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i-cant-sing · 8 months ago

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Time Traveller AU part 9

Part 1 is here. Part 2 is here. Part 3 is here. Part 4 is here. Part 5 is here. Part 6 is here. Part 7 is here. Part 8 is here. Time Traveller au masterlist is here. Check out my MASTERLIST for more!

Part 10 is here.

"I think you should take off your veil now. You need to impress the princes so that one of them could take pity and marry you. Or you could try black magic-"

"Baris, I will pull your tongue out and strangle you with it if you say another word." You muttered, holding your head in your hands.

After Baris landed the "marriage bomb" on you last night, you've been stressed. Why did I have to teach Mihirmah? Why did I have to accept the bracelet? Why did I-

"You have bags under your eyes, and considering that they're the only feature visible, its not good-" You threw a pillow at him, which he dodged easily. You hadnt slept at all, how could you? You tried to figure out a plan, that didnt work. You tried to fix your time machine, that was not going to work at all without tools.

"You could be wrong." You mumbled, opening your eyes as you stared ahead. "This bracelet could be nothing but just a kind gesture. It is not a marriage proposal. You're wrong-"

Baris cut you off. "I know it seems impossible, considering how you look, even I'm surprised- but I'm never wrong, Y/n. I've worked here for more 25 years, I know what everyone thinks." You stared at him with a pinched expression.

"You have to help me, Baris."

He smiled. "Of course, you'd be lost cause else wise! I'll get the seamstress to make you some new clothes-"

"No, I meant- you have to help me escape. I cant- I dont want to get married!"

He scoffed. "Darling, we're alone right now. You can drop the "I dont wanna marry a prince and enjoy the luxuries of the world" act."

"I mean it!" You huff.

"And why is that?"

"Because-" you bit your lip. What excuse can you possibly come up with to satisfy him?

"I love someone else."

"How tragic." He said monotonously. "Love has no place in the harem. You're here to attract, serve and please the royal family." He walked closer to you, leaning down as he lowered his volume. "And I'm going to give you some advice: you better not use that excuse again, never even MUMBLE about having a lover again, not unless you want to be tortured and executed for being a traitor."

You knew what he was referring to. The harem, the concubines, the whole palace was filled with jealousy. If anyone were to hear about this, they would use it against you, conjure up such vulgar lies that the sultan will chop off your head.

"Baris I cant-"

"You dont have a choice, Y/n." He cut you off harshly. "I suggest you suck it up and pretend to be happy or else you'll be in for a hard life."

"Now, get ready. You need to teach a lesson."

"You look sick."

You resist rolling your eyes. "Yes, I know I'm ugly. Thank you for keeping me updated."

Mihirmah shook her head. "No, I mean you dont look well. Are you alright?"

No, I lost sleep because of you and-

"Just tired, Mihirmah. I think we've should stop here today." You watched her beam.

"Finally! Now we can celebrate!" Mihirmah clapped her hands as the servants brought in some tea and sweets. She had initially wanted to celebrate her victory from last night as soon as you came in, but you wanted to get the lesson done with so that you could leave.

"You enjoy it. You did a good job." You tried to excuse herself but she frowned.

"I did. And so did you! I mean, the way you made Mahidevran shut up! It was amazing!" She took a piece of sweet and handed it to you. "Besides, my father appreciated your efforts as well-"

You looked down at the bracelet. This was more of a death sentence than a gift.

"Mihirmah." You took off your bracelet. "I- I appreciate the sultan's gift, but I cant accept this. Its too much- its-" you mentally rolled your eyes at your next excuse. "Its above me."

She furrowed her brows. "Even if that may be the case, which its not because you fully deserve that after the showdown, you still cannot refuse or return a sultan's gift, much less one that he made himself!" She tilted her head. "What is really going on? Why do you not want the bracelet? And dont say its not to your taste, because lets face it- you probably have not seen jewels like this in your life."

Biting the inside of your cheek to prevent the insults from slipping out, you took a breath.

"I... heard that..." you took another breath. How do you say "I dont want the bracelet because I dont wanna marry any of your brothers" without sounding narcissistic. "I... I heard that there might be a different meaning behind the bracelet. That it may signify... something else."

"Which is...?" She prompted you.

You exhaled.

"That I might be considered to be... a spouse for a sehzade."

Mihirmah snorted as you looked down to conceal both your embarrassment and fear.

"I'm sorry- what did you say?" She was laughing now. You continued to look down. As long as she's laughing and not getting mad at you for even suggesting such a thing, you're fine. Besides, if she's laughing then it means that all that bullshit Baris was spewing earlier was just that- bullshit.

"You think- my father, the sultan, wants you- YOU, to marry one of his sons?" She wiped a tear away from her eye as she laughed. "That is the most ridiculous idea I've ever heard. True, father does only give handmade gifts to those he considers close, but I dont think thats true in your case, Y/n. You're just my teacher, that's all. Besides, even if you were to be considered as a potential spouse for my brothers, you have my mother and Mahivdevran standing in your way. And trust me, they're going to marry their sons to someone they like. You- they cant even tolerate you as my teacher at this point of time."

Sighing in relief, you nod. "Well, that's great to hear-"

"Wait." Mihirmah narrows her eyes at you. "If you thought that my father wanted to marry you to one of his sons, why did you want to return the bracelet? Did you- did you not want to marry my brother?"

Oh shit. "Mihirmah no-" You tried to pacify her.

But she snapped at you. "What? You think you're better than my brothers? Any of them? You'd be lucky if Mehmed or Mustafa chose you, if such a miracle does happen."

Your eyes were wide at her venomous tone. You dont know whether it was because she was protective of her brothers, or if she just really hated the idea that you would consider rejecting royalty.

A few more moments of silence went by. "You misunderstand me, sultana." You chose her title to please her. "I know of my status, and I am well aware of how... lowly I am to be a part of this family. The only reason I was returning the bracelet was because... I didnt want the harem to assume things and threaten or hurt me. I am aware that the sehzade have their favourite concubines, much better equipped to their tastes. But if they were to see this bracelet gifted by the sultan on me, they would... it would cause misunderstandings. I just wanted to avoid that."

Your words were carefully selected to not aggravate her any further, which it didnt but they also didnt calm her down.

Mihirmah's face was still sour. "The concubines are smart enough to figure out who's a competition and who's just a mere servant. You have nothing to worry about."

The words stung but... you just bowed and took your leave instead of slapping her across the face.

Mehmed had just turned the corner when he saw you leaving Mihirmah's room with tears pooling in your eyes, the niqaab only causing them to look more prominent.

He entered Mihirmah's room, finding his sister looking angry as she gazed into space.

"Mihirmah?" He sat down beside her, noticing how she didnt immediately light up as she always did when he came. What did you do to piss her off so much?

He cupped her face to look at him. "What's wrong? Tell me."

You're laying in your bed, arm over your eyes as you try to think of a way out of here.

When will the time machine work again?

Its not like you can go out of the palace to get help or even tools to work on it, and you always fear that someone just may walk in on you tinkering with the machine. The only place where you can get privacy in this palace here is the dungeons, only because its dark and oh-so-daunting that it doesnt really attract people there.

There's a knock on your door. With a grunt, you get up and open the door, only to find no one there. Your room was in the harem, but it was on the upper floor, so you could see the whole area from above, including the silhouette of someone leaving the harem doors.

Normally, you wouldn't have bothered with the "door bell pranks", but you made your way down because 1. you're not familiar with what this might mean, maybe some royal summoned you and you're to follow the servant. 2. you're bored.

When you left the harem and looked to your left, spotting the back of a girl in red dress, you knew she was baiting you to follow her. So you did, turning around the corridor only to be body slammed to the wall.

3 women surround you, blocking any escape routes. They're all glaring at you, and you recognise their faces. They're the concubines.

You clear your throat. "Well? I suppose you have something to say that you couldnt say in there."

The brunette in front of you narrows her eyes. "Who do you think you are?"

"Why dont you tell me?"

Her glare intensifies. "You think you can just bat your lashes and whore yourself to the sehzade?"

"Heh?"

The raven haired girl on her right grabbed your throat and banged your head against the wall behind. "Dont play dumb! We know you're trying to marry the prince!"

The blonde on the left banged your head against the wall this time, gritting out "Stay away from sehzade Mustafa!"

"And sehzade Mehmed!" the brunette warned, repeating the same assault as the other two.

You took a deep breath, closing your eyes as you rubbed the sore spot on the back of your head. "None of your accusations are true. Unlike you, I actually have a respectable job here-"

"We saw the bracelet! You think you can just prance around here, pretending to be this holy and pure, untainted girl while we work ourselves to the bone to get in bed?!" The brunette screamed at you, getting in your face.

You pushed her away. "First of all, I am not interested in marrying anyone. Secondly, the bracelet means nothing than a job well done. And finally- you seem to mistake your status over me. I dont work for you, or under you. So, this is for earlier-" You slapped her hard across the face, making her fall. The other two were in shock, and you took that as an opputunity to slap them too.

"Now, we're even." You huffed, adjusting your niqaab before turning on your heel to leave. You needed to slap them, not only because you need to let them know they cant bully you, but also because you needed to release some steam. It felt good, you wont lie. You may have even imagined some people's faces as you smacked them-

"Omph!" You're pushed to the ground, flipped over onto your back. You grab on to the hands that are wrapped around your neck, eyes wide as the brunette starts to choke you.

"You stupid bitch!" She screamed as you fought hard to pull her hands away. She yanked the veil off your face, smacking your cheek hard enough to scratch you with her sharp nails.

"Laira stop-" the blonde tried to pull her off you but Laira continued to beat you.

"Hand me the torch!"

"Laira-" The blonde started again but the raven haired grabbed the fire sconce off the wall and handed it to Laira.

You stared in horror as she brought the torch closer to your face, the heat radiating. She grinned manically, one hand still squeezing your throat.

"You're not even that pretty for a sehzade. Did you use black magic on them?" She clicked her tongue, while your eyes were fixated on the torch. "I guess, it wont be futile to ruin your face for guarantee."

"Please no-" she choked you harder with her man hands that you just couldnt seem to pry off, and you sort of became paralysed as the dancing flames took you back to the night in the desert, when the assassins set your tent on fire. Everything slowed down, and noise drowned out like in the movies.

Salauddin. Help-

The flames suddenly vanish from your view as Laira is thrown off you.

"What the hell do you think you are doing?!" The man roared behind you. Your eyes moved from the shaking concubines to your saviour.

Ibrahim pasha.

"Pasha bey-"

"Shut it. Guards! Throw them to the dungeons!" Ibrahim yelled and automatically, 4 Janisarries appeared from behind him and dragged the wailing girls away.

Ibrahim looks down at you, his eyes shifting from rage to sympathy. He crouches down and helps you sit up, his touch gentle.

"Are you alright, Hatun Y/n?" You're staring at him in a daze, your body has not recovered enough to physically react, almost on autopilot.

Say something.

"Y/n?" He asks again, his brows furrowing as his concern deepens. Why does everything sound so far, so low?

He snaps his fingers near your ear, and your brain finally reacts.

"Y-yes." You tear your gaze away, looking at the fire torch lying on the ground far from you.

Fire. Second time you were almost burnt to death.

"Come on." He helps you up, gently tugging you to follow him. A few shaky steps later, you follow him to your room.

He sat you down on the bed. "There we go." Ibrahim pasha scanned your face for any burns or injuries, noting the nail marks from the slap.

"Baris Agha!" Ibrahim called and a few seconds later, the eunuch stumbled in.

"Yes, pasha- ya Allah, what happened to-"

"Baris." Ibrahim snapped at him. "Get me bandages and healing balm. And keep quiet about this." Baris only nodded before following orders.

You cleared your throat. "I... thank you for saving me, pasha." Ibrahim smiled courteously as he sat on a chair nearby.

"It was my duty. Sultan Suleiman had asked me to keep an eye on you."

Your brows furrowed. "Why?"

Ibrahim looked at the bracelet around your wrist. "I suppose you did something to make him pleased."

He relaxed in his chair, crossing his arms across his chest. "So... what happened with the concubines?"

"Misunderstanding." You said dismissively.

"And what that might be?" He prodded. When you didnt reply, he sighed. "I am the pasha, the sultan's right hand. I am supposed to know what happens in the palace."

"Its nothing of significance. You can let the girls out of the dungeon."

"I'm afraid that decision is not upto you." Ibrahim deadpanned. "If you do not wish to tell me, fine. I have other ways of finding out." He made his threat clear and began standing up.

"Wait!" You clenched your niqaab, looking at the veil in your lap. "I'll tell you, but... you cant tell anyone."

Ibrahim stared at you before nodding, sitting back down.

"There may have been a rumour... the cocncubines- they think that the bracelet, a gift from the sultan means that I am... special." You mumbled the last word.

"Special how?"

"They think... that the sultan wants me to be his... daughter-in-law. Actually, they think that I am wooing the sehzades- Mustafa and Mehmed."

"And are you?" He asks immeadiately.

"Of course not!"

"Why not? Anyone would love to marry a prince."

You scoffed. "I would never want to be a part of this family, not even as a teacher."

He raised a brow. "Hate the Ottomans?" You shake your head. "No. But I wouldn't want to be a part of it." You clicked your tongue. "Everyone in this palace is a slave. The concubines, the servants, the wives, the kids, you and me too. The wives of the sultan, they have all the luxuries one could imagine... except for the loyalty of their husband. Not to mention, they have to live in constant fear of being replaced and be in paranoia forever because everyone who is not family, is a threat to her. The kids? If you're born a boy, sure- you are immediately given a superior status, but with such power and princely status also comes with its own drawbacks. The boy will have to always be compete with his brothers, not because he wants to be the next sultan, but for survival."

In Ottoman empire, there was a common practice of fratricide- a tradition where once the next sultan is chosen, the new sultan is allowed LEGALLY to kill his brothers, stepbrothers, nephews and even female relatives (sisters included) as well, so as to get rid of any future competition or betrayal by his own family. In a nutshell, it was done to prevent civil wars.

"If you're born as a girl, then you may have a better chance of survival than your brothers, but that's still not guaranteed. Not to mention, you are raised to be married off to someone that will strengthen the royal family. Not to someone you love." Ibrahim watched you as you continued. "Its not better to be a servant either. Always being threatened, questioned about your loyalty, having to take the fall for the higher ups. The eunuchs, who think they are all high and mighty and control the court, you and I both know that their job to "protect the women of the harem" wasnt even their choice. To be forcefully castrated as children, forcefully ripped from their families, forced to serve the royals... they dont have a choice. I dont have to tell you how degrading it is to be a concubine."

"And me? How am I a slave?" Ibrahim asked.

You smiled sadly. "You know very well, and youre just trying to see how much I know. Your past is not a well kept secret, pasha." You kept quiet, and Ibrahim realised you already knew about his life.

Ibrahim, born as Orthodox Christian, was enslaved during his childhood. He and Suleiman became close friends in their youth, or perhaps forced to convert to Islam and then raised to befriend Suleiman. Suleiman appointed Ibrahim as grand vizier when he took the throne.

"How do you know?" Ibrahim's gaze was sharp. "I know a lot of things, pasha. But dont worry, I have no ill intent. If anything, I want to be as far from this life as possible. Perhaps... you could help me with that?"

He raised a brow. "I dont think that is an option for you right now." At your frown, he explained. "The safest place for a woman like you is here."

"Did you just forget that my face was almost burned off moments ago?"

He chuckled, shaking his hand. "Of course not. But you need to understand that you cannot just up and go without a word, especially after the sultan just gave you a handmade gift, and whether or not it signifies that he's considered you for one of his sons, it does mean that he considers you important. His majesty will not just accept your leave for no reason." Ibrahim leaned forward, clasping his hands. "As for your safety, you can leave that to me. I will make sure no harm befalls you again. I promise."

"But what about the sehzade? The rumours?"

He hummed thoughtfully. "If you're so concerned about that matter, then you should just avoid the princes as much as you can. Keep your niqaab on, continue your lessons with the princess and avoid interacting with people as much as you can."

Well, its not a bad suggestion. If you make yourself scarce and draw less attention to yourself, you can slip out of the palace and leave unnoticed.

"Oh, pasha?" You called him as he stood up to leave. "Can I request you not to tell about this incident to anyone?" You pointed to bruises on your face.

He grinned and nodded. "Of course. But it is not me you should be worried about talking." At your confused face, he chuckled.

"Baris Agha still hasnt returned."

Mihirmah and Mehmed were in your room just a few moments after Ibrahim pasha had fetched the bandages from below and treated your wounds, further confirming that Baris was spreading the news about your attack all over the palace.

"Y/n! Who did this to you?" Mihirmah traced the bruises gently as she sat beside you on the bed, while Mehmed sat in front of you, on the seat previously occupied by Ibrahim pasha- just closer this time.

"I dont know." You lied, pulling yourself away from Mihirmah's concerned touches. Oh you're still mad at her.

Your evasiveness didnt go unnoticed by her, as she dropped her hand and her mouth settled into a thin grim line.

"Why did someone attack you? What happened?" Mehmed asked, cutting the tension.

You shrugged. "I dont know." You fiddled with the niqaab in your lap. There's a big bandage on your cheeks, so while you couldnt exactly wear your veil again, you suppose in a way your face was somewhat covered?

"Probably mistook me for someone else. Or just a misunderstanding." You tried to brush this off.

"Still, it shouldnt warrant such a reaction. We should investigate-" Mehmed started but you shook your head.

"Ibrahim pasha is already looking into the matter. He'll take care of it-"

"I am the sehzade. I will look into this personally." Mehmed stated before leaving the room before anyone could stop him. Ah, to be the knight in shinning armour for a distressed damsel.

You and Mihirmah sat alone now. The air in the room was thick, the silence thicker. Mihirmah glanced at your nonchalant face, your eyes fixated on the ground, not caring how uncomfortable the silence was making the princess.

It was clear she had to break the ice.

"Y/n." She called. "Yes, sultana?" You answered, but your eyes still remained on the ground.

Sultana. Not Mihirmah, like she'd allowed you to call her, but sultana.

She pursed her lips. "I..." She paused. What is she supposed to say? Sorry? The word is as foreign to her as it is to any royal.

"I dont like the things you said this morning." She finally stated. "You shouldnt have said those things."

You resisted the urge to scoff. Is she really trying to pin this on you and make you apologise? Entitled brat-

"You're right, sultana. I was out of line. I suggest we should just stick to our lessons and avoid talking about anything else. I'll be careful not to bring up any other topic." You stated monotonously.

Mihirmah frowned. Why are you saying this? Why are you being so difficult?

"Stop it." She warned. You nodded. "As you wish, sultana. I'll arrange another Quran teacher for you." Your words only enraged her further.

"I said- stop it." She ordered but you're hell bent on making her apologise- a dream, but still. You clicked your tongue. "I suppose I'll hand in my resignation to the sultan and explain to His Majesty that it was my fault for being a useless servant who is just not capable- ow!" You finally looked at her in disbelief.

She pinched you. Mihirmah pinched your arm. Hard.

And she had the gall to glare at you, with some anger and remorse in her eyes.

"What did you do that for?" You spat, hissing as you rubbed the area she'd assaulted. There was going to be a bruise, for sure.

Her frown deepened. "You- I told you to stop, didn't I?!" You watched her trying to contain her rage, her body shaking as she tried not to wrangle you by the neck. "I- I dont want you to leave."

"But sultana-" "Mihirmah. You call me Mihirmah." She emphasised.

You bit the inside of your cheek to suppress your smile. "I am just a dispensable servant-" You jumped back when she went to pinch you again.

"Will you stop doing that?!" Your arm still hurt from her first attack. Mihirmah's nostrils flared. "Will you stop acting like a brat?!"

Your throat made a sound of disbelief. "I am acting like a brat?! Have you looked in the mirror recently?"

"Yes and I look very beautiful! Unlike your busted face!"

"Oh so you just get to insult me?" "I am not insulting you! I am DESCRIBING YOU!" She screamed as you glared at her. Mihirmah took a few deep breaths to calm down. "I am not calling you ugly, I was just referring to the bruises on your face. How did you manage to get beat up so badly? Did you not learn anything from my sparring lessons?"

"Sparring lessons? You mean the times where you would flip me on my back or throw me against the wall?" She glared at your accusation. "How is it my fault that you dont fight back?"

Mihirmah's gaze flicked the arm you were holding, the one she'd pinched. "Does it still hurt?" Her voice was much softer this time.

"Would you like me to pinch you back to demonstrate how much it hurt?" You spat back and she scoffed. "I didnt pinch you that hard. You're just sensitive." "Sure, you must only have meaty man fingers." You grumbled as she gasped and smacked your bruised arm, making you hiss.

The two of you glared at each other before Mihirmah wrapped her arms around you and looked up at you with a small pout.

"This doesnt work on me." You muttered, making her grip tighten around you.

"You know you're not a servant." Mihirmah whispered, looking up at you with puppy eyes, but only you knew the real Ronda Rousey in her.

"You're my friend, Y/n. Or the closest thing I have to a sister." "If you were planning on beating up your sister, I'm glad your parents didnt have one."

"Shut up, you're ruining the moment." Mihirmah scolded you. "I dont want you to go. I dont want you to be hurt, either. So just- I'm willing to let things go back to the way they were before this morning, if you are."

You stared down at her. You knew you were never going to get a real apology, Mihirmah was too prideful. You couldnt make her feel ashamed for her actions, or hold her responsible. So, you'll have to make do with this.

"Fine." She broke into a grin and squeezed her arms around you tightly before letting go.

"Now, tell me! Who were these girls who attacked you? I'll skin them with my daggers!" Ignoring her sociopathic tendencies, you shrugged. "I dont know, Mihirmah. I dont know who they were- I'm still new to the palace."

She hummed before her face lit up in realisation. "Wait! Baris Agha did say something about concubines. I'll ask Mehmed too when he returns with more information from Ibrahim pasha!"

While you are trying your best to hide the incident about your attack, unbeknownst to you, the news has spread like wildfire in the palace. A maid saw Mehmed entering Ibrahim pasha's office, and when she reported it to her friend, she then told her about how she overheard the eunuchs talking about a fight breaking out between the concubines and someone else, and then someone added that they saw Ibrahim pasha, Mehmed and Mihirmah in your room, so you were involved too. It wasnt long before this news reached Hurrem and Mahidevran, only this time it was more dramatised.

"The concubines tried to kill Hatun Y/n! It was only by pure luck that sehzade Mehmed saved her! And now her wounds are being tended to by Mihirmah sultana while sehzade Mehmed and Ibrahim pasha are punishing the concubines!" Gul, the chamber maid, told Mahidevran.

Mahidevran narrowed her eyes. "Why did they save her? She's just a teacher." The queen didnt understand why the royal children were going through such lengths to get justice for you. Fights in the harem break out all the time.

Gul fumbled with her thumbs, avoiding eye contact with her queen. Mahidevran's frown deepened. "What is it, Gul?"

"I- sultana- I just heard some rumors, its probably not even true-" "Out with it!" Mahidevran snapped.

Gul licked her lips as she spoke. "Um- I overheard that sehzade Mehmed has been... spending a lot of time with Hatun Y/n. Especially after the dinner where Mihirmah sultana recited-"

Mehmed... spending time with you? Why? If he wanted to sleep with you, he could have any girl from the harem. So why you? Why you, a Quran teacher, a conservative girl who covered herself from head to toe? Surely, Mehmed hadnt been bewitched by your physical appearance- not that you had any, in her opinion. And then Suleiman seemed to like you to, so for Mehmed to fancy you would be because-

Mahidevran's eyes widened at the sudden realisation.

"Get me Mustafa. Now!"

"Hatun Y/n was attacked by the concubines! Ibrahim pasha saved her and carried her unconscious form to her room!" A maid reported to Hurrem.

"Why was she attacked?" Hurrem asked, bored.

The maid hesitated to answer. "I am not sure, sultana, but the word is that the concubines were jealous of the attention Hatun Y/n was getting from sehzade Mustafa."

Mustafa? No. What possible business could you have with Mustafa? From the past week's events, Hurrem was told that you'd spend most of your time with her daughter, and only moments with Mehmed when he visited his sister.

"Mustafa isnt interested in Y/n." Hurrem stated, more to herself than to refute the maid's claims.

The girl nodded. "I'm only telling you what I heard, sultana. And... I also saw sehzade Mustafa leaving Mahidevran sultana's chambers to visit Hatun Y/n earlier today, just moments before I came here!"

Hurrem halted as she tried to make sense of the information. Mustafa was out all day because of the hunt, he wasnt supposed to return before dinner. Which means, he was fetched, likely by Mahidevran. Who probably informed him about your attack and now he went to check on you.

But why? Even at the dinner the other day, Hurrem didnt detect any sort of affection from Mustafa for you, or you from him. You both barely glanced at each other.

Maybe he's just checking in on you. That's all it is to it.

"How badly was Y/n injured?" Hurrem inquired.

"I didnt get a chance to see her yet, she's been with Mihirmah sultana since the event, but I heard that her unconscious body had to be carried by Ibrahim pasha himself! And- and that he even bandaged her up-"

"Ibrahim pasha?" Hurrem whispered to herself. What business did he have with you? He could've easily had a servant tend to your wounds, so why did he personally do it himself?

Ibrahim. Mustafa. Mahidevran. What are they upto? Hurrem knows Ibrahim doesnt like her, that he favours Mahidevran and Mustafa over her, that he wants Mustafa to be the next sultan-

Hurrem's heart sinks as she pieces it together.

"Get me Mehmed. Now!"

Suleiman was having dinner with his family. Both of his families- Mahidevran and Mustafa joined him tonight as well. He was happy to have them together, all well and healthy.

Except... something was off.

Suleiman's gut could sense it. The children were making small talk, his wives as well, but he could tell. There was some sort of tension.

It was Mihirmah that made him finally speak up.

"Mihirmah." He called out the girl who was playing with her food. "You've barely eaten. What's wrong?"

The room immediately fell dead silent, the attention now focusing on Mihirmah.

She smiled nervously, taking a small bite. "I'm fine, baba."

But Suleiman could see that her usual bubbling aura was somewhat depressing. "Mihirmah." He called her name more sternly, and this time, her smile faltered as she finally spilled.

"I'm just worried for Y/n."

Suleiman frowned. And when he looked at everyone else, it was clear that they knew something he wasn't aware of.

"What happened?"

Baris Agha was having fun riling you up. "So, you're telling me that both sehzade Mustafa and Mehmed, the two crown princes racing to be the next sultan, are visited you?" He snickered as you shot him a glare. "Can I just suggest you to remove the niqaab for the wedding-"

"Baris! Shut up!" You raged at him. "Dont think I dont know you were the one spreading the lies about-" "Lies? About what? About you being attacked? By concubines who are jealous of your- I dont know, I'm sorry what it is that these men seem to be enraptured with-"

There are hurried, intense knocks on the door. Baris opens the door as a servant stumbles in, out of breath.

"Hatun Y/n! Sultan Suleiman has summoned you! Now!" His tone signified that you're not to waste time.

"Why did he call for me?" You whisper to Baris as the two of you rush down the hallways.

"Perhaps he wants to formally ask you to marry one of his sons-" "Baris!" He grinned. "What? I have a sixth sense-" "YOU HAVE NO SENSE!" You yelled. "Have more sense than you." Baris grumbled.

"Why are you even following me? Dont you have a job?" You wanted him to stop vexing you.

He snorted. "And what? Miss out on all the fun? Besides, you know as the future sultana, you will need me-"

"I swear, as soon as I'm finished meeting the sultan, I am going to throw you off the roof."

The two of you turned the corner leading to the royal dining hall, and you bumped face first into Ibrahim pasha's back, the man catching you by the arms before you fell on your ass.

"P-pasha? What are you doing here?" You asked, backing up once you got your footing.

"Sultan sent for me. What are you doing here?" Ibrahim asked, equally confused.

"He summoned me as well. What do you think its about?" You watched the cogwheels in his mind turn and the realisation dawn on him.

"The attack earlier." He exhaled, closing his eyes as he tried to figure out his next steps. "We cant- you cant tell him the truth!"

"You want me to lie to the sultan?" He rose his brows. "Please, Ibrahim! I- I told Mihirmah and Mehmed and then Mustafa that I didnt know who the attackers were, or why they attacked me! If you tell them the truth-"

"Y/n." He grabbed your shoulders, staring into your worried eyes. "I promised to protect you, didnt I? I intend on keeping my promises."

You both entered the dining room together, bowing to the royal family sitting there.

"Y/n." You looked up at the sultan. "Is it true? Were you attacked?"

You were quiet for a few moments, resisting the urge to glance at Ibrahim to figure what to say, before nodding hesitantly.

"Y-yes, sultan." You trailed your eyes back to the ground. These people, they were warriors. They didnt have any technology back then, and they had to rely on body language to read people.

And you didnt want to risk him catching you in a lie.

"Are you alright?" Suleiman's voice was much softer now. "Did you go to the infirmary?"

"I'm well now, sultan. Thank you for asking." You meekly answered. "I was saved in time, thanks to Ibrahim pasha."

Mahidevran's eyes narrowed at you. Ibrahim saved you? Of course, you'd lie about that, so that no one would suspect you and Mehmed getting close. She thought to herself.

"Ah, Ibrahim pasha." Suleiman's voice turned serious. "You were the one who saved Y/n?"

"Yes, sultan." Ibrahim confirmed.

"And you have the attackers in custody?"

"Yes, sultan."

Suleiman slammed his fist on the table, rattling everyone. "Then why the hell wasnt I informed of it?!" Ibrahim kept his head down as the sultan continued to rage. "Why does everyone seem to be aware of this matter, except me?! Answer me, Ibrahim!"

Hurrem couldnt help the smile that curled on her lips. She was glad to see Ibrahim getting in trouble, perhaps Suleiman will finally get rid of him for once and for all-

"It's my fault, your majesty!" You announced suddenly, and everyone's focus shifted to you. "I- I was- I was shaken up from the attack and I- I made the pasha stay with me. I was too scared- I didnt think I was safe- so Ibrahim pasha left to make arrangements to assure me I was safe! He was busy because of me. I'm sorry! If- if anyone should be punished, it should be me!"

You held your hands together tightly to stop them from trembling. The room fell silent at your explanation, with you and Ibrahim holding your breaths.

"Is this true, Ibrahim?" Suleiman broke the silence.

"Yes, my sultan." Ibrahim answered. "After I had saved Hatun Y/n, I wanted to assure her of her safety, so I was busy interrogating the concubines who attacked her. After they confessed, I wanted to check if anyone else in the harem had any ill intentions for Hatun Y/n, so I was engaged in checking everyone who could be a possible threat. I was on my way to inform you, but you summoned me before I could."

"Concubines? Why did they attack Y/n?" Suleiman asked, wanting to know the result of his interrogation.

Ibrahim answered without missing a beat. "They were jealous of Hatun Y/n's bracelet." You looked at him but the pasha kept his eyes ahead at the sultan. "From what I gathered, Hatun Y/n refused to give up His Majesty's handmade gift, and when she put up a fight to defend your present, she was subjected to a harsh beating and had her face almost burned."

Suleiman's eyes widened. "Burned? Because of a bracelet?"

"It was what the bracelet represented, my sultan." Ibrahim's statement made your heart sink. He better not tell him about the "daughter-in-law" theory.

"The concubines think that you... favour Y/n over them." Ibrahim's words set fire to your cheeks and you had to bite your lip to suppress the gasp you almost let out.

Ibrahim decided to change the "daughter-in-law" theory to "3rd wife/bedwarmer theory".

"What rubbish?!" Suleiman slammed his fist on the table again, and perhaps everyone in the room was silently grateful for his rage and disbelief, as it disapproved the theory and quelled any future rumours. "I only see Y/n as my daughter, nothing else! How dare they slander me like that?! How dare they hurt someone I care about?! Ibrahim, execute those wretched concubines!"

Your eyes widened at the order. Preventing their death sentence was the only reason you lied and kept this charade up. You cant risk more people dying and history changing forever because of you!

"Y-your majesty!" You fell to your knees, your voice wet. "I- I beg you- I beg you on the behalf of the concubines, please- have mercy!"

Everyone watched in surprise as you cried for mercy for... your attackers?

"You... want me to forgive them? Despite what they did to you?" Suleiman asked, watching in disbelief at your tears wetting your niqaab.

"It- it was wrong- but please, they're just- they're just young girls. They made a mistake, they shouldnt pay with their lives!" You tried to come up with better reasoning. Aha!

"Sultan, I- we are Muslims. You are a role model for Muslims all over the world right now- but you have a role model as well- someone you havent met or seen, but you follow his advices and footsteps every day. Its Prophet Muhammad (PBUH)- and- and he advices us to be forgiving and merciful." Ibrahim watched you try to persuade the king.

"On the Day of Judgement, when we beg and grovel Allah for forgiveness, would He not forgive us happily if we show mercy to His creatures? If we forgive His mankind?" You pleaded and Suleiman was touched by your words, so-much-so that he walked over to you and pulled you by your shoulders before pressing a kiss to your veiled forehead.

"You're too kind, Y/n." He whispered, before nodding at Ibrahim. "Dont kill the concubines. But find a fitting punishment for them, Ibrahim." The pasha bowed his head obediently.

"And find Y/n her personal chambers in the royal wing." Suleiman stated, making everyone surprised.

No. Room in the royal wing only meant more contact with the royals themselves. This was the last thing you needed-

"Your majesty-" He held up a hand. "Dont protest, Y/n. You were hurt because of my present and while I appreciate that you defended it, I do not wish to see you hurt. Ibrahim, find her a room and shift her there by tonight. And assign a few guards and servants to Y/n as well. I dont want her to feel unsafe again." Suleiman looked at Ibrahim with a serious expression. "I trust her in your hands, Ibrahim."

"Of course, your majesty." Ibrahim nodded.

Suleiman looked back at you, a gentle smile on his face. "I would like you to join us for dinners now." He gently pushed your back and Mahidevran immediately scooted a bit closer to Suleiman's seat and patted the space beside her... and next to Mustafa.

Hurrem glared at the blatant display of intentions- Mahidevran showed her "generosity and humbleness" by letting you sit next to her to please Suleiman, and also make you sit next to her son to get close with.

At this moment, both queens are under the impression that Suleiman wants you to be his future daughter-in-law, so both women think that the other is making her son court you because the first one to marry you will produce a heir, further legitimising the prince's claim to the throne and becoming the next sultan, especially since Suleiman views you to be the perfect, pious woman who would be the perfect mother for his grandkids.

The only difference is- Mahidevran wants you to be Mustafa's spouse, not because she thinks you're a good match for her perfect son, but because she wants to speed up Mustafa's claim to the throne. She knows Suleiman prefers Hurrem over her (Hurrem's five kids are proof of that), and since she has no child other than Mustafa, Mahidevran is at disadvantage and she needs every advantage she can get, no matter how savoury it is- like you.

Hurrem on the other hand, does not want you as her Mehmed's spouse, because you're not what she had in mind for her precious son. She wants someone soft, demure, submissive, beautiful and more importantly- someone she can control. But she also knows what game Mahidevran is playing, and since Hurrem doesnt want Mustafa trying to steal the throne from Mehmed, Hurrem will have to just- get rid of you.

"So... the sultan just said that outloud?" Baris ate a date from the fancy table in your brand new chambers. "He just announced that you're his "daughter" to everyone?" He heard you groan a yes from your place on the bed- face buried in the pillows.

"And Mahidevran sultana made you sit between her and sehzade Mustafa?" He heard you groan another "yes".

Baris plopped down next to you. "So you're marrying Mustafa. Huh, didnt bet on that-"

"You bet on this?" You asked miserably, finally pulling your head up. "Of course, need to make money. Unlike you, not everyone has the oppurtunity to marry into royalty-"

You smack a pillow right across his face. "If I hear you talk about marriage again, I will strangle you."

Baris rolled his eyes, fixing his hair that you'd messed up. "I dont know why you're so upset. Did you want to sit next to Mehmed instead? If so, maybe I can still win the bet-"

"I dont want either of them!" You stated frustratedly, sitting up. "Do you not get it- I dont want to be a part of royalty! They're- they're all mad! My life would be in constant threat- from jealous concubines, possessive mother-in-laws, throne hungry princes. I dont want that!"

"Is it because you want Ibrahim pasha?"

You blinked at him. What? "What?"

Baris rubbed his chin. "Oh come on, I saw the way you two looked at each other before you entered the dining room- how the pasha promised to protect you, even from the sultan's wrath."

"Are you like- fishing for anything? For fun?" You shake your head at him.

Baris gave you a look. "Really? What about you going in and lying to protect him? He didnt even say anything before you took the chance to save him."

"I saved him because it was the right thing to do! Not because I love him!" You exclaimed, throwing your hand in the air. "If this is how you think, please- PLEASE resist the urge to ever help me! I dont want a proposal coming from you just because you saved me from choking."

Baris glared at you. "First of all- I'm never going to be as blind as the sehzade when it comes to love. Secondly, you'd be lucky to have me as a husband. At least your offspring will have a chance at looking somewhat normal-" You lunged at him and put him in a chokehold while Baris grabbed at your hijaab covered head to pull you off.

Your fighting match is brought to a halt as someone knocks on the door.

Mustafa stands outside your door, surprised to see Baris looking slightly disheveled when he opened your door.

"Baris? What are you doing here?" Mustafa asked, watching the eunuch fix his collar.

"Ah sehzade! Oh I was just helping Hatun Y/n adjust to her room. Shift her things in here." Baris faked a smile.

Mustafa nodded before lowering his voice. "Is she awake?"

"Yes yes- please come in." Mustafa walked inside just as you appeared out of the wooden divider screen, adjusting your niqaab.

"Sehzade." You gave him a courtesy. "How may I help you?"

Mustafa gave you a gentle smile, his moustache quirking up handsomely. "I would like to ask you to spend the day with me tomorrow."

You froze, and you didnt dare look at Baris who you knew was sporting a smug look because you didnt want to throw your shoe at his face in front of the prince.

"I- I think I am busy with Mihrimah sultana tomorrow-"

"No, I asked her. She said she's happy to skip her lessons for tomorrow." Mustafa cut your excuse. "I'll come by after breakfast. Good night, Y/n."

Even though Mustafa said he'll see you after breakfast, which for royals was just an hour before noon, you were woken up by Baris at the ass crack of dawn.

"Baris! What the hell?" You glared at him when he yanked the covers off you. Baris grinned at you. "As much as I'd like to believe in beauty sleep, its so not helping in your case. Come on, you need a bath and a lot of other stuff!"

He'd brought fine silk gowns and matching niqaabs (which you insisted on wearing despite Baris voicing his displeasure).

Currently, one of the maids had just finished doing your eye makeup- which in this case was kohl, and some dried berries crushed to a fine powder to make a rouge sort of shade.

"Since your eyes may be the only thing the prince sees, we need to make them bewitching!" Baris had commented before spraying you down with a lot of perfume.

"That's enough!" You push the bottle away as you coughed at the musky, earthy perfume. "Isnt that for men?" You ask coughing.

Baris's grin only widened. "Its sehzade Mustafa's favourite attar! I had to bribe his chamber servant to tell me this. And you my darling-" He sprayed you again. "-need to smell like him so that he thinks you two are a perfect fit!"

"That is literally the stupidest thing I've heard-" your insult is cut short as your vision is blinded by Baris flipping up your veil to reveal your lower half of the face and him applying some crushed berries juice to your lips.

"Just in case you have a change of morals and want to kiss the prince." He jumped back when you tried to slap him.

Soon, Mustafa came to fetch you. You two were currently walking through the royal gardens, with you giving curt answers so that he would lose interest in you and leave you alone.

Your dismissal didnt go unnoticed by him. "What do you like to do for fun?"

"Read." You answer looking at the well cut hedges. "Have you been to the royal library?" He looks down at you, finding you gazing at the flowers. "Yes. I've already read all of the books there." In college, of course.

"All of them?" His disbelief makes you look at him. Finally. Mustafa thinks.

"Of course." You answer, offended.

"Even the royal ancestry book?" Mustafa raises a brow at you.

"Yes." Your brows furrow. "Ask me anything."

He shakes his head and chuckles. "I doubt you know more about my ancestors than me."

When he looked back at you, you were still looking at him expectantly.

"Ask me."

Mustafa's curiosity got the best of him at your determination.

"This is- this is incredible." Mustafa commented, his eyes wide as he looked at the ancestry book from where he basically quizzed you. He didnt know he was talking to a historian who had pulled all nighters for pretty much every major empire for finals.

"How did you learn all of this?" He asks you, still double checking your answers.

"Oh... I have good memory." You mutter, making him shake his head at you with an amusing smile.

"Of course, I should've figured. You're a hafidha, you're passionate for learning." And passionate for making money in trivias.

Mustafa closes the book. "So, since you've read every book in here, I suppose you must be bored?" He doesnt wait for an answer when an idea pops in his mind. "Come on, lets go."

You follow him, trying to keep up with his fast pace. "Go where?"

"To get you new books." He looks over his shoulder and gives you charming grin.

Your steps falter. New books? "We're leaving the palace?" He hums.

You havent left the palace since you came here, mostly because you havent been able to leave.

You match his pace. "Lets go!" And Mustafa finally sees you excited for the first time today.

With a few Janissaries and some disguise, you all head out into Istanbul. You're looking around the city like a kid in a candy store, only you're looking for a something or someone to help you fix your time machine.

The market comes into view along with the sound of hawkers trying to attract customers. Of course, the only shopkeeper who wasnt yelling was the blacksmith, allowing his hammer to garner the attention of serious clients.

He could be of use. If you're able to find some tools, maybe even get some metal films, you could try to spark a charge and trigger the time machine to work.

You start to take a few steps towards him when Mustafa grabs your shoulder and pulls you back to him. "Where are you going? Stay close to me. I dont want to lose you." He tells you, almost in a chiding tone, but his hands carefully pulling your robes around you said otherwise.

He lead you towards a bookshop. Mustafa nodded at you to go ahead, explore and get any book you want. He'll buy it.

While you were busy browsing, Mustafa couldnt help but steal glances at you. He didnt understand why he was doing this- he couldnt really see your face, or anything except for your eyes.

Your eyes, they were pretty but its not their beauty that really captivates him. Its the swirl of emotions in them. The mystery in them, like there's... more to you. Like you're hiding something.

Perhaps it was your mannerisms. Your dismissive nature, your tendency to not be impressed easily by their eccentricities or status, almost as if you've lived with royalty before.

Maybe he likes how different you treat him him. How you dont bend over backwards to please his family, or try to pursue him or his brothers. In fact, you almost seem to be avoiding them altogether.

You intrigue him. Badly. Amusingly. Adorably.

"I dont understand! Where could she have gone?" Mihirmah whined to her brother at lunch. Mehmed only raised a brow. "Who? Y/n? She might be in her room recovering from yesterday's events. She was pretty shaken up-"

"I already checked! She's not there!" Mihirmah sighed before laying her head in his lap, and he began patting her hair. "She went out with Mustafa but she still hasnt returned! Its lunch time and I planned on teaching her sword fight! For self defense, you know- so that she doesnt get beat up like last time."

Mehmed's hand stopped patting. "She's with Mustafa?"

She nodded. "Since morning!"

"Huh." Mihirmah sat up, looking at her brother puzzled.

"What? What is it?" She asked him.

"Nothing." He faked a smile, but Mihirmah knew him like the back of her hand. "Mehmed. Tell me."

"I just... dont understand why Mustafa is spending time with her." He stated, standing up to walk to the balcony. "She's your teacher. What business does Mustafa have with her?"

Mihirmah watched her brother stiffen suddenly, watched the way his jaw ticked as he looked down the balcony. She stood up and joined him, following his gaze to see what he was looking at.

Its you. And Mustafa. Finally returning to the palace, servants holding piles of books following behind you two. What's even more bizarre is to see Mustafa smiling down at you while you giggled, covering your mouth despite the niqaab, making you look even more bashful.

Even Mihirmah hadnt ever seen you so joyful, and yet here you are- laughing so gleefully with her eldest brother. Step brother.

It rubbed her off the wrong way.

"You want her?" She asked him, her voice so hollow that it made Mehmed look at her.

"What?"

Mihirmah looked at him, her eyes stern. "Do. You. Want. Her?"

Unwavering determination. Thats what he saw in his sister's face.

Say the word, and it'll be done.

Mehmed stared at her.

"Yes."

"I hope you had a good time." Mustafa asked you as he walked you to your chambers. You nodded. "I did. Thank you, sehzade." Despite your best attempts at dismissing him, Mustafa was very persistent at breaking down your walls. And sure, part of you giggled and pretended to be flustered at his words, you mainly acted cordial so that he may take you out of the palace more often. He was your only way out at the moment.

You both stopped outside your door, the servants walking past you to place your books inside. Mustafa looked satisfied.

"If you ever need to go outside again, feel free to come to me, Y/n." He offered, before taking out a small box from his pocket and handing it to you.

Your heart dropped. A ring? Now? This fast? No no no no no-

You opened the box and you felt life returning back to you. It was a gold broach adorned with rubies and a diamond in the center, encaged in an intricate heart pattern.

"I may not share my father's gift of handcrafting jewels, but I do happen to be skilled at acquiring precious jewels on my conquests." Mustafa informed you as he took the broach from the box and looked at you for permission before pinning it to your hijab, just below your collar bone.

You were too stunned to stop him or even turn down the gift, though Mustafa took your silence as awe.

He adjusted the broach.

"Perfect." He whispered, looking into your eyes.

You watched him leave with a grin, finally able to breathe when he was out of sight.

With a sigh, you enter your chambers, half expecting Baris to be sprawled over your bed waiting to tease you for details on your outing.

What you werent expecting was... her.

"Did you have fun?" The sultana asked, her eyes sharp. "I've been waiting for you, Y/n. Lets have a chat, hm?"

Shit.

"You're abnormal." Your hands stop adjusting your hijab as you glare at him through the mirror.

"What?"

Baris tilted his head. "You're abnormal." He repeated.

You turn around from the vanity and glare at him. "Is this another way of calling me ugly?"

"Tch. No, I have words for that." He shook his head. "I meant, you've been acting weird since yesterday, after you returned from your secret outing with sehzade Mustafa."

"You're imagining things." You mumble, turning back to the vanity mirror and picking up the broach Mustafa gave you.

Baris scoffed. "I am not. I may have been busy with the younger royal kids yesterday, but I did manage to catch a glimpse of you giggling and blushing when you returned with the prince." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "So that means, the day went good. Something happened on the way to your chambers." He narrowed his eyes at you. "Did you kiss him?"

You whipped your head. "Baris!" He palmed his face. "Sorry, I forgot you're the religious prude. Did he kiss you?"

"No, Baris! No one kissed anyone." You began pinning the broach to your hijab, the same area where Mustafa had placed it yesterday. But you werent able to, too frustrated at the interrogation.

Baris grabbed the broach from you and pinned it in place. "So, you two didnt kiss, bought you enough books to make a you a scholar, and gifted you this broach, and you're disturbed because...?"

You frowned. "I am not disturbed. You're just reading too much into this."

"Fine, dont tell me. I'll find out on my own." You walked past him to teach your Quran lesson.

As much as you'd like to think that you're sly, Baris is right. Something did happen. After you'd returned to your room, you were met there by Mahidevran sultana.

You were reasonably scared because you thought that she's here to torture you or even kill you because you've been "seducing Mustafa" or whatever rumour Baris has spread about you.

But you were surprised when she told you that she wants you and Mustafa together, in marriage. As soon as possible. For the next half hour, Mahidevran basically told you all about the likes and dislikes of her son so that you would accustom yourself to them and then emphasised how supportive she would be of you to be her daughter-in-law. She even encouraged you to... sleep with him, she didnt say it directly but you got the meaning behind her words.

At the end of her lecture, she warned you to not spend time with Hurrem or any of her offsprings, besides Mihirmah because you are her teacher and even then told you to keep your interaction strictly formal and minimum.

When she was about to leave, she spotted the broach on your clavicle and beamed, almost proudly so. When you confirmed that Mustafa gave it to you, and started to take it off to return it to her, she stopped you and told you to wear it everyday. EVERYDAY.

"My son has given you something. You should be honoured. Cherish it." Mahidevran ordered.

The main reason you didnt tell Baris about Mahidevran and her confusing but threatening demands to court Mustafa was because of Baris's blabber mouth that couldnt hold a secret if his life depended on it.

And you have enough on your plate as it is.

You enter Mihirmah's chambers, bowing as you spot her.

"Ah! Welcome! Sit, sit!" Mihirmah pats down the seat next to her and you're slightly suspicious of her energy.

She's upto something.

You sit down beside her, opening the Quran. "I think we should start with-" She closed the book in your hands.

"In a minute. Lets talk first, hm?" She smiled at you. "How was your day off yesterday? Well rested?"

Your shoulders sag slightly. Of course, she wants to know about your day out with Mustafa. Baris probably blabbered something to spark her curiosity like this.

"Yes. A much needed break. Quite refreshing." You tell her, purposely keeping away from the details, lest she gets the wrong idea again and accuses you of whoring around your "ugly self" to her brother.

"Mmhm. Had fun with Mustafa?" Her sharp tone made you look at her.

Is she implying something?

"The prince was kind enough to get me some books." You told her cautiously, trying to ease the tension. "I think you'd like some of them-"

"Mustafa sleeps around." You blinked at her. What were you supposed to do with this unsolicited information.

"Okay...?"

She shrugged, picking up her cup of tea. "I'm just saying- he's been with a lot of women. The other day I was reading a verse from Quran where it mentioned adultery. Then I realised- thats what Mustafa is. An adulterer."

"You read Quran without me making you-"

"Mustafa is an adulterer, Y/n. Allah will not forgive him. He's doomed for hell."

"Actually, if he repents sincerely-"

"He's doomed, Y/n. Doomed." She reiterated.

"By that logic, so are most of your ancestors. I think most men, kings and princes commit adultery-"

"Mehmed doesnt." She stared at you. "He's never slept with anyone. He's a good Muslim man. Allah will be pleased with him."

What is going on here? "Um... okay. That's great news for sehzade Mehmed."

"And for you." Mihirmah announced. "You are the lucky one."

"What?"

She let out a sigh of frustration, as if she has to state the obvious. "Mehmed likes you- no, he loves you-" "Loves me?" "Shh! I'm still talking. You have caught his eye for some reason, so you should end whatever it is that you have with Mustafa and be loyal to my brother."

The room was silent, the two of you staring at each other- you, in confusion. Mihirmah, in determination.

A crow croaked outside.

"First of all, I have nothing going on with sehzade Mustafa. Secondly, Mehmed said he loves me?" You asked while trying not to show resentment.

Mihirmah scoffed. "He doesnt have to say it, I know it."

Your tension deflates to some extent. Okay, so she's just making up stuff. This can be handled.

"Mihirmah, I understand how-" you resist the urge to roll your eyes "-you may think Mehmed may be attracted to me, I am honoured, really. But I can assure you, Mehmed does not love me."

"No, I love you." Your head whips around at the sound of his voice.

Mehmed. He's standing behind you.

"Sehzade-" you begin standing up to bow to him, but he holds up a hand.

"Mihirmah's right. I love you." Mihirmah beamed proudly at standing correct.

Your eyes could only widen in horror as Mehmed sank down to sit right beside you, and with Mihirmah on your other side, you were trapped between the siblings.

"I. Love. You." Mehmed repeated, his hazel eyes staring into yours.

After several moments of silence, a crow croaked again. Mihirmah nudged you to say something.

"Um-" You cleared your throat. "Ugh... thank you."

Mehmed's brows shot up in surprise while Mihirmah broke into a fit of laughter.

"Thank... you?" Mehmed asked, and you would've thought he was mad if it werent for the amused smile on his face.

Mihirmah continued to laugh, and you had to look back at her to make her stop. "I-I'm sorry, Mehmed- this was- this was just too funny. I mean, she has a prince, the next heir of the empire confess her love and all she says is "thank you"?" She said, chuckling as she wiped the tear from her eye.

Mehmed glared at her playfully. "Well, maybe she's just shy around you." Why are they talking about you like you're not right there?

Mihirmah hummed, then nodded. "Perhaps you're right. I'll leave you two lovebirds alone. I have to do something-"

"What? Why? You dont have anything to do." You stopped her from standing up. You dont want to be alone with Mehmed.

"I do!" She narrowed her eyes at you.

"Like what?"

"Like-" her eyes zeroed in on your broach. "-pretty. Mustafa gave it?"

"Yes-" you yelped as she grabbed it and pulled it off you, ripping the niqaab it was pinned with along.

"Mihirmah!" Mehmed yelled at her, his eyes stern. You could only stare at her in disbelief before turning away from Mehmed to hide your bare face now.

"Oops! I'm sorry Y/n! I'll go get you a new niqaab- this one is all torn!" She said without an ounce of remorse before leaving the room.

Mehmed shakes his head as he watched her leave, before turning his attention to you- or well, your back.

"Y/n?" He called out to you softly. "I'm sorry for Mihirmah. She... she doesnt mean you any harm. She's just- she sometimes doesnt realise how hurtful her actions can be when she's trying to help someone."

When you didnt reply, Mehmed grew slightly worried. "Y/n?" He sighed when you didnt reply. An idea popped in his head as he looked around the room before looking down.

You heard the sound of cloth ripping, your heart dropping as you assumed the worst. He wasnt going to-

Your head turned around just as Mehmed's hands encircled around your head, a red cloth blocking your view of him.

"Mehmed?" You whispered, scared. His frozen hands seemed to snap out of it and began encircling round your head, the red cloth in his grip brought closer to your face. Thats when your eyes landed on the bottom of his red shirt (kemis). It was ripped.

Mehmed had torn his shirt to make a niqaab for you.

His eyes were focused on tying the makeshift veil, securing it before they landed on you.

"Y/n?" He called your name gently again, his concern growing at the sight of tears pooling in your eyes. He softly sighed as a his hand reached up to wipe a tear that escaped your eye.

"You're that scared of me?" After a few moments, you sniffled as more tears escaped your eyes and you shook your head. "Then?" When you didnt reply, or couldnt as you continued to cry mutely, he took it as a sign that you were humiliated because of Mihirmah removing your veil.

He took a deep breath and cupped your face gingerly before pressing a tender kiss to your forehead.

"My mind is occupied by you. I think about you all the time. Perhaps...I only think about you, moon." He wiped another tear with his thumb. "I love you, my moon. I fear I... I love you too much. My heart holds so much love for you, I can hardly call it my own anymore." He then kissed your teary eyes one by one.

"I know you... you dont love me yet, but one day, when you find yourself being generous, I want you to be the one holding my heart in your hands. Its yours, moon. Yours."

Baris waited with a few guards and servants outside Mihirmah's room, when Mehmed left the room with a satisfied smiled on his face. Baris noted the bottom of his torn shirt but before he could comment on it, Mehmed asked him where Mihirmah was.

"She went to see sehzade Mustafa. Shall I fetch her?" Mehmed waved him off, saying he'll go get her himself, after all- Mihirmah still had to finish her lesson with you.

Mehmed had just turned around the corner when you came out of the room.

"Y/n-" Baris called out to you but you sped past him, and he didnt chase after you when he saw your red eyes.

He'll tease you later, when you're not so sad. For now, he has to report the sight of this to someone.

Even if Mihirmah hadnt bumped into Mustafa and proudly showed off the broach he'd gifted you, the news would've still somehow made its way to him by the servants whispers.

"Oh this broach? Its pretty, isnt it?" Mihirmah smirked, showing it off to Mustafa. "Y/n gave it to me."

"She... gave it to you?" His gift. You gave it away?

She nodded. "Mmhm. She said it wasnt that precious to her, so she gave it. She was going to throw it away, but it went well with my dress so I took it."

You were going to discard his gift? Just like that?

"Mihirmah. There you are." Mehmed walked over to her. "Mustafa." He greeted his brother.

"Mehmed." He looked at his shirt. "What happened to your shirt?"

Mehmed grinned. "Nothing." He then looked at Mihirmah. "Come on, Y/n is waiting for you. I talked to her."

Mustafa could only watch the two siblings beam at each other as the taste in his mouth soured.

His broach. Torn shirt. Mehmed "talked" to you.

Mahidevran could feel her blood boil at the complaints Mustafa brought to her. Even if he didnt, the maids she'd hired to spy on you had already reported of everything they'd witnessed. You and Mehmed alone in Mihirmah's room.

Did you not understand a single word she said? Does she need to give you a more stern warning this time?

"Hurrem must've put them upto this." She muttered, before her gaze flickered to her worried son. She placed a hand on his shoulder. "Dont worry, Mustafa. I will fix this. You focus on Y/n, hm? You deserve her, my lion."

So? How was it?

Part 10 is here!

#time traveller au #ottoman empire #ottoman #yandere baldwin #yandere Salauddin #yandere x you #yandere x #yandere x reader #male yandere #yandere male #yandere #yandere x darling

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mistiell · 24 days ago

Text

Oh, Your Love is Sunlight

summary: While on a supply run with your (insanely attractive) neighbor and friend, Joel, you nearly die twice. Once to an infect, and second to hypothermia, when you fall through the ice while trying to take a short cut home to Jackson. Joel spends the night trying to warm you up and keep you alive, and the morning after, you both come to a realization.

wc: 8k (Yikes, sorry y’all)

warnings: VOMIT (For my fellow emetephobics, I put ** at the start and end of the part), Fem! Reader, canon typical violence, graphic description of killing an infected, hypothermia, near death experiences, body heat as a survival tactic, like brief indirect mention of Star Wars that might be inaccurate bc I’ve never seen it (DONT COME FOR ME, I JUST HAVENT GOTTEN AROUND TO IT), Worried and protective Joel, very very briefmention of original characters towards the end bc i needed people and didnt feel like searching the wiki, slightly jealous Joel but it passes quickly. if i missed anything lmk. NOT PROOFREAD (will likely come back to fix any mistakes later)

a/n: Hello i have returned with a fic i started last year and just finished (oops lol), and it is my longest fic to date so enjoy! This will likely have a smutty part 2 if i ever get around to it.

**NOTE: I've linked ways to help Palestine here. If you're in a position to donate anything at all, please do! If not, you can reblog the post that's linked so it gets out to more people.

---

You don’t hate Joel Miller, but you really hate him right now.

Tommy was supposed to do this run with him – something about guitar strings for Ellie that they couldn’t get awhile ago – but something had come up. Joel had come to you to ask if you’d go with him instead, and your will to please him overrode your vehement dislike of sub-zero temperatures. It’s become apparent in recent months that you just can’t say no to the man; a flaw that you are actively going to work on fixing when you get back, you decide as you trudge through what has to be double digit inches worth of snow.

“Remind me why we couldn’t have ridden the rest of the way?” You huff, lifting and heaving your heavy winter boot yet another step after him. You really wish it were safe to wear snowshoes out here. It would make travelling through this shit so much easier. Alas, while it’s great for travelling faster over snow, the same can’t be said for escaping any infected you may have the misfortune of running into out here.

He sighs, but reminds you again for the third time in thirty minutes, “Horses can’t make it through this way in the winter.”

“Couldn’t we have found a way around?”

Bemused, he shoots you a sidelong glance, “Unless you wanna walk home in the dark, no. Sun’s already too low for my likin’.”

“It’s barely afternoon, Joel.”

“Might be past that by the time we head back.”

“Might be isn’t will be.”

Shaking his head, he breathes an exasperated chuckle. You’d think he was genuinely annoyed if this wasn’t your routine. You try to vex him, he pretends it’s working. He looks fond as he shakes his head, “D’ you gotta be so goddamn argumentative all the time?”

“‘Course.” You grin puckishly, “Part of my charm.”

He snorts, lifting a tree branch and letting you duck under his arm, a little bit of snow flaking off the nettles and dusting your hair and eyelashes, “Charm ain’t exactly the word I’d use.”

“Yeah? What word would you use, then?” You ask, turning to look at him just as he ducks under the branch after you. As he straightens, you realize you’re so close, you have to tilt your head back a little to look at him.

It’s only when you’re this close to him that you’re reminded of just how broad he is. Broad shoulders, broader chest. One of his hands could encompass nearly a whole half of your face, you’re sure. Leaving the two of you in spouts of steam, you watch your breaths mingle and dance in the space between you. Humming a low rumble, his mouth twists and eyes narrow as he pretends to think, and you almost forget what you’ve asked until he replies, “Annoyance.”

Moment lost. You roll your eyes. “Aren’t you sweet.”

He chuckles, the sound rich in his chest as he continues on and prompts you to do the same. As you emerge from the treeline, you spot your destination a ways away. A small, rundown town centre. You can just barely see a sign with a treble clef peaking out from behind the large building blocking your view.

“You’re sure this area’s clear, right?” His silence unnerves you. “Right?”

“Should be.” His brow creases. He looks about as reluctant to be doing this as you are, but Ellie needs new strings and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t get them before her birthday. The things you do for those you love, you suppose, “Keep a look out, just in case.”

“Yup.” You sigh, popping the ‘P’.

The town is a frigid wasteland when you make it onto the main street, storefront windows smashed to bits with snow drifts sloping up the walls and creeping inside, blowing snow whooshing up in swirls like mini tornados across the open spaces. The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end as you traverse the street, nerves buzzing with the anticipation of danger that is ever present out here.

More walking, before glass crackles underfoot as you step through the mangled metal frame of the music store’s front door, careful to avoid the jagged pieces still jutting out of the rust-flaked steel. The two of you split up to look around, Joel making his way over to a wall that houses a couple of fair quality acoustic guitars while you survey a few shelves lined with CD’s and tapes on the other side of the room.

“Y’know guitar strings ain’t gonna be over there, right?” He calls, and you roll your eyes.

“Obviously. I figured I’d try to find something for her, too.” An album cover catches your eye and you slide it out, tilting your head uncertainly. It looks old, but you recognize some of the songs off the list on the back, “You think she’d like ‘Heart’?”

“What, the band?” You call back in confirmation, and he hums out a breath in thought as he picks over his side of the store, “I reckon she might.”

“‘Heart’ it is, then.” You murmur to yourself, slinging your pack from your shoulders and kneeling to unzip the main pocket.

Something clatters somewhere ahead of you, and you freeze, head snapping up in the direction of another door, wooden this time. You watch and wait, unblinking, palming the hilt of your pistol. Quads, hamstrings, calves wound tight and poised to move quickly, you rise slow into a half crouch, holding your breath. Something bumps again, chittering, hard enough this time that the door shudders in the corroded frame.

“Joel-!”

The door flings open and hits the adjacent wall with a BANG!, and with a guttural, inhumane cry, something flings its body at you chest first, knocking you off your feet. Your shoulders slam into the tiled floor with a hollow thud, knocking the air from your lungs and taking your ability to scream with it. You flail, forearm pressed hard against the infected’s fleshy throat as you fight wildly while trying desperately to breath, scream, something.

A large hunk of Cordyceps encompasses a quarter of it’s face, rubbery ridges stretching several inches from the surface of its skin. One wild, bloodshot eye meets yours, pupil blown and lids split so wide with hunger you can see where the yellowed white begins to curve into its skull. Your heart thrums painfully in your throat as you realize you’ve nothing to do but stare back and pray Joel gets the hell over here before the thing tears into you. Its teeth gnash, still shrieking, mouth opening so wide you can see the mottled grey of its rotting tonsils behind flashes of bloodied incisors. Its rancid breath has your stomach churning.

A strong arm wraps around its neck from behind, and then it’s off you, and you’re staring wide eyed at the ceiling listening to the cracking of bone, a far off, dying keen. The wet squelch of brain matter and rotten cerebrospinal fluid spilling out of its skull and likely splattering over the wall is muffled but just as terribly, egregiously sickening. Its only once you’re pulled up by the shoulders and spots dance across your vision that you realize that you’ve still yet to take a proper breath.

Joel takes your face between large palms, lips moving with no sound beyond the ringing in your ears. You watch his mouth wrap around your name, then the words ‘Breathe’and ‘Please’ several times over as he pats feeling into your cheeks. Over his shoulder, the thing lays motionless, its head so mangled, its just a wet mess of reds and greys and sharp fragments of bone. Your stomach rolls. **You twist out of his hold just as it contracts and spills its contents over the grimy floor, black pressing into your peripherals until you finally shut your eyes, retching. A hand smooths over your shoulder blades while the other collects any loose strands of hair and holds them back behind your nape. **

Its easier to breathe by the time you’re done, and you can finally hear his voice again, low and soft as he soothes, “S’ alright, you’re okay.”

“Oh, fuck.” You rasp, throat burning something awful as you spit the acrid taste from your mouth

“I know, I know.” He turns you to him by your shoulders as soon as you’re done and looks you over, gaze frantically jumping between your face, neck, shoulders, arms. “Did it get you?”

You blink dumbly at him.

“What?” Your mind is still catching up to the present moment, and it takes too long for you to process what he’s asked.

“Were you bit?” His voice is high, shaking and scared, his hands on your shoulders like vice grips.

“N-No.” You force out just so he’ll calm down. You’re not actually sure yet, adrenaline still prickling in your extremities, so really, you could be. Its just that seeing him so genuinely panicked is more than a little disconcerting. His hold on your shoulders starts to ache, and you squirm, “Joel, you’re hurting me.”

He lets go like he’s been burned before gently pushing your jacket and shirt collar to your right, then left as you slide your sleeves up a little to check your wrists. No bites, no scratches. You both breathe sighs of relief.

“You get the strings?” You rasp, and he looks at you incredulously.

“You almost died n’ you’re worried ‘bout the guitar strings?” You shrug, and he breathes a laugh, beard scratching under the pads of his fingertips as he rubs at his mouth, “Christ, you are gonna be the death of me.”

“Did you?”

“Yeah, I got the damn strings.” With a quiet grunt, he rises, holds out a hand, “Let’s get the hell outta here.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice.” Clapping your hand into his, you let him hoist you to your feet.

---

Walking, freezing, joints aching, the sun looms low in the sky, stealing away with it slowly the light of day. Joel holds up two fingers to the horizon and scowls. You sigh, trek onwards, a shiver jittering down your spine and making your teeth chatter briefly, causing you to accidentally nip the tip of your tooth paste coated finger as you attempt to rid your mouth of the remnants of your earlier close call.

“You alright?” He asks for what has to be the thirtieth time as you spit into the snow and wipe your mouth with your sleeve.

For the thirtieth time, despite feeling a little gross, you answer, “Fine.”

“Y’sure?” He rubs a gloved hand roughly along the length of your shoulders, warming the nape of your neck even through layers. “You’re shiverin’.”

You want to curl into his side. Slide under his arm, wrap yours round his back and squeeze so close you’d have to mirror his gait so you don’t trip over his ankle. You shake your head minutely. The cold is weakening your resolve.

“I’m okay. Just wanna get home.” You try to sound normal, like his touch isn’t setting you on fire.

He gives you a soft squeeze and retracts his arm. You mourn the loss swiftly and silently, “You n’ me both.”

The shadows around lengthen considerably as you keep going. Glancing up at the sky, the sun has dipped lower, turning the sky a dusted pink. You scowl at the realization that he was right. At this rate, you won’t make it back to Jackson before dark.

“We’re not makin’ good time.” He articulates your thought with a sigh, brow creased.

“We could pass over the lake?”

He hesitates, then makes a face like he’s smelled something rotten, “S’ not a good idea.”

“It’s been frozen over since November.” You argue. It’s nearly March now, but the snow is still crisp under your boots and the wind is cold enough that your cheeks and nose are numb. It’s the quickest way back, you know he knows that.

There’s a pause as he contemplates whether or not it’s worth the risk. There are about a hundred things that could go wrong, and you watch him mull over them all in the minute it takes for him to finally reply, “Fine. But if you fall in, you’re gettin’ yourself out.”

There’s no truth to it. He might scold you, but he’d do it while breathing life back into you, cursing you between each exhale. Your breath comes out in puffs of fog as you chuckle, “Deal.”

By the time you reach the crossing, the sky has taken on a lovely lavender hue that serves as a less lovely reminder that you’re quickly running out of daylight. Joel hums doubtfully as he eyes the ice, sizing up the distance between the two of you and the bank on the other side.

The lake isn’t very large to begin with, and the path crosses a narrow strip where the water tapers in like the neck of an hourglass. It’ll take you fifteen minutes or so to get all the way over to the other side. In the height of winter, you can even get the horses safely across. But while it’s still well below freezing, and the ice looks thick enough to jump on from here, it could be weaker further out.

Hands in his pockets, Joel frowns, “I really don’t know about this.”

“It’s fine.” Emboldened by thoughts of your warm bed and a steaming cup of tea waiting for you on the other side, you step onto the ice and turn back to him, “See?”

“Mm-hm.” He hums, displeased as he follows after you carefully.

Ten minutes of walking and you’re already a little ways passed the halfway mark. Joel’s had his eyes on the dark abyss beneath you nearly the entire time. “If you keep looking down like that, you might fall.”

“N’ if I don’t, both of us might fall.” His use of ‘fall’ means something different to yours. Humming, you turn your gaze forward again.

“We’re close, now. The ice is stronger closer to the edges, right?” You already know the answer. There’s no point in asking, but you do anyway just so he’ll talk.

“Mm.” He grumbles. That stubborn crease between his brows has deepened, you find when you glance sidelong at him.

“Exactly. We’re fi-.” An ear splitting crack bounces off the ice, to the trees, and back again in a terrible echo as the ice splinters beneath you. You nearly slip in your haste to stop. The both of you go stiff as statues. You’re petrified. Joel looks doubly so.

“Joel.” You whisper, as if your voice weighs enough to be the extra bit that sends you plunging into the icy depths below. The chalky cracks are in stark contrast to the dark backdrop of the water beneath. Just how deep must it be for you to be unable to make out anything below you?

You feel like you might be sick.

“Hey. Look at me.” Tears hot with panic well in your eyes as you do as he says, and the look on his face makes it worse. You know that look. He thinks might lose you, and he’s decided he won’t let it happen. His breath trembles, but his voice doesn’t waver, “S’ gonna be alright, yeah?”

You manage a nod, and only then does he look down, then left, scouring the ice and treeline barely fifteen feet away. Back to you, and you both realize he’s to far to reach you. Second time you’ve almost died today, and this time he can’t come to your rescue.

“M-Maybe I can...” You bend your knees a little as if to move and he throws a hand out.

“Don’t-!”

The ice gives, and the fear takes up so much space you’ve barely room to take a breath before you’re engulfed in painful cold. It bites at your face as you attempt to swim up. The water muffles everything but the sound of your heartbeat as you fight against the weight of your clothes and backpack. You make the mistake of opening your eyes and find yourself swimming up, up, up through far too much nothing. It hurts to kick your legs hard enough to propel yourself, and it takes what feels like forever for you to breach the surface. You take in a heaving lungful of air as Joel calls your name.

He’s on his belly, body parallel to the edge and arm outstretched, but not close enough for you to grab just yet, “Don’t pull yourself up. Just- Just get your arms on the ice n’ kick your legs a little, alright? Can you do that?”

“Uh-huh.” It comes out jittery, jaw vibrating, teeth clacking together painfully as you hook your arm clumsily up over the lip and do as he says. The lower half of your body gradually rises until you’re level with the ice, and it’s then that he beckons you closer.

“Now scooch forward.”

You kick your legs harder and carefully pull yourself toward him until your chest is out of the water, then your torso. The ice dips a bit as you reach for his outstretched hand, and as soon as he’s got yours, he pulls hard enough to get you the rest of the way out, nearly wrenching your shoulder out of the socket. The moment you’re close enough, he wraps his arms tight around you and rolls you both away from the hole in the ice.

Panting, trembling, he keeps you there in his arms moments longer than he probably should.

“Don’t you ever do shit like that again.” His voice breaks on ‘ever’. “Gonna give me a fuckin’ heart attack. Too old for this shit.”

“I didn’t fuckin’ do it on pu-purpose.” You slur with lips too stiff to fit around the words right. Even your tongue feels frozen, but you think that’s probably more from the shock, “Thought y’said I’d have’ta get myself out.”

He huffs a short laugh, incredulous and utterly relieved. “Had a change a’ heart.”

“C’mon.” Carefully, he shifts onto knees before standing. He doesn’t let go of you once as he helps you to your feet, “Gotta get you warmed up ‘fore you freeze.”

He says it like there’s somewhere warm waiting for you just beyond the ice. You’re too tired to be outwardly pessimistic. “Yeah.”

You should be anxious as he shuffles the two of you to shore as quickly as is safe. When you make it there, he stops you only to peel off your mitts and scarf before ushering you forward. It’s freezing, you’re soaked. It’s a recipe for a very miserable death, you think dismally. But you trust Joel, and the tight grip he has on you makes you relax, even when you’re toeing a very fine line between life and death. You know he won’t give up on you easily. If you started spontaneously disintegrating tomorrow, he’d carve out pieces of himself just to keep you whole. There is no way in hell he’ll let a little cold take you from him.

“Y’see that?” You lift your head sluggishly to see a small opening tucked into the drop off of a very large, rocky hill. “Just gotta make it there, alright?”

You try for an ‘okay’ but all that comes out is a small hum as you slump further against him. Maybe you’ve relaxed too much, “M’ tired.”

“I know, darlin’, I know.” The pet name sparks something in you, and you try to foster it, let it liven you up a little. Darlin’ Darlin’ Darlin’ like a mantra over and over in your head. He squeezes your arm roughly, and you peel your eyes open as he pleads, “Just a little further n’ you can sit down, okay? Promise.”

Sit down, not sleep. You know you can’t sleep until you’re not at risk of freezing to death anymore. By the time you reach your destination, you can barely feel your fingers and toes.

Joel has to duck to get the two of you out of the cold and into the cave, but he manages. It’s warmer in here, you think. Although maybe its not warmth, but just the absence of the wind nipping at your skin. You’re a little alarmed that you can’t tell the difference.

Sliding down the wall to sit clumsily, you watch him as he slings both his and your packs from his shoulders. You vaguely wonder when he’d managed to take yours. The zipper clinks sharply as he sets it down and reminds you suddenly.

“The CD.”

He frowns, “Huh?”

“Ellie’s birthday gift.” You clarify through the haze rolling over your brain. “The ‘Heart’ CD. I left it.”

He blows a short huff out his nose as he reaches into his back pocket, sliding said object from the denim and giving it a waggle.

“Oh.”

Breathing a very small laugh, he shakes his head, “You’re welcome.”

Theres a short lull, although it feels like longer. He looks you over, jaw working before, “You’re gonna have to strip.”

You blink owlishly, “Huh?”

Cheeks and neck flushing a lovely rose, he clears his throat, “Your clothes are soaked. You’ll freeze if you keep ‘em on.”

“Oh.” That checks. You’re sure your face would be on fire if your blood wasn’t slush in your veins, “Right.”

Tentatively, you attempt to peel your jacket off while he unrolls his sleeping bag, but your arms won’t cooperate with you. They’re slow and hard to maneuver. It feels more like operating two arcade crane machines simultaneously, and you huff after failing to get the cuff of your sleeve unstuck from your wrist.

“Here.” He sighs, kneeling in front of you to tug it the rest of the way off and toss it aside. It’s stiff as it lands, mostly frozen. When he looks back at you, the corners of his mouth twist down, and he takes one of your cheeks in a big, calloused hand, thumbing under your eye. You were right. It does encompass nearly the entire side of your face.

“What?” You ask weakly, head lolling until the full weight of it rests in his palm.

“Nothin’.” He replies quietly, shaking his head. You watch his gaze dip to the hem of you shirt before it meets yours again, wary, “Can I... You want help?”

All you can do is nod. It’ll be quicker – safer – if he does it for you, you justify, as he carefully slips his fingers just under the hem and lifts. His knuckles feel like brands where they brush over your ribs, and you jolt reflexively.

He pulls it over your head and off your arms, “You alright?”

“F-Fine.” Just being undressed by the man you think you’re in love with. No big deal.

He gets off your boots next. Wetting his chapped lips briefly, his fingers twitch as he glances down at your jeans, “These too?”

It takes a second for you to realize he’s not asking if you want them off, but rather if you want help getting them off. You swallow, then through chattering teeth, “Uh-huh.”

Wordlessly, he undoes the button, then the zipper without dawdling, strictly business. You plant your palms and use what little strength you have left to lift your butt from the floor so he has room to wiggle them down your thighs. They slip over your calves and past your ankles with ease, taking your socks with them.

“You, uh...” Again, he clears his throat. “You can get in the sleeping bag ‘fore you take off the rest.”

Drawing your knees in makes your bones ache, and you list to one side when you attempt to shift your weight forward onto your feet. He catches you roughly by the shoulders and soothes, “Easy. C’mere.”

He helps you over and into the sleeping bag, zipping you up. It takes effort, but you manage to unhook your bra, throwing it near your other clothes weakly. Joel’s got a gloomy look on his face as he scrubs a large hand over the length of your bicep. The warmth from the friction seeps through the fabric and into your skin, but it doesn’t feel like enough.

“You’re wet too.” He looks down at himself at your observation. The front of his clothes are indeed wet. The fact that he’s not near freezing is a miracle.

He hums, hand still heavy on your arm, “Only got one sleepin’ bag.”

“Body heat. S’ better for kee-keepin’ warm anyway, right?” A strange look crosses his face, then, and you feel a little silly for suggesting it. “Only if you want.”

Only if he’s comfortable.

Tentatively, he asks, “You alright with that?’

“Mm-hm.” It sounds too eager. You’re too tired to care.

He hesitates a moment, before nodding, “Alright.”

You mourn the loss of his touch briefly as he stands, moving your packs closer before sliding off his jacket. He lifts his shirt just enough for you to catch a glimpse of the soft slope of his abdomen before seemingly remembering himself.

“Don’t look.” He mumbles, suddenly shy. You do as he says, listening to the shucking of fabric, the clinking of his belt buckle, the zipper of his jeans.

The soft sound of socked feet padding quickly over stone as he rushes to escape the cold. He hisses as he slots himself in behind you.

“Christ, woman, you’re like ice.” His skin is blessedly warm as his torso presses hot against your back.

“Think I don’t know that?” You quip with no malice, body wracked with shivers that aren’t entirely to blame on the cold anymore.

Puffs of his breath fan over your ear as he chuckles, “Wasn’t thinkin’ when I said it. Sorry.”

“S’ okay.” You lift your head so he has space to stretch out his arm, and the curve of your cheek bone fits snuggly into the crook of his elbow. You find his bicep makes a very comfortable pillow, “Your arm’s gonna fall asleep.”

“You comfortable?” He asks, and you nod, “Then I don’t much care.”

You pray he can’t feel your heart palpitating in your chest as you whisper, “Okay.”

The heat radiating off of him could rival a space heater cranked up to the highest setting. It’s doing wonders, thawing your own body and slowly bringing your temperature back up to something more human, less breathing corpse. He’s stiff as a board, though. The arm that isn’t under your head must be tucked tight against his side, and his bare legs are as far from yours as he can get them in the too-small sleeping bag. You want him and his warmth closer.

“You can touch me, Joel.” He stills, and it occurs to you how that must have sounded. “I mean, you’re not going to make me uncomfortable. You can relax.”

“Alright.” His voice is a low rumble in your ear as his hand just barely creeps over your bare waist. He’d be leaving goosebump in his wake if they weren’t already there. “This okay?”

It takes a moment to find your voice.

“Yeah.” It feels funny in your throat. You swallow in an attempt to fix it, “S’ good.”

You feel him finally relax, and try not to jump when he snakes his arm – his very naked arm – around your front, forearm flush against the soft flesh of your stomach and knuckles a little more than a hairs width from the underside of your breast. If you tilted your head just a bit and strained your eyes all the way to the side, you think you could catch a glimpse of his collarbone. You’re too cozy in his hold to move.

“Feelin’ any warmer?” Eyelids fluttering, you hum contentedly. The tip of his nose smushes firm into your shoulder as he murmurs, “Can’t fall asleep yet.”

“Please?” It must come out strangely by the way his breath hitches, “M’ warm enough. Swear.”

“That’s a load a bull if I ever heard it.” He snorts. The vibrations of his voice leave your skin humming, and it coaxes you further into him, “You’re lukewarm at best.”

“Word’s got ‘warm’ in it, doesn’t it?”

He tuts at you. You can hear his smile as he grumbles, “Don’t get smart with me.”

“You love it.”

He chuckles in strange way, “I do.”

Silence. Laying in his arms comes more naturally to you than it probably should. Especially given the fact that the two of you are mostly naked. And warm. So, so warm. Fatigue weighs down your eyelids. You’ve done so much today, you deserve the rest, it whispers.

“You fallin’ asleep over there?”

“Mm-mm.” You grumble, peeling your eyes wide open for a second to wake yourself some before they slide halfway shut again of their own accord, “Some old man keeps yapping in my ear every time I drift off.”

“You watch your mouth.” He growls, joking. Something stirs in your belly. You curse yourself for being too tired and too weak to do anything about it.

You settle for teasing instead. “Or what?”

He scoffs, “Frozen half to death, but still got ‘nough brains to give me lip, huh?”

“Mm-hm.” More silence. The sound of his breathing starts to lull you away into something too far from consciousness, and you drag yourself from it woefully, “F’ you want me to stay awake, you’re gonna have to talk my ear off, cowboy.”

“‘Bout what?”

“Anything.” Everything. Even if you weren’t trying to stay awake for the sake of staying alive, you’d let him ramble about whatever he wanted as long as he’d let you listen.

“Alright.”

He talks about the things he has to do when you get back to Jackson. Apparently, his work room needs a good tidying. When that gets too dull, he tells you about the movie he and Ellie watched last week for movie night. He asks obvious questions throughout explanations to keep you awake. ‘The guy working with the small green... thing, what was his name again? Right, now where was I?’ It feels like a good few hours before he lets you start to drift off. You fall asleep to the sound of his voice, the feel of his warm body tucked in close to your back, and dream of deep space and empires beyond your comprehension.

---

By the time you wake, sunlight is pouring in through the mouth of the cave, and the snow just beyond burns a horizon into your vision when you blink your eyes open. You stretch your legs out a little only to find them tangled between Joel’s. The movement must wake him because he takes a slow, sleepy breath, and squeezes closer.

“Joel?” You breathe. He startles.

“Wh-?” His head lifts and he tightens his hold on you for a split second, head on a swivel. When he realizes there’s no threat, he sighs heavily. You shudder when his arm slides over your bare stomach as he moves to scrub a hand over his face, “Christ.”

“Sorry.”

“S’ fine. My fault for fallin’ asleep.” He drawls, voice gravelly. You shift, and he scoots back just enough to let you turn over, “Time is it?”

“Definitely past dawn.” His eyes dart behind you, and he scowls at the sun. Yours follow the lean tendon in is neck as he lets his head fall back, and you suppress the urge to trace the length of it with your finger.

He curses, and it occurs to you that he hasn’t made much of an effort to disentangle himself from you. Now of sounder mind and warmer body, you notice the hair of his legs prickling against yours. You notice your bare chest pressed close to his, the steady rise and falls of them both as your breaths sync. Eyes trail up his collar, his neck, his face. Russet eyes bore into yours, and your breath hitches. They flick down to your lips. The little space left between you is charged; static electricity that spiders over your skin and lifts the hair on your arms.

“You, uh,” His hand skims over your skin once more; gentle, tentatively affectionate, as if he’s afraid to touch you now that you aren’t in need of his warmth. It settles into the curve of your waist like it’s meant to be there. He’s still staring at your lips. “You feelin’ any better?”

“Yeah.” You breathe. He looks back up at you, then, “Much.”

“Good.” He murmurs just as soft. His eyes dip back down to your lips.

You must be dreaming. Or dead. Or some other state of being beyond reality. Because there is no way he’s leaning in. There’s no way the tip of his nose is brushing yours. There’s no way he’s close enough that you can feel each one of his exhales fanning over your mouth.

“Joel...” It comes out a sigh, barely audible. You’re not even sure you’ve actually said anything aloud until he responds.

“Tell me to stop.” The words leave his lips in a low whisper and settle heavy on yours. You hold your breath as his hand sweeps over your ribs, the length of your collar. It envelops the entire side and back of your neck, igniting your skin as he draws a feather-like line over the edge of your jaw, “Tell me to stop, n’ I will.”

Any minute now, your heart is going to burst through your ribcage. You’re sure of it. Mind blank, you can’t think of anything to say. But you don’t want him to stop. You’ll never want him to stop. A shuddered breath, and you timidly press your the tip of your nose into the apple of his cheek, lips barely a hairs width from his. He turns his face just so, and you almost jump when his cupid’s bow just barely grazes your upper lip.

Your name sounds from somewhere far away, followed by his. The two of you startle, and in an instant, the moment is gone.

“Goddamn it, Tommy.” He huffs under his breath, rolling out of your space as much as he’s able within the confines of the sleeping bag. As glad as you are that someone’s found you, the man’s timing could not be any fucking worse.

“We best get dressed.”

“Yeah.” Your cheeks warm as he begins shimmying out from next to you, gaze catching on his broad chest, the soft muscle of his stomach, the hair trailing from his abdomen down somewhere lower, beneath the thin fabric of his boxers. You close your eyes before you can see anything more.

With him gone, you’re cold again. The frigid air nips at your bare chest, and you snuggle deeper into the sleeping bag until he’s done dressing. His clothes appear to be dry and fit to wear again. Yours are a different story, frozen solid in the shapes they landed in when you tossed them into a pile last night.

“Here.” Something soft plops down in front of your face, and when you open your eyes, there’s a stack of messily folded clothes on the stone floor with a sheepish looking Joel bent over his backpack a little ways away, “You can borrow those.”

Something warm and syrupy fills your chest and squishes between your ribs as you murmur, “Thanks.”

Keeping his gaze on the floor, he only hums in response. You take that as your cue to slide yourself out of the warmth of the sleeping bag. The only thing of yours that doesn’t need to be thawed is your bra, though it’s still cold against your skin as you slide your arms through the straps. Joel’s long sleeve is next. It’s soft, and smells like cedar and something uniquely him. You resist the urge to bury your nose in the fabric, too afraid he’ll decide to look up and catch you doing it.

When you’re done, you make your way to him and catch the quick once over he gives you.

“Like what you see?” You grin. He rolls his eyes.

He jerks his nose in the direction of your belongings, grumbling, “Get your stuff.”

You oblige, slinging your pack over your shoulders and stepping out into the sun after him. It blinds you, and the backs of your eyes ache as you blink to adjust them to the light. Luckily, the weather is significantly better today. No unexpected squalls, blue skies, and just a little warmer than yesterday.

“Tommy?” Joel suddenly calls out into the woods, his volume startling you bad. He grimaces, looking disproportionately apologetic, “Sorry.”

“Sorry?” You scoff, grinning playfully and shaking your head, “Nuh-uh, that was totally unforgivable.” You bump his shoulder with yours, “You’re really gonna have to make up for that.”

A dampened smile turns the corners of his mouth up as he bumps you back lightly, breathing a laugh, “Not a chance.”

“Joel?” Tommy calls back, closer than before. “This way!”

He’s brought a search party. A fair sized one, judging by how many voices respond at varying distances. It’s not long until you spot two people on horseback through the trees, one with familiar curls and a newer face with sandy blonde hair.

“Joel!” Tommy sounds utterly relieved as he slides off his gelding and engulfs him in a hug, clapping him over the shoulders before pushing him back, stern, “What the hell happened? We all thought you’d gotten yourselves killed!”

“One of us almost did.” Joel mutters, shooting a look at you. “Twice.”

Tommy gawps, looks like he’s about to ask before sighing in resignation. “You can tell me about it on the way home. Ellie’s been losin’ her mind since last night. Girl hasn’t slept a wink. Had to keep an eye on her to make sure she didn’t take off to find y’all by herself in the dark.”

Joel tuts and shakes his head, scrubbing a hand over his face, “You find our horses?”

“Yeah, Maria and Bev found ‘em early this mornin’.” He leads the two of you back towards his horse. “You’ll have ‘ta ride back with us.”

“I’ll ride with Jamie.” Jamie’s sort of new to Jackson, newer to you considering you’ve only been there about a year and he’s got a quarter more on you. He’s friendly, you like him. You have a feeling Joel holds a very different sentiment as he glowers, displeased as the man helps you up.

“Hold on tight.” He grins. Joel looks about one more dazzling smile from murdering him in cold blood.

He’s quiet the whole ride back, broody with his face set in a scowl. Tommy makes conversation here and there, asks what happened again and nearly breaks his neck when he whips his head to look at you in shock. You get similar reactions when you make it back to Jackson and explain.

“Joel!” Ellie flings herself at him and nearly bowls him over in her rush to hug him. You’re next, though with noticeably less force. You must still look a little rough, “What the hell happened?”

“We were passin’ over the lake n’ she fell through the ice.” He omits the part before that where you’d nearly gotten your face eaten by an infected, and for that, you’re thankful.

She pales, looking at you like you’ve grown an extra head, “You what?!”

“I’m fine.” You rush to reassure, glaring at Joel where he’s slipping the reigns off Tommy’s horse out of the corner of your eye, “It’s nothing to worry about now.”

“Like hell it ain’t.” He grumbles under his breath as he carefully slips the bit from the horse’s mouth and gives him a pat on the cheek, muttering a clipped ‘hey’ when you thwack his shoulder as hard as you’re willing. He gives Ellie a short, well meaning lecture that’s met with a very prompt dismissal consisting of some very colourful language as you move to help Jamie with his mare. Maria stops you with a hand on your wrist.

“Jamie’s got it, you go home. I don’t want to see you working for the next couple of days, alright?”

“But-?”

She cuts you off with a firm shake of her head. “That wasn’t a suggestion.”

“Alright.” You sigh, handing Jamie the reigns. As you’re leaving, you barely catch Joel whisper a ‘thank you’ to her and whip around to glower at him. “You’re responsible for my involuntary sick leave?”

“Necessary sick leave. And no, I’m not. You’re just known to be lackin’ in the self preservation department, so we gotta have some for you.” He teases, bumping your shoulder a little in a way you think is supposed to be playful. “C’mon. I’m walkin’ you home.”

“Yeah? Finally done with your brooding?”

He clicks his teeth, “M’ not brooding.”

“Not now, but you were.”

“Was not.”

“Was too.”

“Quit it.” He breathes a laugh, shaking his head. You grin, victorious.

“I’m serious, you scowled the whole way back. Between the cold and the time it took to get here, I was a little worried your face would get stuck like that. I’d never get to see that charming smile again.”

He rolls his eyes. “How would you ever survive?”

You both chuckle, before falling into comfortable silence. You pass house after house, before taking a right onto your street. Through their front window, you can see a couple you’ve yet to meet properly stands in their living room, swaying in an embrace, gazing at each other with an appreciation you only come to grasp when you’ve nearly lost someone. The man slides a hand from her waist to her cheek, thumbing the underside of her eye, and you’re reminded of the feel of Joel’s calloused palm holding your frigid cheek.

You frown, pulling your prying eyes from the sweet scene as you near your own home, “Hey, why’d you... hold my face for a second out there?”

He flushes, clears his throat with a frown, “Your pupils were so big, could barely see any colour.”

As you reach your porch, he looks deep in thought and- Worried? Rattled, maybe. Moreso as he softly admits, “You scared the hell outta me, y’know.”

“Yeah, I know.” In a rare act of bravery, you take his warm hand and squeeze, gazing at him earnestly, “I’m really sorry.”

He visibly softens, the perpetual wrinkle in his brow smoothing into something warmer, a little hesitant, dare you say even timid. You watch his gaze flick over your face before he squeezes back cautiously, “S’alright. Was my fault. Knew we shouldn’t a’ crossed that way this time a’ year.”

“Don’t blame yourself. I suggested it, it was my fault, too.” You reply, firm but gentle.

He looks down with a hum, scuffing the toe of a heavy boot over the concrete path that leads to your house. There’s a small silence, and you’re trying to find the words to assure him you were both idiots for trying to pass over that damn lake when he pipes up again.

“I meant it, before,” He smiles cautiously, unsure of himself, “Don’t ever pull shit like that again.”

You laugh, glad the mood has shifted to something lighter, still holding his hand as you shake your head, “I meant it too! I didn’t do it on purpose.”

He chuckles, looking down to your linked hands. You watch his expression carefully, and something bittersweet twists his lips when he gives yours one last squeeze before pulling away.

“See you ‘round, yeah?” Your heart sinks to your stomach and hollows it out, making room for a strange disappointment. Something that feels a little like grief as you watch what could have been as it slips through your fingers and takes half a step back from your porch.

“Yeah.” It soughs out on a breath that leaves your lungs too quick, and you take another, controlled and slow. You nod, smile tight lipped, “See you around, Joel.”

You turn, make it up the wooden steps of your porch and through the threshold of your door. It shuts, and you just stand there, snow melting off of your boots and coat and soaking into the door mat below. It feels wrong, leaving whatever happened between you undiscussed, and the hollow feeling pulses achingly in your throat. There’s something there, something palpable. Something that could be real, if only you would reach for it. You wish he would have reached for it. You wish you would reach for it now. But it’s impulsive. It’s reckless. He knows that, that’s why he left it alone. It needs more thought, you rationalize.

You turn on your heel and reach for the door handle. He’s already standing there with a hand raised to knock when it opens, looking as startled as you are.

“Listen, I-.” He clears his throat, shoves his hands into the pockets of his jacket. It’s endearing to see him so bashful, “What happened out there... I couldn’t not say somethin’.”

There’s too much air in your chest. Your vocal cords feel more like wind chimes – unpredictable, and at the mercy of something more so. You don’t trust your breath to sway them the way you want them to.

“Yeah?” You try anyway. It drifts out soft and hangs in the air.

“Yeah.” He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, glances over your shoulder with a sniff, then chuckles nervously, “Hadn’t actually thought about what that somethin’ would be ‘fore I did this.”

You chuckle with him; startled, shy.

“Would you like to have dinner with me sometime?” He asks like it’s easy, but the colour in his cheeks give him away. They’re a bit too pink for it to be just a cold flush.

Your stomach does a strange flip. You’ve waited months for him to ask, too afraid to ask yourself without knowing what his answer might be. You dig your thumbnail into the side of your index finger and rejoice at the pinch. He’s real, and he’s really asking.

The sound you make is halfway between a laugh and a sigh, “This is a little backwards, isn’t it?”

He frowns. “What d’you mean?”

“I mean, usually you take a lady out to eat before you sleep with her.” You simper, your teasing tentative. He stares at you, stunned, for a long, unbelievably nerve wracking moment.

“I take it back. I’ll eat by myself.” He laughs, shaking his head. He stays standing on your porch.

“Wha-,” You gape, laughing as you thwack his arm, “Hey, you already offered, you can’t take it back now!”

He smiles so terribly, wonderfully soft. “So I take it you do, then?”

God, it has to be illegal to look at someone like that, you think. It’s got to be some sort of health hazard, the way you feel as though you might just go into cardiac arrest right here on your porch. You smile, giddy and trying your damndest to smother it into something just a little less eager, “I’d love to have dinner with you, Joel.”

“How ‘bout tomorrow night? My place?”

“Yeah.” You can’t help the grin that sneaks up on you, “Yeah, that’d be good.”

He smiles back, soft and warm in a way you have a feeling is reserved for you, “Pick you up a six.”

“You’re right across the street, Joel.” You laugh, gesturing to the house maybe fifty paces from yours if you took long enough strides.

He chuckles along with you, “So?”

“So, I could just come over.”

“You could.” He shrugs a shoulder, grinning something that makes him look years younger; the ghost of a cheeky, twenty-something year old buried under as many years and then some, breathing his first breath in decades with heartbeat restored, “But what kind a’ gentleman would I be if I didn’t walk you there?”

“Alright.” You smile soft, committing his expression to memory. “I’ll be waiting.”

“Countin’ the minutes.” He takes your hand again and steps in close, leaning in to press his warm lips to the apple of your cheek, beard prickling ticklishly. Good god, you can’t feel your legs. Your is heart bouncing between your ribs so quick its making you a little lightheaded. You wonder if he’s grinning because he could feel the heat rising off your skin. He squeezes your tingling fingers and lets his slide from them slow like he’s loathe to leave. “See you ‘round.”

“See you around, Joel.”

#joel miller x reader #joel miller/reader #joel miller fic #joel miller fluff #joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #tlou #tlou fic #joel x reader #joel x you #joel x y/n

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lordprettyflackotara · 8 months ago

Text

noise || masky (maid!reader)

tw: PLEASE READ: gun play, gun fucking? humiliation, throat fucking, public fucking, cnc if you squint but you’re really a horny freaky fuck, public use kink lowkey, hair pulling

spin off with hoodie is here

Masky knew how he liked to spend his Saturday nights.

Typically they included Hoodie and Toby, maybe a few bottles of liquor and some friendly rounds of russian roulette.

Yet on this Saturday his eyes were glazed over as he stared at you over the rim of his glass. Hoodie and Toby were no where to be seen. Instead he was accompanied by his gun, a good old fashioned bottle of whiskey, and you. You were just adorable, shuffling awkwardly in your seat in front of him. As the mansions maid your rights were very much stripped from you, as was your dignity. The vile combination landed you on a bar stool in a lousy maid outfit across the table from Masky.

Questioning why Masky wanted to spend his evening with you in particular wasn’t your job. With that being said, the curiosity lingered in the back of your mind the longer you watched you drink. “You sure you don’t drink?” Masky huffed, downing another shot. Oh you were sure alright, your eyes briefly flickering to his veiny hands. “I’m sure,” You replied modestly. You tried to remain confident, ignoring Masky’s not so subtle gaze at your breast. Curse this stereotypical ass costume. “There a particular reason why?” Masky asked. He was trying his hardest to engage in conversation with you. He noted despite your flusteredness you seemed to reciprocate the effort. “Not particularly,” You answered.

Masky poured himself another shot, eyeing you suspiciously, “It’s because I make you nervous, don’t I?”

You felt heat dash across your cheeks, your face turning bright red. “Excuse me?” You asked. Masky chuckled at your response, fighting the urge to lean across the table and pinch your cheeks. “You heard me princess. I don’t stutter,” Masky replied in a cocky tone. You narrowed your eyes, up for a decent challenge. One that wouldn’t include dusting the tippy tops of Slenderman’s bookshelves. You slid off of your chair, pulling down your mini dress as you grabbed a glass from the kitchen cabinet. Masky ensured to snag an eyeful of your plump ass as you reached upwards.

Stomping back to the table you slammed the glass down, grabbing the bottle of whiskey. Masky’s eyebrows raised as you practically threw off the top, pouring the firey liquid in your glass. “Dont pour more than you can drink sweetheart,” Masky suggested. You set the bottle aside, grabbing the glass. Sarcastically you raised it, fighting a smirk. “Cheers,” You say bitterly. You brought the glass to your lips, maintaining eye contact with the brunette as you did so. “That shit isn’t cheap. You better swallow all of it unless you want to pay me back,” He threatened. He noted your thighs subtly rubbing together under the sound of his threat. He smirked as he watched you down the whiskey, ignoring the hazardous feeling of fire spreading down your throat.

You stopped halfway to take a breath, your eyes watering. Masky’s dark gaze stared you down. “Keep going. I didn’t tell you to stop,” He said. You gulped as you brought the glass back to your lips, finishing the drink. Masky grinned at your obedience. “Thats a good girl,” He murmured. Swallowing you beamed with pride, wiping the sides of your mouth. Your stomach rumbled with fire and desire, your gaze landing back on the man across from you. “Wanna play a game?” You asked curiously, tilting your head to the side. Masky’s interest was peaked, the brunette sipping his own whiskey. “I don’t play games sweetheart, I win them,” He gloated. Your gaze fell to his veiny hands once again, the thought of them tangling themselves in your hair making your mouth water.

“You’ll be really good at this one then,” You reply, your mind rancid with utter filth. Masky noticed your hazy expression, leaning forward. “Oh really? What do I need to do?” He asked. Biting your bottom lip you slid off of your chair, crawling underneath the table. The table cloth kept you being hidden, Masky curiously glancing downwards as you crawled in between his legs. Your fingers began to fiddle with his belt, the metal clinking. “Be very very quiet,” You hummed. Masky briefly lifted his hips, allowing you to tug down his jeans and boxers enough for his cock to spring out.

The brunette felt himself growing warm as you took his cock in your hands, giving it a couple pumps before bringing it to your lips. Masky shifted in his chair, grabbing the sides as you licked the slit of his tip. “Oh I see, you’re a nasty slut aren’t you?” He huffed. You took him in your mouth, bobbing your head up and down his cock. One of his hands slithered underneath the tablecloth, his fingers raking through your hair. He tugged at the roots, shoving you further down his cock. You whined from the pain, your core throbbing as his tip brushed against the back of your throat.

Masky grunted quietly as he forced you down further, his cock now deep down your throat. You admittedly gagged around his shaft, your cheeks turning a deep red from embarrassment. You tried to pull away, his strong hand holding you in place. “I didn’t say you could move. Stay still and relax your jaw,” He ordered sternly. Blinking away the tears that had accumulated in your flooded waterline, you dropped your jaw, forcing yourself to relax under his tight grip. “Thats it. Just submit,” He grumbled, slowly pulling you off of his cock. He gave you a moment to breathe, relishing in the sound of you gasping for oxygen before he shoved you back onto his cock.

The brunette was anything but gentle, using your throat as he pleased. You felt humiliated, saliva trailing down your chin and forming a small pool on the floor below. Masky sipped his whiskey nonchalantly as he abused your throat, the pride and satisfaction practically dripping off of him. It was then you heard footsteps, every fiber in you screaming at you to stop the sinful act you were committing. Clutching Masky’s thighs as a silent plea for him to stop, he momentarily froze. Releasing your hair he grabbed his gun off of the table, your eyes widening as you met the end of it. He pressed the cold metal against your forehead, turning off the safety.

“I didn’t tell you to stop, did I?” He asked, just quiet enough for only you to hear. You swallowed, nervously tucking your hair behind your ears as you reattached your mouth to his cock. Masky watched Jeff and Toby waltz into the kitchen, not even attempting to hide his smug expression. “Gentleman,” Masky said plainly. Jeff raised an eyebrow, shooting the brunette a confused expression. You gripped Masky’s thighs as you licked the underside of his cock, before running your tongue through his slit. “What’s got you all chipper?” Jeff questioned. The sound of the pale killers voice made you freeze, Masky quick to push the gun against your head. “Beautiful night isn’t it?” Masky quipped.

Toby was busy digging through the cabinets for a snack, Jeff shooting him a look. “Uh huh,” Jeff mused. He walked past Masky, walking up to Toby. “Did EJ give him new meds or something?” He whispered. Toby shrugged, pulling out a box of trix cereal. “B-beats me. I’m m-m-more interested in where the maid is,” He replied. You forced yourself lower onto Masky’s shaft, concealing your gagging sounds. “Why’s that?” Masky asked. You could feel your panties begin to soak with arousal, causing you to uncomfortably rub your thighs together. “Shes a fine little thing. Needa get her alone,” Jeff agreed. His humiliating words only turned you on more, making you suck Masky’s cock harder.

“Hoodie a-already had a t-t-turn. She’s up-p for grabs,” Toby mentioned. Masky’s eyes widened, realizing you weren’t the innocent little maid you made yourself out to be. “Really? Is that so?” He asked. Toby nodded, grabbing a handful of cereal and shoving it in his mouth. “Bringing her in as our personal whore and maid has got to be the best decision Slender’s ever made,” Jeff commented. He crossed his arms, his gaze briefly flickering down to the table cloth on the kitchen table. He tilted his head to the side, noticing it looked a bit slanted. Just as he was about to ask, Toby elbowed him. “Let’s g-g-go find her. If you don’t mind s-sharing of course,” Toby chuckled. Jeff rolled his eyes, his attention now refocusing on his moron of a friend.

“Not really. I won’t need to share if I find her first though,” Jeff snickered. Masky watched as he darted out of the kitchen, leaving Toby behind. “Y-you bitch! I call dibs!” Toby yelled, slamming his box of cereal down. He sprinted after the pale killer, not giving Masky a second glance. The moment they were gone the brunette pushed his chair back, looking down at you. “Make me cum and then i’ll consider letting you do the same,” He growled. His finger rested on the trigger, his itch to pull it only growing as you desperately sucked his cock. His other hand grabbed your hair, forcing you down further. Fuck, did he love the sound of you gagging.

He tilted his head back as he came down your throat, his seed causing you to choke. He licked his lips as he looked down at you. “Swallow it all stupid slut,” Masky barked. He watched you struggle to obey him as his cock stayed lodged in your throat, the brunette finally merciful enough to remove himself from you. You gasped for air, panting as the brunette glared down at you. “Get on the table and spread your fucking legs,” He snarled. You scrambled to listen to him, dreading the panties that were apart of your uniform being revealed. Shyly you spread your thighs once you were seated on the table, your white thong failing to conceal your wet cunt.

“As much as i’d love to fuck you, I don’t fuck community whores,” He grumbled. With his gloved hand he dragged two fingers up your folds, collecting your slick. “Such a pretty pussy though. Such a shame,” Masky mumbled to himself. You whimpered under his touch, bucking your hips since you were so desperate to get off. The brunette didn’t fail to notice this, pulling your thong to the side. He brought his gun to your cunt, rubbing it teasingly up and down your folds. He watched in awe as you grinded against it, Masky’s cock threatening to get hard all over again.

“You’re so desperate you’re willing to get off on my gun? Really? Do you know how many people i’ve killed with this thing?” Masky questioned. He watched you bite your lower lip, your gaze focused on the weapon brushing against your clit. He roughly grabbed your face with his spare hand, puckering your lips out like a fish. “But that doesn’t matter to you does it? As long as you cum you’ll be satisfied,” He huffed. You whimpered under his grasp, your small hands grabbing onto his arm. He licked his lips, eyeing yours carefully. “You wanna get off so bad? Fine,” He grunted. Abruptly he shoved the cold metal inside of you, your body tensing.

“M-Masky-” You sputtered, gripping the table. The brunette smirked as your gummy walls eagerly clamped down on the metal. “Dont act all scared. I know you like this you freaky bitch,” Masky chuckled darkly. He shoved the gun inside of you further, your cunt eager. A groan fell from your lips as it brushed against your g spot, causing Masky to smirk at the sound. “Stay still princess, wouldn’t want to pull the trigger. That might hurt,” He taunted. He began to fuck his gun into you, your groans turning into sinful moans as it abused your g spot. “But Masky, I want you,” You slurred, your eyes threatening to flutter shut from the pleasure.

Reaching forward he grabbed a handful of your hair, yanking you closer to him. “Dirty whores don’t get my cock,” He growled. You whimpered as the metal grew warmer from your heat, your hand slithered down to your neglected clit. “Thats it, shut up and take it,” Masky snickered. You drew fast circles around your clit, allowing him to fuck you with his gun. “So fucking pathetic,” He mumbled. He watched as your head tilted back, your body threatening to squirm as he pleased you. “Mmm, feels so good,” You whined. He continued to abuse your cunt as he pleased, your g spot repeatedly hitting the tip of his gun. You felt your orgasm growing closer, the cord inside of you tightening.

“Does it princess? Tell me how good it feels,” Masky replied. You allowed your eyes to flutter shut, your oncoming orgasm coming quickly. “So fucking good Masky. Fuckkkk,” You moaned. You felt your hips stutter as you came around Masky’s gun, your vision turning white from euphoria. Your heart was pounding against your chest, your breath shallow as you came down from your high. Slowly Masky removed his gun from your cunt, your juices coating the metal. “Clean it,” He huffed, dragging you by your hair towards the gun. Dazed, you lapped at the metal, your own juices coating your tongue. Masky watched as you wrapped your tongue around the gun, his gaze glued to you.

“Don’t get all shy now,” He said, forcing the gun further into your mouth. You met his dark gaze, forcing your jaw to go slack. Before Masky could go any further, the sound of Toby’s voice broke him from his lustful trance.

“H-holy shit!”

#creepypasta #creepypasta smut #creepypasta lemon #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta x female reader #creepypasta x y/n #creepypasta x you #masky smut #masky and hoodie smut #masky x reader #masky x hoodie #creepypasta masky #masky and hoody #tim masky #masky marble hornets #marble hornets x you #marble hornets x reader #marble hornets #tim wright smut

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ironladders · 5 months ago

Note

"I circled half the globe searching for him, but he was gone."

Starscream ;_;

RIGHT?? IT'S SO SAD .

and i have sooo many thoughts about this whole situation with skyfire/starscream that's been presented to me, if you dont mind anon im gonna use your ask to ramble a little

(disclaimer im sure nothing i have to say here is particularly new & has been said by those who've been deep into TF longer than myself but i need to get this out my system anyways. and also im still watching through g1 so if im horribly mistaken about anything #oops)

unless i missed something, i don't think it's specified in "fire in the sky" how long starscream looked for skyfire?? but just thinking about that line.... he obviously didn't immediately go back to cybertron, he didn't just give up on skyfire. starscream cared about skyfire enough to look for him, only leaving after (i assume) he realized he didn't have the resources to conduct a proper search for his companion. and i mean can you imagine being starscream in that situation???? your partner just disappears into a storm, and no matter how far and long you look you're unable to find them????????

i get starscream, man. i'd also become awful if that happened to me.

and here's the thing: i stumbled upon this post which posits that the decepticons happening to stumble across skyfire in the ice was no incident, but starscream's own doing, and i LOVE this theory/headcanon so much. when i first watched the episode yesterday i was thinking that it was funny they just happen to be mining right where skyfire was frozen so it's nice to see my suspicions affirmed LMAO

i honestly love that episode so much because as i learn more about starscream and transformers as a whole i think little tidbits like that offer a deeper look into who he is (or was, idk) beyond just megatron's second-in-command. he was a scientist, an explorer, a friend. "was" isn't even the proper word here, because he still is all of those things, he just...... applies them differently, i suppose. which is the real tragedy in who he is as a character.

beyond starscream and his search for skyfire, you wanna know what i've REALLY been thinking about a lot with these two? when skyfire becomes a decepticon (for like a day lol but still), starscream immediately declares that when he overthrows megatron, skyfire will become his second-in-command. not any of the other seekers, not either of the waves, not literally anyone else who's been a decepticon for more than an hour, but skyfire. his long-lost science partner. on starscream's end, virtually nothing about his relationship with skyfire has changed. he still trusts him as much as he did millions of years ago, to the point he'd be willing to have him at his side as leader of the decepticons.

but on skyfire's end... the starscream in front of him is different from the one he knew. war and being a decepticon changed starscream for the worst, something that unveils itself very quickly to skyfire. one of the first things he asks starscream after becoming a decepticon is if starscream is genuinely happy about being a decepticon warrior over the scientist he used to be. skyfire can't believe that the person standing in front of him could be the starscream he once knew before being frozen. still, it's starscream, so skyfire ends up going along with things up until he can't ignore his morals and deny that he's on the wrong side anymore.

that is where the second tragedy happens for starscream: betrayl, by the man he'd waited to get back for so long. he finally got skyfire back, only to lose him all over again.

if skyfire had never crashed that day -- if they'd never gone closer to explore the earth in the first place -- would starscream had gone down such a dark path? would he have taken countless lives, and become the ruthless decepticon he is now? does it eat at skyfire, knowing that in his absence starscream lost who he once was? or perhaps he'd still be the same starscream, but skyfire would be at his side serving the decepticon cause. maybe they both would've been so drastically changed by the years of cybertron's war together.

skyfire is a living, formerly frozen relic of the past before everything went wrong. starscream has aged far beyond that, to the point of no return. as much as they surely both want it, and regardless of what happens to them, their bond can never go back to what it once was.

god i just. i need more!!! i need to watch more transformers and read more of the comics and see more of these two!! i watched tfp + some of the live action movies as a kid but this is my first time learning about skyfire and this thing he's got going on with starscream and it's fascinating to me i can't believe i didn't know about this before!!!!! but it's also so fucked up oh my god!!!!!

ok yeah ive gotten the brainworms out my system. idk how to end this here's screenshots i took that i found funny

#i hope skybound explores this wild thing going on btwn them in a later issue as well #considering the flashback we got + how both skyfire/jetfire and star are alive but just in uhhhhh questionable conditions... hmm #like both of them have had their autonomy stripped in some way & cant transform now #maybe it's a coincidence. but maybe It's Not #i just think it could lead to an interesting conversation #theres also the ongoing thing skybound has abt how the war rly changed the TFs & considering issue 13 i want to see sky/jetfire directly #confront that with starscream. i want to see more of the emotions he feels about star's drastic change from ulchtar #right after skyfire left everything went to shit. genvo was murdered and ulchtar died to make way for starscream #i rly do wonder if he wonders what would've happened if he stayed a few more days just like ulchtar suggested. if things would be different #man.......................#ask #starscream #skyfire #skystar

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vanillawurld · 9 months ago

Text

༊*·˚Sensación del Bloque

✧.* Pair - Joost Klein x Fem! Reader

✧.* Tags & Warnings - fluff and cussing ig

✧.* Summary - Joost finds out about his friend's new neighbor and doesn't act upon introductions until he sees her in all of her beauty.

✧.* Extra- a couple things... reader is implied to be latina, implied to have a more tanner/browner/darker complex, and reader is going to have acrylic nails and gold jewelry cuz those are my favorite things in the world rn… also i dont speak dutch so the highlighted parts are the ppl speaking dutch. ALSOO reader has a place holder smell (vanilla) but yall can change it if you want ALSOOO reader doesn’t speak dutch okay im done now

✧.* Word Count - 1,319

Joost always enjoyed meeting new people. It always allows him to share his work with others. He can be shy about his work but it's inevitable for people to know about him and his art. People never know when they are going to meet someone new unless it's planned.

Just like any other day for an artist, Joost was working with his friend, Antu, on the production of some beats for a new song in his friend’s apartment. “Man, I'm kind of hungry I'm not going to lie,” Antu randomly said, taking his eyes off his computer to look at Joost. They’ve been working on beats since the morning and being too focused on work, they forgot about the basic essentials a human body needs. Food.

“Well, what do you want to get? I don’t feel like driving so pick a place near here,” Joost replied.

Joost felt like it was an eternity letting Antu pick a fast food place. When he finally decided where to get food, they placed an order through the phone for pick up and waited. It was a quiet couple of minutes of waiting until Antu broke the silence, “I got a new neighbor”

“Seriously?”

“Yup. I’ve been trying to talk to her but she kind of ignores me. Like she’s playing hard to get,” Antu shared.

Joist gave him a confused look, “I thought you were talking to Sofie. Did you guys stop talking or something?”

Antu looked at Joost, “No… Im still talking to Sofie but that doesn’t mean im taken,” he said, making Joost roll his eyes.

“Do you know where she moved from?” Joost asked

Antu shrugged, “I heard some of the other neighbors say she’s not from Europe though. Probably somewhere in the Americas.”

A couple of minutes rolled by and Joost decided to start making his way to the place to pick up the food they ordered. He walked out of the apartment and checked his phone to see if the order was complete. While he was checking, he heard the next door open and was met by the most gorgeous looking woman he has ever seen. that must’ve been the new neighbor Antu was talking about.

She was gorgeous. everything about her screamed “goddess”. Her hair, her makeup, her jewelry, her nails everything. Joost didn’t wanna stare, but it was hard not to. The way her hair hugged the frame of her face. The way her flawless makeup sat. The way her gold jewelry reflected on her skin. The way her acrylic nails made her hands look pretty. He was able to smell her sweet vanilla scent from where he was at. something about her, made him intrigued to know her, even though this was the first time he was seeing her.

The woman was trying to look for something in her purse and seemed like she was struggling. She ended up giving up and started walking towards the elevator past him, but what she didn’t notice was that she dropped a euro. Joost saw this and thought that God was giving him a huge opportunity to talk to her. He picked up the euro and prepared himself.

“Excuse me ma’am” she ignored him “Ma’am, excuse me” she ignored him again. He got closer to her and thats when she turned around to face him. She felt his presence. Joost was even more nervous than he was. He was up close to her and felt his body go weak. “You dropped this, ma’am” he said to her.

She gave him a confused look at first and looked at his hand that had the euro note. “Is this… mine?” she said in a confused tone. From that short moment, Joost figured out why Antu couldn’t talk to her. She didn't speak Dutch. Joost didn’t know how Antu didn’t know since he said himself that she wasn’t from Europe.

“Oh, sorry! Yes this is yours. You dropped it.” Joost said in English.

He handed her the euro and gave her a nervous chuckle. She smiled back and gently took it from him. “Thank you so much,” she said to him. Her voice was heaven to Joost’s ears.

“No, problem,” he said. She started walking away, but Joost didn’t want her to. He didn’t want to stop talking to her. He wanted more from her. “Um, ma’am” he grabbed her attention again, “did you just move here?”

“I did. 2 months ago.” she replied, “im still trying to figure out where places are and stuff. Im trying to find a good clothing store near by.”

More opportunities were coming to the Dutch artist and he didn’t want them to go to waste. “Oh, I know a bunch of stores around here. I was actually about to head out to pick up some food from a place that’s around a lot of good clothing stores. If you want we can walk together around that place,” he exclaimed.

The woman gave him a smile and a smooth giggle, “You’re sweet, but im going to pass. I want to learn on my own.”

Joost was slightly disappointed but he couldn’t complain. “W-Well if you ever need any help, im always at my friends place working, stop by anytime,” he suggested.

She nodded and continued walking, but Joost called her out again. “Uh, ma’am?” she turned around to look at him, “Can I get your name? My name is Joost” he held out his hand for her to shake.

She looked down at his hand and back at him. “Everyone here is so nice,” she commented, “My name is (Y/N),” she said while taking out her hand to shake his. Joost was analyzing every detail about her. The way she talked, the way she dressed, her smooth hand, everything. As she walked away, she turned around one last time to tell him, “I like your outfit by the way.”

He watched the way her hips swayed as she walked and was enamored. Joost smiled almost like a dork. He felt extremely giddy inside like he could jump up high like they would in those corny musicals about high school. His moment was cut short though, when Antu opened the door. “Dude, where’s the food?” he said.

“Shit, sorry. I’ll go get it right now,” Joost said while taking out his wallet.

Antu looked to his side and saw his new neighbor walking towards the elevator. He immediately connected the dots. “Bro, don’t tell me you managed to talk to her,” he questioned, but by the way Joost was smiling, he already got his answer. “Please tell me your secret, i’m being dead ass,” Antu said.

From the moment that left Antu’s mouth, Joost wanted to gate keep. He didn’t want to tell him that (Y/N) doesn’t speak Dutch she he bullshitted, “You just got to have personality to pull someone like her.”

Anti rolled his eye, “Alright calm down, buddy. I will say you are lucky though. i’ve seen men basically line up outside to see her go out because she’s always going out. Didn’t think she’d talk to a boy white as you.”

“Okay, fuck you.” Joost replied. He was shocked by what Antu said though. Having men line up for a woman who is new to the country is crazy.

“Dude, she’s basically the street sensation. You are extremely lucky to even talk to her. I’ve seen her ignore so many people. Don’t know how you did it,” Antu commented before closing the door to his apartment.

Whatever spell (Y/N) put on Joost, it was working hard. he wanted to know more about her. Where she was from, who she was, but he needed to wait. He would wait until his death to know about her. He couldn’t wait to see more of her. This was the first woman to ever make him desperate for more and it wasn’t driven by lust.

˖◛. *. ⋆ Vanilla Speaks

this was a little something... where my Latina Joost Klein bitches at

#joost klein #joost x reader #joost klein x reader #joost oneshot

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gamblersdoll · 2 months ago

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manipulation, work drama, coworker! sukuna

people hated and loathed working for him, he was a total brute and alot of times, an asshole.

he was known to piss employers or colleagues off, weather it be his smart ass mouth or it be he got into a fight with them. it worsens, as soon as he got into a management level.

he was also known to let people go for the smallest of things, (really, really small things). hes even let a man go for having bad breath, because what made that acceptable for work? especially for customers who came in— and he doesnt feel like dealing with that.

you somewhat feared him, this being your longest job and the only one thats kept you from being unemployed. in this economy? youd die. plain and simple— but yet, you have no qualms with the brute. they called him ‘the devil’s employee’ for anything he did, always running his mouth. yet, all you saw was a man who somehow got a job even with all the body modifications, yet back then youd be let go if your hair was ‘unkempt.’

who did he have to bargain to get this job?

your mind raced as your feet led to his office, he having the closed door policy— dont bother him unless he bother you, or emergency. even then, youd be fired if you came to him for an emergency.

three knocks on the door, and it swings open in a rage. “what?!” he looks for a bit, forgetting hes damn straight taller than everyone, and he finally sees you. “business?”

“uhh— you said you wanted me in yer office?” you remind, he nodding and beckoning his finger to his chairs. you only sneak inside, sitting immediately as he kicks the door shut. “whats this about?”

“you tell me.”

was he dumb, stupid, or slow? he cant be, he somehow got this job, so what the hell does he mean ‘you tell me?’

“uh, im not sure? you came to me with your demands.” you still have to remind this fine tatted fuck hes the one who called for you. it eats away at you, the nervous and tension bit at your skin for minutes.

“you look like a decently smart girl, yeah?” sukuna says, leaning back in his chair, almost manspreading and pressing his finger to his jaw to keep it up. “you know everyone of this company’s policies and procedures, huh?”

you nodded, giving a look as in ‘get to the fucking point.’

“so you should know there isnt a reason you should be intimate with coworkers.” he blurts, watching your face grow in confusion.

“you lost me.” you throw your hands up, sighing. “who am i supposed to be intimate with?” because how dare he— you hadnt been intimate with anyone in the workplace, not even outside (okay, not going too far.. just casually on dates!) so who were you dating in the workplace that he accused you of?”

“you know who im talking about.” he says monotone again, tapping his heavy foot on the floor.

“i truly dont.. sorry to tell.”

“saiko.” he says, as if you were supposed to know who that was. “says hes been seein’ you for the last couple of days.”

“saiko can kiss my ass.” you grit, he was known to find a pretty girl and just lie about statuses and relationships. “me and saiko dont even have each other’s phone numbers.” this had to be the most ridiculous thing you dealt with, thought sukuna was smart and maybe saiko would pick you next.

he raises an eyebrow , his vein slightly popping through his shirt. “watch yer mouth talkin’ to me, girl.” he reminds, could he write up for insubordination? no, hed just terminate you for it. “so if i were to investigate more, i wouldnt find anything you were hiding?”

“no, because again, i dont date inside my work.”

he nods, pressing his tongue against his cheek and he quickly stands. a couple small strides, and he folded his arms— standing over you. it looked lewd, like he was trying to shove his cock in your face. “you sure you wanna go with that, or am i going to find something else?”

he should be the one questioned about this, his literal groin was almost touching your face— dont even get yourself started on how big his thighs were. “no..?” you still say, because you were in the clear. he nods, backing away and he opens the door.

“beat it.” he beckons again, watching your hips as you walked out.

yet, there was a reason of his sudden questioning.

a sick, perverted, disgusting reason of why he asked, because hes had his sights on you for months, almost a year.

he could have just asked you on a date, a coffee run, or marybe just numbers. but your answers were known, he knew you didnt date inside the workplace. it angered him, he felt like he was indirectly rejected.

he knew he wasnt, but he also thinks you should know when its okay to let loose.

it was a simple crush he had— wouldnt even call it that to think of it, but it manifested itself into something else. he started having these lingering thoughts and looks, like he was longing. to hell with the ‘policies and practices’ bullshit, he had more power than anyone.

people who noticed that he was staring at you in meetings and gossiped were let go, with the reasons of insubordination, bad breath, improper behavior, many more.

he only grew more sick when he became a management level, having more authority over you— everyone he disliked. but that also ment he had authority over saiko, the man who wasnt as creepy as sukuna. he was known to find a nice looking woman and make up a scenario where you were dating.

and that angered the devils’ employee. because why the hell did he think he had a chance with you? how did he come up with this idea on his own? thats what sukuna wanted to know. and quite frankly, he didnt fuckin’ care.

saiko was then terminated and blacklisted, last you heard after your ‘meeting.’

#dvorahasks #sukuna x black reader #jjk sukuna #sukuna ryomen #ryomen x black! reader #ryomen x you #jujutsu ryomen #jjk ryomen #ryomen x reader #jujutsu kaisen ryomen #ryomen sukuna #sukuna #sukuna x black! reader #sukuna x you #sukuna x reader #gamblersdoll

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irishmammonagenda · 1 year ago

Text

How I Think The Obey Me Dateables + Co Would React to The Rumours™️

Summary: Rumours have been floating around the Devildom. Rumours about a certain Angel and Sorcerer...how will the demon brothers react? Word Count: funny joke! Content Warnings: nothing i dont think Disclaimer: This will probably not make a lot of sense unless you've read this fic here for context, but ykw life doesnt make sense you do you <3

[Brothers Version]

dividers by @cafekitsune

You had left the Sorcerers' Society feeling quite flustered, but also extremely pleased with yourself. Take that Solomon. You grin. In all the excitement of the following days, you'd forgotten about the rumour you had accidentally spread around the Devildom. Perhaps you shouldn't've pretended to be Archangel Michael to gain entry....

💙💚BARBATOS💚💙

Finds out about the rumours relatively quickly, Little D No.2 sees him nearly dropping a plate before catching it with his tail. He was sworn to secrecy.

Poor Little D No.2

His first thought is shock, his second thought is.

'What did you do MC?'

smiling he dials your number on his DDD.

You were in the middle of doing homework, or rather, sitting at your desk staring at your homework when Barbatos called. "Hiya Barbs!" You grin into your DDD. "Hello MC." You can hear the Butler's smile through the phone. "What's got you calling Barbie?" "There have been some rumours of a certian bastard sorcerer and Archangel in a romantic relationship...you wouldn't happen to know anything of it?" You laugh. "My assassination attempt went wrong." Barbatos lets out a small chuckle along with you. "I can't say Solomon doesn't deserve it." You pause. "Barbs?" "Yes, MC?" "Would you maybe wanna...go to the next Devildom Carnival with me?" You mumble into the phone, but he catches it. Thankfully, he was feeling nice, and did not teasingly ask you to repeat it. "Of course I would MC," Barbatos tone softens, smile visible in his voice. "Perhaps you can tell me more of this assassination attempt going aray?" "It'd be my pleasure Barbie."

❤️❤️DIAVOLO❤️❤️

Barbatos tells him.

Remember the sticker incident? Yeah. Diavolo laughs when he hears about it

This could be a great help in uniting the 3 realms!!!

And hey, if someone commissions Asmo to make stickers of Michael x Solomon, dont look at Diavolo who is very suspiciously whistling innocently.

"Hi Asmo!" Lord Diavolo steps out from the shadows. Asmodeus shrieks, loosing all colour in his face before gaining it back again and grinning excitedly." Diavolo! What are you doing in my room?~" Diavolo shooshes him, pale golden eyes widening as he looks around the Avatar of Lust's room. "Not so loud." After deeming it safe enough, the Demon Prince continues, "I snuck away from Barbatos" Asmo makes a noise of understanding, he looks up at the other through foxlike eyes. "So what can I do for you Dia? ~" The Prince smiles ear to ear. "Remember the stickers you made of me and Lucifer. Well, I'd like to commission something." Asmodeus gasps excitedly, moving a stray champagne coloured lock from his forehead, he grabs his bejeweled pen and journal. "Of course! We can discuss pricing later on! First things first! What would you like?~" "Well..." Diavolo lets out a booming laugh, "Maybe something quite similar to the stickers of me and Lucifer, except with Michael and Solomon?" Asmodeus sets his pen and sketchbook down, looking up at the Devildom's present goofball and future ruler. "Y'know what, Diavolo?" He smirks mischievously. "It's on the house." Diavolo pouts, "At least let me buy you Majolish's new line of clothes." "Awww!~ If I had a ring that I didn't want to keep for myself I'd propose to you!~" Diavolo laughs. These stickers were going to be amazing.

🩷🩷THIRTEEN 🩷🩷

Haha L Solomon

Knows it's fake from the moment she hears it.

Upset she didn't think to start it....but when she finds out from Satan you had a hand in it?

Damn bbg she's about to have your hand in marriage😏

You were just trying to walk home from RAD, having finally gotten a moment of peace from your idiots when an extremely loud 'VROOOM' startles you. A black motorcycle with pink accents traverses the streets of the Devildom like it's attempting to audition for Fast and Furious, before going rogue and coming straight towards you. Scared, you start to sprint, alas, even as an angel,you can't outrun motorcycles. You don't wanna die! The mystery rider drives beside your sprinting, catching up to you before reaching their leather gloved hands out and; YOINK! The motorcyclist pulls you flush against their chest, holding you there with one arm as they use the other to steer. You've been kidnapped by a motorcyclist who thinks they're in GTA. Great. Being kidnapped by a crazed motorcyclist before GTA 6....actually, maybe this was GTA 6. "As much as I'd love to hear your screams in a different context MC, can you stop screaming?" A voice asks through the Motorcycle helmet, you immediately stop squirming to get out of the Motorcyclist's arms. "Thirteen?!" She laughs, "Awww, I love it when you say my name!" You drive in relative silence for a while until she reaches a small cafe. She stops the bike and takes her helmet off, her long ombre hair is tied in a ponytail, she takes out the bauble and lets it fall down. Bloodied emerald eyes lock onto yours as she pulls you in for a kiss. "What's this about you dying and not giving me your soul...." She says in mock sadness before jumping off of the motorcycle, helping a dazed you to your feet. "No bother!" She flirts, tucking a stray hair away from your face, "You can just give me your soul, and your heart, and your body, and your mind!" You blush. "W-why are you in the Devildom Tee?" "Well a certain someone-" She pinches your cheek, "made up a fabulous rumour about that Rat-Bastard! So I'm here to give them a lovely little dinner date and my hand in marriage as a reward!" "Excuse me? Could you repeat that?!" You ask, heart racing. Thirteen just laughs and gives you a kiss that leaves you breathless, a soft blush of her own showing up on her porcelain skin. You walked out of your impromptu unofficial kidnapping dinner date a married MC. Time to go to Vegas to make it official!

💜💜MEPHISTOPHELES💜💜

The man found out because you told him.

He is not impressed. Couldn't you have made up a rumour about Lucifer dating someone?!

No MC, this is a serious newspaper! He is not posting gossip. Or advertising fanfictions. Especially ones with a name like that!

What do you mean Lord Diavolo would 'want you to do it, Mephisto!!' are you trying to emotionally blackmail him?!

"Pleaseeeee!" "No." You try again. "Mephisto pleaseeeeeee?" He gives you a rather rude look. Damn, rich people really were good at looking at people like they were dirt on their shoes. "I won't ask for anything ever again!" "You will, and the answer is still no MC." He glares at you. Pear green eyes filled with annoyance. "The RAD newspaper is sacred! I'm not posting fanfiction on there! We are a serious organisation!" "You post popularity polls." You deadpan. "This is why I hate rich people." "Let me go wipe my tears with my various stacks of grimm lying around. Speaking of which, how did you get into my house, MC?" You grin sheepishly. "No comment!" "MC." "Your little brother let me in! He's very nice, unlike you! Now please I'm begging you!" Mephisto raises an eyebrow. "You don't look like you're begging." "I'm not getting down on my knees. I'm going to piss in your cereal." Mephistopheles scoffs. "I don't eat cereal. That's poor people behaviour." You sniffle, deciding that the best course of action would be to annoy him. "You know, you're acting like Lucifer right now! Not letting me post this in the Newspaper." Mephisto waggles his finger at you, "Send me a Devilmail of what you want included later." "Yay!" You cheer. Satan was going to be so happy when he found out you managed to get your fanfic mentioned in the RAD Newspaper!

🩵🩵SIMEON 🩵🩵

He finds out after you print out the published parts of the fanfiction you and Satan wrote.

He's an author after all! What better person to get constructive criticism from?!

Someone please save this poor man.

Solomon looked up at Michael with dull eyes devoid of emotion, just previously they had shone with tears, now they were just dead. A graveyard of feeling. "Take it back Michael." The sorcerer mutters, but Michael heard him clearly. "What you said about Humankind...take it back!" "It's the truth Solomon!" Michael raises his voice, the rain dropping like bullets against the windows of Cocytus Hall. "I can't do this anymore!" Solomon blurts out, before turning on his heel, cape flapping, as he runs out of the door, into the storm outside, his arms cover tear-stricken his face. "Solomon wait!" Michael races out after him braving the- "MC..." Simeon looks up at you, he takes his reading glasses off and gently sets the paper down, attempting to avoid looking at anything else written on it. "MC, what is this?" "Art." You nod seriously. "It is good writing MC, but, why?" "Why not?" You tilt your head. "With all the love in my heart, darling, I'm forcing myself to forget this story's existence." You pat Simeon's back. "That's probably for the best Simmy."

🤎🤎RAPHAEL 🤎🤎

Solomon? Michael was going out with Solomon?

This worked out great for him actually, this meant he could eat Solomon's food more often. How delicious!

Disappointed when he finds out the rumours aren't true.

"Raphael for the last time, do I look like the type of person that would date Solomon?!" Michael says exasperatedly, covering his face with his hands and fake sobbing. Drama king. "You are a bit odd. Are you sure you're not dating him? I won't judge you, Michael, I respect you a lot." Raphael nods seriously. "I am not dating Solomon." Raphael pouts, "I see. Have you considered dating Solomon?" Michael grabs a pillow and screams into it.

🖤🖤SOLOMON🖤🖤

Finds out through Asmo

Is that a fanficiton, MC?

Two can play at this game.

You enter your room when you feel a hand go over your mouth. You attempt to scream, but seeing as there's a hand over your mouth, it doesn't exactly go very well for you. "Relax Mc, It's just me." You turn your head around to see Solomon and that signature sneaky smile on his face. You scream louder. He chuckles and mutters a few words, all of a sudden you feel very sleepy.... Hours later, you wake up on your bed, now around 3 feet tall and with familiar pink wool, your hands and feet are now hooves, beside you Solomon had been oh so kind as to leave you a note. Cant write Fanfiction if you don't have hands. Jokes on him. You're a co-author.

🩵🤍LUKE🤍🩵

hears some demons talking about it at RAD while he´s in Devildom history

Michael are Solomon are DATING??!!!

LIKE THE THING PEOPLE DO BEFORE THEY GET MARRIED??!!

Michael and Solomon are getting MARRIED??!!

Is Solomon his dad now?

Luckily for Luke and Unluckily for Michael, Michael is still in the Devildom, so when Luke gets home, he goes to ask Michael about it.

Sounds of sizzling and chopping can be heard from the kitchen in Purgatory Hall, and thankfully, it's not Solomon. Michael hums as he expertly dices the onions up and puts them into the blender with the tomatoes, broccoli and cauliflower. His long golden hair had been haphazardly thrown into a plait, small curls that didn't feel like conforming popping out here and there, sauce stains found themselves a home on his dark skin, he stuck his tongue out in concentration. Frozen meatballs had been left out to thaw, and now the Archangel was making the vegetables in the sauce so they'd undetectable to a certain fussy young angel. "Michael?" The young angel in question calls out in the doorway resulting in Michael exclaiming something that sounded like 'GAH!' and attempting to hide Luke's view of the blender. "Hiya Lukey!" Michael grins awkwardly. "What's up with you today? Haha." Now long used to Michael's strangeness, Luke pays it no mind. "Michael, I have a question." The archangel turns the various pans on the stove to the lowest heat before sitting on a stool on the kitchen island and pulling Luke up to sit on his knee. "What's up Kiddo?" He grins, tilting his head at the boy. Luke fiddles with his thumbs, his blue eyes meeting Michael's red ones. "Is it true you and Solomon are getting married?" Michael's smile drops. He pats Luke's blond hair, "No Lukey, me and Solomon are not getting married, nor are we in a relationship." Luke's face flushes, he clenches his tiny fists. "Those demons! Making up lies!" Michael shakes the image of you from his mind. "Yeah. Demons. Yup!"

lads im gonna be honest here i havent met mephsitles or hwoever u spell it a lot in game (as well as thirteen and raphael) so apologies if theyre really ooc😰

#obey me imagines #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me x reader #omswd #obey me mc #obey me michael #obey me thirteen #obey me thirteen x reader #obey me diavolo #obey me asmodeus #obey me barbatos #obey me barbatos x reader #obey me luke #obey me mephisto x mc #obey me mephisto #obey me solomon #obey me raphael #obey me simeon

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