His jerks to get free are violent and frantic. Until he sees you.

You look shattered. He stills. You close the distance.

“Let’s go,” you say, unable to recognize your own voice. “Please.”

Rafe’s friends look at each other, never having seen him settle down so quickly. They loosen their grip off of him and he hurries to you, his body curving over yours in an effort to shield you from everything that just happened.

As you rush out of the party, Rafe’s hand is pressed at the small of your back. You’re glad it is, because you’re not sure you’d be able to handle anything without him keeping you steady right now.

When you make it home, your heart is still pounding in your ears. In the moonlight, you noticed how bloody Rafe’s knuckles were as he drove, so you impulsively lead him to the closest bathroom on the first floor of your home.

He doesn’t realize what you’re doing until you turn on the faucet, checking the temperature of the water before you take his hand in yours and wash off the evidence of the fight.

Blood starts to pool down into the sink in a spiral. It wasn’t that long ago you watched Rafe cleaning himself up like this at his house the night he agreed to pretend to date you.

You turn off the tap and take a hand towel, gently dabbing his swollen knuckles. Rafe watches you, the way your face twists in concentration, his lips parted as he breathes heavily.

“I’m not hurting you, am I?” you ask.

“No,” he says.

You’re not thinking straight. You’re doing this because you feel like you owe him for making Ty pay for what he’s been doing to you, but it’s better not to be touching like this. Not when you know it’s a matter of time before he goes back to being a stranger.

“I guess you can do this yourself,” you say nervously. You hold out the towel for him to take with his good hand.

Ever since Rafe fell into this destructive pattern of fighting, he did this part on his own. Cleaning himself up, dealing with the ache, breathing through the residual adrenaline. Nobody ever took care of him like this. He never let them.

Really, he never let you. Because you were the only one holding out a hand while everyone else watched him drown.

“Can you?” he mumbles. You look up at him, puzzled. He always rejects your offers to help. But not now.

“You want me to?” you say. Your voice is brittle, echoing in your small bathroom.

His eyes are soft, as soft as they were when he was a boy, and he nods.

You continue to press the towel against his knuckles. You look at his hand, thinking about the way you watched it write for you earlier today, recording every detail of the torment you’ve lived through over the past few weeks.

What would’ve Ty done if he got his hands on you tonight? And how could Rafe think so low of himself, call himself a psycho, say he fucks everything up, when he could be the only reason you’re alive right now?

“You okay?” he mumbles. You look up, realizing he’s watching you and can see the anxiety etched into your expression.

“The court order didn’t work,” you respond. “It didn’t scare him. It’s a good thing you were there. Thank you.”

Rafe has never felt sure about his place in the world. Not after his loss. But the sense of purpose that taking care of you has given him, the feeling of being told it was good he was somewhere, is unlike anything else.

He flexes his throbbing hand, your words from earlier tonight rattling in his mind. The insinuation that he tolerates you. It’s wrong. It may bring back bad memories to be around you, but it’s not like he’s merely putting up with you, like he’s eager to get rid of you.

“Should I get you ice?” you offer.

Rafe doesn’t answer. He only stares at you.

“I don’t just tolerate you,” he says after a moment, his voice rough.

Your heart aches. Tears prick your eyes. You inhale slowly, your face crumpling with sorrow.

“What is it?” he says.

“I can’t… You told me not to talk about it.”

Rafe chews on the inside of his cheek. He can tell how much it’s been hurting you, how much you’ve been yearning to have this conversation.

“Say it.”

You look down, so overwhelmed that it hurts, accepting his invitation.

“What happened to you was… I don’t have the words. I never did,” you whisper. “It changed you but I can still see parts of who you were before. You’re a good person. Maybe you don’t think so, but you never stopped being good. You asked me why I care about you. That’s why.”

Rafe is speechless. Everything in him is urging him to walk away from you again. The closer he gets to you, the more it hurts. The more it reminds him.

He ignores the impulse to leave. He lets you keep talking.

“And I understand why you shut me out. You were grieving. I’m just so… so, so sorry.” You know it’s a risk to say, but this might be your only chance to tell him. You take a breath. “She’d be so proud of you, Rafe. I know it.”

You stare up at him through your lashes. Finally, you’ve said everything you’ve been wanting to say to him for years.

To hear someone he trusts telling him his mother would be proud of the man he’s become, even when he always feels so angry and rotten and broken, gives Rafe an overpowering sense of relief.

Then, it creeps up on him, the way he can’t bear that he survived and she didn’t. She should have stayed alive. Why did he deserve it? Why didn’t she?

You watch Rafe’s face fall, brows pinching, eyes starting to gleam with tears. Seeing him cry because of what you just said is a punch in the gut.

You should give him space. It’s what he always wants. But just in case he needs any of the comfort you can offer him, you give into your impulse to touch him. At this point, it’s senseless to fight it.

You drape your arms over his shoulders, bringing him close to you, squeezing him into a hug. When he doesn’t return your embrace, you start to retreat, but then you feel big hands drag up your waist, pulling you back in.

Rafe digs his head into the crook of your neck. His body starts to tremble with his cries. And finally, he surrenders himself to you completely.

(part seven)

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xxsugarbonesxx · 5 months ago

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retired!Miguel rambling

🩷 I love domestic Miguel he is my everything

i guess this is head canons??? idk i just wrote what i thought felt right lol

mostly fluff, some smut, no gender is specified for reader,

though it doesn't go into depth, pregnancy and pregnancy sex is mentioned so read at your own risk 🩷

MINORS DO NAWT INTERACT!!!!

Miguel is naturally warm, his skin is so soft and warm. He smells like firewood and citrus, trust. In the winter you’ll lounge over his body like a seal on a rock in the sun. In the summer, you drag the kiddie pool from the back and fill it up. Dipping your feet in the cold water while you two watch the kiddos and dogs play in the sprinklers.

He makes chunky babies. If you have the ability to get pregnant, most people will assume you’re having twins ‘cause how big your tummy is once you’re with child. But you just got one chubby little babe in there, and then they’re born with a whole head of their papa’s coffee colored curls.

Piggy backing off the previous: once he gets out of his office in the Spider Society, leaving the Spider Man role behind, he’ll gain some weight. He’ll get that daddy pooch/dad bod going down, his pubes thick and curly. A whole forest is growing under his pudgy tummy. He doesn’t think shaving is that important once he’s settled down and has his kids but is willing to shave if that’s what you prefer.

He did do the thing where he shaved his face completely to show the baby when they were around five months old. Popping out from behind the corner to show the babe his clean shaven face with you filming it. It all ended with all three of you crying and snuggling with the baby once they started sobbing and screeching since all they’re tiny life they’ve seen their daddy with a neat, salt and peppery beard.

And if you CAN’T get pregnant, (whether you’re amab or infertile) bro will be going at it with you like an ANIMAL. He’s got fat breeder balls, full of hot, sticky cum to pump into your needy hole. Once he’s cum, he’ll give one last thrust, nice and deep into your gummy walls. Plugging his semen deep inside you, keeping it there. After care in this instance is nonexistent, since he falls asleep on top of you, still deep in your guts.

He just likes touching you, if you’re alone in the car, waiting at the red light. His palm travels up and down your thigh absentmindedly as his eyes bore into the stop light. (He wears those glasses that turn into sunglasses when he goes outside, argue with the wall) Maybe he’ll get brave enough or the light still hasn’t changed for awhile, his hand will dip under your shirt, his thumb pad playing with your soft nipple until it hardens.

As long as you’re alone, he’ll have his hands on you. Six times out of ten it leads to actual sex.

I don’t think of him as a god in bed really, he’s just a guy. He’s gonna do what he thinks you and him are gonna like (what you want will always be top priority for him I know it) Acting on lizard brain, he’s gonna do what he’s gonna do without much thought beforehand. He couldn’t edge you to save his life, if you’re whining or crying, he’s just gonna let you cum, he just can’t say no to you. :(

Foreplay is always important to him though, mainly just because I want him to rub my back, I think he’d go for the whole massage thing. Spending a good amount of time rubbing and massaging your shoulders, back and cunny/cock. His hand is so big, he’d be able to grip the space between your thighs with one hand no issue. Rubbing back and forth until you cum from his hands alone. He likes to have you cum at least once before he’s actually inside you. He’s a gentleman after all. :))) His favorite positions are full nelson, side fucking, doggy style (I will die on the hill he’s more of an ass then a titties man I don’t care!!!) and face sitting.

If you can get pregnant, pregnant sex is even more tender and loving. Usually taking brakes to pepper your body and face with little kisses.

@cupcakeinat0r wrote a tasty yummy fic about growing old with Miguel, and I’ve had that stuck in my brain since then. Around his forties, Miguel’s really mellowed out. He’s not as a perfectionist or cold and irritable as he used to be. Having kids has helped him calm more, having a more relaxed approach to problems now. Then his quick to anger, slow to calm back down personality when he was acting as spider man. Getting married and having kids has helped him realize that he doesn’t have to be the tough guy in the room. Though his kids are just as stubborn as him now.

I love the domestic potential of Retired!Miguel, you two having a song, that’s your song as a couple. Cooking dinner together for your little babies. Having a show you two watch an episode or two of after putting kids to bed. Sitting on the couch, your legs over his lap, drinking wine with a kids movie on as your makeshift date night. 🩷

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nxuvillette · 11 months ago

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thoughts on best friends brother!hanma? how he’d act with the sneaking around to avoid your best friend? 🥺

❥- note : hi nonnie <3 this made me go kinda crazy because i love something secretive with shuji :> !! i hope you enjoyed this tehe.

content warnings : nsfw [17+], fem!reader, ageless + blank blogs dni, reader is best friends with hanma’s sister, mentions of hookups, brief car sex mention, teasing, secret relationship, use of pet names (babydoll , doll), praising, breeding kink, mentions of pregnancy, multiple orgasms.

hanma never imagined that he’d end up messing around with his little sister’s best friend.

you and hanma had met after your best friend took you over to her house. she mentioned him many times before, but you weren’t expecting him to be so fucking hot. hanma was six foot four with these delicious tattoos on his hands that made him seem intimidating from the naked eye. he was charming, too. he had this sultry tone in his voice that would make it difficult for you to even look at him and his honey eyes.

there would be lingering glances between you two, and there were even a few instances where you would both end up alone with each other. there was always something in the air whenever you two were in the same room. thankfully, your best friend never noticed. you would hate for her to get the wrong idea about your friendship.

hanma eventually caved into his desires for you and messaged you one night. despite it being almost two in the morning, you decided to go and see him. you both ended up hooking up in the backseat of his car. it was some of the best sex you had ever had. it was like hanma knew your body already. he touched, fucked, licked, all of the right places that made you melt in his fingers. it was clear that this wouldn’t be a one time thing, judging by hanma’s behavior towards you after your first initial hookup.

it was difficult to hide your secret from your best friend. that was her older brother. it would mean lots of betrayal if she were to discover what was going on.

but, you just couldn’t stop.

whenever she was working, hanma would have you come over and you would both fuck for hours. he would put you in all kinds of positions and leave your cunt stuffed with his cum. it was just the way he liked it.

sometimes, he’d play a dangerous game and touch you whenever she was in the room. he’d brush his fingertips along your waist or get a little too close to your ass whenever he was walking by. he’d just smirk and give you that look that said it all. he loved to see how much he could work you up until you were a needy slut for him in bed the next time you met up.

it was risky, but that’s why he loved it so damn much.

it was later in the night. your best friend had gone to some frat party that was about an hour away, and you were lying in hanma’s sheets with your legs on his shoulders. his cock was drilling into your pussy, creating sloppy noises with every rut of his hips. your cunt was always crying for him. he loved to see how wet it could get.

“like that, babydoll? fuck.. look at you.. taking me so fucking well..” his thumb tugged at your bottom lip, revealing some of your teeth.

you whined when hanma’s cock reached your g-spot. the tip was relentlessly pressing against that button, making your vision become hazy. you were so lost in bliss. any stress you had could be taken away by him. “yes, h-hanma! i love it so much!” you cried, your eyes becoming glassy from the tears that formed at your lash line.

he changed his angle so he was now reaching further into your hole. hanma caught your lips and began to kiss you slowly. god, his kisses were just too fucking good. your fingernails then threaded through the strands of his dual colored hair, bringing him closer to you. you were already on your third orgasm, and your body was reaching its limit. hanma didn’t show any signs of halting, though. he needed you so badly. he hated that he couldn’t see you as often as he wanted.

the kiss was broken between you as hanma pressed his forehead against yours. his golden eyes that were like the sun stared into your own. “can’t get enough of you, doll.” he mumbled against your puffy lips. “i’m gonna fuck you till you’re pregnant.. with my baby..”

the thought alone made your pussy squeeze his cock, which hanma gladly took note of. you were a bit surprised to hear such a proposal, but nonetheless did it turn you on. “yes.. please!” you put your arms around his neck, leaving sloppy kisses on his lips.

he smirked, then began fucking you at a brutal pace. his balls smacked against your clit from how quick his thrusts were. hanma could only think about fucking his cum into you. he wouldn’t care if his sister was pissed. he wanted you.

sin wrapped around your throat. hanma clenched his teeth as he finally released into you. thick ropes of cum filled your womb. he practically emptied his balls inside of you, and he fucking loved it. he loved how great it felt. no other guy would ever dare to do such a thing to you, so he felt proud of himself for doing so. you deserved it all from him.

he leaned forward to kiss you passionately. you felt so full. there was a mess, but neither of you cared at all. “what do you say.. round four?” he chuckled.

#·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ official work !#✧˖*°࿐ new message: nonnie !#tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers x you #tokyo revengers smut #hanma shuji x reader #hanma shuji x you #hanma shuji smut #hanma x reader #hanma x you #hanma smut

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wheredostarsgowhenyoudie · 1 year ago

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Once upon a time when employees are being interviewed at SI:

Interviewer: So what is it like working for Iron Man?

Employee A: Oh! Easy question. I like that. It is an honor, you know. It's what I thought when I joined, and it still is now. But also, I did not expect that SI is a place where we are allowed to prioritize things like family. Like last time, I left my phone on silent at my desk cause I had to go to a meeting. My kid at home was having an emergency and I couldn't be reached. But apparently, Friday, Mr. Stark's AI, keeps track of phone vibrations so she made the report and someone came to notify me. I didn't even know there was a protocol for that. Turns out my daughter was having her period for the first time! And I'm a single father so I had no idea what to do and I was panicking. Next thing I know, an SI nurse came and apparently she was sent by Mr. Stark to walk me through how to help. Apparently, Fri also caught my panic rumblings and triggered 'YOU ARE NOT ALONE PROTOCOL' or something. (*laughing*) The next week, we received an official email introducing a new department called Human Care. They encourage everyone to reach out if we ever find ourselves out of our depths on non company emergency matters.

Interviewer: How long have you been working here?

Employee B: Eight years, two months, six days and counting.

Interviewer: What's the weirdest thing you've witnessed here?

Employee B: (blanks out)

Employee B (struggling to think): Ahm. Really? Just one? Er- That's a tough one. Maybe that one time they set up a room for everyone to try lifting Thor's hammer? Or wait, no, maybe that time there when flying roombas were everywhere following Mr. Stark and reminding him to eat? Or when a villain came via the vents but before he could come down, Hawkeye accidentally hit him with pepper spray? I don't know, man. Weird things happen a lot. We're used to it by now.

Interviewer: Do you feel safe working here?

Employee C: Yeah. The avengers live here. But to tell you the truth, I think Happy Hogan and his black tux team of agents scare all the potential bad guys away. I heard rumors that Black Widow personally trains them. Like, I know two of them. Jake, for instance. He's like a giant, and he is intimidating but I saw him crying one time and when I asked him why, he just said Mr. Hogan.

Interviewer: Which avenger have you met?

Employee D: Oh, I've met two of them. Captain America and Thor. It was odd but one time, they were in the cafeteria and carrying trays of food and I do not mean just one each. Nope. Like, a ton! Like they're feeding an army. But it makes sense. Can you imagine the workout? With bodies like theirs? And the battles they go to? Man, if I have to save the world from aliens, I'll probably need the same nutrition.

Interviewer: Which avenger is the kindest?

Employee E: Ahm...We all know they're all badass. But kindest, I think Spider-Man. Last Thursday, it was raining, and then Spidey suddenly came all wet and holding a box and I'm gonna quote him now. He said, "Friday, can you please ask Mr. Sam Wilson Falcon sir to come down? The shelter is close and I have a box of puppies and I really, really want to bring them up but Mr. Stark is gonna ban me from the lab again."

Interviewer: Aww. So what happened next? What did they do with the puppies?

Employee E (grinning): Falcon came down, alright. But he came with Iron Man who zoomed past everyone to drag Spidey to the penthouse. I am not sure what I heard but he was muttering about oven toasters and frozen spiderlings? In the end, aome employees volunteered to take care of them. But I believe two of them are at the avengers' floor. We saw Mr. Stark ranting about puppy paw paint marks on his armani.

Interviewer (gasps): Oh my. Was he mad?

Employee E (ends up laughing): Mad? Try grunting fondly? Peter really likes those puppies. Mr. Stark tried to act like he hates them but really, he adores everything about the kid, puppies included. He even had custom made collars with avengers logo made for them.

Interviewer: I'm sorry? The Winter Soldier was asking directions to where?

Employee F: The Lego Store.

Interviewer: How would you describe the workload? Do you still get work life balance?

Employee G: I guess it depends. I work in R&D and we're all nerds there. So like, we're typically busy but it's play for us. Some days, we're really cramped with work, mostly when deadlines are nearing or sometimes, we're just really in the zone, we do not want to stop. Peter activated 'NIGHT NIGHT PROTOCOL' for that. Had Fri lock us out of the lab and we had no choice but to go home or nap at the sleep wing. And would you believe? After the product launch, we got emails on mandatory vacation leaves with bonus to spend! Like, who does that? So yeah, it's cool working here.

And then, there was this:

Interviewer: How does it feel to be the heir of a multibillion dollar top green tech company?

Peter (stares quizzically, dumb-founded): Uhhh-....Look, sorry, I think I'm in the wrong room. I'm not- Maybe you got the wrong questionnaire? I'm just an intern-

Interviewer: Oh. Wait. Is it top secret then? Sorry, I was told of your identity as Mr. Stark's kid so I thought I could ask. But if you're not comfortable-

Peter: WHAT!?? Who said that? They're probably just joking.

Interviewer (chuckles nervously): Ms. Potts did actually.

Peter (freezes): Oh.

Suddenly the door opens and Tony walks in.

Tony: Hey kid, and Ms. Carrenland. How's the interview going? Thought I'd drop by for moral support, you know.

Peter (looks torn, but excuses himself to go to Tony): Uhm, Mr. Stark, can I talk to you for a second? Look, sir, ahm, I think there's been a misunderstanding. The interviewer asks me how it feels to be your heir. Like that's real. I don't-

Tony (has his brows rising to his hairline): Kid. Peter. Breathe.

Peter (groans and sighs embarrassingly): I just didn't want to lie! They mistook me for someone else. It was a misunderstanding!

Tony (smirking): It's really not.

Peter: What?

Tony: Kiddo, I was the one who gave Pep the approval to sign the questions. And really, you've been managing the R&D department and shadowing Pep at management for a year now. You never wondered why I make you do that?

Peter: Oh.

Tony: Yup. Genius child here.

Peter: I just wanted to help. You seem stressed out with the Avengers' work and dealing with the government. I thought I could lend a hand. I didn't- I don't expect you to- I'm not worth that, Mr. Stark.

Tony (scoffs): I beg to differ. Look, I'll be honest with you. Even if you aren't interested in the company, it's still gonna be yours. Look around you, kid. Do you think I let just anyone go around with a free pass at my tower? You have a room at my home. This place is your home, as where as everywhere else that I own. Plus, it's another motivation for you to take care of yourself when you go out as Spidey. Imagine all our employees. They need you, kiddo.

Peter (mumbling softly): I'm just Peter Parker.

Tony (smiles and pats his shoulder): And that is why I chose you.

#irondad #irondad & spiderson #ironfam #spiderson #spider-man #iron man #avengers #mcu #tony stark #peter parker & tony stark #peter parker tom holland #peter parker #stark industries #incorrect marvel #incorrect avengers #incorrect irondad and spiderson #fun fics

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a-boca-do-inferno · 2 years ago

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trouble with a capital T (tony montana x reader)

summary: (y/n) has an unexpected admirer.

warnings: angst, smut-bit of a size kink? idk u tell me, violence, drugs, abuse, dubcon, blood, swearing, domestic abuse, fluff and a little stalking ig. also tony montana

words: 8.9k

notes: this is toxic asf pls beware when reading it. also reader here is stupid asf for narrative purposes do not be like that irl im begging you. i rly have a concerning taste in men and if someone ever finds this i dont kno any of you <3 enjoy!

There’s this new guy in town who looks like trouble with a capital “T”. Everyone has seen him in person, except (y/n). However, by the stories and theories she hears, the figure of this man becomes even more macabre. Nobody knows his real name. He’s known only as Scarface, which should be an indicator of his perhaps not-so-scary nature, but (y/n) is a bit of a coward, if she’s being honest.

Still, when the girl thinks of him, she likes to imagine he has his own reasons for doing what people say he does. It is a morally questionable service, certainly illegal—considerably inhumane—, yet something inside of her extends this guy the benefit of the doubt. It’s not an uncommon theme in Florida, anyway, selling drugs and whatnot, so perhaps Scarface isn’t of all bad. He is still surely just a man, right? But when she received Elvira’s messages saying there was a shooting in her neighborhood, and that Scarface was arrested for allegedly taking part in it, (y/n) felt a little overwhelmed about her previous considerations. Even if the guy wasn’t the devil like everyone made him to be, he was a criminal. A violent one at that, putting innocent people’s lives in danger, like her friend’s.

She couldn’t go see Elvie that day, but (y/n) told her she’d drop by as soon as possible. Elvira sent some pictures of her neighbor’s window with bullet holes, six of them. The neighbor was a man who lived alone and listened to loud music all day on Sundays. Why anyone would have ordered his death, they had no idea. But then again, (y/n) didn’t really trust men who’d hit on women even after being told “no” a couple of hundred times. It wouldn’t surprise her at all if he was a rapist, or a pedophile, or both. Anything was possible nowadays. The neighbor managed to escape the sniper’s attack and left through the back, anyway, and Elvira said he entered the backyard of her house to protect himself. She was really lucky that by that time, the police had already arrived at the scene and readily took the shooter into custody.

Scarface, according to Elvie’s description, was a short, rustic-looking man. He was white, but sunburned, with a stylish haircut reminiscent of the ‘80s and a shaven face. His eyes were big and dark, with a prominent nose, and there was a scar on his left eye, which obviously earned him the infamous nickname. He walked around with a worn Hawaiian shirt and a white wifebeater under it, the one everybody says he’s always wearing; from the waist down, he had shabby jeans held up by a leather belt and old-fashioned cowboy boots. The kind they used to wear in the Wild West, probably.

The guy was just an almost cartoonish figure, a villain straight out of some children’s TV show. And still, somehow, he was the terror of this city as of lately. Everyone licked his balls in an attempt to spare their own lives. Uselessly, of course, since he didn’t seem to have any real consideration for anyone or anything, except for money. So, it wasn’t exactly a certainty that he wouldn’t kill any of his so-called “friends” downtown, unless they owned something valuable to him—drugs, for instance.

And him being detained now, for the hundredth time that month, wasn’t really a relief, since he would soon be out. Because no one could ever catch him in the act—he was a professional, after all—, his stay in the precinct’s modest jail was only for a few hours. At most one night. Five hundred, even a thousand dollars in bail—or a bribe, in fact—was enough for the sheriff to release him with a faithful promise he would see Scarface again the following week. And it was no sooner said than done.

Nobody knew where he lived. There were rumors his home was in the neighborhood next to (y/n)’s, but it was never confirmed. It also wouldn’t make any difference to know where his residence was. Again: the guy was a professional. Even the mayor licked the floor he walked. But Scarface also had his enemies, obviously. On her block alone there were four or five men who would kill him in broad daylight with their bare hands, if given the chance. She didn’t know the story very well, but it obviously had something to do with settling scores. It always did.

Scarface, the cowboy-boots and burnt-skin, revolver-stuck-to-spine and walk-of-an-insufferable-bastard Scarface, was the greatest example of how the universe does not give any tips. The divine does not send signs. And when it does, it’s a bullet in the head, right in the middle of your eyebrows. Scarface is the universal clue of at least three people a week, but no one recognizes him as such. They’d rather bow to his feet, fearing for their lives, as if the devil had any sympathy in him in the first place. It was a funny paradox. Furthermore, the universe is also a sneaky son of a bitch. So, of course her brother would get into some trouble and end up in jail. And of course he would ask (y/n) to save his ass as she often did.

She quickly turned around the way she was making to the supermarket and parked in front of the station, luckily only a few blocks away from her destination. The girl entered the room in silence and wrinkled her nose slightly at the strong smell of pee and cigarettes coming from the back, where the small jail was. In the waiting room, there were only two men sitting with their heads down and a guard in front of the hallway that led to the detainees.

(y/n) went to talk to the guard and before disappearing, he told her to wait right there. She took a sit as far away from the two ominous-looking men as possible and pretended to be fiddling with her phone. In fact, she was distressed. Despite Manny being known for his little transgressions, he’d never been arrested before, so she had also never been to a police station up until that point. Her heart was pounding in her chest and her fingers were trembling slightly.

The guard finally returned and she let out a sigh of relief. He handed her some paperwork to fill and she paid the bail in silence. While she gave him her signature, loud voices and laughter could be heard approaching in the hallway next to the waiting room. The laughter was undeniably masculine, a deep voice reverberating through the walls of the quiet police station. (y/n) held her breath as her eyes landed on brown shoes touching the floor. She didn’t dare look up and quickly finished signing the papers, going back to her chair while the guard went to get Manny.

She stared down at her phone, her heartbeat speeding up again. The disturbing laughter ceased and the girl heard a rattle of keys followed by another clang. A thick accent thanked someone and (y/n) let out her breath, thinking he was leaving at last, but the heavy boots made their way to the water cooler right next to her. She bit her lip and sighed shakily, still not daring to look up. The way he was standing betrayed the lack of care for his spine, as he was unnecessarily leaning too far back. His loud gulps almost made (y/n) roll her eyes, despite her nervousness. He really looked like he came out of a cartoon with such deliberately theatrical behaviour.

The two men sitting away from her got up at the same time and walked out of the station, leaving just Scarface, another guard who was on the computer, and her. But as she had no luck, a voice called that damn guard and he left them both alone in the waiting room. At that point, (y/n) knew the asshole was just messing around with that glass of water he’d been drinking for the past two minutes. And for that reason, she decided to stand up straight and look at him. There was nothing to fear. She had nothing to do with his drug shenanigans.

The girl was only still hesitant of Scarface maybe trying to do something inappropriate, but she didn’t have time to run when he threw the cup in the trash and sat down on the empty chair right next to her. That man’s sly smile and predatory gaze made her shiver from head to toe. “Mornin’”, he states, his deep voice very close to her ear.

(y/n) turned to look at him and kept her expression solemn. “Morning”, she simply replies, and perhaps it comes out too imposing, because Scarface raises his eyebrows and looks at her with some humor.

“A tough one, huh? Just the way I like it.”

She wants to laugh at his words, but only shakes her head. “Are you fucking serious? You wish....”

“I wish what?”, he grabs her face tightly, forcing her to look at him. (y/n) freezes under his touch and can’t hide her panicked expression. He smiles satisfied and moves closer to her. “Your mama never told you not to talk to strangers, huh?”, she tries to pull away from his grip, but he pushes his fingers harder against her cheeks to the point of hurting. “Answer me.”

“You’re not a stranger, Scarface”, she grins and he lets go of her at last. (y/n) takes a deep breath and clears her throat, checking the time and tucking her phone into her front pocket. Thankfully, Manny’s voice is approaching in the hallway and she gets up, giving the guy a scowl. “I know you think you own this town, but remember you’re still just a guy. Get over yourself.”

“Oh, I know”, Scarface mutters, smirking like she’d just told him a great joke. He stands up and tries to touch her again, but (y/n) manages to avoid it. He then pulls her closer by the waist for a split second, as the guard and her brother appear in that instant. The man lets go of her quickly, and before he leaves, he flashes her a wink, “have a good day, baby.”

She watches angrily as Scarface disappears, caressing her aching face. The girl turns around to find Manny with a sorry expression, and she clenches her jaw. “Let’s go”, it’s all she says, walking out of the station without waiting for him.

♡♡♡

A week after that incident, (y/n) never left the house again. Until today, that is; she only went to her brother’s because he was starting to get a little worried about her confinement. She didn’t think of telling him why she was hiding for protection, because the less her family knew about that crazy drug dealer bothering her, the better.

(y/n) walked out of her car fast so she wouldn’t bump into Scarface on the street by any chance. Although it was pretty unlikely to happen, seeing as he didn’t usually hang out in her neighborhood, but she wouldn’t take any risks. No one besides herself knew what went on in the station and she didn’t intend to tell anyone else. The girl didn’t even know if she should have told anyone in the first place. The guy had this city in his hands. If he wanted to find her, it was a snap of his fingers.

But of course, (y/n) couldn’t run away forever. And the day she decided she’d go to Manny’s without any fear, while she was sitting on the sofa, that damned thick accent came from the front door. She widened her eyes and got up quickly, but when the girl reached the kitchen door, her scared expression met the man’s pleased one. He was smiling at something her brother was saying, however, as soon as he saw her, the mirth on his features was borderline sickening. Still, he visibly tried to play it cool because Manny was there.

(y/n) pretended not to care as she made her way to the bathroom and locked herself there, hands shaking violently. She sent millions of desperate messages to Elvira. The voices continued to chatter excitedly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world to have Scarface at her brother’s place. Like they were buddies.

Suddenly there was silence and someone knocked on the bathroom door slowly, barely audible. Her heart raced and she felt a lump forming in her throat, eyes watering without warning. Another knock. She put her phone away and slowly opened the door, not knowing what else to do or where else to go. The man’s intimidating presence greeted her and a victorious grin hovered on his lips. (y/n) looked into the living room for Manny, but there was no one. He seemed to have left for some reason, and she felt her world fall apart.

The girl stared back at Scarface and he was now serious, examining her body up and down with no shame. “So you’re family, huh?”, he muses, his terrifying voice making her shiver sharply. She sighed and went to sit back in the couch, accompanied by him, who was leaning against the doorway and still gazed at her without blinking. “When they told me you were Manny’s lil’ sis, I couldn’t believe it, baby! But here you are, I guess that makes him my brother-in-law”, he states, content as a child who solves a puzzle. “He told me you live alone, right? I might pay you a visit someday.”

“Right”, she merely scoffs, attempting her best not to show the shift in her seat hearing his words.

He smiles macabre, moving his index finger from side to side in denial. “You don’t talk to me like that, tigress. Let’s start there”, he looks around, making sure Manny’s still not there, and approaches her. (y/n) instinctively pulls away and he grabs her face just like before, forcing her to glance at him. “You don’t talk to me like that. Got it?” She doesn’t answer and he squeezes her cheeks even more, making her let out a groan of pain. “Got it?”

“Got it”, she spits out, begrudgingly.

(y/n) thinks he’s going to let go, finally, but first he gives her an awkward, aggressive peck on the lips. She instantly shoves him and wipes her mouth to somehow undo that contact. Scarface laughs, “you’re so cute, baby.”

“What are you doing with my...”

Manny arrived as soon as she closed her mouth, readily engaging in another conversation with Scarface while ignoring her presence there. They talk about people and places she knew nothing about, it sounded like a bunch of codes, and she gaped at each sentence they exchanged. How the hell did they know each other? What was that asshole doing with her brother?!

Dinner came and Scarface—his name was never mentioned, for some reason, and she wasn’t about to ask—made a point of sitting next to her, but if Manny noticed their closeness, he didn’t pay any mind. They continued talking through the meal and Manolo chit-chatted (y/n) now and then, forcing her to answer Scarface’s falsely innocent and curious questions about what she was talking about. As if he didn’t already know everything about her life, apparently.

After helping clean the kitchen, (y/n) said goodbye to her brother. Scarface watched them silently from the sofa and she tried to keep her focus on Manny. “I have some stuff to do at home now, gotta go.”

“You going alone? It’s late”, he frowns.

She waves her hand to make light of it. “It’s fine, Manny. It’s a ten minute ride.”

Manolo shakes his head. “Even so, (y/n), you know this neighborhood ain’t safe. I can’t take you home, but Tony can.”

So that’s his name.

Scarface—Tony chimes in, not letting her answer Manny just yet, “c’mon, let’s go. I’ll take you.”

“It is not necessary. I literally drove here!”, the girl huffs, already taking the first step to leave.

Manny stops her before she reaches the door. “No, no. It’s too dangerous here at night, you better go with him. C’mon, you take her, Tony. She’s just a little stubborn.”

(y/n) locks her jaw, but doesn’t say anything.

“I noticed”, Tony mutters tauntingly, giving her an ambiguous look that surely only she saw. The girl took a deep breath and surrendered, waving goodbye to Manny as she walked with Tony to her car. They strolled in silence to the garage and as soon as she opened the door of the vehicle, he pulled out a little plastic bag from his pocket, full of a white powder. He pointed with his chin at it, raising the object. “I just made some business with your brother today, baby, no worries.”

(y/n) stared at him confused, but still didn’t say a word. Manolo was really going down an irreversible path, it seemed, and there was nothing she could do about it. With a heavy heart, she could only get in her car and pray she’d make it home safe that night. Scarface followed her and started driving, shooting her a smile or two over his shoulder. Luckily, it wasn’t long until they parked in front of her building. He turned off the ignition and got out of the car with her, obviously inviting himself in.

Of course.

(y/n)’d been trying for a few seconds to open the stuck gate and Tony notices her suffering, helping her to complete the task. She doesn’t thank him and simply walks into the house, knowing he’s on her tail. His eyes burn into her back, but she tries not to focus on it while starting to unlock the door. She is greeted by her cats rubbing against her heels and she smiles automatically. Forgetting for a brief moment that Scarface is there, the girl takes the smaller one in her arms, hugging and kissing her soft dark fur. When she puts her down, the man is watching her with an amused expression.

Her cheeks tingle and (y/n) makes her way to the kitchen, with Tony still following in silence. She pours herself a glass of water and offers it to him next, which he accepts, still staring at her with the same predatory demeanor. He’s going to try to do something ugly to her, obviously, and she is trying not to think about it, but it’s getting harder and harder. If she screams, no one will hear her. Fortunately or not, she has no neighbor on her floor. She makes a mental list of what objects she can throw at his head to make him pass out like in the movies; a brand new moisturizer that is full; a makeup bag; her favorite pan. If she is quick enough, maybe she can lock him in her room and call the police.

(y/n) snaps out of her thoughts when Tony approaches her behind the counter, while she still holds a glass of water. She is staring at his chest when he calmly takes it from her hands and offers her a smile. She tries to hide her trembling fingers from his vision, but he notices them and takes her palm in his, raising it to her eye level.

“Not so tough now, huh?”, he mocks, making (y/n) bite her own tongue so she doesn’t give him a sharp answer and gets punched because of it. He kisses her fingertips softly, catching her off guard. Tony notices her confused expression and grins again, lowering his face to bring it closer to hers. “What, you think I was gonna keep scaring you off? I’m not that bad, baby.”

“If you say so.” She mutters reflexively, regretting it right away when his dangerous orbs fall on her. She sighs and looks away. “Sorry.”

He nods approvingly. “Good girl.”

There is an old gouache paintbrush she could use to pierce through his neck in case it gets bad. The glass pitcher is over the sink. (y/n) looks at the table and there’s a fork and a spoon. The big knife is in the drawer—

Tony lets go of her hand and walks to her room. She listens to the sound of his wooden soles echoing against the tile floor a little astonished, before following him. She opens the door, which creaks imposingly through the empty, closed house, and her heart skips a beat when she hears the mattress shift, indicating he has settled into her bed.

(y/n) is in front of her window to open it, but before she can do it, his arms wrap around her from behind and pull her away from it. She widens her eyes and tries to pull away, however, the grip tightens. She starts to shake more aggressively and an agonized scream leaves her mouth, causing his hand to slam against it, muffling the sound. She looks desperately at Tony and he’s signaling her to be quiet. Panic takes over her body and she gives up trying to get out of his grip. He seems happy with this decision and removes his palm from her lips, laying her body down on the bed and straddling her, legs wrapping around her waist as his knees sink into the mattress.

Her eyes water and she closes them tightly, waiting for the inevitable. (y/n) remains like this for a few seconds, but nothing happens. She thinks maybe Tony has given up on what he wanted to do, however, when she opens her eyes again, his face is hovering over hers. His brown eyes are scrutinizing the girl minutely, there’s not a single vestige of that villainous smile that lives on his lips. She returns his gaze and they stare at each other in silence. His elbows are propped up against the mattress and his hands are still gripping her arms, holding them in place, but with no force.

(y/n) wants to ask him what he’s doing, but the thought leaves her mind as soon as he takes a gun out of his pants. She screams in desperation, “help! Help! Someone help me!”

“Shhh. Hey, calm down!”, Tony puts his hand over her mouth yet again, holding her down so she’ll stop her kicking. She watches, still horrified, as he places the gun on the chair beside her bed. “I’m not killing you, baby, calm down”, there’s a smirk on his features that makes her stomach turn. “Yet”, he adds, taking his palm away from her trembling lips. (y/n) tries to get up, but he pushes her back down. “I ain’t killing you, but I’m gonna do other things.”

“No, no, please...”

She can’t finish her pleas as his full lips crash onto hers, now in a kiss deeper and less brusque than the peck from earlier. The girl tries to resist at first, but soon her body speaks louder and she ends up giving in to the contact. She lets out an involuntary groan as his rough fingers lift the hem of her shirt, almost like an animal in heat. Damn hormones, she thinks in the back of her mind, not really caring for that much when his fingertips send shivers through her skin.

Tony pulls apart so he can remove her garment, smirking at her bra-covered breasts. She blushes terribly. “You’re so cute, baby.”

He kisses her again and (y/n) reciprocates vehemently this time, wrapping her legs around his waist tightly. His lips trace down her neck and she faintly laughs at the little tickle there, making him lift his face to look at her intently. There’s something different in his eyes, almost adoration, but she can’t finish the thought as he unbuttons her pants and unceremoniously pulls them down, leaving the girl in her underwear.

Tony drops to his knees on the bed and shrugs off his iconic floral shirt and wifebeater. (y/n) can’t help but smile seeing his near-athletic pecs and gets on her knees too, silently volunteering to strip him out of his own pants. He watches closely as she unzips his jeans and unbuttons them, sliding them down his toned thighs. Tony finishes getting rid of the piece and goes back to kissing her neck urgently, leaving more aggressive caresses in place. A chill travels her spine when his member bumps into her stomach and she squeezes his arm reflexively, catching his attention.

“You good?”, he asks, sounding so worried he seems to be another man completely different from the Scarface criminal who’s been with her until now.

She simply nods and lets out another moan as his lips descend to the gap between her breasts, leaving sinuous kisses all the way down. He licks at the sweat accumulated there and kisses her again; a salty, icy kiss. A hand finds her face and trails her cheek lightly, while his tongue invades her mouth shamelessly. His touch is so gentle it looks absolutely nothing like the man who bruised her face twice with his brute strength. Tony gropes down her back and unbuckles her bra, making the girl shiver as he grips her nipple. Soon, he pays attention to them with his mouth and she bites her lip so as not to make too much noise. Still nibbling at the sensitive skin on her breasts, his deft hands slide down her panties and her face heats up violently.

He slips two fingers into her without blinking an eye. (y/n) arches her back and blurts out a high-pitched groan, which had him chuckling, turning her on even more as his thick voice vibrated against her nipple. When his tongue meets her clit, the feeling is indescribably divine. She’s now a carefree mess of moans and ragged breathing. Tony’s hands grip her hips strongly, holding back her unconscious thrusts.

He lifted his face again before she came, his chin visibly wet. “Got protection, baby?”

“No”, she lets out an incredulous laugh. “I never did that, I didn’t have to...”

“Right”, he says thoughtfully, as if just connecting the dots now. Tony fumbles in his pockets and doesn’t seem to find what he’s looking for, so he looks back at her. “I got nothing on me either.”

“What now?”

They exchange a silent look and he shrugs, getting back on top of her body. “Now I’m pulling out y qué sea lo que Dios quiera.”

(y/n) is going to protest, but Tony takes off his boxers and invades her without warning, causing her to groan in pain. He soon notices her expression and stands statue over the girl, waiting for her to recover. Tears form in her eyes once again and he leaves light kisses on her cheek, trying to calm her down. She smiles softly at the delicate and unexpected gesture. Soon she’s ready and he starts to move, gradually increasing the pace.

The solemn creak of the bed is the only sound besides their gasping breaths and moans she can’t contain. Every now and then his golden chain hits her chin, however it doesn’t hurt, it’s but a little friction. His big hands are squeezing her breasts as he speeds up the movements little by little. (y/n) looks to the side and sees the revolver on the pink chair, the contrast of that scene making her want to laugh. She returns her attention to Tony and he’s got his eyes closed, mouth open, leaving wet kisses all over her cleavage. He’s dripping with sweat, just like her.

He takes her lips again and only then does she return to the moment, losing herself in her own pleasure and letting the orgasm overtake her without precedent. Next up is Tony, who comes with a husky moan and one last kiss. He lets his body slide off hers, pulling out his cock while his cum paints them both. (y/n) kisses his face after the effect of orgasm and he returns the caress, pulling her into a fairly tight hug. She smiles at the contact and lets him hold her there for a few minutes. They’re silent the entire time, until he pulls the sheet from under the pillow to cover them. Tony and her exchange indecipherable, sinuous looks, and that’s when her penny drops. She just had sex with a criminal.

Jesus.

“This shouldn’t have happened”, she say abruptly, sitting up.

Tony also sits down and shrugs. “But it did. So what?”

“So it won’t happen again!”, (y/n) exclaims in annoyance, not caring that this man has a gun and isn’t afraid to use it at all. “You need to go.”

“Already? You just wanna use me and throw me away, huh? Now that’s cold, baby”, she rolls her eyes at his mockery and stares at the wall as he stands beside the bed, his stuff swaying back and forth. “Hey”, he calls, but she doesn’t answer. He then touches her chin and gives her a lingering, incredibly soft peck. She sighs as Tony pulls away and there’s a gentle smile on his face as he puts on his clothes. “You’re cute, (y/n).”

“Thanks”, she timidly blurts out, not really knowing what to say. The girl looks for her underwear and tenses up as she watches him handle his revolver, placing it on his back again.

He notices this. “I ain’t hurting you with that gun, you know? You can relax.”

“Even if you don’t use it against me, it’s still a weapon”, she mutters seriously, turning her back to him so he can buckle her bra.

He does the task and hugs her from behind, kissing her locks. “You don’t have to be afraid of anything with me, baby, not even a weapon.”

She turns to face him, hugging his waist lightly. Tony gets serious all of a sudden and lets out a long breath as he finally releases her. He checks his pocket and fixes his messy hair in the small mirror on top of the dresser. Before leaving, they exchange one last look. None of them says a word. (y/n) watches him disappear behind the gate and looks around the empty house, returning to her room and closing the door. She stares at the completely messed up bed and the sheet painted by drops of blood and sperm, which they shared for a few seconds, now on the floor. Ha.

Trouble with a capital “T”.

♡♡♡

Two weeks after the incident, (y/n) didn’t go to her brother’s house anymore. But Elvira, being such a pain in her ass sometimes, had practically bullied her into going out tonight. She was anxious, it’d been a while since she went out to have fun like this. Her fear of bumping into Tony—Scarface wasn’t exactly as strong as before, for obvious reasons, but she’d still rather not take her chances in finding him again. No matter how good his dick game was, he was a dangerous individual. Better to stay away.

So, for the record; she fucked a hitman and was most likely falling in love with him, maybe even reciprocally, just after he got violent with her several times. Elvie obviously didn’t know about it yet, but what would she do when that time inevitably came? Because (y/n) was going to tell her, no doubt. She couldn’t keep it all to herself forever, hiding it from everyone like it was some sort of crime. Elvira would probably call her crazy and even threaten to lock her up in an asylum, wanting to choke Tony if it was as much as hinted he laid his hand on her. And she wasn’t even wrong for that!

But what about her family? God, if her father knew... He’d go after Tony’s blood. He would simply never look her in the face again, especially since their relationship was already fragile enough because of Manolo. And what of her reputation? All of Miami would talk about this. She’d be the new bitch on the block for sure. No one would respect her, she’d become a joke. Not that she cared about what those people think of her, but it would be nice to stay anonymous. It was safe, something she hadn’t felt in a long time.

With a heavy sigh, (y/n) finished getting ready and stared at her reflection, smiling faintly. Perhaps it was best to let those corrosive thoughts for tomorrow’s hangover. She grabbed her bag and locked her apartment, walking down the deserted street. As the club was close to her house, there was no reason for anyone to come and get her, so she’d go alone with no worries. It wasn’t like anyone was going to do anything to her on her quiet neighborhood, anyway, much less on the weekend. Plus, criminals in this town had a schedule and they liked to stick to it. At least the ones who grew up there.

Already approaching the place, she saw Elvira with some of her friends waiting for her in the line. They greeted each other and entered the club, going for a table next to the bar. (y/n) immediately asked for a strong drink to try and calm down her nerves, feeling rather unfit for that environment after such a long time away from it. At the first glass, she felt lighter and smiling, pulling Elvie to the dance floor.

They’re dancing and laughing like idiots when a tall man approaches them. He is moving to the song and calmly smoking a cigarette while he watches the girls, eyes glued to (y/n)’s form in specific. She doesn’t hear a word Elvira is saying over the music as she stares back at the guy, so distracted she accidentally knocks over a waiter’s tray behind her, making a huge mess. (y/n) apologizes quickly and starts clumsily picking things up on the floor, while the mysterious guy crouches down and helps her with it. She smiles shyly and they finish fixing everything in place.

She thanks him softly and turns to go back to her table, but he grabs her arm gently. “In a hurry?”, he questions playfully, an amused smile on his full lips.

She blushes. “Oh, no, I was just…”

He shakes his head. “You’re a little shy, I can see that. Let’s put an end to this shyness now, come with me!”, he walks off, dragging her to the bar. “So, what’s your name?”, he asks, signaling for the bartender to bring them two beers.

“(y/n).”

“Frank, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” Their drinks arrive and they make a toast, while she takes a big swig. Frank smiles and pulls her by the waist, taking her by surprise. “Lost your shyness yet?”

“I...”

He attacks her lips before she can finish, leaving a wet, beer-tasting kiss on her mouth. (y/n) has to make a tremendous effort not to drop the beer from her hand, making way for his tongue to explore every corner of her mouth. Frank separates them just to take another sip of his drink and starts kissing her neck. Elvira’s eyes from afar give her a surprised and mischievous look. She flashes her a smug smile, but as soon as she does, her friend’s expression completely shuts down and now it’s one of sheer panic. (y/n) frowns and turns to look at where she’s staring so terrified.

She’s greeted by Tony’s aggressive hands pulling her away from Frank in a sudden movement. He drags her out of the man’s arms, keeping her behind his body. Tony then hits him with his fist. (y/n) widens her eyes with the amount of punches Tony is throwing at Frank and tries to get him off the guy, but he pushes her away. She looks around and people surround them, watching the fight in silence and astonishment, however no one moves a finger to help break it up. Of course. It’s Scarface.

No one would dare stop him.

Frank managed to leave a blow on Tony’s stomach, but he couldn’t dodge another punch to the jaw and fell to the ground, looking dizzy. When she thought Tony would back down and leave it at that, he went over to Frank’s body on the floor and striking him wildly again. She was desperate for help to separate them, but nobody did anything. (y/n) tried to pull Tony away from him and he pushed her once more, only this time she didn’t give up so easily. She grabbed his arm with all the strength of a slightly intoxicated person and made him look at her. The fury in his eyes slowly seemed to soften and he dropped Frank’s semi-conscious body.

Once on his feet, Tony looks around him, menacingly showing his gun tucked into his pants. Everyone scatters like startled ants immediately, without him having to say a word. When they’re alone, he glances at Frank one more time and looks back at (y/n). His anger seems to have returned.

“I wish I done that to you”, he begins, his thick voice making her shiver. She takes a step back, but he grabs her by the neck and pulls her close again. “Lucky for you, I’m doing good lately, baby. So I’m generous, you know? But you both should be fucking dead now.” (y/n)’s hands start to shake and her eyes water instantly at his words, fear taking over her entire body. She tries to free herself from his grip, but he won’t let her. He continues, “you are mine. Ain’t no one touching you but me from now on. Got it?”

“Yes”, she chokes, tears falling down her face uncontrollably.

Tony, however, doesn’t seem to feel any remorse for her deplorable state. Finally his hand lets go of her neck and she takes a deep breath, sobs leaving her throat aggressively. (y/n) gets as far away as possible and before she knows it, she’s running away. He doesn’t come after her, which she mentally thanks. She felt so scared and angry at that moment that she couldn’t think of anything but running, running for her life.

♡♡♡

(y/n) got home and locked the door thoroughly. She isolated in her room and cried herself to sleep. It was dawn when she managed to close her eyes and rest for a few hours, only to be woken up by a loud noise outside the next day. There were loud bangs on the door, nearly knocking it over. Her breath hitched and she made sure to lock the bedroom door. Maybe she could just pretend nobody was home.

Another banging thud, now it sounded like someone jumping on the floor. Then there was yet another furious knocking, this time on the front door. Her stomach turned. A bang on the window echoed in her ears and (y/n) began to cry profusely, sobbing in terror. A crash startled her and her eyes widened seeing the wooden blinds breaking in front of her.

She unlocked the bedroom door in a second and ran behind her apartment, opening the kitchen door as it lead to emergency stairs. Footsteps approached once she managed to get out and run across someone’s yard. She looked for somewhere low enough for her to reach so she could climb, finding a little doghouse in the corner. There wasn’t anybody or anything around, thankfully. However, as soon as she started to take off, big arms grabbed her waist from behind, pulling down her body violently.

She kicked as hard as she could, but Tony wouldn’t let go. He towed her back into her house and locked the kitchen door, dragging her by the arm back to her room. He threw the girl on the bed without any delicacy and looked at her from where he was standing. She continued to cry copiously, all her strength quickly draining away. (y/n) crouched close to the headboard and watched him sit on the far side, studying her in silence.

“Crying ain’t doing you no good, baby.” She turns her face to the wall and he walks in her direction, crawling until he’s next to her. He whispers in her ear, “you can’t win for losing.”

“Shut up!”, she pushes him away, taking Tony by surprise. He looks at her with raised eyebrows, but he doesn’t look annoyed.

He looks pleased.

“C’mon, now”, Tony approaches again, grabbing her chin to make her eyes stay on his. “Now, now you look like the fucking girl I met in that station. Badass baby”, (y/n) tries to pull away, but he doesn’t let her and gives her a forced peck. His stubble scratches her face and she grimaces, dodging and breaking the contact. This seems to irritate him deeply, because in the next second, his palm meets the soft skin of her cheek and the sensation burns. Tony pointed in her direction, warning, “don’t you ever do that again.”

“I do whatever the hell I want”, she spits out, not caring about the consequences at this point.

He gets hold of her neck, glaring. “No. You do what I want, you bitch.”

(y/n) smirks, mockingly. “You think you’re offending me? How cute.”

Tony then slaps her again, this time much harder, and she laughs out loud at his fragile ego. She pulls herself together and faces him again, pretending not to be shaken. Tears have dried under her eyes and she only cracks a half smile, taking in his scowling features. “You men are such a joke, so easy to figure out.”

“Careful, baby”, he says in a warning tone, making her chuckle once more.

“Who do I have to be careful with, you?”, she asks smugly, smacking the hand he lifted to squeeze her neck again. Tony is surprised, although he’s trying really hard not to show it. “You...”, she continues, lightly touching the collar of his shirt. “Who would never hurt me with a gun?”, (y/n) mimics his thick voice. He seems to get annoyed at that and takes her hand away from where it was, which makes her smile victoriously.

Okay, so it’s not so bad having a criminal with a crush on her.

“Shut up”, he orders.

She simply shrugs and brings her face closer to his. Tony places a gentle kiss on her lips and excitement burns inside her as his palm goes straight to her ass, squeezing it. “Hold up, cowboy”, (y/n) mutters, although not really caring about his impatience. “Wanna explain to me what was that about last night?”

“Told you, you’re mine.” He reiterates casually, trying to pull her onto his lap and kiss her, but she doesn’t allow it. Tony frowns again, speaking with a heavy accent, “what is it now?”

“You almost killed the guy”, (y/n) points out. She didn’t want to make him feel remorseful or anything, she knew he just wouldn’t; it was all on her curiosity about the sick psychology in his head. She touches the collar of his shirt again and looks into his eyes, the most sincere she’s been so far, and practically begs, “what do you want from me, Tony?”

Something very similar to confusion runs through his brown orbs, but it’s only for a millisecond, as he looks at her sternly right after. His hands remain promptly by each side of his body, and it makes her a little bit relieved he’s respecting her wishes. It’s a start.

Of what exactly, (y/n)?

“I want you, baby”, he says. His voice doesn’t betray any kind of vulnerability, though his gaze conveys less solemnity than his words. She watches him in silence until her eyes inevitably water. Tony frowns and touches her face quickly, holding her like she was the most delicate thing in the world. “What is it?”

How can he not see? How does he have the courage to even ask what happened? Or are his actions merely impulsive and completely thoughtless, is that it? Does he not know that he was just hurting, hitting her? Does he not know that he was just insulting (y/n) and treating her like a goddamn worthless object? Because the same hands that slapped her cheek minutes ago are now hugging her and stroking her back, as if in an attempt to ease her loud sobs.

She hears his voice in her ear, soothing, kissing her neck lightly. Maybe it’s all a dream, a hallucination in her head as she’s unconscious with this man doing God-knows-what to her. But it is not. His touch is as real as it was the last time, his pleasure intertwining with hers in a magnificent, if improvised, dance. And it’s as real as the first time their lips met, in a sheer display of power and dominance on his part, but which now reminded her only of a caress exchanged between two lovers. A comfort.

“(y/n)...”, his deep voice calls again, however her eyes are glazed over the shattered window in front of her. He lifts her face to look at him and there’s a kind of desperation in his expression, even if it’s held back by pride greater than his own ego, if that’s possible. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“I know.” She hears herself speak, sort of in reflex, since it was true. She knew deep down he didn’t mean to hurt her. Maybe at first, yes, but then... Following that afternoon, a new chapter of this crazy story began to unfold. And they are entering one more after last night.

“It’s true”, he reenforces, and (y/n) really wishes she had the strength to tell him that it’s okay, she understood, but the truth is that she was tired. Sold out. It had been so long since she had slept or eaten anything and she felt her limbs giving up on supporting her body at any moment. “(y/n)”, Tony insists, yet his voice is already a low sound that becomes more and more distant in her mind.

Soon she doesn’t feel anything anymore.

♡♡♡

The first time (y/n) opens her eyes, everything is blurry. On the second attempt, she notices a figure sitting on the chair beside her bed and a dim light coming from the window. On the third blink, she realized she had probably passed out—for how long was her first question, as the sun outside seemed to point at one or two in the afternoon.

Tony was silently watching her as she positioned herself and felt her head almost explode into a thousand pieces. Her throat was dry, an unparalleled taste of shit in her mouth reminding her she hadn’t even brushed her teeth due to everything that had happened that day since she woke up. A sigh escaped her lips and (y/n) closed her eyes again, giving up on her efforts to sit up against the headboard. She felt so weak. Her fingers were trembling slightly and she was freezing to death, even with the sun at its peak and all the covers over her on the bed. She felt dizziness enveloping her body and thought she was going to faint again, but a large, rough, careful hand touched her arm.

Tony looked hesitant, worried, recluse even. His eyes didn’t leave hers for a second and she felt slightly invaded, undressed as his irises watched over her without blinking. She stared at his palm on her forarm and tried to calm down, although her heart hammered inside her chest. “You didn’t eat anything today, did you?”, he asks, but it’s a rhetorical question.

Tony then leaves her alone, not waiting for an answer, and returns with a plate in one hand and a glass in the other. (y/n) stares at the image in front of her and feels like chukling, but she contains herself. Instead, she sits up with some difficulty as he hands her the meal, returning to his rightful place on the pink chair. She takes a couple of bites and a huge relief rushes through her body as the food reaches her stomach. It had been almost a day since she had anything to eat. She didn’t even know how she didn’t vomit her ass off with all the alcohol she had last night.

The girl sipped the juice as she paid more attention to her surroundings. Tony took care of her while she was unconscious and even cooked. He, the hitman who scared even the most dangerous gangsters in Miami, cooked her a stroganoff and made her an orange juice. It sounded like a scene from a sugary romance movie.

“It’s just a hangover”, she finally speaks up, her throat still a little dry.

“It’s not”, Tony turns around and sits leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, looking at her intently. She gazes at her plate and continues to eat in silence, while he continues, “I’m real sorry, (y/n).” If she hadn’t been so tired, she would have spit out her juice in surprise. (y/n) glanced at him completely horrified, as if he had confessed to an atrocity. Tony stays with the same solemn expression, a little less proud now.

“For what?”, a shiver runs down her legs. She didn’t want to be insistent, but curiosity was killing her inside.

Tony, on the other hand, didn’t seem bothered by the question. “For hitting you. And for doing all of that last night.”

“You shouldn’t apologize to me for what you did”, she mutters bitterly.

Tony only shrugs. “I didn’t mean to hit you.” He repeats, and she closes her eyes when all that tangle of feelings hits her chest once more. He reaches over and takes her hand, giving her a pleading look. “I swear I ain’t ever laying a finger on you again, baby. You gotta believe me.”

Her eyes water involuntarily and she holds his hand back firmly, looking at him with a half-broken smile, trying in vain to give him some comfort. “I know”, she begins, voice cracking at the end. “I know, okay? You were angry. I understand.”

Tony scowls and shakes his head. “No. (y/n), that’s no excuse. I shouldn’t...”

“I know. It was wrong, Tony, I know, but you didn’t think straight. And neither did I, actually. It happened, there’s no reason to dwell on it. Everything is fine, really.” She looks into his eyes once more and smiles when he nods after a while, still a little hesitant. The girl brings his hand to her lips and kisses it slowly.

He smiles weakly. “You scared the fuck out of me, you know”, he mumbles, and there’s a hint of desperation in his voice. “I thought I did something to make you pass out. The fear, I don’t know...”

“That wasn’t it. I’m not afraid of you, Tony”, she assured him, since it wasn’t a total lie. When he was just him, without that domineering, abusive criminal side, she wasn’t afraid of Tony. No longer. (y/n) sighs and finishes her meal, setting her plate on the table beside her, feeling considerably better. “Come here”, she extends her arms to him and Tony goes without blinking, hiding his face in her neck and lying with her on the bed.

She didn’t know exactly what that meant. Having sex with a murderer who only mistreated her already wasn’t so understandable, but having some kind of relationship with him? It sounded pathetic in her mind. It’s not like he would even want anything to do with her besides sex, but she couldn’t believe that as the seconds went by and he kissed her neck so softly, apologizing endlessly for his transgressions, mumbling that he would never hurt her again, that she’d never need to be afraid of him again...

Her head was going to explode.

(y/n) looked down to meet his gaze and stroked his hair, smiling like a lovestruck idiot. She just couldn’t believe this was happening—and somehow she did. Because of course she wouldn’t resist for long. Even when she was shaking like a leaf, still she couldn’t fight his caresses, imagine it now that Tony seems so willing to make up for all his mistakes?

“Antonio...”, he mutters, barely audible, making her frown. He gives her a small smile and kisses her, mumbling against her lips, “my name.”

“Really?”, (y/n) asks in disbelief, since now she was probably the only person in town who got that information, but Tony seemed more than comfortable sharing it with her.

He’s still looking at her with the same little smile on his face. “Really. Why?” He lifts his body to rest on one arm, staring at the girl with some amusement.

She grins and kisses him again, leaving several pecks on his stubble. “For nothing. It’s just a really nice name.”

Her eyebrows dance and he laughs, making her insides melt at the sound of his laughter. It was the first time she heard it and she didn’t want to hear any other sound for the rest of her life. It was such a full 180 from the big, bad Scarface.

(y/n) knew “I want you” was very far from “I love you”, but that knowledge didn’t stop her heart from skipping a beat whenever she remembered those words. Besides, even if the latter was the case, it was just never going to be that simple with Tony. She looked at his sparkling brown eyes and let out a deep, dreamy sigh. She was down hard for that dangerous, dangerous man, yet there was nothing but softness inside of her as he held her into his arms. What he did away from her could be as ugly as it came to be, and it still would never compare to how warm she was in his presence—be it for the anger, for the lust or for the comfort he made her feel. So, it was fine. She could handle it.

She’s always been a bit of a troubleshooter, anyways.

#scarface #tony montana #scarface x reader #tony montana x reader #tony montana imagine #al pacino #al pacino x reader

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idontplaytrack · 8 months ago

Text

Bad Rep

Olivia Benson x teen daughter reader au(sans Noah)

Warnings: typical svu episode-type of content, mentions of violence, homophobia.

In which, the squad meets reader, Captain Benson’s daughter under less than ideal circumstances.

“Benson.” With her phone held between her shoulder and ear, Olivia was looking through a case file and looking up information on her laptop. However, what she heard on the other end of the phone caused her to stop all her work.

“I’m on my way. Thank you for calling me.”

Fin was standing by her door, about to knock. “Everything okay, Liv?”

“Uh, no. I just got off the phone with y/n’s school. She got into a fight with someone.”

“Your daughter. Who’s never acted out before.” Fin stated.

“I know that, Fin.” Olivia hurriedly grabbed her coat, “It’s more than that. The school said it was because a student called her names and…hit her.”

“You want me to come with?”

“We might actually have a case.”

“We?” He asked.

“We’ll talk as we move.” Olivia sighs, rushing out of her office and hastily telling Rollins to hold down the fort for a couple hours.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’ll tell you guys more when I get back.”

Fin held the elevator door open for her. She gets in, shoving her phone into her coat pocket.

Fin offers to drive and Olivia let him, knowing that she was upset so he wouldn’t let her drive anyway. “Okay, you wanna fill me in?”

“I’m betting that it’s a…hate crime.”

Took Fin a few seconds, but he got it. “Okay. y/n’s gay?”

“She came out to me a few months ago. Though she didn’t need to- I always kinda knew and I just didn’t really care. As long as she was happy, and healthy. Safe…which she isn’t, now.”

“I won’t say anything until she brings it up while we take her statement. Though, officially…”

“All clear on that, Fin. We both know how that works.” Liv exhales, leaning her head back in her seat.

————

“The guy punched me first.” You said, holding your cheek in your hand.

“I’ll need names, y/n.” Fin says.

“Names? This isn’t a police matter.”

“Ms. Allen.” Liv put her hands together as she spoke, “My daughter has never been violent with anyone. This isn’t the first time she’s gotten injured on school grounds.”

“So you’re pushing the blame on my other students?” Ms. Allen retorted.

“No one’s blindly blaming anyone. y/n who punched you?” Olivia asked.

“Jamie Morrison.” You revealed. “Today, and last month. Six weeks ago, he vandalised my locker and called me a ‘motherfucking sinner’.”

Fin was appalled, Olivia was simply at a loss for words. She had no clue what exactly went down during the previous instances, but knew that you’d gotten hurt at school.

“Did he say why?”

“What do you mean?” You bit back a scoff, “He said to leave his sister alone. All I did was go on a lunch date with his older sister Vanessa one Saturday- which she asked me out for.”

“Vanessa? The senior in your AP History class?”

“Yes, Ms. Allen. That’s her.”

“Alright.” Ms Allen nodded, “You may go, but if he does try to attack you again, report it to a teacher immediately.”

“No, no, Ms. Allen- we need to talk to the boy now.” Fin stopped her, “His sister as well.”

“Very well, then.” She sighs, calling for a staff member to get Jamie and Vanessa to the office.

“y/n, come on. I’m signing you out early.” Olivia took you by the hand to the front desk while Fin stayed behind to talk to Jamie and Vanessa Morrison. Your Mom tells you she was taking you to the doctor but you refused. But of course, she insisted and you knew she’d win. After getting checked out by a doctor and your mother learning that nothing was broken, she finally quiets down and let you drift off.

————

“Mom, please. You can go back to work, I’ll be fine.” You dropped your backpack down by the TV console after kicking your shoes off.

“I’m going to, just- wanted make sure you were settled.”

“I think I am, so please just-”

Liv got the hint, throwing her hands up in mock surrender, “Okay, I’m gonna head back to the precinct. If you want anything to eat, either call for delivery or if you want to cook - please be careful.”

“I’m alright, just have a swollen eye and cheek. I’m not dying.” You shooed her away.

She nodded, “Okay. Alright, I’m leaving. Love you, sweet girl. Get some rest.” You forced a smile and she turned to leave. The front door shut with a significant thud sound and you waited several seconds until she was out of earshot before you let the waterworks begin and curled up on the couch.

“Captain, you’re back.” Holiday noticed. Rollins looked up from the paperwork pile on her desk, “Liv. Where’s Fin?”

“Talking to a couple students at y/n’s school. She got punched earlier today and we just found out there’d been other incidents. Same student involved.”

“I’m sorry about that.” Holiday replied.

“What happened? It’s our case?” Amanda questioned.

“Yeah, and officially, I’ve got to recuse myself so let’s just wait for Fin to get back so he can fill you guys in properly because I didn’t talk to the kids- he did.”

An hour later, Fin returns to the precinct. And he immediately gave the whole squad- Liv included, everything. “y/n’s the tip of the iceberg. Vanessa’s a good kid, really likes y/n. But Jamie, the younger brother who’s in y/n homeroom, he’s had a history of violence. He’d been expelled from his old public high school in freshman year, then again the next year. Last year, he got enrolled at Willow Academy.”

“What’s his sister gotta do with this?”

“He’s been after y/n after he found out Vanessa went out on a date with her.”

“And what’s wrong with that? His sister should be able to do whatever she wants. How’s that his business.”

“Probably can’t accept his sister’s gay and likes girls. A homophobe, really.”

“Did you talk to any other students, Fin?” Liv glances at him.

“Talked to his classmates, his basketball team. All of them only had praises for him, girls said they found him cute.” Fin informed the squad, “We need to talk to his girlfriend— Nadine Skinner.”

“She wasn’t in school?”

“Don’t know. She doesn’t go to Willow Acad.” Fin shrugged, “Kid coughed up her address. Lives in midtown.”

“He’s in the system.” Holiday spoke up, “Shoplifting, assault and battery.”

“Okay, Rollins. You’re going to talk to Nadine, find out how he’s like. Then we’ll see where to go with this. “From the looks of it, its a misdemeanour.”

————

“No way he’d do that.” Nadine shook her head.

“Well, see…but he did. Multiple times over the course of the last five years. He’s violent and angry.” Rollins said.

“I’m sorry that happened to y/n but he’s never done anything to hurt me.”

Rollins was about to say something but someone came home. “Jamie.” Nadine’s eyes widened. “Hey.” He greeted, “Who’s this, babe?”

“Detective from SVU.” Nadine told him, “I can’t believe you would do something like that to that girl, Jamie.”

“It’s not worth it.”

“So you really did that?” Nadine’s mouth was agape.

“Does that matter?”

“Yeah, actually.” Nadine scoffs. “You need to go. I don’t want to be with someone like that- hurting someone innocent and claiming to be protecting your sister? Get things clear- your sister’s life isn’t your business. Who she likes doesn’t concern you as much as it does her.”

His jaw clenched as he left without saying a word.

“Do you have anymore questions, detective?”

“No, thank you for your time. If he ever comes back to bother you, call me.” Rollins handed Nadine a name card before leaving.

When Olivia returned home that evening, the house was quiet. You were asleep in your room and there was box containing half a pizza on the dining table. She’d bought your favourite banana pudding on the way home, in an attempt to lift your spirits, but she put that into the fridge and got changed before tidying up the place some.

Helping herself to a glass of red wine, she found herself in front of the TV, but it wasn’t long before you woke up. “Mom, you’re home.” You saw her sitting on the couch when you walked out from your bedroom. “Hi, baby.” She had her hand on the low of your back, “How’s the pain?”

“Bad, but I’m managing.”

Liv nodded emphatically, “I assume you already ate? I bought you banana pudding.”

“Yeah, thanks Mom.” You sat down beside her, grabbing the TV remote from the coffee table. You turned it on, subsequently squinting at the brightness of it after being in a dark room for the past…three hours. “Did you eat yet?”

“Uh, no.” She says, “I’m gonna go heat up some of that pizza you bought.”

“Mom, can I tell you something?” You interjected.

“Of course, honey.” Olivia responded as she laid out a small sheet of foil and placed two slices of the pizza on it. Sprinkling some water onto the slices, she popped them into the air fryer.

“Vanessa came by earlier to check on me. She brought the pizza, though I was about to order the same thing.”

“That’s okay. Very nice of her to do that.”

“I really like her, Mom. Jamie’s making it so difficult for us.” You fought pack the urge to sigh.

“We have a case against him, he has history- but it’s a misdemeanour according to the ADA.”

“I know- people at school know he has a history of violence and stuff. It’s not hard to find out when he’s the most popular guy in school having his name Googled every other day.” You revealed. “But what? Because Vanessa’s the ‘queen bee’, she can’t like someone who isn’t in her social circle?”

“Important thing is, Vanessa likes you. And you like her. And let me do my job to go after Jamie- it’s our job to make sure he takes responsibility for what he does.”

“He’s hit Vanessa before. Did she tell Fin that?”

“No…” Olivia bit her cheek, searching for her phone, “I’m text him.”

“She showed up to with scratches on her cheek and her jaw…it was bruised. She didn’t want to tell me, but eventually, she did. It happened after we went on our first date- he saw that I gave her a card and this cheap bracelet I made.” You explained, “Sorry, I didn’t mention this. It- I was out of it.”

“It’s okay, I get that.” Olivia assured right as the air fryer went off. “Babe, do you want the banana pudding now?”

“Sure.”

You spent the rest of the evening watching sitcom reruns with your Mom, something you absolutely cherished. It wasn’t very often she was home this early. “You wanna take tomorrow off?” She asked casually.

“Would be nice.” You shrugged.

————

“He’s given all the people he attacked, bad reps.” Liv says.

“We figured.” Holiday crosses her arms.

Carisi walks into the precinct, “We can charge him with simple assault. He faces up to a year of jail time, or if he takes a deal- community service and mandated anger management classes, therapy.”

“Did he take the deal?”

“Of course. He agreed to it before his attorney could say anything.”

Liv scoffs, “Okay, well. That’s the best we can do.”

“How’s y/n, Liv?” Rollins asked.

“She’s…fine? Had her stay home today.”

“That’s probably for the best.” Fin glances at her, “Alright, I’m gonna go get lunch- who wants what?” While squad chattered away, discussing about what to eat, you enter the precinct. Unannounced. “y/n.” Fin noticed, “Everything okay?”

“Yeah. It’s lunch so I came to see if I could join mom.”

“Of course.” Liv saw you, “Hi, sweetie.”

The rest of the squad took care of you like you were their own. You were really grateful for them, and that your Mom had such great company at work. “Hi, y/n.” Rollins, Carisi and Holiday echoed one another.

“Hi, guys.”

“Okay, last call, y’all- lunch orders. Otherwise text them to me.” Fin announced. Carisi offered to tag along. And, off they went. Rollins suggested Chinese food, which the rest of you agreed on.

“So…Vanessa, huh?”

“Amanda.” Olivia chided.

“Yep.” You laughed lightly, “Anyway, Mom? Vanessa asked me out for lunch and a movie this weekend.”

“Go ahead. Have fun.”

“God, I miss being young.” Rollins sighs.

#olivia benson #svu25 #alternative universe #mariska hargitay #amanda rollins #law and order svu #fin tutuola #female reader #reader insert

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cursedbeasts · 16 hours ago

Text

An illustrated guide to the Dread Masters

This will recap the complete story of the Dread Masters in the game Star Wars: the Old Republic. It is separate from both instances of my headcanon lore, which I think I will eventually make posts on as well. Just canon information, information from a few cut codex entries, and some minor speculation here.

I wrote this to have something to link to people instead of 10 disparate wiki articles.

Also I hope it has a bit more flair than a wiki article!

The Dread Masters were a group of six Sith. They served Emperor Vitiate of the Sith Empire for over a thousand years.

Most Sith are wildly selfish and individualistic. The Dread Masters were unique in that they were strongest when they worked together. They only achieved full power when meditating in unison, and were bound together by a powerful Force Union.

About a thousand years ago, Emperor Tenebrae gathered six promising Sith together. He sent them to a remote moon called Oricon, to study the mysterious Phobis Devices.

The Phobis Devices were three artifacts imbued with the Dark Side of the Force. When activated, they drove everyone around them mad with fear. Only the strongest of Force Users were able to survive the onslaught and master what the Devices had to offer.

At some point during the following centuries, Emperor Tenebrae took the main Phobis Device, the Core, and entombed it within the Dark Temple.

The six Sith were the ones to succeed. They returned to Tenebrae, and from then on, they were known as the Dread Masters.

They made Oricon their home, and stayed there in seclusion unless Tenebrae had need of them.

Oricon

Oricon is a remote moon in an unnamed star system located in the Outer Rim, not far from the area known as the Seat of the Empire. It is volcanically active, and the Dark Side is strong there.

The Dread Masters weren't the first to set foot on Oricon. Before them, a Sith Alchemist named Darth Vitus made it his lair. He left behind monsters he created using Sith Alchemy.

The Dread Masters imported thousands of slaves to build their stronghold on Oricon, an intimidating palace surrounded by an elaborately constructed fortress. Dread Masters Brontes and Tyrans oversaw the construction, making sure the fortress is secure. The Palace sat on an island surrounded by a lake of lava, and the Fortress was the only means of entry. Elevated roadways connected the Palace to two smaller towers and an outpost on the mainland.

The slaves met a horrible fate. When the construction finished, they all were expended in Dark Side rituals and other horrific experiments in the depths of the very halls they toiled to build.

The Dread Masters

Raptus

Raptus, the most eloquent of the six, became the informal leader of the group. Haughty and vain, Raptus was quick to smite anyone who disrespected him or the Dread Masters. He was capable of convincing others to act against their very character with words alone.

His sanctum in the Dread palace was a narrow, somewhat claustrophobic throne room. When challenged, he transported the opponents to a series of platforms suspended in a gloomy abyss.

Bestia

Bestia was powerful, possibly the most powerful of the six in terms of raw strength in the Force, and ferocious. Long ago, she drew the Emperor's attention when, as a mere apprentice, she quelled a slave uprising all by herself. She became an enforcer of sorts, responsible for communication between the Dread Masters and the Emperor. She brought the Dread Masters' insights to him, and in return, brought the Emperor's orders back to the Dread Masters.

Her sanctum in the Dread palace, called Sanctuary of Dread, was a large room completely overgrown with corruption, with a throne in the middle. Corrupted beasts milled about.

Styrak was a Sith Alchemist of considerable strength. His cruel experiments claimed the lives of many sentient and beastly subjects. He was solitary, often embarking on excursions away from Oricon.

He seemed to be fond of Kell Dragons, smaller cousins of the legendary Krayts, often seen accompanied by one.

Calphayus had a family once. Family that he did not fear. The Dread Masters became his twisted new family, and he became the most powerful prophet of them all. He sees all, the past, the present, and the future. Because of that, his insights are often difficult to understand.

His sanctum was a lush garden once, an oasis on Oricon's otherwise gloomy surface. It is a stark contrast to the other known sanctums of the Dread Masters.

Tyrans was a shrewd tactician. He didn't speak unless he deemed it necessary. His favourite trick was to sow dissent and discord in enemy ranks and then watch them go after each other's throats.

He was involved in the construction of the Dread Fortress, laying many traps and making sure it is impregnable.

His sanctum within the Dread Palace was a duel chamber with a trap floor. The tiles winked in and out of existence on Tyrans's whim, forcing any training Dread Guard or intruder to be light on their feet lest they suffered an unpleasant fall.

Brontes was a scholar, and her focus was Dark Side artifacts. This field of study took its toll on her, and she doesn't remember much, if anything, about her past. Her title was the Architect of Fear, earned by contributing to the construction of the Dark Temple on Dromund Kaas, and, likely, the Dread Palace. Her writings can be found in the libraries of the Sith Academy on Korriban.

She also seemed to have a keen interest in cybernetic augmentation. Her creations roamed the Dread Fortress, and she herself is augmented with four mechanical tentacles that serve as both weapons and additional limbs.

The War and Capture

The Dread Masters stayed in seclusion on Oricon or in their sanctum on Dromund Kaas for centuries, emerging only to accept gifts from their followers and to bring visions to the Emperor.

Three centuries before the Galactic War, the Emperor brought them a new subject for their tortures: Revan, a hero who had been both Jedi and Sith. They had tried to kill Tenebrae and failed.

Even later, when the Galactic War set the galaxy ablaze, Emperor Tenebrae had the Dread Masters put to use. They traveled the galaxy aboard a dreadnought ship, never stopping to avoid capture. They were able to stop a Republic fleet dead in its tracks by seizing its crews with terror.

Despite all the measures, they didn't evade capture. The Jedi Order sent a team of its bravest, led by Master Jaric Caedan. They boarded the Dread Masters' ship and attacked the six Sith. The Dread Masters, deep in meditation, couldn't put up much of a fight aside from waves of fear they emitted.

The dreadnought was set to self-destruct, so the Empire believed the Dread Masters were killed.

The Dread Masters were imprisoned on the planet Belsavis, where the Republic had a secret prison. They were put in cells in the max security wing. However, their mere presence killed other inmates and living things in a considerable radius. The Republic drugged them to keep them docile, and had them transported even deeper into the prison and put in stasis pods.

Not everyone in the Empire believed the Dread Masters were dead. The Dread Guard, the Dread Masters' followers, learned of the Dread Masters' location, and mounted an attack in hopes to free them. They failed, their ship crashing in an area known as Section X, its cargo of Hunter Killer droids dormant.

After the Dread Masters were captured, the Empire and the Republic signed the Treaty of Coruscant, stopping the war, at least on paper.

Dread Masters, Freed

27 years have passed.

The location of the Belsavis prison was discovered by the Empire. And with that, they learned that the Dread Masters were very much alive. A team of Imperial champions ventured onto the planet's surface, picking up the pieces of a previous, unsuccessful attempt to free the Dread Masters.

Once freed, the Dread Masters set course for Dromund Kaas. There they discovered that the Emperor had been seemingly slain by a Jedi Knight. They also likely retrieved the Phobis Device from the Dark Temple while on Dromund Kaas.

Not seeing anyone worth listening to in the Empire, the Dread Masters returned to Oricon. They started drafting plans for an empire of their own. However, an empire needed territory and an army to defend it and to conquer more territory.

So the Dread Masters gathered their followers. They sent agents into both the Empire and the Republic to seek out those sympathetic to their cause. Most of the new recruits were mind-controlled by the Dread Masters, with the most promising becoming their acolytes.

The followers of the Dread Masters were split into two groups. The Dread Host were non-force users: former agents and soldiers of the Empire and, occasionally, the Republic. The Dread Guard were the Force Users, usually Sith, although a few Jedi have fallen to the side of the Dread Masters as well.

Their uniforms were those of the Empire, but instead of the customary black, they were red. Masks were very common among the Force users, ranging from simple ones to elaborate golden masks similar to those of the Dread Masters themselves. The golden masks appeared to be a higher rank signifier among the Dread Guard and the Dread Host.

The golden masks started without any crests, but grew more adorned as the Dread Guard climbed ranks.

The Dread Host and the Dread Guard seemed to be more welcoming to members of other species than the Empire, but the bulk of it was comprised of former Imperials. Besides, what relief was that, if many of the Dread Host were mind controlled by the Dread Masters?

A new Empire

Once the Dread Masters gathered their army, they struck out into the Hutt Space. They didn't want to attack the Empire and the Republic head-on, likely knowing that even with their mastery of the Force, they would be defeated. So they sought a weaker opponent to seize territory and resources from.

Dislodged from their territories, a faction of Hutts led by one Karagga, has expanded its reach into Imperial and Republic spaces. Teams were sent to Nal Hutta to stop him.

The second conflict between the Empire, the Republic, and, indirectly, the minions of the Dread Masters, took place on the planet Denova. A Trandoshan Warlord named Kephess was quite a challenge for the strike team. Along the way, the strike team began picking up troubling rumours about an enigmatic group called The Masters.

The mystery was solved when visions of the Dread Masters and resurrected Kephess appeared before the strike teams aboard their respective flagships. The Dread Masters used their power on the strike team, and announced that all will fall before them.

The Dread Masters were no longer working in the shadows.

The Dread Masters' forces returned to Belsavis, invading an area known as Section X. They were after a superweapon called the Aurora Cannon. Both Imperial and Republic forces formed camps in the area to stop the Dread Guard's progress.

A great beast named Dreadtooth roamed a desolated courtyard within Section X. Among the spoils that would be looted upon its defeat was a Dread Guard mask, and a mysterious amulet, likely belonging to a Dread guard the beast had killed.

The Dread Masters struck next on a planet called Asation. The world belonged to a species called the Gree. Once, they were among the most technologically advanced species in the Galaxy, alongside the Rakata, who built the Belsavis prison. Now, they are going through a period of decline, grasping for understanding of their own technology

The Dread Masters were after a Gree Hypergate, a piece of technology that allowed teleportation over great distances. A team of Dread Guards, led by Dread Guards Ciphas, Heirad and Kel'Sara, descended upon the surface.

Strike teams from the Empire and the Republic once again arrived on Asation. They fought through the monsters, the automatic defences, and the Dread Guards, only to come face to face with a resurrected Kephess. While they fought Kephess, the Hypergate was opened, luring out a giant tentacled monster, aptly named The Terror From Beyond.

To those who defeated Dreadtooth, looted an amulet from it, and donned the Dread Guard Mask, there was an additional challende to be uncovered.

Beneath the bridge where the three Dread Guards made their stand, there is a cave. Aspiring Dread Guards could venture inside it, and summon a dreadful entity, that would judge their merits. Only those wearing a golden Dread Guard mask survived its judgment.

Once the entity was defeated, it left behind an unsettling glass orb inscribed with glyphs and infused with Dark Side energy. Its purpose was a mystery.

The repeated failures of the Dread Masters' plans caused one of them, Styrak, to strike out on his own once again. He set his gaze on the planet Darvannis, an unremarkable world in the Hutt space region. A large gathering of underworld arms dealers and mercenaries was under way, and Styrak sought to corrupt them from within his lair near Oasis City. That way, the Dread Masters would gain both new recruits for the Dread Host, and a large amount of weapons and other supplies.

At the same time, the Dread Masters attacked the heart of the Empire.

Seeds of Rage and Dread

Long ago, they had constructed a vault aboard a space station called the Arcanum. The Arcanum was made to house the most dangerous of Sith artifacts. One such artifact was the Seeds of Rage.

The Seeds of Rage were created by Lord Fulminiss, a master of Sith Alchemy, with the sole purpose of corrupting other living beings. They were his crowning achievement. When placed near people or animals, the seeds warped them into violent monsters and tainted the environment.

The Dread Masters stole the seeds and buried them across the Galaxy.

The seeds were likely reverse engineered by the Dread Masters to derive a corruption known as the Dread Seed. Unlike the Seeds of Rage, Dread Seeds focused on heightening fear responses in those around them, and on corrupting the environment so that the very ground exudes fear.

Fall of Styrak

Meanwhile, Styrak's activity on Darvannis didn't go unnoticed. The huge underworld gathering drew the attention of the Empire and the Republic, who once again sent in strike teams to investigate.

They fought through underworld forces until they arrived at a hidden gorge. A throne was set up in the back, and one of the Dread Masters paced in front of it, accompanied by a fearsome Kell Dragon.

Styrak was behind everything. He set up the gathering so he could perform a ritual that would shatter the free will of the gathered mercenaries and arms dealers, securing manpower and weapons for the Dread Masters.

The strike team attacked Styrak and his Dread Guard acolytes. The Acolytes fell first. Then, Styrak's Kell Dragon jumped into the fray, biting and rending the attackers with its claws.

The Kell Dragon was struck down, enraging Styrak. He summoned a massive Force Storm and attacked the strike team personally. He sent nightmares and apparitions at them, and brought down lightning upon them. It was not enough. In the end, Dread Master Styrak lay dead next to his Kell Dragon and his acolytes.

Styrak's death tore through the Dread Masters' Force bond. Their plans of an empire were all but forgotten in the face of despair and pain and madness. Their plans now narrowed down to either finding a sixth to replace Styrak, or bringing destruction upon the Galaxy. They wanted death, to join Styrak in oblivion. And they wanted to take the Galaxy down with them.

Controlling the underworld gathering may not have been the only goal Styrak was pursuing on Darvannis. An ancient Sith tomb can be found in a cave near Oasis City. Within it dwells a presence. It can be summoned by providing it with weakened prey it could drain of its remaining life.

It is unknown who this hateful entity was. Upon defeat, it left behind an ornate mask similar to those of the Dread Masters. Likely, the entity was either another Sith who mastered the Phobis Devices, or even their creator. The First Dread Master. Styrak may have been trying to communicate with the entity.

Death of Dread

Shortly after Styrak's death, Oricon's location was discovered by Republic's Strategic Information Service. Chancellor Saresh of the Republic sent an entire fleet to Oricon, only for it to be torn apart by the Dread Masters' powers. The survivors established a small camp. The debris from the ships kept raining down on the moon's surface.

Following that fiasco, Darth Marr of the Dark Council, the defacto leader of the Empire since the Emperor's untimely demise, sent a small team to Oricon, led by one Lord Hargrev. The Empire lost contact with the team.

Both factions then sent hardened champions to Oricon, in hopes of salvaging both operations. Those were the same champions that stopped the Dread Masters before, and who killed Styrak.

The champions rescued survivors from the crashed Republic ships to bolster their ranks. They destroyed the Dread Seed terraforming devices that polluted the air and ground, and they defeated Brontes's corrupted beast.

They ventured into the guard tower, and, upon recovering a datacron held there, received a vision of the Dread Masters.

An Imperial champion received an invitation to become the sixth Dread Master. The Republic champion received an admission of Dread Masters' desire to die.

The way to the Dread Fortress was clear. The gates were open, and the strike teams gathered once again.

To get to the Dread Palace, they needed to fight through the formidable defences of the Dread Fortress.

Brontes herself met them at the approach to the Dread Palace. A hive of mechanical tentacles and a host of failed experiments were at her command. The team was merely a potential set of test subjects, until they weren't.

After a long, grueling fight, Brontes was defeated.

The strike team descended into the Dread Palace.

Grim halls unfolded before them, with four passages leading to each of the remaining Dread Masters' sanctuaries. A small army of Dread Guards stood between them and the Masters.

Dread Master Bestia was the first to challenge the intruders in her sanctum. Her corrupted beasts attacked them alongside Bestia herself. She fought fiercely, but fell nonetheless, retreating deeper into the Palace.

Tyrans was next, welcoming the strike team into his sanctum. Floor tiles disappeared out of existence, plunging the unlucky intruders into the water below. Fire traps activated, giving the strike team even less room to work with, while Tyrans himself teleported around.

After defeating Tyrans and Bestia, The strike team ventured into Calphayus's desolate garden. Since Styrak's death, it has fallen into disrepair, the plants growing wild and neglected and Dread seed corruption creeping in.

Calphayus forced visions of the past and future upon the attackers, moving through the timelines with grace. The strike team braved the visions, and defeated Calphayus and his acolytes.

Raptus was the last one standing. He met the strike team sitting on his throne. They were teleported into the abyss, where they faced challenges atop platforms suspended in the air. All the while Raptus relentlessly poured lightning upon them.

He, too, fell.

The Dread Masters made one last stand in the Dread Council chamber, attacking the strike team together. Even spirits of Brontes and Styrak and his Kell Dragon joined the fray.

In the end, it was not enough.

The Dread Masters fell.

The strike teams returned to their respective camps with news of victory.

The Empire raided the now empty Fortress and Palace, seizing the Dread Masters' research for its own use.

Meanwhile, Calphayus, the last surviving Dread Master, stumbled into the Republic camp. He was alone, his mask was lost, and his mind was clear for the first time in centuries. Republic's Champions took pity on him, and he was taken in by the Jedi order to be healed and evaluated. His fate is unknown after that.

Sources:

Wookiepedia's pages on the Dread masters, Oricon, and Phobis Devices

SWTORista's codex database for the Phobis Devices cut entry

Vulkk's dreadful \ hateful entity lore speculation

Vulkk's how to become a Dread Master guide

#swtor #dread masters #swtor lore #swtor dread masters #star wars #star wars lore

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megu-meow · 1 year ago

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kiss it better - Gojo Satoru

gojo x fem. reader

Summary: Gojo is sad after your break-up.

TW: angst, some swear words, heartbroken Gojo (I feel like he's out of character too, sorry)

There are not many instances Gojo Satoru remembers where his feelings got the best of him. Growing up he developed an attitude through which he didn't get too involved with anything, however, he had a strong sense of what's worth fighting for and what is not. When he met Megumi after killing his father, Gojo couldn't let the boy go through his childhood alone, without a parental figure around, so he took the raven-haired boy in.

When his best friend went rogue, he made a pact to not let anyone feel alone again. At that time, he voiced this to Shoko as well, but the young healer misunderstood him. You see, Gojo Satoru never felt truly alone in his life. He was surrounded by people throughout his life, some were closer to him and some were mere acquaintances, but he never felt lonely, contrary to Geto. Of course, the possessor of the six eyes thought that Suguru was weak for dealing with his feelings by developing insane beliefs, but he couldn't blame him for one second, not even on the day of his death.

Gojo Satoru has strong opinions and an unshakeable sense of self, he doesn't really need anyone to rely on or to be by his side. He just wants to keep the people around him safe, he wants to ensure a brighter future for all of his students, and all in all, he wants the world to be a better place.

So why is it so hard for him to get out of bed lately? Why is it hard to do his job? When did his favorite desserts stop making him feel better?

He knows the answers to all of those questions, but he doesn't want to admit it. He lost a lot of people in his life, and the sorcerer world is full of grief, but you walking out of his life is on a very different level.

The two of you met a couple of months back, you were a new addition to the sorcerer squad in Kyoto, but you requested a transfer to Tokyo after an incident with Principal Gakuganji, you nearly killed the old geezer after you found out that he wanted to have some cursed kid executed. Gojo thought the whole situation was hilarious and he waited curiously for your arrival. He didn't expect you to be so perfect. You were stunning, with a lovely personality. You were passionate, a strong-willed woman with insane abilities and a strong desire to reshape the jujutsu world. You and Gojo quickly became good friends, the two of you fit together like two puzzle pieces. He loved the way you acted with his students, you were easy-going and fun to be around, and you often radiated crackhead energy like Yuji did, the two of you were always up to no good. You often lent books to Megumi, and the raven-haired boy enjoyed talking to you about philosophy and other serious topics, Gojo noticed how the boy often decided to seek your advice in different situations. You also took Nobara shopping a lot and the two of you would often indulge in girly nights where you did your nails or hair and talked about makeup.

It didn't take long for Gojo Satoru to develop feelings for you. How could he not? You were everything the didn't know he needed. You were easy to talk to, you remembered everything he shared, and you kept checking up on him. The last person to ask him about his well-being was Geto and Satoru sometimes felt guilty for comparing you to his best friend, but he couldn't help it.

He asked you out after a few months of meeting you and for some reason, you accepted his advances. He was a great guy, caring and goofy, but he could also give amazing advice due to his many life experiences. It wasn't hard to fall for him and you didn't mind becoming his girlfriend.

"Pretty girl, you are the love of my life, you belong to me. The next time Sukuna makes an appearance and asks you to sit on his throne just tell me and I'll show him the ways of the Honored One." he said playfully one time after Yuji mentioned how the King of Curses had a crush on you.

"Satoru, sweetheart, jealousy is not your color."

"You wound me, my kikufuku. Just say you love me back, pleaseeeee." he whined, embracing you a bit too harshly and you rolled your eyes, amused by the white-haired sorcerer's antics.

"I love you, Satoru. You don't have to worry about anyone else, I'm here to stay."

So what went wrong?

Gojo knew he fucked up. He knew he was an open book and an enigma at the same time. There were things he willingly shared with you and there were some he kept a secret with all he had. He witnessed as the two of you started drifting apart slowly, his own secrets forcing you to start building a wall around yourself so that you could keep yourself safe, away from heartbreak. You could read people easily, especially when it came to Satoru. You didn't need to snoop around to know he wasn't completely honest with you, he kept his missions and anything related to them a secret, you never knew if you were gonna see him the next day or if he would be gone for a few days. It killed you to watch the person you loved the most keeping such important aspects of his life from you. In his defense, everything he did was to protect you from the horrifying truth of what his life actually was and the gloominess and grief he had to carry on his shoulders. He wanted to give you everything that was good and bright in this world, he didn't want you to feel bad ever again. He didn't realize how bad he was hurting you with his attitude.

When you broke things off with him your eyes were full of tears, the salty drops of water were racing down your cheeks and your voice was scratchy and broken. He never wanted to feel the way he did that day. He never felt so heartbroken, not even on the day of Suguru's death. He knew his best friend was a liability and that there was no way to save him, but your breakup was avoidable. He could have changed, he had many opportunities to be honest with you, but he kept his secrets. He could have spared your fragile heart from all the misery he brought upon you.

"Gojo, you have to wake up. I can't take on any more of your missions, they're getting out of hand." Nanami implored, as he stood at the foot of the white-haired sorcerer's bed. Satoru was hiding under a pile of blankets, one with cute Dalmatian puppies sitting on top. It was one he bought on a mission knowing that the animated movie 101 Dalmatians was your childhood favorite. You left it there on accident and for some reason, Gojo failed to put it away after your breakup.

"Okay, I'm up." he groaned, getting out of bed and walking into his closet to put on his uniform. Nanami observed his senpai, he looked... rough. The bounce was missing from his steps, his hair was messy, tangled into his blindfold and he didn't make any silly remarks towards the blonde since he arrived. The Strongest was truly heartbroken, no-one knew how to make him feel better.

"Fucking breakup." Satoru muttered as he kept punching the special-grade cursed spirit that he was ordered to exorcise upon his return to Jujutsu Tech. Apparently, beating the living shit out of ugly creatures was a great coping mechanism. "Fuck feelings! It doesn't matter how ugly you are, you'll never be as twisted of a curse as love." he said to his opponent, delivering the final blow. He observed as the curse disappeared, heavy breaths were leaving his chest and the bruises on his knuckles healed up in an instant.

"You told me love wasn't a curse after all." he instantly turned around upon hearing your soothing voice. He took in your appearance, you didn't look your best either. Your uniform was hanging looser from your body than before, your skin got paler and your eyes were red and puffy.

"Well, I don't know what to think anymore, because it sure as hell feels like you cursed me when you broke things off." he confesses sadly, his covered eyes glued to his shoes. He feels your energy getting closer to him and he contemplates whether he should stop you or not.

"Toru..."

"Please don't! You're gonna break my heart even more..."

You don't listen, stepping closer to him, touching his cheeks gently. He leans into your touch on instinct, enjoying the close proximity. He knows he'll hate himself later for letting it happen, but he needs this. He needs your touch, he needs to hear your voice, he needs to hear your heartbeat. He needs you.

You slowly lift his blindfold, the soft material feels damp and you instantly notice the salty tears running down his face. You pull him down a bit and you start kissing away the droplets racing down his cheeks. He can't help it, he embraces you, soft and silent sobs wreck through his lanky but muscular body.

"I'm so sorry, my kikufuku. I promise I will never keep anything hidden from you, not again. Just please, come back to me. I can't live without you. I love you, you're my sunshine, my source of happiness, the one that keeps me grounded. Please..."

"I love you too, 'Toru."

"You do?" he asks with hopeful eyes.

"Of course. This breakup was the most horrible thing I had to do, it was torture. I don't want to spend more time away from you…please forgive me, lover boy."

He slightly steps away, but he doesn't hesitate to cup your cheeks, pressing his soft, pink lips on yours. You feel his tears mixing with yours, but you longed for this feeling for weeks now, ever since you two broke up. Suddenly, it feels like a curse has been lifted, everything falls back into place, and Satoru thanks every single god there is that you're back in his arms.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk imagines #jjk x reader #gojo imagine #satoru gojo #gojo satoru #gojo fluff #jjk x you #satoru imagine #gojou satoru x reader #satorugojo #gojo #gojo saturo #gojou satoru #gojo angst

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heqvenlymoons · 9 months ago

Text

I Gave You Immortality, I Can Take It Back Anytime

Daminette One Shot | Soulmate AU | AO3

Marinette Dupain-Cheng has always known she was immortal. Maybe not always.

But there had been multiple instances in her life that proved she was.

Like when she was four, she and Nino had been playing catch when the ball he threw at her bounced and rolled onto the road. Seeing no cars in sight, Marinette had rushed onto the street to grab the ball when a car seemed to have spawned out of nowhere and sped towards her.

She had frozen in fear, not able to move when the car miraculously broke down just as it was about to hit her. Her parents hadn’t let her out of their sight for a while after that incident.

That night, she remembered seeing a boy about the same age as her with green eyes, tanned skin and a permanent scowl on his face as he crossed his arms and looked at her with an air full of superiority as he snapped, “Be more careful.”

She had thought the dream was weird and never saw the boy again until when she was six. She somehow contracted pneumonia and was sent to the ER for a life-threatening emergency.

She slept at the hospital that night, afraid and alone, her parents weren’t allowed in the room as the sickness was contagious.

She saw the green-eyed boy again, this time looking older than he was when she last saw him. His scowl was the same, looking down at her with disapproval as if she had sought out the sickness on her own and gotten sick on purpose.

“Don’t look at me like it’s my fault,” She snapped, unhappy with his disapproving expression.

He looked surprised but the expression was gone as quickly as it appeared, the scowling expression slipping back like it never left in the first place as he spat, “It is your fault! If you never went near that sick person in the first place, you would not have contracted the disease.”

Marinette stomped her foot, unwilling to let the boy talk to him like that. “It’s not my fault I’m sick! Everything hurts! I’m scared and alone, I don’t need to add you yelling at me to the mix.”

By the end of her rant, she was struggling to contain her tears, the frustration of everything she had been holding back while she had been awake came tumbling out.

The boy’s face softened slightly and he shifted, looking uncomfortable at the girl looking so close to tears. He gave a hesitant gentle pat to her head as he said, “Get better soon.”

The following morning when she woke up, her pneumonia had been cured.

Since that night, the mysterious boy appeared more often on days when she got hurt or injured, and with her clumsy nature, she saw the boy every few days.

“I just realized I don’t know your name,” Marinette asked one day as they hung out in the dreamscape.

They were both doing their own thing, with the boy focused on his sketchbook and Marinette working on some colouring book.

He grunted, not happy with the interruption. “That is not important.”

She closed her colouring book and got up to snatch the sketchbook from his hands.

“Hey!” he glared at her, hoping to intimidate her but she was stubborn, not giving in.

“It’s important to me. I want to know who my friend is,” she said, referring to his earlier statement.

“We are not friends,” he grumbled, looking away.

She stuck out her tongue. “Too bad. You’re stuck with me, you always appear when I sleep.”

The boy stubbornly avoided her gaze, focusing on some shelves behind her instead.

“Just tell me your name. Please?” She whined, putting on her best puppy doll eyes, his scowling expression faltering as he all but melted at the adorable expression she was making.

He huffed, trying to act like he was unaffected by the look but Marinette knew better. She had come to figure out his weakness as her puppy doll eyes and she used it to her full advantage.

“Damian. Damian Al Ghul,” he said, glaring at her.

Her smile was bright, his glaring eyes softening immediately and she was happy she had finally got him to tell her his name! He was going to be her best friend, it would be the last thing she did even if he continued to be stubborn.

At 13 years old, she was given the ladybug earrings and became Ladybug, the heroine of Paris.

That came with a price. She was injured more often, her meetings with Damian in the dreamscape every few days turned to every day.

He had somehow known her identity as Ladybug as soon as she saw her the night after the first Akuma and he had thrown a fit about it.

At 16, the akumas had escalated. Before, when the Akumas avoided killing and only stuck to injuries now weren’t afraid of taking more ruthless measures.

Multiple times when Marinette thought she was about to die, something miraculous happens to change it like the universe was being warped to make sure she doesn’t die and in a way, avenges her while it was at it.

About to get lava sprayed and incinerated from an Akuma? The lava gun runs out of lava fuel, allowing her and Chat Noir to catch him off guard to break the akumatized object.

A car getting thrown at her by an Akuma and about to crush her? It missed, somehow ricocheting off a building and hitting the Akuma square in the face.

That one battle where Hawkmoth himself shows up and has her cornered, about to grab her earrings? He gets attacked by his own Akuma.

An Akuma that absorbs the powers of miraculous holders and cataclysms her? Oh would you look at that, the Akuma gets sidetracked at the last second— courtesy of Chat Noir— and the wall behind her disintegrates to dust instead of her.

She could go on. It was absurd and a bit (utterly) ridiculous if she was being honest but at least her life never really seems to be in any real danger.

She had thought maybe it had something to do with her donning the ladybug miraculous and it was giving her insane luck, she even consulted her kwami about it.

Tikki had debunked that theory, looking confused as she did. “I’m not sure what’s happening to you, Marinette, but the ladybug miraculous isn’t the reason. The ladybug miraculous can give you a little luck at times but there must be balance, which means you would also have bad luck days. All those circumstances weren’t the outcome of lady luck and not to mention, you never seem to have any bad luck days. Even when you do, the event always somehow gets altered at the last second.”

Marinette had brought up her theories to Damian but he always looked uninterested and avoided the subject so she stopped bringing them up in the dreamscape.

She had a hunch on why this was happening but she denied it and pushed the possibility out of her mind. Damian never said anything about it, so she wouldn’t either. She was good at denying things, it was how she never figured out Chat Noir’s identity.

Now at the age of 17, Marinette was still contemplating if she was somehow immortal when Scarecrow broke in while her class was given a tour of Wayne Enterprises.

“So this is the famed Akuma Class, you people are the perfect test subjects for my new and evolved fear toxin! I wonder what fears you all have… Oh well, I’m about to find out.” Scarecrow announced, looking around in excitement like a kid in a toyshop for the first time. He pointed to Lila. “You! You look the most scared… Wonder what you’re afraid of, hmm?”

He looked to his henchmen. “Bring her here!”

Marinette rubbed her temples. She might not be Lila’s biggest fan— an understatement— but her hero complex won’t let her stand by and do nothing.

Even when it was completely Lila’s fault that Scarecrow had taken an interest in them— you can’t go around saying how you knew the Waynes and not expect any kidnapping attempts for ransom.

No matter, Marinette can take Scarecrow’s attention off Lila and make him focus on her instead. Marinette knew death avoided her like the plague at this point and if she wasn’t immortal, then maybe she was just insanely lucky.

“Let her go,” She said in a tired voice, not putting much energy into shouting but her voice rang clear in the quiet room as everyone looked fearful.

Scarecrow looked delighted by the prospect of someone volunteering. “Oh, a volunteer I see?”

He waved his henchmen off and they dropped Lila, causing her to tumble to the ground with a gasp, the henchmen moving to grab Marinette instead.

Marinette let herself get manhandled towards Scarecrow as he grabbed his syringe, the pointy tip of the needle gleaming in the light.

The fashionista in her wanted to protest at the sack-like mask he was wearing and she bit her lip to keep from saying anything to anger him. It’s not like she’s seen worse, Hawkmoth has a worse fashion sense if she was being honest.

Of course, her mouth didn’t stay shut for long and spat the words out without her permission, the need to critique his fashion overpowering her self-preservation.

“Nice mask,” She quipped, she couldn’t keep the sarcasm off her tone even when her very life was on the line. “Are you participating in the next potato sack race or are you trying to start a new fashion trend with that?”

Scarecrow’s eyes flashed with anger at her remark and he moved forward, pushing his henchmen out of the way, about to stab the syringe into her bloodstream when she acted on her instincts as Ladybug and sent a roundhouse kick to his face, catching the mad scientist off-guard as he lost his grip on the syringe and fell backwards.

The syringe seemed to have flown in the air in slow motion, the tip of the needle stabbing into the arm of the fallen villain and injecting the fear toxin into his bloodstream, making him get a taste of his own medicine.

Marinette allowed her lips to twitch upwards at the sight, her guardian angel had struck once again. Her slight smile faded away at the thought, not wanting to come to terms with the facts.

She turned to see that Batman, Red Robin, Red Hood and Nightwing had arrived, looking dumbfounded at the scene.

Red Robin stepped forward, looking cautiously at the screaming Scarecrow before addressing her. “Miss? How did this happen?”

Marinette hummed, looking nonchalant. “You can say he got a taste of his own medicine… literally.”

The Batboys burst out laughing at her pun while Batman looked unimpressed.

“What you’re saying is, Scarecrow was hit by his own syringe?” Batman asked, looking suspicious.

She shrugged, looking towards her class to see they were being ushered out by Ms. Bustier.

“I did a roundhouse kick to his face,” She admitted, making eye contact with Ms. Bustier who waited for her at the exit. “It caught him off guard and the syringe was knocked out of his hand before the pointy tip landed on his arm.”

The suspicion in his eyes didn’t clear as he responded, “You must have been extremely lucky. This happened too conveniently, don’t you think?”

Batman was prodding for something but she couldn’t find it in herself to care about the interrogation or to quell his suspicions. “Mr. Batman, I was just in a traumatic situation and now have PTSD. If you don’t mind, I would like to join my class and spend the rest of the day at the hotel to get my mind off of the traumatic experience,”

She could see Red Hood trying not to laugh at her reply as his shoulders shook and she turned away without waiting for how the Dark Knight would respond.

She walked away to join the rest of her class as she heard Batman tell Red Robin to get the cure for Scarecrow.

──────────

As she went to sleep that night, she pushed the day’s events from her mind, and the fading laugh of Scarecrow dissolved into the quiet stillness of the dreamscape.

Damian was already in the dreamscape like usual and was glaring at her with his arms crossed and looking annoyed.

Marinette sent him her brightest smile, hoping to soften his annoyed look at her recklessness.

It worked, his eyes softening, although he didn’t uncross his arms as he pinned her with the look he had on every time she did something that injured or almost killed her.

“I know you did that on purpose. What theory did you think you were trying to prove?” Damian asked, unhappy with her lack of self-preservation.

Her eyes were wide, looking the epitome of innocence. “Did what?”

He scowled, the soft look in his green eyes gone as it glittered with annoyance. “Tt. Don’t you take that tone with me. You know exactly what you did, don’t make me say it. It is getting increasingly harder for me to save you every time.”

To his horror, tears were glistening in her eyes and he tried to backtrack but the damage was done.

“You died, didn’t you? Before we met? You were so young,” Marinette whispered, the tears falling as he didn’t respond. His silence was enough to confirm she had been right all this time.

She looked away, unable to look at him as she came to terms with the facts she had been deadset on denying since young.

Damian reached out a hand and looking hesitant, he moved forward to hug her from behind, his arms going around her waist and causing her to freeze at how he was initiating physical contact.

“Angel, I was never sure how to break the news to you… but it seems like you’ve always accepted the fact, albeit subconsciously. I did not mean to keep that fact away from you.” he said quietly, resting his chin on her shoulder, closing his eyes and savouring the moment.

He was right, even if she was actively denying the fact that he was dead, her subconscious had long already accepted.

Since Damian had died before they met, their soul bond activated upon his death, the universe gifting them with the dreamscape and making it so that they would never be apart, even in death.

There was a catch— she could only meet Damian in the dreamscape if she was injured or came close to death and he warped the universe to ensure she would avoid death.

It was why she had always been clumsy, her heart knew he would be waiting for her in the dreamscape and wouldn’t be able to see her unless she was hurt in some way even if her mind hadn’t accepted it.

Marinette voiced her thoughts out loud and he tugged her to face him, his green eyes meeting her blue ones with an intensity that made her breath hitch.

“I don’t wish to see you hurt, Angel. I do everything I can to make sure you don’t die by saving your life at every turn. You need to stop with your recklessness,” he said, trying to look stern, although he didn’t look very convinced he was going to get through to her.

She was stubborn and he knew it.

He reached out to wipe her tears away with his thumb, his eyes never leaving hers.

“Thank you, Damian, for everything,” she whispered, the weight of her unspoken emotions palpable in the air between them.

With a trembling smile, she tried to lighten up the mood even as her heart felt heavy. “You know I won’t. How else will I see you every night to make sure you aren’t feeling lonely without my company? Besides, I know you will always watch over me.”

Marinette knew her response held some truth to it, she didn’t like the thought of Damian feeling lonely in the dreamscape. She wouldn’t stop being clumsy, if only so she could see him every night in the dreamscape.

He softened at her words, though he still didn’t look happy. “I gave you immortality, I can take it back anytime.”

She went quiet at that, looking thoughtful. “Why don’t you?”

His brows furrowed, a rare show of his confusion. “What?”

She elaborated. “Why don’t you? Take away my immortality that is.”

His brows deepened, not understanding why she was asking him such a thing. “You deserve to be happy.”

Marinette shook her head, stepping closer to him. “What if my happiness is with you? Why do you save me every time when you could’ve let me die to be with you?”

Damian’s eyes held sadness but no signs of regret at his repeated decision to save her. “You deserve to live the life I could not. You have dreams to fulfill and many things to discover in life. It is not your time yet.”

At her shocked silence, he continued. “You don’t know how hard it is to let you go every time. I am afraid that one of these days I will no longer be able to find it in me to let you go and bind your life to mine in the afterlife forever.”

The tears she had managed to keep away started to come back at his heartfelt confession.

“Please, I beg of you, don’t try to die anymore. Live your life, the life that I did not have the chance to live. If not for yourself, then do it for me,” he looked desperate, his stoic mask cracking, allowing her to see every emotion he was feeling.

Her lips quivered, the tears flowing from her eyes and dropping to the white smokey ground, the droplets absorbing into the void like it was never there. “Will I ever see you again?”

Damian allowed himself to smile if only for her sake, the muscles feeling strange at the unfamiliar expression. He could see her eyes dropping to his soft smile and how her eyes were tracing his features, committing it to memory.

“When the time is right. I will always be here when you need me, mon ange. This is not goodbye,” he said, placing a soft kiss on her forehead.

Marinette closed her eyes, allowing herself to bask in his presence before it was time for her to wake up.

She would live her life and fulfill her dreams.

For him.

#maribat #mlb x dc #marinette dupain cheng #damian wayne #damian al ghul #soulmate au #oneshot #angst with a hopeful ending #bittersweet ending #my take on the soulmate au #focuses on the concept of immortality #has supernatural elements #whether they are romantic or platonic soulmates is up to the reader's interpretation

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thecameronchronicles · 2 years ago

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Guy Code

TW: angst. Fluff. Hints at smut.

SUMMARY: Pope's feelings for you come through to the surface.

WORD COUNT: 1100

REQUESTED

Pope has a crush on JJs girlfriend and when he cheats on her he comforts her and confess his feelings

Guy Code

POPE'S POV

I paced long enough that the stone beneath my feet had become worn and tethered from repetition. The speech prepared with each pointless step became iterated in sporadic pronunciation only to ultimately return to a blank page within my mind. Everything conjured from an apology to a full-blown confession weighed in waves within my mind. Just as I convinced myself a clear conscience would free my inability to hold such feelings behind distant smiles, I was reminded of how she was JJ's ex. And yet, at the same instance in which I would recall that detail, I thought of the tears she shed because of him.

Of all of the reckless and even heartless things JJ has done in his endeavors to numb his own emotions, this had been the most bone-headed. And yet any thoughts to console her brought me to the recollection once again that she was forbidden.

And yet, here I stood. Outside her house well beyond an appropriate hour, before that door finally opened.

"Pope? What are you doing here?" My hands hid within my pockets as if I could shield myself the same. And suddenly as my lips parted to speak, every single word from my repertoire disappeared. Even the most basic. Which left only the most unappealing of half enunciations causing her to furrow her brows at me.

"Did you…need something?" But as she asked, the sniffle iterated was enough for me to clench my fists. I was rarely the type of man to exercise emotion. But she deserved to cry from happiness alone. She was sweet and kind and compassionate. The parts of Kiara I may have found rousing. Only she was no more pogue than she was a kook. She was simply a girl whose heart had been broken by my closest friend.

"I..I just wanted to make sure you were alright." I finally managed to explain my presence as she offered a kind smile. But the soft nod offered had become weak after only a single bob.

"Do you want to come in?" I paused. Although she was a mutual friend long before that title changed to JJ's 'anything', accepting this invitation still felt as if I was committing the ultimate betrayal. Even if JJ had been the first to draw blood over our friendship when I'd told him of my interest in her, I believed my feelings for her would fade as she would have been good for him. But I was wrong. About my feelings. About JJ. About her. And because of this, I nodded and motioned to follow her inside against my better morality.

But the second I took a step forward, those words suddenly returned tenfold.

"No…I just came here to see if you were alright…"

"I'm…I don't know what I am…But you came all the way here to check on me?"

I shrugged, acting as if I hadn't spent the last six months waiting for this very moment to transpire. As if my thoughts didn't linger on knowing , for even one second, of what it was like to hold her focus in that way. The kind of mine she always held.

"I'm sorry…About what happened." She became nervous, no longer at ease in her stance.

"Did…did JJ talk to you?"

"He locked himself away in The Chateau after you left…"

"So he didn't tell you anything?"

"Should he have?" She paused, kicking her feet on the cement porch leading to the front door kept ajar.

"You're making me..anxious."

"Me?" She nodded, pulling her hair behind her ear. "You always do…" She confessed as I hesitated to act.

"You should go…" I nodded, taking the loss before even trying for the win. And yet, as I turned to leave, my tail between my legs, I called back to her.

"No….'

"No?"

"You deserve better. I love JJ, but he…you don't deserve what he did."

"Pope-" I took a step forward, knowing if I let her interrupt me that I'd lose the courage to continue to speak.

"Please…Just let me say this once before implode…" She smiled. A soft smile I simply wanted to kiss for remembrance.

"You're…You're brilliant. Stunning. Funny. Talented in everything you put your mind to. Raw and genuine. Giving and compassionate. Inspiring and sweet. And…You deserve someone who knows that…Someone who reminds you of that so much you're tired of hearing it….I'm just sorry he hurt you…"

"He didn't…" My eyes narrowed.

"It should have. But he was right."

"Right? About what?" My curiosity piqued as I took a step forward, more desperate to know than to remain indifferent.

"How you make me nervous. How I can depend on you. How I look at you…It's why…you are why we broke up. Not because he cheated…because I didn't care that he did…I guess a part of me kinda hoped he would." Before I could stop my steps, they were set in her direction. Her hips taken by my grasp before one hand reached for her cheek at the last moment before my lips collided with her own.

The most perfect buss to satiate a need I desired since I'd first met her. A passion and need that had only intensified since that day. And I would remain as long as I could as if to try and convince myself this was reality. After spending most nights and daydreams constructing this vision, it was nearly impossible to differentiate from fantasy. At least it has been until she pulled me deeper against her. Enough until she came to a rest at the paneling of the house.

"I-"

"Just kiss me, Pope…please…" That soft but breathless cadence made me submissive to her. Her touch electrified every nerve as I would remain here until she rejected me or led me further. I would have shed every ounce of myself for her if she would have asked.

"It should have been you…" She breathed as my lips fell down her jaw and to the curve of her neck between her ear and her pulse point, feeling it restless beneath my kiss.

"It is now…" She moaned to the feeling of my hands rising higher from your waist, just brushing the curve of her breasts from beneath. A tease of my thumbs enough to change her course of modesty.

"Come inside…" She bit her bottom lip, leading me over the threshold with interlaced fingers, as I looked behind one final moment before following suit. A smile beaming across my face for the dream made a reality before me. And any consequence welcomed but ignored as I allowed myself to bask in what I would treasure and adore. The girl who should have always have been mine…

TAGLIST: @hopebaker @drewspisces @penny4yourthoughts @magnificantmermaid @pickingviolets @lovedetlost @trikigirl271 @maybankslover @slut4tangerine @slvtherinseeker @obxiskewl @bluesongbird @slut-era @ailee-celeste @camilynn @sweetestdesire @onmykneesforrafe @jjmaybanksangel @phildunphyisadilf @mashdan0916

MASTERLIST

POPE HEYWARD MASTERLIST

MARCH MADNESS MASTERLIST

#popeheyward #pope x reader #pope heyward fanfiction #pope heyward #jonathan daviss #outerbanks #outer banks fanfiction #pope heyward fluff #obx #obx fanfiction #obx fluff

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hunter-the-sad-skeleton · 1 year ago

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What I have figured out for Guardian Alternates so far(Thanks to a friend for one of these things! <3)

The Guardian Alternates function HEAVILY Off of belief(Example, Peter had Stanley manifest as his guardian alternate because he always believed that there was a better dad for him out there, Mark's Intruder manifested because he always believed that there was something out in the darkness), so if their human ever stops believing in them, they'll slowly fade away/revert to normal alternates!

If a Guardian Alternate loses their person, they have a timeframe in which to find a new person before they fade away.(Friend helped me out here!)

A case in which an Alternate is considered a Guardian Alternate, albeit rare, could be when an Alternate gains a close connection to specific person. This is a merely spiritual transition for them, nothing physical changes, they just gain a "protective" instinct towards their person. For instance, say an Alternate found a child all alone and they felt the right amount of pity/love for it. That Alternate is now a Guardian Alternate for that child. This is a rare case, but still a case nonetheless.

A Guardian Alternate MUST care about their person. If they don't it could be bad for both parties involved, in that the Guardian Alternate could revert to a regular Alternate and end up causing severe issues for the person later down the line. They are Guardians, after all.

Guardian Alternates are low-ish on the importance-chain of Alternates, as regular Alternates see them as weaker for caring about humans.

One weakness of Guardian Alternates is that they're HEAVILY IN-TUNE WITH THEIR PERSON'S EMOTIONS. They feel almost every emotion their person so and feel overly emotional when it comes to their person.(IMAGINE HOW FUCKING PISS-POOR SIX WAS FEELING WHEN MARK WAS GOING THROUGH HIS SHIT. MY GOD, THE POOR BASTARD.)

Extra thing post-posting, Guardian Alternates have barely visible wings, they don't do anything aside from act as a visual "tag" to tell them apart from regular Alternates.

Some of these can/will be edited as required as I work out the AU more, but this is what I have so far! <3

#mandela catalogue au #cesar torres #jonah marshall #adam murray #mark heathcliff #sarah heathcliff #evelin miller #thatcher davis #tmc six #tmc intruder #tmc “gabriel”#Guardian Alternate AU #Hunter's bullshittery

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thegayhimbo · 1 year ago

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Stranger Things: The Other Side Review

WARNING: The following review contains MAJOR SPOILERS from season 4 of Stranger Things. It discusses the comic, how parts of it might tie into the upcoming season, and possible theories that may or may not pan out in season 5.

Synopsis: The Other Side explores the week Will spent in the Upside Down (UD) between the evening of November 6th and November 12th, 1983, as he fights to survive the terror within.......

Observations:

When I'm asked to name a great Stranger Things comic, The Other Side comes to mind. Not just because the story is engaging, but because a.) It expands on Will’s character in a meaningful way, b.) It fleshes out a part of the show that audiences wanted more details on (i.e. what was going on with Will in the Upside Down), c.) It’s something that could be considered a part of the canon, and d.) There are aspects of the comic that could either constitute foreshadowing for season 5 (especially for fans who believe Will played some kind of role in the Upside Down being frozen in 1983) or simply provide some juicy theories.

I know there’s a sentiment in the fandom that the Duffer Brothers were hands-off when it came to the comics. While that might have been the case in certain instances, just based on how this particular comic was written, I wouldn’t be surprised if it turned out they sat down with the writers and artists for The Other Side to give them information about what Will was going through in the Upside Down, as well as particulars about how the Upside Down worked.

Speaking of which, Jody Houser is once again the writer for The Other Side. She’s also written the stories for Stranger Things: Six, it’s sequel Into the Fire, the short story The Game Master, Stranger Things: Science Camp, Stranger Things: Dungeons and Dragons, and the currently ongoing comic Stranger Things: Tales from Hawkins. Unlike with Six, there aren’t any continuity errors (at least from what I could tell) and the comic is careful to follow the events taking place in season 1.

Will gets put through hell (no pun intended), but I like how, in spite of that, the comic highlights his resourcefulness, his intelligence, and his bravery. There are several instances where he’s able to fend off the Demogorgon when it comes for him. He manages to draw it away from his mom at one point when it’s about to attack her. He attempts to come to the aid of both Barbara Holland and Hawkins resident Henry when they’re in danger (and is only unsuccessful because the Demogorgon gets to them first). He also deliberately acts as a distraction for the Demogorgon to protect Nancy when she later ends up in the Upside Down and is cornered by the monster:

Will was responsible for saving Nancy’s life in season 1 without her realizing it.

On top of that, the comic manages to balance both the Upside Down arc with Will’s flashbacks to previous D&D campaigns he had with his friends as he draws on those experiences while making choices in the UD about whether to hide, fight, run, or come to the aid of others. It also contains a great moment of Will and Mike bonding in the library over D&D and Stephen King:

They lay it pretty thick here that out of all of Will’s friends, he’s closer with Mike. In one of the later comics, Stranger Things and Dungeons and Dragons, Mike even goes out of his way to design a D&D campaign specifically to help Will recover from his trauma of being in the Upside Down. This has always been an emotionally gripping relationship, and I'm hoping things end well between them by the time season 5 is over.

Mike’s words to Lucas, Dustin, and Will in one of the flashbacks was also another aspect that stuck out: “It isn’t a contest to see which of you is the strongest or can get the most kills. You live as a party, or you die alone.”

It's a recurring theme in each season that every main character, from the adults to the teens to the younger kids, play a role in defeating the malevolent forces of the Upside Down. It’s always been a team effort. Vecna knows this entire group poses a threat to him, which means he will inevitably step up his game and do something to irrevocably break the group and separate them so he can pick them off one-by-one. I’m still convinced that at least one or two (or maybe more) main/recurring characters will end up dead by the time season 5 is over. It’s a question of who it will be, and how it will happen.

The Demogorgon’s behavior during the comic left a lot to think about: Unlike other victims, like Dale and Henry where it proceeded to make a meal out of them, the Demogorgon seemed more invested in trying to capture Will instead of outright killing him. There are several instances when it corners Will, which forces Will to use his gun to defend himself, only for the monster to disappear before Will can cause it any real damage:

Based on how many times it keeps appearing at (or near) the Byers house in the comic, it had to knows Will was hiding there. Just like in the show, it isn't until the very end when the Demogorgon finally succeeds in taking Will to its nest for Will to get impregnated with the pollywogs that he later vomits up after escaping the UD.

While it could be argued that Will’s gun scared the monster off during the times it tried to attack him, it’s doubtful considering other instances on the show when the Demogorgon’s been shot at and still stood its ground. For example: the season 1 finale when Nancy unloaded bullets into the Demogorgon to get it off Jonathan, only for it to turn on Nancy and attempt to slaughter her:

Or when the Russians in season 4 fired at the Demogorgon they'd been feeding, and only succeeded in pissing it off (which resulted in them all getting killed):

The reason I bring this up is because it’s questionable if the Demogorgon disappeared on its own accord whenever it was about to confront Will, or if Vecna forced it to leave during those moments and then sent it back later. There are several instances where the Demogorgon seems more interested in making sure Will is trapped where he is, and there’s one particularly tense moment when Will hides under his bed and the monster lingers as if it knows he's there. Given what’s revealed in season 4 about Vecna and the hive mind, this particular Demogorgon was likely being controlled by Vecna the entire time. Vecna knew Will was going to stay close to his house since it was an area he was familiar with, and he probably knew about the other areas Will ventured to, especially since the vines and other monsters in the UD are connected to Vecna and would have constantly alerted him to Will's whereabouts whenever he moved around.

There’s also the moment at the beginning of the show when Will is chased by the Demogorgon and runs inside his house after locking the door, only for it to unlock itself:

I used to think the Demogorgon caused this, but given what’s revealed in season 4, as well as how we mostly see the Demogorgon use brute strength in later encounters with its prey, I suspect Vecna telekinetically unlocked the door to let the monster into Will’s house.

The whole implication is that, for reasons still unexplained, Vecna not only intentionally targeted Will the night the gate was opened by El, but maneuvered things so Will would end up as a prisoner in the Upside Down for a certain period of time.

I know Will got impregnated with the pollywogs, which would later grow into Demodogs in season 2, and that the Mind Flayer (under Vecna’s control) possessed Will to use as a spy. However, I don’t believe these were the ONLY reasons Vecna took an interest in Will. Vecna had other victims (Barb for instance) that he could use to impregnate via tendrils and force said victims to grow pollywogs inside of them before letting them escape. He didn’t specifically need Will to achieve that.

On top of that, we've seen Vecna can use remote viewing similar to El when he wants to spy on people (like when he searched for potential trauma-laced victims in season 4 to reopen the gate). There's also Will having hallucinations of the Upside Down and the Mind Flayer way before it possessed him, and how he continued to feel its presence in seasons 3 and 4 long after Joyce forced the black particles out of him. Whatever connection exists between Will and Vecna, it goes beyond Vecna only wanting to use Will as a spy or as a means of spreading his monsters throughout Hawkins.

There have been some cool Tumblr GIFs circulating that draw parallels between Will and Vecna, suggesting the idea that Will is a doppelganger to Vecna, or even an alternate version of Vecna himself. I'm skeptical about the show going the route of making Will evil, but I do think Will had a role in the Upside Down being frozen in time on the night he disappeared, and I have a few theories as to how that could be:

Theory 1: The world of the Upside Down acts as a power-source/visual representation/template for a person’s broken psyche, and the terrain is able to shape itself around that. For example, Vecna's Mindscape from season 4 was shown to be a perverted version of his twisted psyche that held dark, disturbing memories from his past: The house he moved into in the 50s, the grandfather clock he used his powers on for the first time, the spiders he was fascinated with as a boy, and the mutilated bodies of his victims that he keeps as trophies. Even the way parts of the Creel House are fractured and floating around aimlessly could be interpreted as a representation of how distorted Vecna’s mind is. All of this is built and powered from elements within the Upside Down. Likewise, the twisted version of Upside Down Hawkins we currently see on the show, which may be from the last memory Will had of Hawkins before he was forcibly taken by the Demogorgon on November 6, 1983, could actually be Will's Mindscape without Will realizing it yet.

Theory 2: Vecna was trapped in the Upside Down for 4 years. During that time, he formed the Mind Flayer from the black particles he found, and used it to enslave the monsters from that dimension. He was also responsible for terraforming the place from an empty hellish wasteland into a twisted version of Hawkins based on what he could see of present-day Hawkins via remote viewing. When Will got taken to the UD, it froze the process Vecna was using to transform the Upside Down (which is why the UD is stuck in time on the night of November 6, 1983), and it’s why he later tried to possess Will via The Mind Flayer: He believes if he could take complete control of Will, it would allow him to unfreeze the UD and regain his ability to transform it to his liking.

Theory 3: Will has powers similar to Vecna, Kali, El, and the other kids at Hawkins Lab, except they've been dormant or deeply suppressed. Vecna was somehow able to sense this from Will when he was remote viewing Hawkins from the UD, hence his creepy interest in Will. When Vecna sent the Demogorgon to take Will to the UD, Will's powers were activated by the trauma of being chased down by the monster, and that surge of energy, fueled by the terror he was experiencing in that moment, changed the landscape of the UD into what it is now: Will's last memory of Hawkins on the night of November 6, 1983. Vecna wants access to whatever power Will has inside of him, and possessed Will with the Mind Flayer in season 2 to either try to assimilate that power into himself, or at the very least be able to control Will if he was unable to obtain that power for unexplained reasons.

At the end of the comic, there’s a haunting hallucination Will experiences when he’s captured by the Demogorgon and has the tendril shoved down its throat. The scene unfortunately wasn’t in the show, but it should have been:

This could just be a hallucination from Will, but there's also the possibility these really are the collective consciousnesses of Vecna/The Mind Flayer's victims that have been assimilated into the hive mind and are communicating with Will. What’s insidious is the idea they might still be alive and aware of what's happened to them, but are powerless to do anything about it. They are bound to Vecna/The Mind Flayer’s control. Vecna and Dr. Brenner even talk about this with El in season 4:

Henry/One/Vecna: They're not gone, Eleven. They're still with me (points to his head) in here.

Dr. Martin Brenner: You must understand, when One kills, he doesn't simply kill. He consumes. He takes everything from his victims. Everything they are and everything they ever will be. Their memories, their abilities.

It's eerily similar to what Freddy Krueger from A Nightmare on Elm Street did to his victims: He would absorb the souls of the children he gruesomely murdered, meaning they would be trapped in him forever, prevented from moving on to the next life, all the while giving him power.

This leads to the horrific implication that ever since Max's "death" in the season 4 finale, Max’s consciousness is now a part of Vecna. It would explain why she’s currently “brain-dead” and why her mind was blank when El tried to read it.

If that’s the case, one of the main arcs in season 5 may center on freeing Max’s conscious from Vecna’s control and allowing Max to get back her sense of identity and self.

And then there are the conversations Will has with Mike, Joyce, and Hopper in season 2 when he discusses how the Mind Flayer operates:

From “Will The Wise” (Season 2, Episode 4):

Jim Hopper: Does he talk to you? Will Byers: No. It's like...I don't have to think. I just know things now. Things I never did before. Jim Hopper: And, uh...what else do you know? Will Byers: It's hard to explain. It's like old memories in the back of my head, only.......they're not my memories. Jim Hopper: Okay. Will Byers: I mean, I don't think they're old memories at all. They're...they're now-memories, happening all at once, now. Jim Hopper: Can you describe these now-memories? Will sees an extending tunnel Will Byers: I don't know. It's...it's hard to explain. Joyce Byers: I know it's hard but can you just... Can you try? For us? Will Byers: It's like...They're growing and spreading...killing.

From “Dig Dug” (Season 2, Episode 5):

Will Byers: It's like... It's like I feel what the shadow monster is feeling. See what he’s seeing. Mike Wheeler: Like in the Upside Down? Will Byers: Some of him is there. But some of him is here, too. Mike Wheeler: Here, like, in this house? Will Byers: In this house and in me. It’s like...It’s like he's reaching into Hawkins more and more. And the more he spreads, the more connected to him I feel.

Mike Wheeler: And the more you see these now-memories.

Will Byers: At first I just felt it in the back of my head. I didn't even really know it was there. It's like when you have a dream and you can't remember it unless you think really hard. It was like that. But know it's like... Now I remember. I remember all the time.

Are these “now-memories” actually the memories of Vecna, or his victims? Or both? If they are the memories of his victims, is the idea supposed to be that they’re so meshed together in Vecna’s head that they’re incoherent and alien to Will when he tries to understand them? Vecna likely found a way to control the stream of memories and consciousnesses he’s accumulated over the years without getting overwhelmed by them. Additionally, he’s also erased any sense of identity from his victims by taking them into himself, and whatever power he wields over their essence and consciousness, he directs towards his never-ending goal of destroying everything and everyone. They are his slaves doing his bidding.

On another note, Will’s ability to communicate with Joyce in the Upside Down plays out similar to how it happened on the show: Being able to hear voices from the other side, communicating via the lights, etc.

Also, Will is initially able to deal with the toxic air in the Upside Down during his week there, before it begins to overwhelm him towards the end. Based on this, one could argue characters could technically spend a few minutes, or at least a few hours, inside the Upside Down without masks or biohazard suits, and still come out okay without it doing long-term physical or physiological damage. It’s probably why Nancy, Robin, Steve, and Dustin were able to be in the Upside Down for a few hours in season 4 during their battle against Vecna, as previously questioned by fans. If they’d spent longer than that in the UD though, the atmosphere would eventually take its toll.

The only exception to this appears to be Vecna. He survived 7 years (1979-1986) in the Upside Down, at the cost of being permanently mutated. Chances are if he didn’t have his powers, he would have been dead a while ago. I wonder if he ever killed and ate any Demogorgons for food? I doubt there was anything else in the UD that was edible to eat.

Overall, this comic gave me a lot to speculate on. Check it out when (and if) you get the chance. If you have any theories you’d like to share, feel free to do so in the comment section! :)

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