#you loom so large in my heart forever and always

[virgoilluminati]

Jude and Y/N going to a wedding - maybe Jude is her plus one and they're all over them because he's famous and he's just so in love with Y/N that he doesn't notice 🤭❣️

Numero uno

Inspo: Set in the World Class series, y/n's older brother Rowan decides to finally tie the knot with his girlfriend Rosemary. In turn, Y/N invites Jude as her plus one. Little did she know that inviting her boyfriend who almost won the euro's would cause such a stir.

You hated weddings. You hated the formality, the expectations, the grand declarations of love. How could anyone promise to love someone forever when life was so unpredictable, so fragile? People fell out of love, people changed, and worst of all, people died. You had seen it firsthand and the pain it caused.

The memory of Noah, your eldest brother, loomed large in your mind. He had been the glue that held their family together, his laughter and warmth filling every room he entered. But in 2020, a tragic accident had taken him from them, leaving a gaping hole that time could never fully heal. Rowan had been especially close to Noah, and you knew that today, more than ever, he would be feeling that absence acutely.

Yet, this wedding was different. Your older brother Rowan, who had been with his girlfriend Rosemary for as long as you could remember, had finally proposed. Rowan and Rosemary’s relationship had weathered many storms, and their love had only grown stronger. It was a day of joy and celebration, something you couldn’t deny them, despite your own reservations.

You stood in front of the mirror in your hotel room, your hands trembling slightly as you tried to zip up your dress. The gown was a stunning mix of red and black satin, elegant and bold, but the zipper seemed to have a mind of its own. You struggled with it for a moment, your thoughts drifting back to all the times Noah had teased you about your dramatic views on love and marriage. He would have laughed at you today, seeing you all dressed up and ready to support Rowan.

A soft knock on the door pulled you from her reverie. “Y/N, are you okay in there?” Jude’s voice, warm and concerned, came through the door.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you called back, though your voice wavered slightly. “Just having a bit of trouble with this zipper.”

Jude entered the room, his presence instantly calming you. He looked impeccable in his tailored suit, every bit the professional athlete who had just come off an incredible performance at the 2024 Men’s Euros. But here, in this moment, he was just Jude, the man who had captured your heart.

“Let me help,” he offered, moving behind you. His fingers brushed lightly against your bare back as he took hold of the zipper, sending a shiver down your spine. He slowly pulled the zipper upwards, your eyes meeting in the mirror.

“You look beautiful,” he whispered, his voice husky with admiration.

Your breath hitched, a blush creeping up your neck. “Thank you,” you replied softly.

As his fingers lingered on your back, you thought again of Noah. The thought of him brought a pang of sadness that you couldn’t shake.

“Y/N,” Jude’s voice pulled her back to the present. “You okay?”

You nodded, forcing a smile. “Yeah, just… thinking about Noah. He should be here.”

Jude’s eyes softened with understanding. “I know. He would have loved this.” He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “But you’re here, and that’s what matters to Rowan."

You nodded, drawing strength from Jude’s presence. “You’re right. Thank you.”

He smiled, his eyes filled with love. “Always.”

You turned to face him fully, your hands resting on his chest. “You look pretty good yourself,” you teased, your voice trembling slightly.

Jude grinned, his eyes darkening with desire. “Well, I have to look my best if I’m going to keep up with you.”

You shared a brief, passionate kiss, the intensity of your love wrapping around you. When you finally pulled apart, breathless and flushed, you felt a thrill of excitement. Despite the sadness, despite your doubts, this day held a promise of happiness and love.

“We should get downstairs,” you said, though your voice lacked conviction.

Jude stole one more quick kiss. “Yeah, we should,” he agreed, but his eyes told her he was in no rush. You steal one last kiss, before Jude gestures an arm for you to take and you slowly make their way down the stairs.

You and Jude arrived at the wedding reception, a beautifully decorated hall filled with flowers and twinkling lights. The soft murmur of conversations and the clinking of glasses created a warm, celebratory atmosphere. You found a quiet corner near the entrance, waiting for the rest of your family to arrive.

You fidgeted with the strap of your bra, trying to adjust it discreetly. Jude noticed your discomfort and stepped in front of you, shielding you from view.

"Need some help?" he asked softly, his voice filled with concern.

"Just trying to fix this strap," you whispered back, your fingers fumbling with the fabric.

Jude placed his hands gently on your shoulders, his body acting as a shield while you adjusted your strap. He kept glancing down at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of amusement and admiration.

"Is something wrong?" You asked, noticing his intense gaze.

Jude's lips curled into a small smile. "No, nothing's wrong. It's just... you look really hot right now."

Your cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and pleasure. "Thanks," you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jude's hand slid from your shoulder to your waist, pulling you closer. "Seriously, you’re making it very hard to focus on anything else," he murmured, his breath warm against your ear. His other hand rested briefly on your ass, giving a gentle squeeze before moving away as he heard footsteps approaching.

Your heart raced, the heat between you two intensifying. "Who says you have to?" You whispered back, your fingers curling into his shirt, pulling him even closer.

Jude's eyes darkened, his other hand drifting down to your hip, fingers lightly grazing the fabric of your dress. His lips found your neck, planting soft, teasing kisses along your skin. Your eyes fluttered shut, a soft gasp escaping your lips. His touch was intoxicating, and for a moment, you were lost in your own world.

"You're driving me crazy," Jude whispered against your skin, his voice husky.

Your breath hitched as his hand trailed up your back, lingering at the nape of your neck. "Good," she managed to say, your voice shaking with desire.

Jude pulled back slightly, his eyes locked onto yours, filled with a mix of lust and affection. "If we weren't at your brother's wedding..."

You smiled, your heart pounding in your chest. "I know."

Your moment was intense, the world around you fading as you both focused solely on each other. Jude's thumb brushed against your jawline, his touch sending shivers down your spine. Before you could get further lost in each other, the sound of approaching footsteps and voices broke their intimate bubble. You reluctantly pulled apart, your connection still palpable, and turned to face the incoming relatives.

As you and Jude were still adjusting from your intimate moment, Aunt Karen approached with her warm smile, her eyes flickering with a hint of curiosity. "Y/N, darling! It’s so good to see you!" she exclaimed, pulling you into a hug. Then she turned to Jude, her eyes twinkling with familiarity. "And Jude, always a pleasure. How’s everything going?"

Jude smiled, his gaze locking onto yours, a silent message passing between you two. "Good to see you, Aunt Karen," he replied smoothly, but there was a heat in his eyes that made Your breath catch.

You gave a distracted smile, your attention drifting back to the way Jude’s tuxedo fit him perfectly, accentuating the strong lines of his body. Your heart skipped a beat, the memory of their earlier closeness still tingling on your skin. You could feel the warmth of his touch lingering, and despite the ongoing conversation, all you could think about was how impossibly handsome he looked tonight.

Your Grandma appeared next, her eyes sharp yet affectionate as she took in the sight of you two. "Well, if it isn’t my favorite couple," she said with a teasing lilt in her voice, her gaze lingering on the space between you. "I must say, Jude, you’re looking dashing tonight."

Jude's smile widened, but his hand subtly brushed against You, sending a thrill up her spine. "Thank you. It’s great to see you," he responded, though his attention never fully left you.

Your gaze lingered on Jude, your thoughts clouded with admiration and something deeper, something that made your heart race. Your Grandma’s words barely registered as she continued, “And how was the Euro final? We were all glued to the TV, cheering for you!”

Your Uncle Michael joined the conversation, his face lit up with excitement. "We were screaming the house down! Me and the lads from the pub couldn’t believe it when you scored that winning goal. Everyone was talking about it!”

You shifted uncomfortably. The praise directed at Jude felt overwhelming, especially as your own achievements were being overshadowed. They each forgot the Women’s World Cup again, with the conversation seemingly revolved solely around Jude’s Euro final. You bit your lip, focusing on Jude’s sleek, tailored tux instead of voicing your frustration, but the intensity of your feelings were hard to ignore.

Another relative, Cousin Lisa, chimed in enthusiastically, “Honestly, Jude, you were phenomenal. The whole neighborhood was talking about it. I think they’re still raving about it!”

Jude’s eyes shifted to you, noticing your distant expression. He could sense your discomfort, the subtle tension between you growing as he decided to address it with a hint of humor. “Well, I don’t know. What do you think, Y/N?” he asked, his voice low and teasing as he glanced at you with a playful smirk.

Uncle Michael raised an eyebrow, puzzled. “What would she know? She’s not the one who made it to the final.”

Jude chuckled, his gaze never leaving you. “Actually, I think Y/N has a pretty good perspective. She didn’t just make it to the final—she won the whole Women’s World Cup,” he said, his voice carrying a mix of pride and admiration.

The room fell silent for a moment, and you felt a surge of pride and attraction. The way Jude acknowledged your achievements made your heart race, adding to the growing warmth between you. You glanced up at him, your eyes meeting his with a newfound intensity, the air between you tao crackling with unspoken desire.

"Well, congratulations to both of you," Aunt Karen said, her voice sincere. "You both have so much to be proud of."

You managed a smile, though your attention remained focused on Jude. His presence, the way he spoke up for you, and the genuine admiration in his eyes made your heart swell with affection, and something more—a hunger that you couldn’t quite quell.

As the relatives continued to chat and praise Jude, you found it difficult to pull your gaze away from him. His tuxedo, his confident demeanor, and his unwavering support for you in front of everyone only amplified your attraction to him. It was a reminder of why you were so drawn to him, beyond the accolades and the excitement of the evening.

Amid the chatter, you reached out and took Jude’s hand under the table, your fingers lacing with his. You squeezed it gently, your touch lingering. "Thanks for standing up for me," you whispered, your voice thick with emotion.

Jude’s eyes softened as he looked at you, his thumb brushing against your hand in a slow, deliberate caress. "Anytime," he replied, his voice low and reassuring, filled with a promise of more.

As you continued to mingle, the focus gradually shifted back to the others, but your thoughts were miles away, lost in the way Jude’s touch made you feel. There was a contentment in knowing that despite the overshadowing praise, you had Jude by your side.

As you and Jude settled into your seats in the church, the soft murmur of guests filled the air, blending with the gentle strains of the prelude music. Your attention was immediately drawn to Isabella, your six-year-old niece, who stood near the front with the other bridesmaids. Isabella, or Bella as the family fondly called her, looked absolutely adorable in her tiny ivory dress, a crown of flowers delicately perched atop her bouncy curls.

Your face lit up as she leaned forward, unable to contain her excitement. “Bella, you look like an absolute princess!” You gushed, your eyes twinkling with pride.

Bella smiled brightly, her cheeks flushing with happiness. She gave a little twirl, letting the layers of her dress float around her. “Thank you, Aunty Y/N! Do you really like it?” she asked, her voice full of hope.

“I love it,” You replied warmly, your smile wide and genuine. “You’re the most beautiful bridesmaid here.”

Jude sat beside you, his eyes soft as he watched the exchange. There was something incredibly heartwarming about the way you interacted with Bella—how you made the little girl feel so special and loved. He could see the natural ease with which you connected with your niece, and it stirred something deep within him.

As Bella giggled and skipped off to join the other bridesmaids, your gaze lingered on her, still glowing with affection. You turned back to Jude, your expression full of warmth. “She’s such a sweetheart, isn’t she?” You said, your voice tinged with pride.

Jude nodded, his eyes never leaving your face. “She really is,” he agreed, but his mind was elsewhere.

Watching you with Bella made Jude think about your future together. He could so clearly imagine you as a mother, holding your own children with the same tenderness you showed Bella. The thought filled him with a deep sense of warmth and anticipation, a quiet longing that he kept to himself. He knew how much you cared for your niece, but he also knew that the idea of starting a family someday made you nervous. It was something you hadn’t really discussed, and Jude didn’t want to push it, especially not now.

Instead, he simply admired you, letting the image of your possible future settle in his heart. You had a way of making people feel cherished, and he knew you would be an incredible mother someday—but that was a conversation for another time.

You noticed the thoughtful look on Jude’s face and gave him a gentle nudge. “What are you thinking about?” You asked, you tone light and curious.

Jude shook off his thoughts, offering her a soft smile. “Just how good you are with Bella,” he said, keeping his voice casual.

Your cheeks flushed slightly, and you laughed softly. “She’s been my little Bella since the day she was born,” you replied, your voice filled with affection.

Jude squeezed your hand gently, his smile lingering as you turned your attention back to the front of the church, where the ceremony was about to begin. He didn’t need to say anything more. For now, he was content to simply be by your side, holding onto the quiet knowledge of what he hoped your future would hold—dreaming of a day when you would be ready to take that next step together.

The ceremony soon began, and You watched as your sister Eden took her place as a bridesmaid, while your brother Elliot stood proudly as Rowan’s best man. The anticipation grew as everyone waited for the bride.

As the music swelled, the doors at the end of the aisle opened, and Rosemary appeared, radiant in her wedding gown. You felt a lump form in your throat as you saw Rowan at the altar, his eyes brimming with tears as he watched his bride walk towards him. The emotion in the room was palpable, and you felt yourself getting choked up.

You couldn’t contain your excitement, smiling and gushing as you watched your brother. You had never seen Rowan so happy, and the joy in his eyes was contagious. Although you wished Noah could be there to witness this moment, your heart swelled with happiness for Rowan.

Little Isabella, the flower girl, walked ahead of Rosemary, carrying a basket of petals. Every few steps, she would delicately sprinkle the flowers along the aisle, her concentration adorable. You couldn’t help but admire Isabella’s dedication to her role, smiling each time the little girl looked up with pride.

Jude noticed the way your eyes lit up, how you seemed to be the embodiment of joy and love in that moment. He was completely besotted with you, watching you as you took in every detail of the ceremony. He knew, without a doubt, that you were the one he wanted to spend his life with.

The officiant began the ceremony, and soon it was time for Rowan and Rosemary to exchange vows. Rosemary took a deep breath and smiled at Rowan.

“Rowan, from the moment Noah introduced us, I knew you were special. I promise to always laugh at your jokes, even the terrible ones. I vow to support you in your dreams and to love you fiercely, no matter what.”

Rowan chuckled, wiping away a tear. “Rosemary, I promise to always let you have the last slice of pizza. I vow to support your dreams and to love you through every adventure, every challenge, and every joy.”

Jude felt his throat tighten, his emotions mirroring the couple’s. As Rowan and Rosemary exchanged their vows, he couldn’t help but imagine standing up there with you one day, saying those same words, making those same promises. The thought made his heart swell with a mixture of hope and longing.

The mention of Noah made your tears spill over, and you rested your head on Jude’s shoulder, finding comfort in his presence. Jude’s eyes were misty too, and he wiped away a tear discreetly, his emotions matching yours. He tightened his grip on you, feeling a surge of protectiveness and love.

As Rowan and Rosemary shared their first kiss as a married couple, the guests erupted into applause. You joined in, your heart full despite the bittersweet memories. You looked up at Jude, who smiled down at you with so much love and understanding that it made you feel incredibly grateful to have him by yiur side.

“It was beautiful, wasn’t it?” Jude whispered, his voice slightly choked with emotion.

You nodded, wiping your tears. “Yeah, it really was.”

You sat there for a moment, soaking in the love and joy that filled the room. Jude’s thoughts wandered to the future, to the possibility of a life with you, filled with moments like this. He couldn’t help but dream of standing at an altar, looking into your eyes, and making vows of his own.

Later that evening, the reception is in full swing. The dance floor is alive with energy, guests mingling and celebrating Rowan and Rosemary’s union. The lights are dimmed, casting a warm, intimate glow over the scene.

You find yourself in the middle of the dance floor, smiling as Jude lifts little Isabella onto his shoulders. Her giggles are infectious as she waves her arms, trying to keep up with the rhythm. You dance alongside your sister Eden, the two of you moving in sync, laughing and twirling.

Isabella’s laughter rings out, her tiny hands clapping in delight. "More, more!" she shouts, and Jude obliges, spinning around and making her squeal with joy. Your heart swells with love as you watch Jude interact with your family. He fits in so perfectly, and it makes you think about what the future might hold for both of you.

You glance around the room, taking in the sight of your loved ones celebrating together. Rowan and Rosemary are glowing with happiness, sharing a private moment at their table. Your parents are dancing nearby, looking as in love as ever. The warmth and joy of the occasion fill you with a sense of peace. God, Noah would've loved this.

The DJ’s voice echoes through the speakers, “Can all couples please make their way to the floor for a slow dance?”

Isabella is gently lifted off Jude’s shoulders and handed over to Eden, who continues to twirl and dance with her. Jude turns to you, extending his hand with a playful bow. "May I have this dance?" he asks, his eyes twinkling with affection.

You giggle and take his hand, allowing him to lead you to the center of the floor. The music slows, and the soft, romantic melody fills the room. Jude’s hands find their way to your waist, pulling you close. You wrap your arms around his neck, and together you sway gently to the rhythm.

As you move together, everything else seems to fade away. The chatter of the guests, the clinking of glasses, and even the music itself become a distant hum. It’s as if time has stopped, leaving just the two of you in your own little world.

You look up at Jude, taking in his appearance. He’s wearing a tailored black tuxedo that fits him perfectly, accentuating his broad shoulders and athletic build. His dark hair is styled neatly, and his deep brown eyes are filled with love and adoration as he gazes down at you. The way the dim light catches his features makes him look even more handsome, if that’s possible.

Jude’s forehead rests against yours, his eyes locking onto yours with a gaze that speaks volumes. His hands move gently up and down your back, sending shivers down your spine. You feel so safe, so cherished in his embrace.

“You know,” Jude murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper, “I could get used to this. Dancing with you, being with you. Forever.”

Your heart flutters at his words, your breath catching in your throat. You smile up at him, your eyes misty with emotion. “Me too,” you reply softly. “Me too.”

You lose yourself in his eyes, feeling the world around you blur into insignificance. His touch is gentle yet firm, grounding you in the moment. The way he looks at you makes you feel like the only person in the room, and you know without a doubt that this is where you’re meant to be.

The music envelops you both, the melody weaving a cocoon of intimacy around you. You rest your head on Jude’s shoulder, closing your eyes and savoring the feeling of being held by him. His scent, a mix of cologne and something uniquely him, fills your senses, making you feel even closer to him.

You’re wearing a stunning dress that’s a mix of red and black, the fabric clinging to your curves in all the right places. The intricate lace details add an air of elegance, while the deep red color highlights your features, making your eyes sparkle. Your hair is styled in loose waves, cascading down your back, and your makeup is done to perfection, highlighting your natural beauty.

As the song progresses, you feel Jude’s hand slip down to rest on the small of your back, his fingers tracing light patterns that send a thrill through you. You can feel his heartbeat against your chest, steady and strong, and it matches the rhythm of your own.

You tilt your head up slightly, your lips brushing against his ear. “I love you" you whisper, the words coming straight from your heart.

Jude tightens his hold on you, his lips grazing your temple. “Me too, your my numero uno.” he replies, his voice filled with emotion.

The world around you ceases to exist as you sway together, completely lost in each other. You feel a warmth spread through your chest, a sense of peace and happiness you’ve never known before. Being with Jude feels like home.

As the song comes to an end, Jude leans down, capturing your lips in a tender kiss. It’s a promise, a silent vow of the future you both dream of. When you pull apart, the room comes back into focus, but the magic of the moment lingers.

You glance over to see Rowan and Rosemary sharing a similar moment, their love shining brightly. Your parents are still dancing, your mom resting her head on your dad’s shoulder with a contented smile. Even little Isabella is now nestled in Eden’s arms, looking sleepy but happy.

You feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude for the love and support surrounding you. And as you look back at Jude, you see the same emotion mirrored in his eyes. He gently brushes a strand of hair from your face, his touch lingering on your cheek.

“Ready for another dance?” he asks, his smile soft and inviting.

You nod, unable to tear your eyes away from him. “Always,” you say, your voice filled with love.

The next song begins, and you lose yourself in Jude’s embrace once more. As you move together, you notice Jude’s expression shifts slightly, a familiar look of deep contemplation crossing his face.

“What is it?” you ask softly, curiosity piqued.

Jude looks slightly startled. “What do you mean?”

“You did that face earlier,” you insist. “What is it you’re not telling me?”

Jude hesitates, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “It’s nothing, really.”

“Jude, tell me!” you press, your eyes searching his.

He sighs softly, pulling you a little closer. “It’s just... when you were with Bella earlier, I couldn’t help but imagine what you’d be like with our kids. And when you were looking at Rosemary during the ceremony, all I could think about was how beautiful you’ll be when we get married.”

You’re taken aback by his honesty, your heart skipping a beat. “Jude...”

He quickly continues, sensing your apprehension. “I know, not now. But I also know that I want it with you. Whenever that is.”

You look into his eyes, seeing the sincerity and love there. It’s a lot to take in, but there’s a comforting certainty in his words. He isn’t pushing, just sharing his dreams, dreams that now feel a little less frightening and a lot more wonderful.

“I... I want that too,” you admit softly, your voice trembling slightly. “Someday.”

Jude smiles, a look of pure adoration on his face. “Then someday it is,” he whispers, leaning down to kiss you again, sealing the promise with a tender touch.

As the music plays on and you continue to dance, the future seems a little clearer, a little brighter. And with Jude by your side, you know that whatever comes, you’ll face it together.

[midnight-shadow-cafe]

Lost in Midnight Shadows

Pairing: Loki Laufeyson x reader

Warning: fluff, Loki being Loki

Authors note: I hope yall enjoy, I’ve been a big fan of Loki’s forever now also I just realized I titled it with my name lol

Word Count: 1.4K

Masterlist

MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+

The city lights flickered softly against the dark skyline, and you found yourself captivated by their distant warmth. It was one of those rare, quiet nights in New York when you could almost imagine peace settling over the restless city. The Avengers Tower loomed high above it all, casting a solitary silhouette against the stars.

You sat by the large window in one of the common rooms, hugging a mug of tea, feeling the chill of the glass against your shoulder. The room was dimly lit, with only a small lamp casting a soft glow, making the shadows seem even darker. You enjoyed these moments of solitude; they felt like a quiet break from the constant hum of activity and chaos that came with being in this tower. Tonight, the others were either off on missions or had gone out, leaving you with an unfamiliar sense of calm.

But as you sat in silence, a familiar tingling crept down your spine, that instinctive feeling you had whenever he was nearby.

“Lost in thought, are we?” came a smooth, almost mocking voice from somewhere behind you. Loki.

You turned, finding him half-shrouded in shadows, leaning against the doorway with a look of mild amusement. His eyes, bright and glinting, watched you with a kind of curiosity that was both unnerving and alluring. He looked relaxed tonight, his usual Asgardian armor replaced by something simpler—a dark green tunic with a high collar and pants that only added to his commanding presence.

“Is there ever a moment when you don’t try to sneak up on me?” you asked, attempting to keep your voice steady. Even now, after all the time you’d spent around him, Loki’s presence still had an unnerving effect on you. It was like standing too close to the edge of a cliff, thrilling and dangerous.

Loki smirked, stepping forward so that the dim light caught his features. “Where would the fun be in that?” he murmured, his tone filled with a teasing lilt. He crossed the room, stopping beside you to look out the window. “It’s rare for this place to be so… tranquil.”

You nodded, not entirely trusting yourself to speak. With him this close, his scent—a faint mix of sandalwood and something earthy—filled the air. It was oddly comforting, despite the chaotic energy he carried with him.

For a few minutes, the two of you stood in silence, gazing out over the city. It felt strangely intimate, like he was letting you in on a piece of himself he usually kept hidden.

Loki’s public persona was one of bravado, of smug arrogance and barely restrained disdain. But here, in this quiet space, you saw something else—a hint of loneliness, maybe even a touch of vulnerability.

“You know,” you finally said, breaking the silence, “I don’t think I’ve ever asked. Do you like it here?”

Loki turned his head slightly, looking down at you with an arched eyebrow. “Here? You mean this realm, or this tower?”

“Either,” you replied, matching his gaze. “Both, maybe.”

A faint chuckle escaped his lips. “Midgard is… interesting, I’ll admit. It’s messy, chaotic. Mortals scurrying about, desperately clinging to their short lives, trying to find purpose in it all. It’s… amusing.” His eyes softened, almost imperceptibly. “And yet, there’s something intriguing about it. About you humans.”

He was looking at you in a way that made your heart beat a little faster, as if he were studying you, trying to decipher something hidden just below the surface. Loki always had a way of making you feel exposed, like he could see right through you. But tonight, there was something different in his gaze, something that made you feel like maybe, just maybe, he was seeing you for the first time.

“Do you know why I chose to stay?” he asked suddenly, his voice barely more than a whisper.

You shook your head, surprised he was opening up.

“It’s because I’ve been searching for something,” he continued, his tone laced with a rare vulnerability. “Something I cannot find in Asgard or any of the Nine Realms. I thought, perhaps, here…” He trailed off, glancing back out at the city lights.

You swallowed, unsure of how to respond. You knew Loki had always felt like an outsider, even in his own world. And here he was, confiding in you, sharing a glimpse of the complex layers beneath his enigmatic exterior. The urge to reach out, to offer him some kind of comfort, was overwhelming.

“I think…” you began, hesitating. “I think we’re all searching for something. Maybe that’s why so many of us end up here, in this tower. We’re all a bit lost, in our own way.”

Loki looked at you, his eyes softening. For a moment, you thought he might say something, but instead, he simply reached out, his fingers brushing lightly against your hand. The touch was feather-light, tentative, as if he was testing the waters.

And then he pulled away, retreating back into his usual smirk. “You’re quite insightful for a mortal, I’ll give you that,” he said, his tone shifting back to its usual playful lilt.

You couldn’t help but smile. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

The two of you fell back into a comfortable silence, but the air between you felt charged, as if something unspoken lingered just out of reach. You wanted to break the tension, to ask him about the things he held so close, but you knew better than to push Loki. If he wanted you to know, he’d tell you.

After a while, Loki spoke again. “I tire of this city,” he muttered, almost to himself. “Tell me, little mortal, do you ever grow weary of it?”

You blinked, slightly taken aback by the question. “I mean, sometimes,” you admitted. “But then I remember the people here—the friends I have. They make it worth it. Even if things get chaotic.”

Loki hummed, his eyes flickering with an unreadable emotion. “Friends,” he repeated, almost as if tasting the word. “Is that what we are?”

The question took you by surprise. You hadn’t thought about it, but now that he’d brought it up, you realized you weren’t sure what you and Loki were to each other.

Friends? Allies? Something else entirely?

“I… I think so,” you said slowly. “At least, I’d like to be. If that’s what you want, too.”

Loki’s expression softened, and for a brief moment, you saw something raw and unguarded in his eyes. But then, just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by his usual guarded smirk.

“Then perhaps, mortal,” he said, leaning in so close that his breath brushed against your ear, “I might allow you to stay by my side.”

Your heart skipped a beat, your cheeks warming at his proximity. There was something thrilling about the way he looked at you, as if you were the only person in the room, maybe even the entire world. You’d spent so much time with him, yet you still found yourself drawn to him, captivated by the mystery and danger he represented.

Before you could respond, he pulled back, his expression shifting to one of mild amusement. “But don’t get too comfortable,” he added, his eyes glinting mischievously. “I am, after all, a god. And gods do not make promises lightly.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “I wouldn’t expect anything less from you.”

Loki’s gaze lingered on you a moment longer, his eyes softening once more. It was a look that spoke of something deeper, something you couldn’t quite put into words.

And in that moment, you realized that maybe, just maybe, he felt the same pull toward you that you felt toward him.

The night wore on, and the two of you continued to talk, sharing stories and secrets in the dimly lit room. As the hours slipped by, you felt a strange sense of closeness with Loki, as if you were two kindred spirits, bound together by something beyond your understanding.

When the first light of dawn began to break over the city, Loki stood, offering you his hand. “Come,” he said softly. “Let us greet the new day together.”

You took his hand, feeling the warmth of his fingers against your skin, and together, you watched the sun rise over the city. And in that quiet moment, with Loki by your side, you felt a sense of peace that you hadn’t known in a long time.

Maybe you were still searching, still lost in your own way. But now, you had someone to share the journey with—a god who had chosen you, just as much as you had chosen him.

And as the sun bathed the world in golden light, you knew that this was only the beginning of something extraordinary.

Hope you enjoyed! Please consider liking and reblogging! -Midnight💜

[monayen]

Hello! 👋 I love your Luther fics, you write him so well 💖 I have a bit of an odd request for him if you don't mind.

Could you do headcanons of Luther with a S/O who is aroused by his inhuman nature please? Like they're turned on by the fact that he is a cryptid and could potentially be dangerous if he wanted to. Maybe size kink stuff could also factor in? Anyways I hope you have a wonderful day/night!

➷ Paring - Luther Von Ivory x Fem!Reader [Randal's Friends / Ranfren]

➷ CWs - slight biting, size kink

a/n - this is an incredibly old ask, i am SO sorry i took forever on this,, im trying my best to do the older asks so if you’ve been waiting pleasedontkillme. anyhoot I LOVE LUTHER!!!!

Luther interests you immediately when you first lay your eyes on him

His big, wide eyes almost look small on his long face. Thin lips drawn into a line as he stares back at you. His brown pageboy haircut sways a bit in the light breeze, and you realize that you’re eyeing a stranger at the park

He notices immediately, walking up to you and making you realize how tall he is. At least 6’1, but you’re sure if he wasn’t hunching ever so slightly, he’d seem bigger

“You’re staring, you must like my new scarf.” He says, his voice smooth. It’s not as deep as you expected, almost monotone

He gestures to his dark green wooly scarf wrapped around his neck, noting the several rings adorning his long fingers. You also notice that the scarf is the only warming item of clothing on his body. Which is weird, considering its late fall in Canada

You nod, trying to break his gaze to not let nervousness overcome you. He’s interesting, and you think maybe he likes you with the round blush below his big, unblinking eyes. Swallowing any anxiety you’re sure he can sense, you hold out your trembling hand

“Would you like to get dinner?”

Time passes, and you realize very quickly just how special Luther really is

His house looms, halls leading into rooms and rooms that seem impossible to keep track of. He introduces you to his younger brother, Randal, who bombards you with questions you can barely register before Luther scolds him for overwhelming you

Very quickly, you say it’s alright– you’re just trying to think of a proper response. You’ll get back to him on who your favorite Joker is, it’s been a while since you’ve seen the movies

Your response to his brother seems to please Luther, liking how you don’t blow him off or get weirded out by his… big personality. His brother does mean a lot to Luther!

Then it’s his catmen, two almost twin like men with cat ears and drawn whiskers. You watch as they follow him, listening to him when he asks them to bring you a cup of water after you mention you’re thirsty

He’s the man of the house, he says. Responsible for all his family. It can be hard, he continues, but he tries his best. He’s only human after all ♡

Human, you think, totally

When Luther talks, you pay attention to the sharpness of his teeth. Mouth large as he bites into a sandwich, and you can only imagine him biting into your shoulder with those jagged teeth, long arms wrapped around you as he pulls you onto his lap—

You fantasize about being completely dwarfed and overpowered by him. The idea of being helpless and at the mercy of his inhuman strength is something that makes you shiver 

You also love the way Luther casually invades your personal space, always standing too close, his presence overwhelming your senses. His proximity makes your heart race, aching to feel his large, cold hands on you 

“What are you thinking, schatz?” He says, and maybe he didn’t mean to slightly open his second set of eyes, but he does… and you notice

Perhaps you should question it, but you’re sure it would be rude to bring it up to Luther. He’s not typical, nothing around him is as human as he thinks it is. For as long as he tells you he’s been around, you’d think he’d have it down by now

But it's okay, you think he’s cute the way he is :)

[draculasfavoritewife]

No Word For Hero

Summary: You love him and the way he will always be your protector, but sometimes facing the truth is the most terrifying thing of all.

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!Reader

Warnings: Nightmares and discussions of death. The one-two punch of angst and fluffiness all in one. This one is a fair bit more somber than my other Mando stuff.

Another trope I will never ever get tired of -- the "having a nightmare while sleeping with your partner" routine! 🥳 Gets me in my feels every time, particularly with a character like Din who (to me at least) canonically also has frequent nightmares. I first drafted this one a couple summers ago as a result of all my feelings after that big moment in "The Marshal", as I'm sure will be obvious.

*Translations of less common words/phrases in Mando'a at the end

It's coming, exploding up from beneath the billowing sands, looming over everyone, titanic, monstrous, ravenous....

...He turns to you, ever so briefly, tilts his head in that meaningful look you know all too well...that damn look that means he's going to play hero again.

Damn his altruism.

When is he going to stop?

You already know that answer, too. It lurks forever in the back of your mind, awake or asleep, always whispering there, a constant venom ever deepening its grasp around your heart until one day the cold reality finally breaks it.

He'll stop when he finally doesn't come back to you.

When he's at last granted the warrior's death you know he desires.

Only then.

You can't even scream as he disappears down the dragon's throat, too frozen with horror to make a sound....

You bolt upright, gasping for breath, damp hair clinging to your face and tears running down, their salty tang sharp on your lips.

Stupid nightmares.

"Go away," you mutter, rubbing harshly at your eyes. "Just stop."

The cot is small, realistically much too small for two adults, and your distress is painfully evident to the man sharing it with you, whose arm has just been violently dislodged from its place around your torso.

"Bad dream?"

He sounds tired. He hardly ever sleeps through a full night at the best of times, and even then it's rarely a deep sleep.

If the old saying "sleep with one eye open" were actually true, Din would be its personification.

You curse your overactive mind a second time, for disturbing his precious few moments of rest along with your own.

"I'm fine." You don't lie back down, instead pulling your knees up to your chest and wrapping your arms tightly around them. Normally you find his quarters chilly, but the adrenaline coursing through your veins makes the room suddenly feel close and stuffy.

He shifts against you in the dark, no doubt to study your posture. "You don't sound fine."

You sigh. "I will be. You should try and get some sleep, Din."

You hear him lean back into the wall, a long exhale betraying stiffness somewhere in his muscles.

You've offered him the side of the bed that's not right up against the wall, but to your surprise he actually likes to be pressed closely between your body and the solidness of metal at his back.

You suspect it gives him a sense of security in a life that holds so little for him.

"I'm sorry I woke you," you add before he can speak again.

"You didn't." His revelation is cool and distant, as if his lack of rest means nothing to him. "I haven't slept at all tonight."

You turn to stare at him in dismay, only to be met with the void of deep darkness. "Why didn't you --"

"What? Wake you up to tell you I can't sleep?" Somehow you know he's shaking his head at you. "That fixes nothing, Cyar'ika. My sleep was disturbed since long before we met." His voice softens as he reaches for you, his large, comfortingly familiar hand stroking down your side. "But when I have you in my arms, listening to your breathing, I can at least find some peace. And that is often enough."

You let out another shuddering breath and gaze out into the dim compartment, the images from your nightmare replaying over and over behind your eyes like a holovid stuck on loop.

"I think I need some air," you murmur.

"Take my shirt, then." You're grateful he doesn't try to stop you; he knows you were taking care of yourself for a long time before you two struck up your partnership. He trusts you to look out for danger.

"Vor'e, Cyare." You slide from the bed, his fingers trailing away from your hip as you break from his gentle touch. He watches as you blindly take his shirt from the pile of clothes left on the floor and pull it over your head, pausing only to grab a vibroblade before exiting his quarters.

"I'll come back," you promise softly.

And the words sting deep down as they leave your lips, knowing that one day, one of you might not be able to keep that promise.

The night is cool and clear on this planet, and the breeze smells like living growth from the thick woods nearby. It's a far cry from the dust and smoke of so many of the worlds you've stayed on before, and soon you start to calm down, heartbeat returning to normal and perspiration drying at the wind's light touch. Everything is peaceful around you, the night birds calling and water flowing somewhere behind the trees.

Not for the first time, your thoughts stray towards the impossibility of trying to stay somewhere like this place, to drop everything you know and carve out a life on a frontier planet somewhere. You and Din and Grogu, living modestly and secretly away from the prying eyes of the Imperials or the Jedi, pretending at normalcy....

There's the key word.

Pretending.

You've played many parts since you lost your buir so many years ago. Dancer in the clubs of the Core worlds, thief, animal wrangler, pilot, hired gun. You could adapt, you feel fairly certain. It's the skill that's most reliably kept you alive this long.

But Din....

He's so deeply entrenched in his upbringing. His honor, and the hunt, mean everything to him. Whatever else he tries to be, he will always be the Mandalorian first and foremost. The Way runs through his veins, thicker than blood, and the fierce heart of a warrior beats beneath the beskar.

It's why he will ultimately always make sacrifices to keep those under his protection safe.

It's who he is. His identity.

The reason that one day he might not emerge from the belly of the beast in triumph.

And you love him, exactly the way he is. You'd never ask him to change.

But Maker, sometimes the knowledge of what that means hurts deeper than any physical wound.

So you stand there at the edge of the woods and let the tears come, let the sobs wrack your body as you bury yourself deeper in his comforting shirt, praying that the day never comes that all you have left are memories and clothes that smell like him.

Eventually, your grief runs its course and you can breathe once again. The crunch of footsteps in the damp grass warrants a side glance, but as you thought, it's only your beroya, come to check on you, no doubt.

"You've been out here a long time," he remarks.

"Had a lot on my mind."

He encircles you in his arms from behind, chin resting in the dip of your shoulder. You're surprised that he didn't replace his helmet to come out here, but sunrise is still a long way off.

"I'm usually the one with the nightmares," he teases softly. "This one must have been rough. Want to talk?"

You find his hands at your waist, interlock your fingers with his.

"I lost someone. Someone very important to me."

Turning slightly so you can rest your cheek against his, you kiss the very edge of his lips. "It scares me, Din."

He's quiet for some time, and you try to imagine the expression on his face.

"I'm sorry," he finally whispers. "I can't give you anything but my word that I will always try my hardest to come back to you. That is what fuels me, ner'kar'ta. The fire in my blood, the strength in my bones, is knowing that I need to make it back for you. But I realize that it is a double-edged blade. Because it also means I would give everything, to keep you safe in the end."

"I know, Din. I remember what my buir used to tell me, you know, how we have no word for 'hero' in our mother tongue, because to be Mando'ade is to risk all for the ones you love. I know I'm so selfish." You turn all the way around at last, hiding your face in his bare chest. "But I accept your vow. And it will have to be enough."

Collecting yourself and finally raising your haunted gaze to his, you manage a small smile. "But I will fight for you, Din Djarin. Death will find one hell of a struggle when it finally comes for you, I can promise you that."

"There's my girl." The fond grin in his voice is audible. "Now, will you come back to bed? It's getting lonesome in there."

You let him lead you back to the ship, and the sigh of the wind now seems to promise to whisk your fears away for the time being.

The door slides shut behind you, and you shiver, realizing all of a sudden just how cold you are. His shirt is a welcome barrier against the biting chill, and you wonder how he was able to get along without it outside.

"Cold?" he asks.

"Yes." You reach out for him, wordlessly begging for his warmth.

He sidesteps you and folds his arms across his chest. "Take it off," he demands, and indicates the shirt with a nod, husky voice brimming with humor and a shade of something hungrier. "Or I will."

You hug the worn fabric closer to your body and shake your head mutinously. "But it's the only thing keeping me warm!"

"So you've chosen the hard way." He crosses the small space in a couple of long strides and starts to tease the garment off of you, bit by agonizing bit. "And how dare you let a piece of clothing do a man's job."

"You're making me cold again," you complain as he pulls you into bed with him, the hunter retreating back to his lair to finish off his fortunate prey.

"Then honor dictates I repair the damage I've caused," he hums, and you surrender to the bliss of being completely enveloped in his embrace. Din has always run hot, ever since you started sleeping together, and his warmth and familiar weight are so much better than any sweet dream of yours could be.

In the here and now, he's still alive, and he's still yours.

There will be no more tears tonight.

"Better?" he growls into your throat.

You run your fingers through his thick curls, sighing at the way he always manages to banish all of your dark thoughts away. And maybe now there will even be time for him to get some sleep before morning as well.

"I am now."

Vor'e = Thank you

Buir = Parent

Beroya = Bounty Hunter

Ner'kar'ta = My heart

Mando'ade = Child of Mandalore

[tropicalcontinental]

This is so based in fact I spiraled out of these tags into an AU of an AU, crazy innit?

Here are the doodles I did based off these tags my ramblings will be below the read more lol

Okay, so in the whole AwesomeG and Zander AU (I have dubbed it the Finding Peace AU), AwesomeG and Zander both become entities/ghosts in the machine after their untimely deaths and travel through other minecraft instances to find Zander's unamed friend, beat Souler up for being an asshole, and find peace along the way.

But in the crossover AU which I shall dub uhhh Chasing Souls, AwesomeG ends up in quite the peculiar minecraft instance (its Smilerrrrrr's 💥💥💥 specifically the second world with the bigger green house)

AwesomeG kind of hangs about this kid, not really making their presence known. But, the kid seems a bit lonely. And something about the world that rubs AwesomeG the wrong way. They have taken the mantle to defend this world from anything malevolent. It sticks to them like mildew.

So they introduce themself! Through chat of course (I legit forgot Hungry can talk through chat and not just in-game text.) And AwesomeG hopes the kid doesn't freak out and log off. And while he does seem a bit put off, he replies back!

And so they kick it off! AwesomeG is always there to be by tia kid's side whenever he logs on. And while they can't meet face to face (weird ghost gore stuff happens when anyone looks at AwesomeG, and they don't want that to happen with their newest friend), they still have fun! Building together. Naming animals together. Just he and AwesomeG.

It probably escalates until their friend tells them about the wells. They're magical, kind of just like you AwesomeG!

And then it clicks. Is that what's been bugging them? The wells?

And then the water above his head becomes clear. Large, depressing droplets circling and wavering above his head. Looming. An omen.

And then AwesomeG tries to steer him away from this thing. From these wells that preys on his friend. Because friends care about each other. They defend each other, and help each other. Because that's what friends are for.

And their friend says that they don't go down the wells anymore. So it's in their favor. Everything will work out.

Then it happens. The bullies. And AwesomeG does what they do best;they haunt.

So like, the sting of betrayal is still here. Smiler still spirals, but slower in this AU. And like, AwesomeG mitigates the damage done to the world and lowkey traumatized some hooligans with their corpse but its whateverrrrrr.

And yet after everything clears, the mark on their friend had become larger. And larger, and heavier and heavier and heavier. And theres only so much a lone spector can do.

So their friend says farewell. And their friend becomes Smiler. And their friends asks them to stay like last time. That they can be together forever in the well. Now they're the same! And now they can play this game to gheir hearts content. And Smiler can even look at AwesomeG now, isn't that amazing? (Entities can perceive each other just fine I reckon.)

But AwesomeG says no. It shouldn't have come to this. And Smiler gets confused. Because weren't they friends? They are friends. But their leaving him behind. Saying no to being friends forever. What happened? What changed? Why did they change? Was it all a lie? Were they just like them?

So uh, since AwesomeG died before hearing the Call of the Well, they're able to resist it. Or perhaps it calls upon them about a peace so gentle they wouldn't have to worry about heaven. Or maybe AwesomeG's religious belief beats out false promises, idk.

So AwesomeG wanders again. Traversing these wells onto maps and empty worlds.

Until a new one opens up.

And they tell him to stop.

AwesomeG is to Chris is kinda like what Chris is to Andrew. In the whole guidance sense, not friendship. AwesomeG tries to push Chris away from the wells to prevent another Smiler, which they probably feel guilty for. But Smiler already knows.

Oh and AwesomeG meets Zander around, eh, Septmeber 2017? They travel through Gridworld now. Trying to find pieces of Zander's soul and his friend and trying to help Chris and keep Smiler at bay and.

And it's the same steps tread. And they try to stop and reach beyond the machine (if Hungry can infiltrate minds, so can AwesomeG but for good this time 💥💥💥) to get Chris on a level head but it's too much. Like last time. And they fail again, like last time.

So now it's Andrew to be the third. And AwesomeG is like a more stubborn Chris at this point, in terms of motivation at the beginning of the AG67 series. They want to keep Andrew oblivious, like full on Lethe Protocol, forget everything and never look back. And Chris of course changes throughout the series, but perhaps AwesomeG becomes a new obstacle, but like the opposite problem.

But since AwesomeG is just a kid, a very guilt ridden and scared kid in this AU, and since I drew them and Chris hugging, they reconcile :]

Oh and Zander is there chilling. And Souler gets beat up because I say so (literal random piece of off the rails AU headcanon but Souler cant claim Andrew's, Chris', or Smiler's souls because they're marked by the Call of the Well already. First come first serve or whatever)

Okay enough rambling bye bye

[stellarislune]

Andrew x Darling ; Rewind AU pt 1

your 'drunken' last ditch effort confession towards the literature professor was unsuccessful. about two years into the future, you end up as andrew's assistant. (featuring our beloved luca ⭐✨)

LISTENER's POV

Large crowds of students, the road buzzing with cars going around and about in and out of the parking lot, and the looming view of the university's main building, looks absolutely nostalgic from where you stand.

It has been two long years since you have last stepped inside the academy's grounds. The familiar warmth of the memories you have had bubbled within your chest. Your gaze can't help but linger at the view. It is still beautiful and majestic, like it has always been.

Two years. It has been two years since you have graduated with a bachelor's degree, and a bittersweet regret.

You clutch your folder containing your approved resumé and application forms before heading in.

Throughout the past twenty three months, you have had a hard time finding a job that suits your taste — and one that is nearer to your current apartment. Your parents have always been kind enough to fund your education, and that kindness has extended even after you have finished college. Still, you are ashamed to not have found a suitable job until now. And the said job is at your own alma mater that is!

Finally, Finally. You were able to get a slot as a teacher assistant to one of the departments in the academy. They posted a job advertisement on one of their main pages during the holidays, and you managed to get your entry in there during the last few days of the application process.

It was nerve-wracking to wait for an email from them since you were not confident that you can bag a job; but, here you are now. Ready to have the chance to showcase your skills after all those horrid months of unproductivity!

You do need to check which specific department you’re assigned to so you came in earlier than you should have. They did not specify which spots on each college department were open, so you’re hoping that you get lucky enough to be under someone who will be patient in showing you the ropes.

Your face warms up and your heart beats faster with each stride towards the main office. The door is still the same old mahogany wood with a glass window at the upper half. From outside, you can see the people hurrying to and fro. Your hands went cold as you contemplated whether to go in or not. It’s not like you’ll be reprimanded or something, right? Haha.

After what seemed like forever, you opened the door and was greeted by a swarm of cubicles past the lounge. There’s people answering telephones, holding papers, and typing down on their computers. It's a whole different thing now that you're no longer a student.

There you were, fidgeting, not knowing what to do or where to go next, when a familiar black-haired man passed right down the aisle with a phone attached to their ear.

You gasp silently.

While he looks a lot more mature in his stature and pose, you can never forget his adorably sweet voice that greets you whenever you get the chance to talk. There you go, turning your head to confirm your thought, and you knew it. It’s really him.

Luca.

The person whom you have gotten close with ever since you started passing all your requirements in your literature class in person in his assigned professor's office. He's one of the remarkable—skittish but cute—hardworking teacher assistants that you have had the pleasure of knowing. You overhear the conversation being something about reprinting old test papers before Luca turns the phone off and puts it in his pocket.

You were about to call him with a wave of your hand as a greeting, but it looks like he noticed you already. His face blooms into a warm, excited smile as he sees you.

"Oh my gosh, Listener! You're here!!!" Luca immediately clings to you, wrapping you in his arms and just lifting you off the ground by a few centimeters in a swift bear hug. His warmth creeped into your own. "I haven't seen you in so long. I couldn't believe it!"

You laugh softly, hugging him real tight in return. "I missed you too, Luca! By a huge amount!" You huff as you let go of his arms first. "How are you? You owe me a lot of detail, mister. And, before you complain, my phone got stolen and-my laptop is broken so I had to get a new one. I was incredibly unlucky, I know.”' You cross my arms, shaking your head with a sigh.

"Well, ask away then, Listener. But first, let's head over there”, he points at the lounge area. “You're in luck because it's my free time for the next two hours~ All that's left for me is to clean up and box all my things in Andrew's office. " Luca leads you over to one of the long, red sofas that highly contrast the beige walls and the cream floor.

Box all his things? What-

"So," he starts as he sits down, facing you with interest sparkling in his eyes, "what brings you here all of sudden? Surely not to visit me right cause I am taken and I—"

You smack him with one of the pillows on the sofa. Earning a snort from the other. He shielded himself with his arm so his face wasn't harmed at any point—not that pillows can do that much damage anyway.

"Shut up, I already know how gay you are." You groan and roll your eyes, followed with a burst of a giggle. "You're so annoying."

"Pft, only because you're my friend! It's a privilege~ And, you literally love me. I'm the cutest person in the world. Your own words, not mine." Luca sticks his tongue out at you.

He's right. Luca was quite shy at first but now that you have gotten to know him better, he's shown more than just those shallow observed qualities people usually stereotype him with.

You sighed and handed Luca your folder containing your approved letter of intent, resumé, and your portfolio of notable achievements. He flips through each page, his tongue sticking out the side of his mouth as he concentrates. You stifle a smile at how absolutely adorable he looks, and wait for him to speak.

"Uh, so.. you're the new teacher assistant who's gonna replace me." Luca’s lips form an ‘O’. You mirror his expression in surprise. Luca is quitting his job? But he loves this work… The pay is good, the environment is great, and the professors themselves don't look that bad. Specifically, someone from the literature department but—we don't want to talk about that.

Your face contorts into a frown.

"I know I missed a lot of things but, what the hell– Why are you quitting! Is someone here bullying you?" Your brows turn into a knot and you make a great show of pulling your sleeves up to your elbows, pretending to size up some invisible enemy and throwing punches at it. "I'll deal with them for you. Lemme at 'em!"

Luca shakes his head and smiles fondly. Raising his left hand and pointing out the ring on his fourth finger. You put a hand to your mouth as your eyes darted from Luca then to the ring on his finger. You silently squealed as you took his hands and began to squeeze them tight.

"Luca! Oh, holy fuck. I'm so happy for youuuuuu!" It's your turn to just jump on him and hug the life out of him. You held him for about two seconds then, you sat your ass back on the seat. "Your boyfriend—no—your fiancé, better treat you well or he's gonna get hell from me." You threatened jokingly.

His boyfriend sometimes visits at the same time that you pass requirements in your previous professor's office, so you kinda are familiar with him. That doesn't stop you from being overprotective of your possibly best, most precious friend in the world.

"He's spoiling me too much actually." Luca pouts. "He's quitting his gaming stuff when I get home. He always, ALWAYS has chocolates for me. And he gives me kisses all the time." Luca's face is flushed as he cups both his cheeks shyly.

You feign chest pain as I clutch my heart. "Right in front of my single ass, huh?" You giggle. "I'm kidding. I'm so, so, so happy for you. I will prepare my wedding gift in advance!"

Luca's face turns into vivid confusion. "I thought you have a boyf—"

From behind Luca, the sound of a door opens. Luca’s head turned to it, and so did yours. You could not believe it but it is another even more familiar face.. One you know so well.

With dark golden, brown hair, black rimmed glasses, and stern gaze, your—you mean—the literature professor, Andrew Marston, emerges in full view holding a bunch of folders in his left arm and his phone in his hand.

Professor Marston walked in long, elegant strides towards.. the both of you. Despite the months that have gone past, he still has an aura of intimidation, wit, and an absolutely handsome charm. His lips were pursed yet his eyes — his eyes were lit with curiosity.

"Well, well. If it isn't you, Listener. Of all things to expect today, I had not foreseen any circumstances that include you being here today." Despite his words, his tone is laced with a hint of amusement.

You fiddle your fingers. "Hello, Professor." You squeaked awkwardly. "Good morning to you."

"Andrew." Luca stands up. His face looks extra mischievous even if his face is still, criminally, looking too innocent. "Listener will be your new assistant. Have you heard that news already?"

Andrew hums and taps his foot. "No, actually." He turns to face you. "You applied as my assistant?"

Then, at that moment, it really dawned on you. It is indeed real. The fact that, You, Listener, is Professor Andrew's assigned assistant.

Fuck.

You look at Luca with wide eyes for a second, then back at Andrew.

"I suppose, yes?" You cleared your throat. "I mean. Yes, Sir."

You blush profusely. Resisting the urge to just run away and maybe melt like a snowman under the thick heat of the sun.

Andrew nods slowly, as if taking the information in. At the exact time, Luca taps his shoulder and says, "I'll finish up my cleaning so Listener right here–," Luca shoots a finger gun at you with a grin,"–can put their things in without a worry in the world." And with that, he left.

Lord, take me now.

Leaving you to Andrew's mercy, like a bunny rabbit in a lion's den. Or whatever. You’re just exaggerating.

"Hand me your resumé. I assume that you do have them in hand, yes? You were quite the perfectionist during your college days, so I believe you'd have them right with you." Andrew commands without missing a beat. Reaching his free hand out to you.

You picked up your folder off the table and handed it to him. He takes it and puts it above the stack he's currently holding in his left arm.

"I'll see you in two weeks. Preferably at an early time. Say, 7:30 AM in my office? And bring your laptop or mobile gadget, along with stationary if you'd like. As much as I'd be delighted to indulge in this conversation, I have some papers to grade."

You nod. Listing it all down on your phone. You watch Andrew walk away. Probably to his cubicle where his files are kept, or something similar. The main office is where they usually encode grades and scores so that's not far fetched.

As you stand up and leave, a faint memory of Andrew's lips lifting into a somewhat triumphant smirk stays for a second before fading away from your mind. It probably was just your imagination.

You opened the doors out of the office and breathed in and out.

“See you in two week's time, Professor.”

⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣

aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa what do you think is gonna happen next? isn't luca so cute and adorable??? I love him so much. see you on pt 2 !

[miketownsends]

i found blaseball in season 3.

the very end of season 3, and i remember i only found it because one of the NITW creators tweeted something along the lines of “ok i’ll bite what’s blaseball” and i went “what IS blaseball?” and i Googled it and suddenly there i was

i picked the Garages because i always have been and always will be a Seattlite at heart - i remember briefly deliberating over the Tacos (who were just the LA Tacos at the time!) and a couple other teams, but the Seattle pull was too strong

i remember that i joined either very late on Saturday or very early on Sunday - it was post the s3 finals because i remember seeing the Tigers as the s3 champions, but it was pre-election because i remember casting my lone vote for Eat the Rich

but this was RIGHT before the first siesta, and i had no idea what the timeline of a season looked like, and i went “well i guess i’ll check back in later” and then basically completely forgot about it for the next couple weeks and might’ve forgotten forever if i hadn’t seen another tweet from someone when it came back.

i remember watching my very first game on the bus to work. i think i must’ve missed the first day of games, i think it must’ve been a Tuesday, because i caught the bus at like 7am and i remember seasons not starting until 8am on Mondays. i watched the Garages play the Crabs (Garages lost). i remember falling in love with Avila Guzman and Allison Abbott and Malik Destiny (pre-catboyification!) based on nothing but vibes because i didn’t know anything about blaseball lore, i didn’t even know blaseball HAD lore. i think i found the Discord later that day, and i remember the Avila-Farrell feedback happening right around the time i joined the Discord.

i got my best friend into it at the same time and it turned into a hyperfixation for both of us. i remember sitting in their living room watching the finals for s4 while our partners sat by slightly befuddled by this thing that had suddenly taken over our lives.

i moved a couple hours away for grad school at the beginning of Sept 2020 and it was possibly the most miserable time of my life. i was lucky enough to be with family at least, but i was away from my now-husband and because of COVID everything was online and i am NOT a person who does well with online courses - when i had applied in fall of 2019 i had obviously assumed everything would be in-person. i had multiple meltdowns the first few months and blaseball was often the only bright spot.

the Jaylen necromancy, oh man. i remember when i first started looking up our lore and went “i missed out on a player named Jaylen Hotdogfingers????” she loomed so large over the Garages those first few seasons. her death kind of set the tone for us, especially as we kept losing players - every team wanted to fight the gods, but it felt so viscerally PERSONAL. and then one day i opened the website and saw her on the idol board with the little flaming skull next to her name.

i cannot even begin to describe the chaos i walked into when i opened the Discord and went to the Garages channel. it was just something you had to be there for. i was IMMEDIATELY team necromancy, because what was blaseball all about if not slamming big red buttons? and i figured if we didn’t, someone else would, so it might as well be us. a lot of folks felt the same. some didn’t. my mom called me at one point and asked me why i was talking about necromancy on Twitter. the Garages, obviously, decided to go for it. we had to try.

and at the same time, the Garages, somehow, were finally becoming a decent team. we made the playoffs for the first time in season 6. Jaylen’s final words, as per lore, were “we’ve just gotta make it to the playoffs.” we swept the Pies and Tigers - both former 2 time champions - to get to the finals. Mike Townsend, he who lived always in Jaylen’s shadow, threw out the first pitch of the first game of the finals. the Crabs swept us but we didn’t care. we had made it to the playoffs. we could do ANYTHING. we could bring our star pitcher back. and we did.

god, i’m just telling stories now, but to be fair blaseball is nothing BUT stories. i remember i spent a lot of that weekend in bed sleeping and crying because i was so depressed, but i pulled myself out of it enough to watch the election results roll in. to see Jaylen come home. to see Mike truly relegated to Jaylen’s shadow.

on Ruby Tuesday i was busy trying to unpack my room with my mom’s help. i took a break to check in on blaseball. games weren’t running even though they should’ve been. i scrolled through the game feed until i hit the Tigers-Moist Talkers game and realized just what we’d done, what Jaylen’s debt truly meant.

i didn’t always remember to watch the playoffs if the Garages weren’t in them, but i was watching when the Shoe Thieves reverse-swept the Crabs and were launched into a boss battle. Jaylen pitching against the puppets of a God. (the results of the Snackrifice.)

i cried when Jaylen went back to the Hall, even though i was sure her story wasn’t done. (and it wasn’t.)

the s11 finals between the Beams and Garages was one of the most emotionally draining things i’ve ever been through. we KNEW the Beams had us beat but the Sun 2/Black Hole shenanigans kept us holding on. i cried when we finally lost. and then the Keepers opened up the eternal concert in the Discord, and for hours there were hundreds of us packed in there, listening to Garages songs that sounded like you were hearing them played at a dive bar down the street because the quality was so bad and “singing” along, and eventually Get Normal came up, and everyone had been waiting for it, and. i don’t know. god, i cried so much. something about that moment of connection. something about the closest to a concert i’d experienced in a year. something about knowing it was the literal end of an era.

i don’t even know where to start with expansion. yeah it was an exhausting mess. my hyperfixation fucking LOVED it. i may have to do an expansion era retrospective/ramble separately because this is already too damn long, and expansion was SO much. for now i’ll just say that i will carry the way the Garages handled the final season of expansion with me for the rest of my life. it was so… poignant. watching us cling to our philosophy of “the Garage is always open” even though we KNEW we were inviting our own potential destruction through the door. choosing containment because we refused to save ourselves at the expense of the league but we could at least make sure the damage started and ended with us. making a beeline for the Hall because at the end of it we just wanted to go see our friends one more time.

i’ve mentioned this before, but when we melted the Coin i was at a minor league baseball game. it was the first game i had been to in probably four or five years and it was the first time i can remember actively CARING about baseball as an adult. i work for that minor league team now and i absolutely would not be doing that if not for blaseball.

god. i’m so, so sad. i will miss blaseball for the rest of my life. what a weird little piece of the internet i was blessed to partake in.

[celticcrossanon]

Hi Celta, so glad you're back and I wish you well. I pray that you will stay healthy, happy, and beautiful. My Tumblr feed was rather uninteresting when you were not around (I need to follow more people!! Lol).

Regarding Camilla, I have always felt that she was the original Meghan, using sex to catch the then future king (Charles) and became successful at it whereas Meghan tried it with the current future king (William) and failed. That’s why Camilla recognized what Meghan was because she was her at another time.

As to why Camilla has become so unhappy as queen, I think she feels the burden of illegitimacy heavily. She knows she’s not a legitimate queen in the hearts of many people. The shadow of Diana looms large even after her death more than a quarter of a century later.

Charles and Camilla stans would like to revise history and paint their story as the greatest love story, that she makes him happy (as if that’s enough to justify her being a queen!), Diana was not a saint, etc.

I think what Camilla (and probably Charles, too) had wanted was to remain the mistress, and let Diana remained the wife and later be queen. Camilla just wanted to be there as the mistress, a normal carry-ons for kings past, and get all the material riches (she keeps asking for money now, is she?), a comfortable life forever, but not the burden of royal duty (Queen Elizabeth at one time did label Camilla as “lazy”).

Unfortunately, Diana was of a newer generation where love trumps all and she could not accept her husband having a side chick and this broke her heart, and it is in the unrelenting quest of love (a love that her husband did not give her) that Diana committed all those unsaintly chasing of men that she eventually did, and put her in a situation that arguably led to her early demise.

I am not excusing Diana, but I understand why she became what she was. She was massively gaslighted by both Charles and Camilla from the get go (Interviewer: Are you in love? Diana: Of course! Charles: Whatever love means.)

I think Charles was also gaslighted by Camilla. If she had not persistently staying there always within his reach, perhaps Charles could have stopped himself from forsaking Diana for her, and things might have turned out differently now. There was a tarot reader I used to watched on YouTube who stated years ago that the marriage of Charles and Camilla is not as happy as they presented, and that from time to time Charles think of Diana and wondered what might have been.

Just imagine if Diana were the queen now, how stratospheric Charles’ popularity (something he has always wanted) would be with the popular Diana by her side, just like how popular William is with a popular and loved princess (Catherine) by his side.

Charles picked the wrong horse, driven by his own cuntstruck gaslighting from Camilla (when Charles accused Harry of being cuntstruck by Meghan, I thought he knew what he was talking about!) And he (Charles) fought so long and schemed so hard for her (Camilla) to become queen, and now that she is one, she is unhappy.

Boohoo!! Some people are just so, so ungrateful.

Hi AranPandora,

I agree that there is an attempt to rewrite the past history of Charles and Camilla, which is a bit useless as many people were there when it happened and know the facts, plus we have scans of newspaper and magazine articles which also show what happened at the time.

Diana turned 20 less than a month before she married 32 year old Charles (who would turn 33 in November) who had a 34 year old mistress, Camilla. Given the age difference, I expected a lot more from both Camilla and Charles than what actually happened.

I remember that "whatever loves means" in the interview and how my heart sank when I heard it. It was not the reply of a man who was in love, and Diana was clearly in love with Charles at that time.

I don't know if Charles still thinks of her, but I would not be surprised if he did, as it is normal to have 'what might have been' moments in your life.

I do think that Charles and Camilla genuinely care for each other. I have seen genuine affection between them, so I don't think it was all 'using sex to trap a man' (that might have been part of it, but I don't think it was all there was to it). That being said, it is obvious that Charles adores Camilla and will do anything for her, but I'm not sure how much Camilla is prepared to do for Charles - I think that while they care for each other, Charles cares for her far more than she cares for him. I could be wrong, but that is how the relationship strikes me.

As I have said before, I think that Camilla would be a lot happier now if she had stayed as a mistress. However, that did not happen, and now both she and Charles have to live with the result of his decision to marry her.

[theskeletonprior]

Tagged!

I've been tagged in a couple of 'getting to know you' type games, lately, so I thought I'd just stitch them together and get it all answered in one fell swoop. I hope you don't mind. Thanks for the tag, @inkspellangel!

I thought Billy Summers was conceptually pretty interesting, myself, though I haven't picked it up to read. I'm actually in a similar situation right now, trying to get through The Black Farm. I think the trick is to try to sneak in a chapter every day, or if that's too much, just five pages. That's what helps me, anyway.

Thanks for the tag, @ceph-the-ghost-writer!

Do you ever post pics of Mimi? I love the story of how you came by her. Cats do seem to have a marvellous way of just strolling directly into our lives, whether we planned for them to be there or not. Funnily enough, I also have a martial arts background, but haven't practiced in some time. I miss it very much. Also, I liked how you commented a bit in your replies to the person who tagged you that I decided to do the same. What a thoughtful thing to do!

There are quite a few questions answered here, and I can prattle on. therefore, a cut. I don't often tag in games like this one, but if you read this, and want in on the action, absolutely feel free to do it, and tag me.

Are you named after anyone?

I'm not.

When was the last time you cried?

I don't cry often. I'm not sure that I remember. No tear ducts when you're a skeleton, you know.

Do you have kids?

I can barely afford to have a cat. So no, no kids.

Do you use sarcasm a lot?

I can be blisteringly sarcastic, though these days I try to use that power for good, for goofs, and for fiction.

What’s the first thing you notice about people?

I tend to pick up small details. Is there a graphic on their shirt? Are they wearing pins? What kind of earrings have they put in? I have a tendency to try to observe features that will tell me about a person's interests, their sense of humor, something we might have in common, things like that.

What’s your eye color?

I have dark eyes.

Scary movies or happy endings?

I don't see a need to separate these things. Or to choose one over the other, as I like them both, and sometimes a scary movie can still end happily.

Any special talents?

I'm probably the worst person to assess that about myself. It's difficult for me to trust that I am good at anything at all. I have a good memory for books.

Where were you born?

I often tell people that I was hatched out of a wall. My mother worked very hard to get me out. This is how I reinvent my origin without denying her the credit that she's due. But where was the wall? Some secluded alleyway where it is always dark, and always raining, and the street glistens with distorted neon light. Or perhaps it wasn't a wall, at all, but an old tall tree. No, wait, it was a jagged boulder by the sea.

What are your hobbies?

I like to write, of course, and to read. I like to handbind little books when I have the space and the energy. I enjoy movies, and all kinds of television. Currently, I'm using a potholder loom to make a blanket. I have also been known to play video games, though I don't often have time. Right now I'm playing Pokémon SoulSilver My starter is a Cyndaquil that I've given an Everstone, so that he will be adorable forever. His name is Gloucester.

Have you any pets?

I have a beautiful cat with evil in her heart. I call her Wynne Genki Danger. Wynne, after the character from Dragon Age (a grumpy old woman who can't mind her business), Genki after Professor Genki from Saints Row (a mass murderer with a very large cat head who calls death a "reality climax"), and Danger because I have known her both to calculate risks, and to be terrible at math.

What sports do you play/have played?

I played soccer as a child (mostly on defense, but I was also a midfielder). I also trained for quite some while in Yoshinkan-style Aikido.

How tall are you?

As tall as my aura.

Favorite subject in school?

I hated school, to be perfectly honest. I love to learn, but not like that.

Dream job?

I'd love to be able to write full time with my husband. I also think it would be wonderful to be a librarian. I'm a bookseller now, and I like that very much, but I feel like it would be more fulfilling to lend books out, rather than sell them. I like helping other people learn as much as I like learning myself, and I can't think of a much better place to do that. Sometimes I fantasize about working in a personal library/archive that's curated around queer and marginalized voices, our stories, and our history.

Three Ships?

I am being so very brave by not making a joke about boats right now. There's also a brand of skin products that's called Three Ships. Currently I have brainrot about Park Jin/Kim Yeon from Alchemy of Souls, Warwick/York from Requiem of the Rose King or, you know, from history, and Geto/Gojo from Jujutsu Kaisen. Bonus mention for Taishakuten/Asura from Onmyoji.

First Ever Ship?

Myself/Dinobot. I kid you not. Beast Wars (or Beasties, depending on your location) was very formative for me.

Last song you listened to?

You're Dead by Norma Tanega

Last movie you watched?

I don't remember for sure, I watch movies somewhat inattentively. I've lately been letting Tubi autoplay, as well, which doesn't help. I think that it might have been Sphere (1998).

Currently reading?

I have a bit of a list, which is not unusual for me. I get on a book-rotation if left unattended, because everything is so interesting all the time. Right now I'm reading: The Black Farm by Elias Witherow, Little Heaven by Nick Cutter, The Plantagenets by Dan Jones, Meat by Joseph D'Lacey, and in the middle of all that, I finished A Head Full of Ghosts by Paul Tremblay. I'm also getting ready to start Thirteen Storeys by Jonathan Sims, but I'd like to finish The Black Farm and Return to the Black Farm before I do, as I've borrowed those. I was also given an ARC to read of The Story of Us by Catherine Hernandez.

Currently watching?

I just finished Junji Ito's Maniac, and was pleased to discover another collection on Crunchyroll. I've been watching an episode every night before bed. I'm also watching Requiem of the Rose King and am about to start The Exorcist (2016).

Currently consuming?

Nothing at all. Though I likely should.

Currently craving?

Attention, apparently? This was quite long.

[rage-et-desespoir]

"Roger, we need to talk."

I stood near his desk. The only one who had dared to come this close to him thus far. Under the artificial lights, he looked as handsome as ever. Roger, my best friend. We'd met in college, fifteen years ago to this day. His thick black curly hair shone, bouncier than ever. His brown skin was smooth and his hazelnut eyes had a spark to them. He was healthy and smiling. He was dead.

"Clara? What's that about?" he asked, after saving the Excel document he'd been working on. "Is that about the Darrington project?" I ignored the icy terror crushing my heart. "D'you remember that thing you always say?"

He stood quiet for a moment, thinking. Behind me, whispers got more and more panicked. Our colleagues had taken refuge in the break room. I knew they were listening and watching, the door opened just a crack. Had Roger noticed everyone had been running away since he'd arrived, an hour ago? Even I didn't want to talk to him. The others had forced me, arguing I was closest to him, that we had history. That's precisely the reason I was running away. They weren't there, two weeks ago, looking inside the casket. They couldn't picture his corpse, in that exact same suit. His husband crying.

"Don't work harder, work smarter?" he tried, scratching his head on that spot. Where his skull had cracked. "No, about resting," I said, struggling to control my voice.

My legs barely supported me and tears were looming.

"Oh yeah!" he laughed. "I'll rest when I'm dead! Well, if you're asking, yeah. That was the best nap ever."

His words echoed in my brain. I didn't get it. Well, I did, but I didn't want to.

"I didn't expect for it to last that long, though," he kept going, sipping coffe in the pink mug I gifted him last Christmas. "But I guess I needed it. Thanks for covering for me by the way! I was scared thinking about how behind I was gonna be when I woke up." I swallowed bile. "Roger, do you realise what you're saying?" "I don't follow." "People just... they don't just wake up. You are dead for Christ's sake!"

He frowned, concerned. For just a second, I could picture his face slowly rotting away.

"What did you want me to do, sleep forever? I got work to do! I'll rest when I'm dead, not disappear when the files are pilling up!" "That's what I like to hear!"

Our Boss' voice boomed from behind me. I turned around, almost falling. He was taller than anyone in the building, his chest large and his grey eyes as dead as Roger's ought to be.

"We don't need lazy people here!" he said, towering over me. His teeth glistened when he smiled. "Roger knows that. And I expect you all do."

People started pouring out of the break room, supporting each other. I wondered if I looked as pale and weak as they did.

"Isn't that right Boss!" Roger said, getting back to work. "That's always been the deal, yeah? I mean, you let most of us go back home to sleep a few hours at night, I couldn't ask any more of you." "Most of us?" I mouthed, my eyes going back and forth between Roger and our Boss. Had that man always looked that tall? "The company needs results and commitment," he approved. "I couldn't spare you any more than a couple of weeks, whatever the excuse. Profit before fun!" "Profit before fun!"

I jumped, startled. Everyone around me had repeated that, in a dead voice. Their faces were still covered in tears but they stood straight now. And one by one, they got to their desks, the open space full of empty voices saying "I'll rest when I'm dead!"

So I stood there, knees shaking. The open space flooded with the clicks of keyboards and discreet, professional chatter.

So that's it? I thought. No one was questioning that? Roger had died and come back and it was normal? The professional thing to do?

"Clara!"

When had our Boss gone back to his office? The door was open but the lights were off. His voice crept out of the darkness.

"Clara, I need to see you in my office. Now."

They all looked at me. Guess I'll rest when I'm dead.

Your friend always said “I’ll rest when I’m dead,” so much that it became his catchphrase. He says it again today when he came into work, going about his daily routine. This normally wouldn’t be concerning, if not for the fact that you attended his funeral two weeks ago.

[wardenswateringhole]

Would it be all right if you wrote something based off of your perception of Vladimir?

I don't have explicit permission, but I want to do this anyway because I want to see what @shu-dzhoker thinks of my perceptions.

Vladimir

The gentlest of giants. He was bigger than most of his peers growing up so there were frequent reminders to mind his strength. It made for the quietest looming person one has ever seen. Not just his speaking. This man makes next to no sound when moving. Many an unfortunate soul has turned to suddenly find a giant shadow standing behind them. A flurry of apologies from him follow when his victim has managed to get their soul to return to their body.

He has trouble speaking up for himself. His friends often come to his rescue when they notice he's becoming flustered. He has no shortage of rescuers too. Good hearted people flock to his side like moths to a flame.

He doesn't get mad. At least no one has ever seen it happen. Make no mistake, it has happened. It's something Vlad doesn't like to talk about and is probably a little ashamed of it.

Loves cool colors, even though he looks better in warm or neutral. Probably a fan of jewel tones.

Has an unhealthy obsession with pens. He will steal your pen. He is always apologetic about it but he will do it again. Your pens are not safe. He has journals where he just takes each of his favorite pens and doodles or writes little tidbit with them. It makes him happy and is therapeutic after a hard day.

Can cook. If the box has directions. Vlad could probably burn water. Many a cooking implement has been ruined by him. Someone please stop him.

Stress eats. Happy eats. The man eats. He's one of those happy few that can destroy a box of confectioneries or an entire large pizza and not be worse for wear after. No stomach ache, no weight gain, barely a speck of debris on his lips and cheeks. He is the perfect eating machine.

Likes scream-o music. The louder the better. Probably a fan of Powerwolf and Masterplan. KISS, AC/DC, and Poison are probably on his liked list as well. Also has a soft spot for the Trans-Siberian Orchestra with Metallica. Rocks out to their Christmas music often, even when its no where near the holiday season.

“I'm sorry.” <= Vladimir's favorite phrase. He says it way too much. Even if he has nothing to be sorry for. His friends are working with him to help him through such a habit.

High tolerance for pain. Doesn't panic if he sees his own blood. He's too busy trying to remember how it got there in the first place. Takes needles and other invasive medical procedures like a champ. HATES medicine. Doesn't matter how it tastes or what form it comes in, he hates it. He feels like a slave to it. Between having to schedule his day around it, to dealing with side effects, it takes so much time away from what he'd rather be doing.

Terrible patient despite his tolerance for medical care. Again, being sick takes time away from things he'd rather be doing. You'll have to strap him down and knock him over the head with a large mallet to get him to rest properly.

Will love you forever if you get him hair accessories. His hair is beautiful and he loves wearing trinkets in it. Ribbons, clips, pins, you name it. Make it skulls or butterflies and you're his best friend for life.

That's what I got so far. I tried to cover as many aspects as I could. Feedback is appreciated.

Vladimir belongs to @shu-dzhoker

[leviathanlazarus]

A Colored World

Pairing: Josh Kiszka x (F) Reader

Word Count: 1136

Warnings: none--pure candy fluff, we love our sunshine boy~

This comes to us by an outside request--thank you! I’m always flattered to be entrusted with all of your requests and I hope this one delivers. This is also for Josh himself, though I know the boys don’t read this stuff (nor should they, let’s be real), I know we’re all sending him some major love right now & I hope, in some fantastical and cosmic way, the love from this gets to him, too.

---

You loved your kids--well, “your” kids--but the lack of sleep and their, for whatever reason, more exuberant energy than normal was draining you little by little. It had to be because the school year was ending soon. Still, you imagined if you were 4 years old again, you wouldn’t ever feel like you were bogged down by schedules or even the comings and goings of the sun and the seasons, and you envied that sort of blissful ignorance they had.

Today it was all about creativity--that was sort of the thing every day actually, but you’d made a point to bring in various CDs you thought the kids would like, and simple sheet music for certain songs so they could follow, so all of you could sing together. Not that singing was a great skill of yours, but you enjoyed doing it with the kids when you could. They were always enthusiastic and fun, always eager to try something new and never too fearful to just belt it the hell out.

The jingling of something--you couldn’t discern what yet--as you started up the computer and readied your collection of CDs caused you to turn to the doorway where, like a daydream come to life, Josh was there, the gold in his ears glimmering as he turned his head. He looked to the kids first, a big smile on his face as he tapped the tambourine against his knee, then he met your eyes and the smile became an open-mouthed grin.

The tambourine jingled louder when he wrapped his arms around you and squeezed. “Hey, pretty lady,” he said, that warm voice you’d missed so much gentle in your ear. “I missed you.”

You squeezed him back. “I missed you too--what are you doing here? I didn’t know you’d be back in town.”

“We took a detour,” he told you, pulling back and kissing your cheek. “And I remembered you said today was music day, so I sort of invited myself, if that’s okay.”

You were blushing, feeling like you must be as exuberant as your kids. “Yeah, are you kidding?” you replied and ruffled his hair. “They’ll actually have a real musician teaching them.” 

Josh laughed, tipping his head back. “Well, we’ll see. What did you have planned?”

“Okay, don’t laugh,” you began, turning to rifle through the CDs. “I was gonna start with a classic: ‘We Are The Dinosaurs.’”

Josh did laugh, but not at you, nor at the song choice. He moved in close and looked it over with you. “That’s great--who doesn’t love dinosaurs?” 

“I feel like you could easily incorporate your tambourine into it,” you said, gently flicking a bell with your fingertip. “And it’s really easy to sing along to, obviously.”

He smiled again. “I’ll try to follow along.”

You both sat in front of the kids, all of them in a circle on the bright blue and purple carpet, the music just beginning and Josh readying his tambourine, smiling at the kids. You loved that Josh was like a kid himself, with his wonder and amusement seemingly unwavering, and him in this particular environment just seemed to work. 

He did quickly work with the song, establishing his rhythm and interjection of the tambourine easily, and the lyrics were even easier to attach himself to. You knew the song by heart, having listened to it a thousand times, but with Josh playing and singing next to you, it felt like an entirely new experience.

One of your kids was already very taken with Josh, which you weren’t surprised by. He’d always reminded you of Josh a little, with his boisterous energy and loud laugh, his vibrant silliness and affinity for music, too. He looked up at Josh with big, awe-struck eyes, moving them down to the tambourine whenever Josh tapped it, and started to clap along to that same tambourine playing.

You giggled but kept singing, getting a kick out of the whole thing. When it ended, no one seemed too eager to have it all end, so you turned to Josh and asked, “What if we did ‘Anthem?’”

He grinned at that and squeezed your knee. “It might not be the same without Jake’s guitar, but I think you and I could make up for it.” 

And you felt you both did--Josh’s voice was as beautiful as ever and he made sure you were in sync, swaying side to side in your chairs, him tapping the tambourine against his knee and into his hand. You both managed to corral the kids into singing the chorus in unison--just like in the actual song--with you getting them started and Josh doing his classic vocalizations, his free hand moving in the air with each note.

The kids were super into it and you were too, glancing over at Josh continuously, your heart swelling with adoration. He caught your eye and smiled, then winked, and your heart melted. 

“Anthem” had always been your favorite Greta Van Fleet song. You loved its endearing simplicity, its uncomplicated message and authenticity, and singing it alongside your most favorite person felt like yet another daydream. Whenever you heard the song, you felt like maybe the world really could go back to being vibrant and colorful, full of love and tenderness, and the kids singing with you made that daydream feel more and more like a real possibility. 

After giving the kids their snacks, you handed a juice box to Josh and smiled, taking one for yourself too. He smiled back and you both sat on the desk, his tambourine motionless at his side for now.

“You’re so cute,” you told him as he took the first sip, watching his lips pursed around the tiny plastic straw. “Thank you for coming in and surprising all of us.”

“It was really for you, Y/N,” he said, leaning into your side. “But I had a lot of fun. You think they like me?”

You laughed. “Yeah, no doubt--did you not see them staring at you?”

“It’s the tambourine,” he insisted and rested his head on your shoulder. “I really missed you.”

You sighed and rested your hand on his leg. “I missed you too, Josh.”

“We’re leaving tomorrow,” he said, placing his free hand on top of yours. “So can I see you after school today?”

There went your heart again, swelling to the point of bursting. “Yeah, I’d love that,” you said, smiling a little to yourself at the purple stain on Josh’s lips. 

Josh glanced out at the kids, all seeming to be distracted by their own juice boxes and the song “Down By The Bay” playing from the speakers, then leaned into you and kissed your lips--a lingering, gentle kiss that tasted like sugared grapes, his tambourine jingling quietly as you moved closer to one another. 

---

Tagging: @jeordinevankiszka @mountainofthesunn @bigthighsandstupidguys @camomillacatalina @saywecanart @dreams-madeof-strawberrylemonade @kiszkawagnergvf

[rocorambles]

Know Your Place

Pairing: Naoya x Reader

Genre/Warnings: Yandere, NSFW, Misogyny, Abuse, Rape/Non-Con, Humiliation, Degradation, Feet Stepping

Summary: You should have known better than to believe that Toji could protect you from the Zenin forever. Once a Zenin woman, always a Zenin woman and Naoya intends to make sure you fully understand that.

Growing up as a female in the Zenin clan means you’re always expected to serve, to look beautiful. Never speak unless requested to. Never look any of the men in the eyes. Obey. Be submissive and demure.

There are thousands of rules and dozens of leering eyes ready to punish you for a single minor infraction. So as much as you hate the life you’ve been born into, you know better than to act out and bring attention to yourself, knowing full well especially now as an adult woman that the price of transgressions are too high to pay.

You’d be incredibly fortunate for the usual heavy backhands Naobito and Ogi Zenin would grace your face with when you were still a minor, for the cruel condescending words Naoya would sneer at you. Those were child’s play compared to what’s in store for you now and you shudder when you remember the images of fellow female servants who had attempted to escape only to be easily captured, clothes stripped and body laid bare for the entire clan to see. You remember the fear that would make you tremble as the men howled in laughter and jeers as they took turns smacking their victim’s ass, pawing and groping her body. You remember sobbing when you were forced to watch as fists, cocks, objects that you thought were far too large were shoved between flailing legs.

But nothing keeps you in line more than the cold dread you’d feel heavy in your chest when you’d be forced to clean out the room of one of your ex-maids, preparing the room for the next poor soul born into a never ending life of servitude. As much as you hate this life, it’s still better than being tied up and forced to be nothing more than a Zenin sex doll, used by every man in the clan until there’s nothing left but an empty husk of skin.

So you keep your head down, ignoring the cruel words and predatory gazes that follow you. You enjoy the few moments you have in the servant quarters alone with your fellow maids, giggling and whispering to each other, pretending that you’re just normal women. Those friendships you form warm your heart and you take solace in the sympathetic glances and warm brief squeezes of hands when a Zenin man is particularly harsh in their treatment of you.

Maybe that’s why you can’t keep your body still when the woman who shares the same room as you accidentally spills hot tea all over Zenin Toji. And despite how terrified you are of Toji’s hulking figure and blood-stained reputation, you throw your body in between him and your friend, creating a feeble physical shield for her from his wrath.

A part of you is together enough to vaguely acknowledge how strange it is that Toji hasn’t roared a single word yet, hasn’t laid a hand on you. But you’re not foolish enough to think this is over and you throw yourself to the floor in a degrading groveling bow, begging him to forgive your friend, to have mercy on the both of you.

You know exactly who Zenin Toji is and you prepare yourself for the feeling of his infamous sword slicing through your neck. What you aren’t prepared for is the way he lets out a boisterous laugh, green eyes glimmering in amusement when he sees the bewildered look on your face as you tentatively peek up at him.

“You’ve got guts. Tell you what. I’ll forgive you and your clumsy friend if you become my personal maid. Deal?”

It’s a rhetorical question and you stiffly nod your head, tears forming in your eyes as you imagine the rest of your life chained to Toji’s bed, stuck in the lair of a beast.

Except your life isn’t anything like you had imagined and you’re stunned when Toji barks at you to go retire to your own room and get some rest so you’re ready to keep up with tomorrow.

Life is...surprisingly normal. Well as normal as it can be in the household of one of the top Jujutsu sorcerer clans in the world. You scowl at Toji as he teasingly throws a pile of sweat stained clothes and towels on top of your head as he walks out of the bath.

“You’re getting a little stronger, little lady. I almost even felt the punch you threw at me in training today.”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t help the slight quirk of your lips and swell of pride at his backhanded compliment.

Toji isn’t anything like the rest of his clan and it goes deeper than just his lack of cursed energy or his supernatural strength. He’s kind. Okay, maybe that’s a stretch, but you genuinely believe he has a good heart. Not once has he ever spoken maliciously to you. Not once has he ever laid a hand even borderline inappropriate or suggestive on you. And sure, you don’t necessarily enjoy doing his dirty laundry, cleaning his room, and making his bed every day and night, but he makes it easy to forget that you’re just a lowly maid.

He talks to you as if you’re his equal, carefully listening to you, acknowledging your points (even if he mocks you when you do say something silly or that he disagrees with). He invites you to eat meals with him. He trains you deeming you too wimpy to last long without at least some basic defense skills. Your time with Toji is one of the few moments of happiness you know and you greedily indulge.

But unknown to you, your new proximity to the black wolf of the Zenin clan has more than one eye looking at you in interest and above all, Zenin Naoya can’t stop fixating on you.

Naoya has always had a strange mix of respect, disdain, and jealousy towards the older man and he can’t help himself from wanting what Toji has, especially when the both of you look so irritatingly happy chattering away with each other as if you have no cares in the world. How dare a lowly Zenin servant look so carefree. How dare curse-less Toji make a mockery of the rest of the clan by living a shame-free life despite how hard they try to humiliate him for it.

Has Naoya ever been happy? Ever been relaxed?

He can’t remember ever laughing as hard as Toji is now in response to something you’ve said or done. He can’t remember smiling so freely like you are as you playfully slap Toji and try to get him to stop teasing you. A green eyed monster slithers inside of him and before he realizes what he’s doing, he’s making his way towards the both of you.

“Aren’t you two as unseemly as usual. I know you don’t care for our clan’s reputation or rules, but really? Parading your slut around so shamelessly? That’s a new low even for you.”

It’s adorable how you scurry away, cowering behind Toji’s broad figure, fear written all over your face. And although Naoya had done this to get under Toji’s skin, he can’t help but wish the older man would storm off and leave you behind in his clutches. He wonders if you’d be this scared and docile underneath him, wonders how tight you’d be while you tremble in fear while he sinks inside of you…

His thoughts are abruptly interrupted as Toji snorts, slinging a muscular arm over your shoulder and dragging you off with him, subtly tucking you safely into his side and away from Naoya’s hungry gaze.

Usually being ignored and dismissed would rile him up more, but as he watches the two of you amble away and sees your innocent and confused face, unsure what had just happened and what���s causing Toji’s strangely touchy behavior, his appetite is whetted and you’re what he’s craving.

What he hadn’t accounted for is how protective Toji is of you. So strange for a man who doesn’t seem to care about anyone except himself. But Naoya supposes that’s just a testament for how good you must be in bed. He can’t think of any other reason why Toji would waste his time and efforts on an insignificant woman like you.

You’re never left alone long enough for him to corner. Just when he sees you by yourself and swoops in to shove you in a spare room, Toji suddenly looms beside you, green eyes sternly pinning Naoya down with a warning. And as much as Naoya would love to rise to the challenge, he knows that he doesn’t stand a chance against Toji, so he slinks away in defeat, again and again.

It only makes him want you more and he grits his teeth as he slams into one of the whores in his bed who vaguely reminded him of you if he squints in just the right way.

He supposes he should be more remorseful as the news of Toji’s death spreads like wildfire through the Zenin household. But all he can see is a light at the end of the tunnel. It takes every last bit of restraint in him not to immediately hunt you down and devour you, but he bides his time. After all the teasing and taunting you’ve put him through just one taste isn’t going to satisfy him anymore.

No, he won’t just ruin you and throw you away after a single night. He plans on dragging this out, using you, tasting you until it fully sinks in that this is all you’re good for, that he owns every part of you inside and out.

His cock twitches at your swollen face covered in salty tear streaks. You look so pathetic, so scared when he takes his time strolling into your room, kicking your roommate out and locking the door behind him. It’s just the two of you and he feels the rush of power thrumming through his veins at how you tremble and cower before him. If only you were naked and not in those dreary mourning clothes…

But he has ample time for that and he wants to enjoy corrupting you, take his time watching your downfall.

“You’re my maid starting now.”

You mutely nod, but make no move and Naoya scoffs.

“I know Toji was soft with you, but let me set expectations straight. I’m nothing like him. Now get moving.”

“But this is my room-”

You yelp in fright as Naoya’s hand grips the front of your shirt and hauls your body until you’re forced to press against his body, feeling his breath against your face as he sneers at you.

“Sluts don’t get the luxury of their own room or bed. Toji spoiled you. Now move your stuff to my quarters. The only place you’ll be sleeping from now on is my floor or my bed. Understood?”

It’s a rhetorical question and all you can do is crumple to the ground when he lets go, staring unseeingly at Naoya’s retreating back as he exits your room, the weight of your new reality crashing down on you.

Sleeping on the floor is humiliating and uncomfortable. Naoya makes it a point to “accidentally” step on you when he gets on and off the bed, rudely nudging you awake with his feet, resting his soles on your face until you’re flailing around to breathe. But it isn’t as bad as wondering when the worst is to come.

At least you’re clothed. At least your innocence is still intact. So as much as you feel like nothing more than a dog, you take it. After all, your new life isn’t so different from your life before Toji aside from your new sleeping arrangements and the headache of being in close proximity to Zenin Naoya.

It’s entertaining enough in the beginning, watching you curl up on the floor like an obedient puppy, admiring how you never talk or lash out when he literally walks all over you. He even buys you a pretty new collar with his name engraved on it linked to a leash he holds in his hand or leaves tied to his bed.

But unlike a real pet you never warm up to him, always looking at him warily, body tense and nervous in his presence. Not once do you look at him with even the slightest hint of affection or fondness you used to stare at Toji with. He supposes that can’t be helped and he doesn’t care for anything disgusting like your love. But you don’t even seem remotely attracted to him as a man and that’s something his ego won’t allow for.

He knows women can’t stand his attitude. But he also knows that at their base, all women are sluts easily swayed by his good looks. He can’t even count the number of women who’ve insulted him to his face only to end up in his bed, moaning and screaming his name and their love for his cock.

You were supposed to be no different. But your continued disinterest in him infuriates him to the point where petty humiliation isn’t enough to sate his hurt pride.

“Strip and get in bed.”

You’re frozen stiff and he sneers at you while you’re on the verge of terrified tears.

“What? I’m not good enough for you? Don’t act like you aren’t used to this. I’m sure your old master had you warming his bed all the time-”

“Toji would never!”

Even he’s stunned by the weight of his backhand hit as it makes contact with your face, by the venom in his voice as he spits out his next words.

“Don’t you ever say that name in my presence again.”

He takes a few seconds to calm his breath, the crimson of the blood trickling from your nose grounding him as he finds his center once more. But then a thought crosses his mind as that red river finds its way to your lips.

“As punishment, let’s make sure you know what your mouth’s purpose is from now on. Words are wasted on a dumb whore like you anyway. Kneel and open wide.”

It’s oddly arousing watching your tears and blood stream down your face as you choke on his cock. Your efforts are half-hearted at best, but he doesn’t mind. Not when the instinctual way your throat flutters around him as he roughly thrusts his hips into your tight mouth suffices. He can see why Toji kept you around and he groans as his hand slips behind your head and pushes you until your face is squished against his abdomen.

Your mouth feels amazing and your muffled screams for air only add to the vibrations around his shaft. It’s enough to have him spilling down your throat and he keeps you tightly pressed against him, forcing you to drink every last drop he gifts you with. And only when your throat finally stops its forced swallowing does he release you, leering down at your pitiful form heaving for breath.

The bitter taste of his seed is all you can taste, all you can focus on as you greedily inhale much needed oxygen. You pray that he’s done, but you whimper when a strong hand easily pulls you up and begins to pull off your clothing. Instinctively you try to push the invasive appendages away from you, but you freeze at Naoya’s growled threat.

“Don’t make me hurt you any more than I have to.”

You know it’s not an empty threat. You’ve seen the quite literally broken bodies of women who had resisted too much against the Zenin men, against Naoya specifically. So you limply drop your arms to your side and stay still as he humiliatingly gropes and examines you like merchandise.

All you can do is clench your eyes shut as Naoya’s hands grab your breasts, kneading and weighing them in his hands, cruelly prodding and pinching your nipples to see your reactions. All you can do is bite back a muffled yelp when he forces you onto your knees and forearms on the bed, squeezing and smacking your ass, spreading apart your cheeks to closely look at your fluttering holes. All you can do is cry into the sheets as he fingers you open, breaching both untouched openings, his thick digits stretching your tight walls apart and taking their time to thoroughly defile you, using your own slick to loosen your ass.

You try to disassociate, try to imagine that this is just a medical examination. But your fantasies are shattered when something hard and thick slaps against your inner thigh as Naoya rearranges himself behind you, rubbing the head of his cock back and forth against your dripping entrance, coating his shaft with your juices.

“Naoya! Sir, please. I’ve never...You can’t-”

Your pleas are cut short as his hand painfully strikes your ass.

“Shut the fuck up. You’re ruining the mood with your sniveling voice. Remember what I taught you? Sluts don’t get to speak freely. They only get to moan and thank their masters.”

You don’t even know if you can speak even if you wanted to, not when his cock is forced into you in one go, the thick and lengthy shaft ruthlessly tearing you apart. It fills you, stuffing you full, and you don’t think there’s even room left in your body for words. The only thing you can release is a strangled scream, eyes and mouth blown wide open, fingers clawing at the sheets as you try to remotely ground yourself as the foreign sensation overwhelms you.

But Naoya has never been a patient man and there’s a certain sense of entertainment from watching you struggle and writhe underneath him. He begins a relentless pace before you can adjust to the feeling of him inside of you, hips slamming in and out of you, heavy balls bouncing against you.

You’re so tight, so hot, so wet and he can feel a rush of power from the confusion he begins to see setting on your face as forced pleasure begins to mix in with your fear and pain. Moans and high-pitched keens are finding their way in between distressed cries and he smirks at the way your eyes begin to roll back in your head, the way your hips begin to meet him halfway, greedily pushing back against him when he teasingly slows down his pace.

He laughs at the humiliation and embarrassment running rampant on your face when you whine as he abruptly stops

“Wow you really are a slut. You fucking love my cock, don’t you?”

He rolls his eyes as you adamantly shake your head in denial, bored by your playing hard to get act. But as he admires the way your pussy lips obscenely envelop his cock, your pretty puckered hole beckons to him.

“You’re fucking filthy, clamping down on me like a bitch in heat from just a thumb in your ass. You like that? Like having all your holes filled? Maybe when I break you in, I’ll share you with the rest of the clan. Bet you’d love that. Love having cocks in every hole, using every inch of you.”

Your orgasm takes the both of you by surprise in its speed and intensity and Naoya howls in laughter as he resumes fucking you, chasing his own high with his thumb still lodged in your ass, groaning in pleasure at how he can feel the tremors of your orgasm, the way your body convulses in the aftershocks of pleasure and onset of overstimulation.

You’re breathtaking like this, fucked silly, delirious, just a warm body and toy for him to do with as he pleases and it doesn’t take long for him to join you over the edge and add to the sticky mess already inside of you.

With a lewd pop he retracts his thumb from your now lewdly fluttering hole, shoving it into your mouth for you to clean and he smiles at how mindlessly obedient you are as you suck and lick the digit clean like it's your favorite lollipop.

You grimace when he finally pulls out, already feeling his cum beginning to leak out of you and you try and find the strength in your trembling and used body to push yourself off the bed. It’s time to retreat with your tail between your legs and you want nothing more than to spend the rest of the evening in the shower, harshly scrubbing every evidence of your utter defeat and conquest under boiling hot water.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

You open your mouth to speak, only to quickly clamp it back shut, remembering how your words only seemed to dig you deeper and deeper into trouble.

“You’re going to wash me and yourself and once we’re clean, you’re going to remain naked and in my bed until I’m ready to use you again. Think of it as a promotion. No more worrying your stupid little head about cleaning and laundry anymore. You’re being upgraded to my personal sex slave and bed warmer. Come on, I don’t have all day.”

You wonder if this is what it feels like to walk the plank, to approach your own death sentence as you robotically trail after Naoya’s figure towards his lavish bathroom. And as you lay in his bed that night, pristine and bare like a glorified sex doll, his broad arm possessively slung around your waist and forcing your bodies to mold together, you bid farewell to your past life, dreading what the future has in store for you.

[murswrites]

Never Deal With Demons ⎯  Bonnie Gold One-Shot

Pairings: Demon!Evil!Bonnie Gold x Reader Fandom: Peaky Blinders MASTERLIST Word Count: ~ 2,600 Warnings: Cursing, violence, manipulation, poor take on demons and the like, mentions of blood, pain, abuse/etc, typical Peaky bullshit too SUMMARY: You only ever wanted happiness but now you’re trapped for life. This is my submission for @retromafia​‘s Supernatural Celebration!!

25. “You came to me, begging me for a contract!”

26. “You mean those weak, mortal friends? Why would you want to be with them when you can be with me?”

37. “Humans age and rot so easily, but don’t worry. With me, you’ll be perfect forever.”

3. “Do you like my horns?”

A/N The piece is merely inspired by the prompts above, some may be used. Others not. The underlined prompts are used word for word :)

You knew the rules and yet, you couldn’t help but bend them… okay that’s being nice, you fucking shattered them.

“If you do this you and I will be bonded for life.” His voice had been smooth, eyes gleaming red under the lamp as he smirked knowingly.

How could you decline his offer, eternal life… with him. It sounded too good to be true and yet… you felt your heart jump with excitement at the thought. He was stupidly beautiful, eyes dark and a bit deranged, hair curled at his ears, and god… his smile felt like a knife to the back.

Everyone—everyone knew not to go to him. He was crazy, insane, mental, mad, blah blah blah that didn’t matter anymore. How could he be seen as those things when in reality, he was so so sweet.

When you looked at him there was no evil, no ill intent—just him. Even if he had (apparently) done some horrifying shit, there was some sick part of you that liked that. You liked all of him. Despite his flaws, despite the agreement, you liked him.

That is until he started being a controlling asshole.

—

You went to him that first time in a moment of weakness, you were tired and beat down by life, needing relief. Demons were never someone a person just went to. The church preached that if you were ill enough to seek out demons then you were just as evil.

That part didn’t really bother you. But whenever you’d see the signs casting all non-humans as the enemy, it irked you. It was a new kind of prejudice and they couldn’t even see that. You weren’t raised by bad people, you could care less if someone were a vampire or werewolf, you’d met plenty of those growing up.

But demons on the other hand were much rarer. Not many stayed on Earth anymore, it was more dangerous than their home down under. There had always been the same one in your town, he’d been there for hundreds of years apparently.

Everyone knew the stories of how he’d lure in young people and eat them alive. That seemed like a lie but you were still wary. Despite not having ever met him, you’d seen him around. Just glimpses of pale skin and dark eyes.

He didn’t spend much time out of his estate (how it was acquired was unknown to you). It was a large looming house at the edge of town surrounded by miles of woods. Just the driveway alone was almost two miles.

That gave you a lot of time to think on the way there. You were encouraged not to go to him by your friends. “Go see the Jesus family instead, vampires are safer.” One said, another berated you altogether. Telling you how dumb the idea was in the first place.

“You’ve heard the stories of lost lives to that… fucking thing.”

Part of you wanted to listen but curiosity didn’t kill the cat on its own.

—

You remember the night you walked inside that old house, felt the power radiating off the walls. Your fingers skimmed along the wall as you stepped further inside. The furnishings were extravagant. There was no sound save for the occasional creak in the floor.

Something about the air felt so comfortable. You weren’t alone for long, he appeared in a shadow, teeth gleaming.

“Hello, you.” He’d been the first one to speak, you stared in awe.

You knew his name, you thought it was beautiful… fitting enough for a beautiful man.

When he finally showed himself your heart jumped out of your chest. How could evil personified be so… painfully gorgeous. He wasn’t even extraordinary to look at, but he was so pretty it hurt. Sprouting from beneath the darkness of his curled hair were short black horns. They gleaned in the candlelight as he stepped out from the shadow.

“I knew you’d come one day, welcome.” Even the way he moved enchanted you. “Make yourself at home, I’m sure you’ve come for a reason.” He crossed the room and sat on the couch that was placed in front of an unlit fireplace.

You were frozen in place, a statue. “Are you cold?” He leaned on the arm, looking at you over the back of the couch as he raised his hand. Your eyes widened as flames appeared above the logs. “Do you like my horns?” He wrapped a finger around one like it was a piece of hair.

The question caught you off guard, did you like them? You wondered the same yourself. Finding your voice proved to be more of an issue than answering. “Uh– yea, I… I suppose? I didn’t know you had horns.”

There it was, you saw how his eyes lit up.

“Come sit,” Your body moved before you comprehended the offer. “Why are you here?” The eye contact was too much, you had to look away. How could someone’s eyes be red and brown? It didn’t make any sense.

“I’m not too sure why.”

He laughed, “Yes you are,” He was right.

You knew exactly why you came to him. You were so incredibly bored with your life, it was the same cycle each day, there wasn’t an ounce of change. It was killing you.

That made your face grow hot, how he knew didn’t matter. It was the admission that embarrassed you more. “Yea.” You stared at the fire, “Is it true you kill people?”

He nodded, “I’ve killed lots of things.”

“Why?”

“It’s my nature and nature. Cycle of life and the like.” He was so casual, it unnerved you but it was hard to look away. “Or sometimes just because I could.” He shrugged.

“What happens if I say your name?” You wondered aloud, having heard plenty of stories about how a name holds power over demons. Something about some stupid balance.

A wicked smile grew on his face, “Oh, so you know about that, do you?” You nodded, “Sad that it’s just a rumor then.”

“What?” He nodded, “Damn, that seemed too good to be true I guess.” That made you painfully curious to say his name, you didn’t even know if it was his real name anyway. “So if I were to say it right now, nothing would happen?” You asked, a nod in response.

Your eyes met his as you muttered two words, “Bonnie Gold.”

That grin returned as he stared right back. “Sounds nice when you say it like that,” Bonnie looked away, “That’s not my real name, you know?”

“Really? What do you have, like, a demon name?” Your question wasn’t rhetorical, it was just a joke but Bonnie answered with a nod. “Huh.”

—

“Did you know that demons were sent to Earth in an experiment?” Bonnie asked, you shook your head. “To see how we’d get along with humans, I was one of the first sent down– well up.” He chuckled at the thought.

“What was that like?”

Bonnie’s eyes darkened, “Lonely.”

You knew you shouldn’t feel sympathy for him but it was hard not to. “I can’t imagine.” You spoke quietly, he was so close, so near it was overwhelming.

“Yes you can, I can see it in your eyes.” Bonnie put a hand on your cheek, it was cold but you didn’t mind.

How he’d seen through your facade of contentment was beyond you. What frightened you more was how soft his voice sounded when he said it.

“You could no longer be lonely with me. We could be lonely together, my love.”

Those words were so beautifully wrapped, covering the lies you’d soon uncover. Maybe it was naive to believe a demon of all things but at the time, it didn’t matter. He had consumed your hopelessness and turned it into happiness.

“With me, you’ll be perfect forever.” He ran a stray finger down your face, watching you closely as he did so. “Why grow old when you can always be young?”

“I’m not sure forever would be enough,” It sounded cheesy in your head and so much worse out loud. 

But Bonnie seemed to like that sentiment. “Just ask and it’s done, love.”

Your eyebrows knitted together, “Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

And so… you asked. You said the words he had been drawing out of you for weeks. You’d spent so much time with him in secret for fear of what your friends and family would say. Bonnie was much different around you, he was sweet and attentive. He would indulge your stupid questions and answer with real sincerity.

It was nice to be listened to.

Though sometimes… he’d sort of, slip up. You’d see flashes of the demon from the rumors. It didn’t really surprise you, just made you wary. 

“Can you make me everlasting?”

The question was simple enough, just five words and your fate was bonded with his. Unbeknownst to you, he had played you like a fiddle. All of the sweet smiles and laughter… it was fake. It was all a lie.

You saw his true colors that night you begged him to change you. Into what, you weren’t too sure, but it didn’t matter if it meant you’d be together forever. He explained it in half truths, always turning to distract you from asking too many questions.

And god it felt so stupid to have fallen for his obvious manipulation.

—

It wasn’t like you changed your mind right after he did it. No, you didn’t realize how he was slowly stifling you until years later. You too, became a part of the rumors about him. “He and his pet”, they’d say. You didn’t care about what they said until you realized how true that was.

You weren’t his equal, you were in the most technical sense; him. Bonnie made you from his own essence in turn making you into a half-demon. Your appearance remained the same save for that same red glint in your eyes and horns that mirrored Bonnie’s.

Bonnie was still sweet–for the most part. He had a temper and didn’t know how to manage his emotions, living with him soon became exhausting. Even with all of the perks of it, you began to notice how you longed for regular life again.

You missed your friends, Bonnie’s weren’t the best people. They all had what he did, a human turned demon companion… according to them, Bonnie was the last to “obtain” a human friend. That part irked you. But you saw how happy the others seemed, they genuinely loved their partner.

At one point, you loved him too but… it became too much. The changes inside your body made your emotions amplified and dizzying. It took ages to get used to it.

—

A decade later, you were as young as you were when you met Bonnie but your friends were not. You weren’t allowed to see them. You doubted they’d even want to see you after what you did. But you couldn’t help but watch over them from the shadows, some got married and had children, others moved out of the country. You found yourself becoming jealous of their mundane lives.

All they had to worry about was stupid inconsequential things like taxes or if they bought enough fruit to last them a week. If only someone had warned you. The irony of it all was that now that you had your taste of the supernatural, you wanted nothing more than to give it all back.

Bonnie told you it was irreversible, undoable, impossible to revert you back to being human without the time your body resisted crushing you. But at that point, you were too tired of it to not beg for him to do something.

—

“Am I not enough for you? I surely was when you begged me to turn you into one of us.” He spoke with venom, eyebrows pushed together in anger.

“I didn’t beg you to turn me! You bullied me into it! I just wanted to get to know you,”

Bonnie grabbed your wrists and pulled you close, “I did nothing of the sort, I just pushed you into the right direction.”

“Same difference, Bonnie.”

He scowled, “You came to me, begging me for a contract!” He suddenly pushed you away.

Your eyes grew wide, “No I didn’t! Stop lying! I am so sick of your lies!”

“What do you expect from a demon, child?” Bonnie sneered. He didn’t look like himself anymore, his face contorting at such a speed you could barely comprehend it.

“I know there’s a way to undo it, just please. Let me go, you can find another person who you will treat better I’m sure of it. I’m not right for you.”

Consoling him didn’t help anymore than screaming. If anything, it made him so much more angry.

His expression changed suddenly, “Please don’t leave me, I have no one. You know this.”

“You have hundreds if not thousands of friends.”

You saw a sliver of the sweet persona he put on when you met. His eyes softened and he looked heartbroken that you’d even ask to get away.

“You are all I have.” Bonnie’s eyes stayed on yours, it was impossible to look away, “Why do you think I jumped on the opportunity to make you like me? You’re perfect in every way, perfect for me.” His gaze was so heavy, you felt like you were being compressed into a small room.

He got a hold of your face, “If I’d known you were unhappy, I’d have done this long ago.” You didn’t understand as he tightened his grip on you, it hurt so bad. “You are not going anywhere.”

Something inside you changed, he was beautiful again. An angel… you wanted to laugh at the thought but he held you in place. Bonnie smiled and looked at your face, watching you carefully. “You will stay with me.”

Flashes of his anger and manipulations showcased in your brain. You set your jaw, trying your hardest to fight against his compulsion. It was how he’d gotten you so easy but you couldn’t leave. You physically couldn’t, even if you despised the man in front of you, your body had more power over your mind.

His eyes hardened into the blackest of blacks, dried blood. It was painfully ironic how things played out. “You want to stay with me.” Bonnie’s grip on the back of your neck was bruising as you felt sweat begin to trail down your forehead.

You felt like you were being choked but your throat was untouched. It was like all air had been sucked out of the room and your lungs. Painful gasping sounds were all you could respond with. Your eyes bulged out of your head as his words changed the very framework inside your brain.

It was like someone had taken a melon baller to all the hatred and contempt you held against Bonnie Gold and began scooping it out. The pain was like nothing else, burning and hot but you were ice cold. It was (ironically) hell. 

Bonnie only watched with a sick fascination as a curious smile grew on his face as you calmed down.

“How’d we get here, Bonnie?” You wondered, confused as to what happened, “My head feels horrible, god.”

He offered that same sweet smile of his, “You hit your head, dove. That’s all.”

“I thought demons couldn't get hurt.”

A laugh, “Yea, but you aren’t a full demon.” He held your cheek sweetly and you couldn’t help but smile at the gesture. “Not yet at least.”

[roscgcld]

RYOMEN SUKUNA || my little flower

anime: jujutsu kaisen

characters: ryomen sukuna

pronouns: she/her 

notes: historical!sukuna x reader, slightly sexual (no smexy time involved lol - maybe another day ;)), quite fluffy towards the end

also - I’ve been reading so many sukuna hcs and imagines of him when he’s in his prime or during the historical era - so like excuse me as I politely simp for the man that is ryomen sukuna >< thank you 

references: https://www.japanese-wiki-corpus.org/literature/Ryomen-sukuna.html 

Sukuna leans back into the futon with a tired sigh, two of his arms folded behind his head while the other two held you against him securely. His ruby red eyes glanced away from the ceiling to look down at the woman curled up in his embrace, sleeping peacefully against him whilst her own soft arms were wrapped around his muscular torso. He admired your peaceful features at first, but soon his eyes started to travel down your delicate neck and cleavage, your soft skin marked by dark splotches where he had marked you up for the world to see.

Just the sight of the hickeys and bite marks caused Sukuna to smirk once more, the feeling of pride traveling through him at the sight of the hickeys, both new and old, marring your skin. It was a sight he would never get bored of seeing, since it was a constant reminder to you that you were his and no one else’s. 

Many would question just how did this happen - how did a simple human manage to ‘tame’ the infamous Sukuna - the King of Curses, who spreads chaos and bloodshed in his wake? How did you, a mere human woman who looked far too kind hearted and warm, ended up with such a fearsome man? 

Well, how this came to be was actually a cute story.

You grew up in a small village in Hida province, where many cities treated Sukuna as their patron deity. He was what people would call quite a cold ruler - one who would not hesitate to bring terror and bloodshed down on a town that had angered him. But at the same time, he was quite the generous man as well. He protects the people of the Hida and Mino Provinces, and many towns had florish and grow under his careful guidance.

Your town was one of the may towns that worshipped the Cursed Spirit, preparing offerings on special celebrations and always paying your respects whenever you go up to the ichinomiya on the weekends with your parents. It was because of one of these special celebrations that drew Sukusa to you.

It was one of the many days where offerings were given to him by townspeople, in hopes that they will still continue to get some form of protection from the unknown. He was their patron deity, after all. Even though many times he does all the things he does for his own benefit, it was nice to know that there are some who are gullible enough to think he does it for them. But he it’s one to complain - many of the offerings are things he does not mind indulging in. The best crops from the harvest, women for his ever growing harem, beautifully crafted weapons and clothes are the few he can keep in mind

Many times, he does not care to go through the offerings himself - Uraume goes through all of them and then gives him a general overview of everything. However, as he was walking past one of the neat piles of offerings, a particular garment box caught his eye; causing him to pause before he unwraps it curiously. 

Sitting inside the carefully wrapped package was a beautiful dark blue kinomo made of the finest silk, the fabric so smooth that it almost felt like water slipping through his fingers. Packed along with the kinomo was a beautifully crafted haori, a simple yet beautiful crane woven into the haori in white, the details done so carefully that when worn, the crane moves with the shifting of the fabric. The packet also came with a matching hakama made from the luxurious fabric, and a beautiful kaku obi made from navy blue, white and silver carefully weaved together into in a beautiful talent.

It was because of the level of craftsman ship that had Sukuna curious - who was the mastermind of something so beautiful?

He had went to the town where the garment was from and after some digging about, discovered about you. A daughter to a family of tailors, you were quite well known for your talents in embroidery and your mastery of the loom. Having gotten such talents, you crafted many beautiful pieces, and one of them was gifted to Sukuna himself recently. 

When he first saw you, he was struck by your beauty; how you had such a warm smile no matter who you were referring to. How your movements were graceful yet swift, your needle and threat embroidering the most beautiful depections of animals and flowers without a single mistake. How your voice was so sweet and calming that he can physically feel the tension from his body starting to unwind ever so slightly. If he could, he’d love to listen to your voice forever - which was what he intended to do. 

The first time you two met was actually in the dead of the night; you had stayed up later then usual, carefully embroidering a water lily onto a long fabric for a personal tapestry you wanted to hang in your room. A candle was burning by your work table, casting the engawa of your home in a soft but comforting glow; enough for you to do your work without straining too much. You were so fucsed on your work that you didn’t notice how the flames of your candle started to flicker in the glass holder; even though there was the air was still. Your eyes didn’t trail up from your tapestry even as a large figure quietly entered the hallway you were in; only pausing when you felt a huge presence looming over you.

Your bright eyes flickered upwards and met with four pairs of ruby red ones staring right back at you; all four of them shining in amusement. “You are quite oblivious, little one.” Sukuna hummed out with a soft grin, to which you just gave him a confused look as you tilted your head ever so slightly. “How did you get into my house?” You asked quietly, not even acknowledging how the man before you looked very different from what you’re used to; from the four muscular arms sprouting out from underneath the dark blue haori, the very same one that you had made for him. to the extra pair of eyes he sported on his face. Or how the top of his head was clearly brushing against the simple weed roofing of your family home.

“Is that really the first thing you’re going to ask, little one?”

From that day onwards, things definitely went a lot smoother then Sukuna could have imagined. At first the lack of reaction from you confused him, but he found it quite amusing nonetheless. Even after finding out that he was the same deity that you had heard stories of since you were in diapers, you acted no differently around him. You still talked and laughed with him like he was any other human. which for some reason made his heart feel warm and fuzzy. It makes him want to gather you up in his arms, protecting you from the horrors of the world.

The two of you will continue to meet up in the night like secret lovers; many nights he’d just lean against one of the pillars of your family home, with you perched in his lap as you work on different projects every night; talking about things that happen that day, or the funny stories that the townsfolk would share with you whenever they drop by to mend and purchase clothes, or when they dropped off freshly dyed fabrics. During a few of these nights Sukuna had suggested if you can help him mend a few of his kimonos, which you agreed to without hesitation. Some days you’d ever create new kimonos for him as well, which he would wear quite proudly. 

Soon these innocent nights of talking and laughter, him watching you do your work under the moonlight, to having you gasping and crying out for him as he took you over and over again in his grand bedroom; watching quite gleefully as he corrupted your innocence, ruining you for any other man. Ever since the first night you two shared in his bed, he knew that there was no turning back - there was no one else for him but you. 

And there was no way he was going to let some puny human even try to get in between the both of you.

With that he whisked you away from the somewhat mundane and boring life in your town, making you his entire world. He showered you with the finest gifts and opened the more human side of him to you; one that he thought he had lost the moment he had decided to go down the path he did. But you pulled these emotions out from him with ease, making him realise that he can chase all the power he want till the end of time and that will never satisfy him completely. 

All he needed was you, and everything feels right in the world.

“I’ve lost you again, haven’t I?”

Sukuna’s eyes snapped towards the direction of your sleepy voice, watching how you gave him the most beautiful yet sleepy smile as you carefully shifted your body so it was pressed against his. He marveled how your naked bodies clicked together seamlessly, even with the clear size difference between the two of you. “You will always have my attention, flower.”

The sound of the simple nickname cause a small smile tug against the corner of your lips, remembering how that nickname came about. You have always love studying flowers, since you enjoyed embroidering different sorts of flora and fauna onto different tapestries that now adorned the walls of the home you two share. You had once told him about your love of flowers, and because of that, you had came home one day to the courtyard in your shared home turned into your private garden; with flowers from all across the country planted at every nook and cranny. 

When you had asked Sukuna about it, he just shrugs and gave you an indulge smile - as if asking were you really shocked by his gift to you. When he realised just how deep your love for nature was, he had started to call you ‘his flower’, and the name has stuck since then. “What a sweet talker.”

A chuckle rumbled deep within his chest as one of his hands found purchase along your back, starting to massage what he was sure were your sore muscles; watching in satisfaction as you melted more into his chest. “Only for you.” He admitted quietly, to which you just gave him a loving smile as you rest your cheek against his chest once more; a soft finger started to trace along the tattoos on his skin. This action caused him to relax further into the futon, sighing softly in content. “Sukuna? Can we take a bath?”

“I’m lazy.” Sukuna stated with a soft groan as he glanced down at you once more, only to be met by the soft pout that you just know gets him to give in. This caused him to scowl as he cupped your face in one of his hands, gently squishing your cheeks between his fingers as he pushes himself up into a seated position. “You little minx.” He growls playfully whilst you just gave him a teasing smile, straddling his lap with your legs on either side of his whilst one of your hands wrapped around his wrist; causing him to loosen his grip on you whilst letting out a loud sigh. “How annoying.”

His arms suddenly wrapped around you before he got up from the comfort of the warm futon, causing you to giggle as you wrap your arms around his neck. “Let’s go, flower.” He sighs dramatically before he walked you both to the bathroom, causing you to perk up before you lean over to press a loving kiss against his cheek; ignoring his soft eyeroll at your act of affection. As if he didn’t enjoy it whenever you do so. “I love you.”

“Of course you do.” He teases before he started to walk you two towards the bathroom, one of his hands skimming down to the small of your pack where a beautiful black tattoo rested against your soft skin; a tattoo that looks similar to the black lines that adorned his own skin. “You’re mine, after all.” He stated simply, causing you to roll your eyes at him playfully as he carefully sat you down on the wooden steps leading to the opening of the ofuro; watching as Sukuna started to prepare the bath for the both of you. “Wouldn’t it kill for you to just be a little nicer to me?”

Your teasing tone clearly didn’t win any points with him, who narrowed his eyes at you and before you know it you were suddenly pinned down against the wooden steps. A soft giggle left your lips at the narrowed eyes that stared back at you, causing Sukuna to scowl softly at your reaction. “Now you’re just asking for it, flower.” He growled before diving down to meet your lips in a passionate kiss; not being able to mask his smile at the sound of your soft laughter just as you wrapped your arms around him once more.

"My little flower..”

© roscgcld — all rights reserved to me, rose, the author and creator of these works. do not repost/translate/claim my work as yours on any platform

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Sugar, Sugar 15

[FIFTEEN/END]

MASTERLIST

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape, violence, mean sugary Steve

This is a dark! sugar daddy! Steve fic. Obvious AU so please keep that in mind. :) That being said, it will be an explicit fic (18+) with noncon. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

(This chapter: violence, threats, fear  :O)

Series Summary: The reader is struggling in the big city but find opportunity before her. Will she take it?

This Chapter: The wedding day approaches but not everything goes to plan.

Author Notes: So this is another series wrapped up after a grueling two years, haha. Sorry y’all.

Please let me know what you think, like and reblog <3 love ya

🍭 🍭 🍭

The floor length mirror was trimmed with twisted gold. You stared at your reflection as your shaky hands pressed against the front of the ivory dress. The cut hid the small bump but you could not forget it. Ever since you confessed, it all happened so fast; the wedding was pushed up, the dress tailored and expedited, and invitations sent out in a rush.

It all felt surreal. The day had come but you just couldn’t accept it. How could you go through those doors and smile through it all?

You closed your eyes and let your breath out. They would knock when it was your time. Your father would be waiting to walk you down the aisle. The guests waited eagerly for the most talked about ceremony in the city. And you still felt like just a footnote in your own wedding.

You moved away from the mirror and sat unsteadily, gripping the arms of the cushioned chair, careful not to catch your veil under you. That night you told him, that was the final straw. But you didn’t forget what Sasha said. You took a picture of the broken door and wrote down the entire scene. You sent it to yourself in an email as proof.

That wasn’t the last time. You recorded Steve one day when he came in as you were texting your sister about the new date. You hadn’t answered his last message about your first appointment with the doctor. He was livid and you sat and listened to him rant as the red dots pulsed. You wrote down every instance, every time he made you appease him, every terrifying word.

Then there were the police reports. Nothing more than words in a filing cabinet but the night he choked you was just the beginning. He threatened to break your finger when you took your ring off because your hands were swelling. Then he broke your laptop when you didn’t pay him enough attention. 

As the wedding loomed closer, he only seemed to get worse. He was clingy, always touching you, marveling over your stomach. He checked in almost every hour on the hour when he was working, and you weren’t stupid enough not to notice that the building was being watched.

It was like you were living two lives and yet you were entirely trapped with him. What good could the emails do? Or the reports when the police wouldn’t act on them? You were going to marry this man and that would be the end of it; of you, of your life.

Knuckles tapped on the door and you stood. You crossed the room and inched it open the door. You flinched as you were met by an unexpected and uninvited guest.

“Sasha?” you gasped.

“You’re marrying him then?” he held the handle but you didn’t try to close the door, “the account gone, I heard nothing from you.”

“I… I’m scared,” you admitted, “when he found out, I thought he was going to--” you shook your head. He wouldn’t actually kill you.

“You know it’s not too late,” Sasha urged.

“You can’t be here, it he finds out, he’ll--”

“I’ll defend myself,” Sasha snarled uncharacteristically, “I’ll give him what he deserves.’

“No, I don’t want you to get hurt. You need to go,” you begged as you glanced past him furtively.

“I will. Come with me,” he said, “just go. Everyone’s distracted, they won’t know--”

“I can’t just leave. You don’t understand--”

“No, you don’t understand,” he argued, “if you marry him, it all gets so much more complicated. I told you that day at the café. It will be harder to fight after the vows, but right now, you can still get out.”

“And go where?”

He swallowed and looked down the hall. You could hear the distant murmur of the crowd.

“Did you do any of it? Keep a journal? Something?” he asked.

“I tried. I went to the police but nothing,” you sniffed and gripped the door tight.

“Nothing yet but that’s a start,” he chewed the inside of his lip.

“Why are you here? Why is this so important to you?”

“Because I can do something,” he hissed, “because I can’t live with it if I don’t. So come on. Come with me, I got a bigger place. It’ll have to do for now and then we’ll work on getting you standing, getting the baby somewhere to grow--”

“Am I trading him for you?”

“I’m your friend,” he said evenly, “that will never change. All I want is you safe. If it makes you feel better, I’ll sleep in the hall. You can lock me out and I’ll sleep against the door. But I came down here knowing I wouldn’t leave without you.”

“It’s a sweet fantasy but--”

“Come on,” he grabbed your hand and pushed the door open, “please, don’t go with him. It doesn’t end well. You don’t get out. It doesn’t get better.”

“I have nothing,” you quavered.

“You have me,” he said, “please don’t make me walk out of here alone.”

“I….” you uttered as your heart squeezed. “He’ll come after you.”

“Good, I want him to,” he clung to you, “please?”

You inhaled and heard the voices. Your father and your sister. You had no time to think but you knew it was your only chance.

“Let’s go,” you lifted your skirt and pulled the door shut behind you as you stepped out, “now.”

He held onto your hand as you rushed away from the voices and skirted around the corner. Sasha urged you on down the back stairs and through the maze like halls of the extravagant church. You nearly tumbled down the stairs and he caught you as you came along the narrow passage beside the main room, the guests and groom just on the other side of the wall.

You came out into the sunlight and Sasha lifted the train of your skirts as he directed you over the grass. our heels sank into the dirt as you rushed over and the organ began to play Here Comes the Bride. As he helped stuff the swathes of fabric in behind you in his modest car, the music stopped suddenly.

He closed the door as you were squished in the back seat amid your layered skirts and he got in the front. The engine turned and he nearly side swept another car as he pulled out without looking. You peeked back behind you but saw no one coming down the large steps of the church.

He turned the corner and sidled in behind a yellow cab. He looked at you in the mirror and nodded. You bit your lips nervously as reality sank in. Your chest hammered and your entire body buzzed with adrenaline. You knew it was only the beginning.

🍭

The day passed in a daze. You sat in your wedding dress waiting for all hell to break loose. Sasha sat with a beer, silently, and tapped his foot endlessly. When the silence was too much, he turned on the television but neither of you paid any attention to the old sitcom.

When the trance of disbelief dissipated, he showed you around his spacious loft. He was being paid well by Stark but you worried how long he would stay on the payroll after what he’d done. Steve wasn’t stupid and there were more photographers at the church then you’d seen collectively over the last year and a half.

“This is the second bedroom,” he showed you into a room with gleaming windows. There was a bed, a dresser, curtains, a cozy rug, all carefully selected, “I thought you’d be here sooner.”

Your eyes lingered on the box leaned against the far wall. A crib.

“Didn’t know how long…” his voice trailed off as he followed your eye line, “I’m not trying to be him. You can go anytime but I… you have a place here.”

Your eyes welled and you blotted them with your knuckles, the rough lace of your gloves scratching your cheeks, “you did all this for me?”

“I told you, I’d do anything,” he said.

“But… Sasha, I don’t--”

“I don’t expect anything from you. High school was a long time ago but you made it bearable for the biggest dweeb in the class.” He sighed and paced a circle around the room, “you know, I had the biggest crush on you. That doesn’t mean anything now, it doesn’t mean I want you to fall into my arms, but it means I want to help you. It’s the right thing to do, somehow I made a career of doing the right thing so what’s one more?”

You felt your chest sink and you covered your cheeks with your hands, “Sasha?”

“Please,” he cringed, “I was a teen boy, I think I had a thing for Oprah once. Really, it’s just… we’re friends. We’ll always be friends.”

“I can’t…” you sniffled and dropped your hands, “I don’t deserve any of this.”

“He doesn’t deserve you,” Sasha intoned, “and you don’t deserve to live like that. I know this isn’t much but I know you. You’ll find your way, you just got a little lost.”

“I…” you shook your head speechless.

“We’ll figure everything else out tomorrow. You can borrow some of my clothes for tonight and then we can see about retrieving your things from Steve,” he neared the door and stopped beside you, “or we can say fuck it and you can start all over.”

You turned and slung your arms around him. You buried your face against his shoulder as tears spilled out onto his jacket.

“How did you know?” you sobbed.

“That day at the shower,” he rubbed your back gently, “you know, lawyers learn how to read people and you never were very good at subtlety.”

“No,” you chuckled through your tears, “No, it’s why I was great as a bard.”

“Mmm,” he grumbled, “if that’s how you remember it.”

🍭

It felt like Sasha was gone forever but when you checked the clock, it had only been twenty minutes. 

You sat on the couch with your feet under you as you watched the news and rocked nervously. All anyone was talking about was Steve Rogers’ runaway bride. Your face was everywhere and the statement issued by Steve made it all the worse.

He painted you as a gold-digger, as an adulterer, as a swindler. He was the heartbroken fiancé and you were the wrongdoer. You knew it would go this way but expectation never softened reality.

You flinched as the lock turned and Sasha entered with a bag in hand. He came to the couch and set it down beside you.

“I don’t know about my taste in women's clothes but those should do,” he said as he checked his watch, “we should go soon.”

“Yeah,” you stood and opened the bag to reveal the lavender blouse and dark jeans, “you really didn’t have to--”

“You kidding, he’s gonna be surrounded by cameras. You can’t win his game if you don’t play it. I’ve dealt with his type before, they’re the ones who need lawyers on standby,” he sneered, “did you eat?”

“Yeah, thanks,” you swiped up the bag and headed for the hallway, “it was good.”

“No problem,” he shrugged as he grabbed the remote and shut off the tv, “and ignore all that nonsense.”

You got dressed and emerged as your anxiety grew to impatience. You left the apartment in brittle silence and the car ride fed the uneasy bubbling of your stomach. .

As you came up to Steve’s building, you sat for a moment before you got out. Sasha followed and shoulder away the cameras as you neared the front door

The elevator moved slowly and fidgeted uncontrollably as it dinged on Steve’s floor. You swallowed and braced yourself to face Steve. Sasha kept a few feet back as you walked down the hall and stopped at the door. You knocked as you found it locked.

It was a while before it opened but when it did, you were startled as Steve grabbed the front of your blouse and wrenched you inside. He spun you but quickly released you as he was knocked off balance and sent sprawling over the floor. Sasha stood above him with his hands in fists.

“Hey,” he pointed at Steve then looked at you, “you okay?”

You nodded as Steve glared between the two of you and cautiously got to his feet, “so you brought your little boyfriend?”

“She’s here to get her stuff. We thought we’d avoid a police escort, as her lawyer I thought it prudent, but we can always make that phone call,” Sasha said sternly, “she is entitled to her possessions.”

“Her stuff? I paid for every single thing she has to her name. Hers? Mine.” Steve spat and reared on you again, only to be caught by Sasha as he inserted himself between you.

“You will not touch her again. Those things you bought for her were gifts. You have no legal rights to them once they are given. She will take her clothes, her phone, and any other necessities.”

“Pfft, she’s not taking anything. She’s not going anywhere,” Steve growled, “she not yours--”

“I am certain the photogs would appreciate a show,” Sasha pulled out his phone, “police? That can only be a domestic dispute.”

Steve squinted and his nose flared as he looked at you over Sasha’s shoulder, “fucking slut.” He crossed his arms and stepped aside, “get your shit, get out…” he hissed, “but I have my rights too. You will not keep me from my baby.”

“That will be settled in court,” Sasha replied coolly, “go on, get your things.”

He waved you past him as he kept you shield from Steve. He was of a height with Steve but not as broad. Even so, you felt safe behind him. You rushed down to the bedroom and quickly gathered up your toiletries and those clothes you didn’t absolutely hate. Your phone screen was shattered but you took it anyway.

As you emerged again, a bag slung on your shoulder, you slid the ring from your finger. 

“You can keep the rest,” you said as you placed the band on the small round table just inside the front room, “goodbye Steve.”

“Goodbye? Goodbye?” he spat, “this isn’t the end and you fucking know it.”

“Calm down,” Sasha warned.

“You don’t tell me what to do,” Steve shoved him, “I should fucking smash your head in--”

“I’d like you to try,” Sasha stood his ground, “really. You think the court would let a violent man be around an infant?”

Steve scoffed and rolled his eyes. He backed down and shouldered by Sasha. “Get the fuck out.”

You left quickly. You had no desire to hang around. As you stepped onto the elevator, Sasha softly touched your elbow and you winced. The bag fell to your elbow and he quickly scooped it up and heaved it over his own shoulder.

“You okay?” he asked.

“No, I don’t think so,” you said, “he was so angry. I--”

“I was stupid, we should’ve brought the police. Fuck the cameras,” he said, “from this point on, no contact with him whatsoever. Only through me and the court. No talking to reporters, no nothing.”

“Yeah, that won’t be hard,” you uttered as he led you out of the elevator. 

As you came outside, cameras flashed and voices called out. You collided with Sasha as he was blocked by a photographer shouting questions, “is it true you’re pregnant? Is it Steve’s?”

“My client will not be answering questions,” Sasha kept on and made a path for you, “go, she’s not answering any of your questions.”

He elbowed past more cameras and opened the car door for you. You fell inside and quickly huddled down in your seat. As he sat behind the wheel, he mumbled and pulled out into traffic. He gripped the wheel tightly and pushed himself back into the vinyl.

“That asshole,” he said, “he’s gonna want the paternity test. This isn’t gonna be pretty.”

“I can’t… he fucking told them. I mean, I’m not surprised but… god,” you grimaced.

“We’ll get the test done before he makes a formal request,” Sasha said, “it shows transparency and when we hand over those results, we’ll include those police reports too.”

“Police reports?” you blinked.

“Sorry, I… It’s a suggestion,” he said tersely, “but he’s going to make this a trial by media.”

“No, no, I want to,” you said firmly, “I want everyone to know the real Steve Rogers.”

🍭

‘I was just like many struggling in the city. I worked a low-paying job in data entry and lived in an apartment which was little more than a box. The dreams of the big city were passing me by as there was little opportunity to be found.

Then I met Steve Rogers. Like a dream or a Lifetime movie. I was in debt, I was desperate, and he offered me a safety net. I can own my part in the relationship; I was interested and I accepted his generosity. I was all too happy with the arrangement.

That was until I found out that it was all based on a lie. I didn’t know that he had access to my accounts even before I knew him, that he had used his connections to force me into that dire situation. And I could not know the real man behind the billionaire façade.

It was little things at first. Any woman loves to feel wanted but his possessiveness soon turned to control. He kept me isolated from my own family and did not permit me to do anything without his permission. His affection turned to obsession and when it was not reciprocated he forced it from me.

He took me on vacation and did not allow me to wear clothes. He chose what I wore, how I looked, and what I did. He coerced me into acts I was reluctant about, and when he was too rough, he did not listen to my pleas for him to stop.

When I tried to leave him, he followed me and dragged me back. He had me watched by PIs and surveilled all my communications. He used his financial power to control me and when that did not work, he used his physical power.

Steve Rogers abused me. He yelled in my face, he threatened my family, and he choked me.

Steve Rogers raped me. He expected me to bend to his will whenever he desired and when I refused, he held me down and did what he wanted.

Steve Rogers took my whole life and when I chose to leave, he set his eyes on the life inside of me. 

The only thing I want from him is freedom. I want to live safely with my child and I want that child to never experience the abuse of their father. I never want anyone to know that horror again which is why I have written this and released the police records. I am not asking for anything but peace for me and my unborn child.’

The statement was carefully edited by Sasha. You reread the font across the glossy pages of Vanity Fair, the article spliced with excerpts not only from the police reports, but your own emailed accounts of your relationship, and the whole thing began with an image of that broken bathroom door.

It was two months since you ran away from the altar but life was not a romcom. It was a disaster. Even with the article, you knew not all would believe you. You knew it would open you to doubt and vitriol. And you knew Steve would have a response.

You closed the magazine and groaned as you rubbed your hips. Freedom didn’t feel so… freeing. There was a long way to go; court dates, doctor’s appointment, and depositions. But it was a start.

You rested your hand on your stomach and pushed on the arm of the couch as you stood stiffly. When you were halfway up, you felt a hand on your elbow and Sasha helped you stand straight. You smiled guiltily. You’d grown a lot in the last few weeks and still had nearly four months to go.

“The reviews are good,” he said, “I know that is kinda grim but… people seem to believe you.”

“Seem to?” you echoed as you went to the kitchen and pulled out the container of sliced strawberries, “or they don’t?”

“Well,” he leaned on the counter as he watched you add too much cream to the berries and smiled, “Stark Industries has cut ties with Shield, Inc. and Tony has made a sizeable donation to several shelters across the city,” he cupped his chin coyly as he leaned on his elbow, “and will be covering legal costs for the support hearings seeing as I can’t legally represent you anymore.”

“Oh,” your mouth fell open before you could spray some cream onto your tongue, “when were you going to tell me this?”

“I’m telling you now,” he crossed his arms as he shifted them further over the island, “I thought I’d give the good news first.”

“And the bad?” you put down the can of cream as you neared the marble across from him.

“I have several requests for interviews and I think you should do at least one,” he said, “I know you hate reporters and all that but… with a little Rogers baby on board, it’s just another part of the process.”

“Oh, and what should I tell them,” you edged around the counter towards him, “that I moved? That I found someone better?” He turned to you, his lips curved as he leaned in and you turned your face up to peck his lips, “or maybe I should tell them I’m single? Keep the intrigue?”

“As long as you tell them I’m handsome, I don’t mind,” he purred as he placed his hand on your side.

“Oh, how could I leave that out?” you cooed and kissed him again, “patient, loving, kind… but what a geek?”

“A geek?” he smirked and framed your chin with his hands, “says the dungeon master.”

You giggled and ran your hands up his chest, “someone’s gotta raise this little bard well.”

“Oh, no, no, she’s not gonna be a bard. Maybe a cleric?”

“No way! That’s lame,” you chirped, “how about… a sorcerer? Ours is a bit lacking.”

“Excuse you,” he quipped, “what was your AC again? Maybe next session I’ll run out of healing spells.”

“See?” you taunted, “geek.”

You drew him to you until he was pressed to your belly and he swept you up in a kiss. You rocked with him as he turned you against the counter and slowly parted.

You squeezed his wrist as you went back around to your strawberries and cream. You took a spoon and scooped up a mouthful as you slid your phone towards you. Sasha stayed as he was, watching you scroll through the emails and piled up texts.

You stopped as one blared in all caps. There was no name, only ‘Private’. You opened the conversation and found a dozen bubbles; ‘THIS ISN’T OVER’, ‘HE CAN’T KEEP YOUR FROM ME’, ‘CUTE, YOU THINK PEOPLE BELIEVE YOUR SHIT.’ Another message blipped up, an image and you dropped your spoon as it opened.

You saw the picture of your sister and her son. You shook as you put your hand down on the counter and choked on the cream.

“What?” Sasha reached over and turned your phone to him, “Shit,” he sighed and blocked the number, “he’s just stacking the evidence against himself.”

“I--” you blinked as tears boiled behind your eyes.

“You don’t need to be afraid,” he screencapped the conversation, “this just makes the case even easier.”

“No, I will always be afraid of him,” you said as you touched your stomach, “it’s not just about me anymore.”

“And it’s not just you anymore,” he took your hand and rubbed the back of it with his thumb, “we’ve been through worse. If we can get through a cave full of orcs, we can defeat Steve Rogers.”

END (or is it?)