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bluetooththereptile · 5 months

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Crimson bride

(Yandere Damian Wayne x twin sister reader)

( English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes in the following text.)

Summary: Your life is going to end horribly, your will to live is slipping away, will your only hope come to save you?

Tw: mentions of violence and abuse

The smell of blood and incense had filled the air, your lungs could hardly bear the responsibility of bringing you oxygen under the pressure of your stress, not that they could easily filter the smoke in the air anyway. It felt like the air was on fire, with each breath your body shuddered slightly, your body could hardly bear the burden of keeping you alert. The beads of sweat slithered down your spine, making the already uncomfortable rags even more unbearable. You were just 11, why were you stuck in a room full of adults in dark long robes...you were not sure...or perhaps you knew what was going to happen, but you didn't know why on earth you were there. You eyed the sacred blade in the hand of the leader of the group, the light of the candles shimmering on its uneven blade, and swallowed your saliva down your throat that now had turned extremely dry. You could already feel the pain in your chest. Dear God, if you hear me...please help!

The dark monks' chants echoed in the chambers, and the puddles of red wax candles under the feet of pillars carved with different images of unholy creatures, seemed like oozing puddles of blood to you, already boiling with crimson liquid of life right out of hell, where they hailed their master from. The veil on your head was thin enough for you to recognize people's faces, well, at least the ones who didn't have a mask on, and your terrified eyes spotted the figure of your grandfather standing behind the leader, himself holding a golden bowl at hand. You gritted your teeth at remembering his words. The memory is still fresh for you, it was just two months ago when he was having a drink with the leader himself in his boudoir, with you present by his side.

"She's a fitting lady Ra's...I give you the credit of having good hereditary genes..." the leader spoke in his smooth voice, his eyes scanning you up and down. You knew how the way he looked at you was inappropriate but you still stayed, holding the tray of drinks, standing by your grandfather's side, if you were going to flinch even for an inch, your mother wouldn't be happy. "She is..." your grandfather hummed, rubbing his chin before he chuckled "What is it old friend? You seem too interested in my child..." the words spoken made your shoulders stiffen slightly, your fingers tightening around the edges of the tray. "I am...but not for what you think...she is too young for marriage for a mortal man..." his smirk grew wider as he continued "But she's at the ripe age for being gifted to our dear lord...she'd make a decent bride..." you could see Ra's hold on his glass of drink tighten, what did his friend mean? Did he want to marry you off to someone? You wondered, but your confusion soon turned into horror as the leader continued "Her heart fits the unholy bowl perfectly" Oh no...you had heard from your nanny that this man was bearer of bad news but this...this was unpredictable! Your head turned to your grandfather to see how he'd respond...please say no, please say no, I've been a good granddaughter...please say no! "What price do you offer?" And with that, your whole world shattered, you felt like life was slipping away from your shell of being as he negotiated the price of marriage, did he...did he just agree on making you a sacrificial lamb?!

You snapped out of your thoughts by feeling the extremely warm hold of the leader on your naked arm as he pulled you away from the corner of the damp room, the metallic chains on your weak ankles clinking loudly as you dragged them on the floor, your feet already bruised by the rough edges of the old tiles on the floor, leaving red trails of blood. He walked you to the alter, your heart skipped as you saw the white dressing of the stone bed, flower petals spread on the surface, how hauntingly fitting for a bridal bed... The man stopped you right before the altar and started chanting in a language you didn't know a word of. But whatever it was, it was working...because the tiles under your feet started to turn unbearably hot, the circles and symbols drawn onto the walls and the floor turned bright red, oh dear God...if you hear me...please help! You had lost your hope a long time ago, but still, you wanted to hold onto a sliver of hope, maybe your grandfather would change his decision at the last minute, or perhaps he would come...but no...how could Damian come to the other side of the world that quickly? He was just a child, like you, sure, he was a capable boy but still, he was just a boy. His words circled in your mind as the priest poured a warm liquid on your body that painted it red, its sweet aroma filling the air, unbeknownst to you, it was a poison that through skin pores penetrated the body and ran into your blood, slowly relaxing your muscles until your heart would stop, this way, if the demons preferred to have your body whole, you'd still be dead. As you felt your skin itch and your vision turn slowly blurry, Damian's voice echoed in your mind "I will come...I promise...I promise!" His voice was filled with determination, but you knew he'd be late. It was already too late...

They helped you lay down on the alter, the wet veil sticking to your face, slowly suffocating you, but you were too weak to move on your own, your eyes were closed, as if the liquid had sealed your eyelashes together, and the voices around you were turning into distant murmurs, your hands limp as they crossed it on your chest. It was too late...and he hadn't held up to his promise...your lips formed a pout, unable to cry, hardly latching onto the task of breathing, your breaths became labored. Soon your chest would be cut open and your warm paralyzed heart would be put into that golden bowl, and then thrown into a fire...you had hoped things would be different, but you knew from the very start, that you were unwanted, and one day, your family would give you up if they have the chance to do so.

Your ears couldn't detect the loud sound of the explosion of the tear gas in the room, how the cult members shouted and pulled out their weapons but were disarmed quickly by the man in black and a few younger ones. You didn't notice them until someone yanked the wet veil from your face and wiped the clotted liquid off of your nose and mouth, putting an oxygen mask on your face "Y/N!" The voice seemed familiar, but you were too weak to respond "Y/N!" He cried for your attention, his trembling hands shaking your shoulders, his voice muffled by his mask, his hold was pushed away from you when you felt a sharp pain on your neck, the detoxing liquid surged in your veins forward by copious amounts, yet you were already unconscious to see your father cry silently as he held your body close to his chest. Poor girl...poor poor girl...he wished he was there sooner.

Your nanny had pulled the small phone behind her apron with trembling hands, she knew your actions had consequences, but she wanted you to feel happy, so she'd do anything in her power to ensure it'd happen. You quickly snatched the phone out of her calloused hands and started to take the number you had repeated over and over in your mind since the moment you had snuck into your mother's study and had found it deep in her files, it was the Wayne Manor's, where your Damian lived with your father. You were separated since birth, him getting most of the attention of your mother, well the one who was to be her weapon, you were too weak to fight from the very first moments you had started to walk, but still, you tried to have a connection with your twin, who even if neglected your attention or bullied you, still felt a twinge of sibling love deep down. It was not until when he was sent to live by his father that Damian had found out how much he dearly loved you, and how much you meant to him. You dialed the number, hearing it slowly beep, one...two...three...you could hear your nervous breaths into the phone, and four "Hello?" You stiffened at hearing Damian's voice, moving your lips to speak but you couldn't, the sheer luck of having him pick up the phone himself was too much! "Hello?!" Damian's voice turned sour with annoyance, you knew he'd hung up quickly so you finally spoke "Hi..."

"Y/N?!" Damian's voice had turned from annoyed into one of surprise and concern, you spoke softly, asking how he had been doing, smiling as he quickly stammered to answer you, but then, when he was rambling on about missing you, you smiled sadly "Hey...I wanted to tell you something..." you interrupted him "Hmm? What is it?" He had asked with curiosity "Please, forgive me if I've done you anything wrong...okay?" "W-wait...Y/N..what do you? What is happening?!" "Grandpa wants to marry me off...to death..." and there was silence, a very uncomfortable silence. "I will come..." his voice was now filled with determination "I will come, I promise!...w-when's is the ceremony?" "Within two weeks-" the phone had slipped off of your hand when your mother's stinging slap met your face, you turned to look at her with wide eyes, trembling as you heard her crush the phone under her feet.

Your eyes opened up to a white light, with warmth surrounding your body. Were you in heaven? You naively asked yourself, but when the pain washed over your body, you knew you were still alive. "Hi..." Damian's voice made you turn your head to his direction at your side, your neck strained from being motionless for too long. He was holding your hand tightly, and your blurry vision could find the outlines of his face in what you could recognize as crying. "Welcome back..." his voice trembled as he sniffled, adjusting the oxygen mask on your face. You blind a few times to make your vision better, still, it felt a little blurry, but you could at least recognize you were somewhere dark, which you'd find out was the Batcave in the future, and Damian was sitting on your side. Your lips curled upwards slightly at how he held your hand to his chest, looking at you affectionately "Sorry I was late..." he spoke softly "But I will make things right from now on, I promise" he promised, and he would do anything in his power to ensure that.

#yandere #yandere batman #yandere dc #yandere x reader #yandere batfamily #yandere bruce wayne #yandere robin #yandere Damian wayne #yandere bat family #yandere batfam x reader #yandere batfam #yandere batboys

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themotherofhorses · 1 year

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pairing: aemond targaryen x handmaid!reader

summary: "i am looking for a maid, preferably one of eight-and-ten...a young handmaid for my second son, aemond."

warnings: nothing.

notes: an anon requested their first meeting, so here it is.

his handmaid's tales I main masterlist

It began with the Queen.

“How may I serve your Grace.”

“I am looking for a maid, preferably one of eight-and-ten,” Queen Alicent had told the septa in private. It was gloomy outside, with dark clouds blanketing the sky. She had just finished lighting four candles. “A young handmaid for my second son, Aemond. He is the only of my children not to have one. I’d like for her to be sweet and devoted and quick on her feet, a girl who will swear her undying loyalty and service unto him and his needs.”

His twentieth nameday was fast approaching, set within the next fortnight. She felt this would be a fine gift for him.

The septa took a moment to think. “Does her breeding matter?” she asked. “I know of a girl- she is exactly what you desire, but she is a bastard, born to one of the serving wenches at Harrenhal.”

The queen’s nose wrinkled. “A riverlands bastard?”

“She is said to be Lord Lyonel’s granddaughter, my queen.”

“So a Strong bastard….” Alicent rubbed at her temple, “I suppose…if she is what I ask for, and that you can assure she’ll remain loyal to him.” She then sighed, shaking her head. “Though, do keep it away from my son, septa. He carries such little love for House Strong. I do not wish for him to turn his ire onto her if he ever found out.

The septa frowned. “Do you genuinely believe the prince would dare harm an innocent girl, your Grace?”

Alicent tugged at her gown's flowing sleeve, sniffing. “That is why I ask for you to keep her heritage a secret.”

Two weeks later, you stood in Prince Aemond’s bedchamber as his new handmaid. The septa was at your elbow, mumbling a flood of demands into your ear. “Stand straighter, child, for the sake of the gods. But keep your head bowed, gaze locked on your feet. You mustn’t ever behold the prince unless he allows it.” You ran a hand down your arm, feeling the skin prickled with goosebumps, before lacing your trembling fingers together.

To your right was the Queen, dressed in a pretty gown as green as summer. She said very little to you, if not nothing.

“Ah, Aemond! My dear boy, please join us,” she greeted quite happily when her son arrived at the doors of his room. You kept your eyes down, counting each loud footstep of his that loomed closer with every second.

“Who is this?”

Queen Alicent cleared her throat. “Your new handmaid, son.”

Prince Aemond remained silent. You could feel his gaze. One. Two. Three…four, five, six…. You swallowed, counting each heartbeat that quickened inside your chest as you willed yourself to stay still and brave. Do not tremble. It would be an embarrassment, no doubt. You felt your nails digging into your palms. Fear cuts much deeper than any sword.

“I was…unaware I needed a handmaid, dear mother,” he finally said.

“Aegon and Helaena have theirs, and Daeron’s been by his side in Oldtown since he was a young boy. It is unlike a prince not to have his own handmaid. She will do you well.”

“Do me well?”

“Yes!”

The septa pinched the skin of your arm, causing you to flinch before lifting your face to meet his eye from across the room. The prince...he was handsome, terribly so, you thought. Tall and silver-haired, dashing and imposing, with a deep violet eye. “I was brought here to serve you,” you told him, “-to do anything and everything my prince commands.” Prince Aemond skimmed you up and down, an eyebrow rising. “Anything? Such as…?”

You glanced at the septa, unsure of what to say next. “Um, well, my prince, I shall fix your baths and sew any ripped shirts if you’d like? I might also fetch you your wine if desired-”

“She’ll do whatever you ask of her, my prince,” the septa interjected. Queen Alicent smiled, resting a hand on his shoulder. “Does that not please you, son?” She then leaned to mutter something close to his ear, and he stiffened, aiming his cool stare at you, before relaxing.

“Alright. You are suffice,” he decided before turning to his mother, his face softening. “Thank you, mother.”

Queen Alicent leaned to kiss his cheek before pushing past him out into the hall. The septa soon followed her, leaving you and Prince Aemond alone in the room. Thump. Thump. Thump. The prince stole another look at you. “What might I call you?”

You gave him your name, dropping low into a pretty curtesy. Every time you bow, your neck is at the mercy of the royals. “A beautiful name,” he said. His voice sounded throaty. He was clothed in black leather, from his shoulders to his ankles, and the cloak he wore around his shoulders. At his waist hung a longsword. “Thank you, my prince. It was my mother’s choosing.”

The raven had arrived at Harrenhal at midday, a flurry of black wings that carried a letter demanding your sudden attendance at the Red Keep at the request of the queen herself. Your mother was reluctant to send you off at first but eventually did so with five sweet kisses and a bright yellow mullein flower that she slipped into the pocket of her old green cloak.

Prince Aemond hummed. “Well, if you’d like, I have two shirts that are in need of sewing. Ser Cole knicked them with his own sword during my training four mornings back.” He gestured to his closet, nicely carved from weirwood, pale as a bone. The look of it reminded you of your mother and the gods you left behind at home.

You nodded, bowing. “As my prince commands,” and you moved towards the closet to fetch his shirts, although you would likely need to venture out to find a needle and…

A hand touched your arm.

You spun to meet him. “Do you need something else, my prince?” Prince Aemond stood so close you could see the long pale scar peeking from behind his eyepatch, his dark eyelashes, and his jutting chin and high cheekbones. He was far more beautiful up close. You felt butterflies in your belly, stirring up a strange fluttering feeling; it crept up your spine to your throat.

“Do you fear me?”

You bit your lip. “No.”

He hummed again, eye flickering across your face. You do not believe me, don't you. You felt it glide over your browbone, to the slope of your nose, and pausing at your lips. “Fix my shirts, then. I have needles and thread in my closet as well. You do not leave the room unless I dismiss you.”

“She is yours. Your handmaid. Everything she does next is at your own will and mercy,” his mother whispered to him. “But do treat her well, Aemond. It is through kindheartedness that you receive devotion.”

tag list: @aemondsblog @dc-marvel-girl96 @neobanguniverse @missalycat21 @enchantingcupcakecollectionfan @padfooteyes @alexizodd

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond drabble #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond the kinslayer #handmaid!reader #house of the dragon #house of the dragon imagine #hotd fanfic #vic writes 🧸

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writerslittlelibrary · 21 days

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You are a witch

masterlist

summary: you were adopted by Natasha Romanoff, the great Black Widow. But what happens when the truth uncovers? What happens when the three kings of hell are sent to kill you, and you manage to uncover your power and banish them?

pairing: Natasha x daughter reader, Yelena x niece reader, Melina & Alexei x granddaughter reader

warnings: witchcraft, rats?

genre: angst, fluff

words: 2483

a/n: I'm watching an awful lot of the chilling adventures of Sabrina lately, so I wanted to write a little mcu crossover with a witch reader :)

You do not have my permission to repost, copy or translate my work

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It all happened so fast. At one point you were home, doing your homework like you did every friday evening. Then, at the other moment, the door was broken down, and the demons entered your home.

You did not know how to fight them off. You did not know they were even demons. They looked like humans, and you had no reason to suspect otherwise.

Of course, you knew better now.

The demons had disguised themselves to look like mortals. They were sent to assassinate you. You didn’t know they were demons, but once they drew their swords, you were pretty quick to run towards the widow and climb down using the fire escape.

The attackers followed you, and once you entered the Avengers tower, Wanda managed to banish them. She killed them.

You remember Natasha running to you, assisting you. You were out of breath and terrified. Natasha slept in your room that night. You were scared to be left alone, and Natasha was terrified that someone would come and hurt you. Little did you know someone did.

That same night, another demon entered your room.

However, this time, the demon did not disguise itself. I had come to kill you in its demon form. It did not hide itself. Your mother tried to protect you, but what good were her knives and her gun against an all mighty demon?

Once the demon got ahold of your mother, you lost your temper.

You did not know where it came from. You did not know how it worked. You did not know how you knew how to operate it. But you did.

Your eyes turned red. The wind from outside seemed to pick up inside your bedroom. The demon seemed afraid, even if his body language did not show it, his eyes did. It became afraid. You were afraid, but somehow, you managed to call upon a power hidden deep within your body. You managed to banish the demon for good.

After you had killed it, you rushed to your mother who was bleeding out on the ground. The demon had slashed her side open, and she was running out of time.

You did not understand it, but you had a vision. A flash in your mind that showed you exactly what to do. You covered your mothers’ wounds with your hands, and you closed your eyes. You called upon the power in your body, and Natasha’s wounds sealed shut.

After that, Natasha had decided to take you out of town for a few days.

It was clear that you were not safe in New York, and Natasha did not want to put you in any unnecessary danger. She did not know how the demons knew where you were, but she figured you would be much safer with her family, in Russia.

And so, you flew to Russia, but not before Stephen Strange brought you a little visit. After hearing of your situation, and of your power awakening, he had gifted you a book. This book contained a series of spells, made by witches who were not similar to Stephen Strange, nor Wanda Maximoff. These witches possessed a different kind of magic. The kind of magic that you were now possessing.

You had started practising a few spells, before you left for Russia.

You were now driving towards your grandmothers’ farm, even though you had never met them.

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“Are we nearly there? We have been driving for hours and my head hurts,” you sighed annoyed, staring out the window.

“Like I told you the other fifty times, we still have a few hours to go. If your head hurts, take a nap,” Natasha answered, done with your attitude the entire trip. She did not want to get mad at you. As a mother, she knew and understood that you had a difficult time these past few days, and that you were unlocking something within yourself that you did not know you had, but as a person, she was entirely done with your attitude.

You let out another sigh in annoyance. “I don’t want to take a nap, mom. Why are we even going to these people? I’ve never met them. Who even are they?”

“You know Aunt Yelena, and she will be there. And Melina and Alexei are my sort of parents, so I expect you to treat them with respect,” Natasha told you.

“What kind of animals do they have on the farm?” you asked.

“What…?

“You said they lived on a farm. A farm usually has animals. What kind of animals do they have?”

Natasha sighed. “Well, Melina has pigs, but I believe that recently she started feeding some stray cats, and they have started to hang around the farm.”

“Did you have animals when you were a child? I mean, in those three years you lived with them?” you asked Natasha, staring at her curiously.

“I did not, but there was a stray cat that I begged to take in. Melina and Alexei would not let me, although they did give me some cat food from time to time to feed it,” Natasha explained, steering the car onto an off road path.

“Really? They don’t have road where they live? What? Is the farmhouse some fallen apart building as well?” you asked, sarcasm lacing your tone.

Natasha sighed, a small smirk appearing on your lips, yet she tried to hide it.

“Go to sleep, or I’ll knock you out myself.”

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After you had fallen asleep in the car, the car ride took about another hour or two. Once you arrived, Natasha carefully woke you up, helping you out of the car.

Yelena was stood by the door, waiting for you to wake up fully so she could go and give you a hug.

“Aunt Yelena!” you exclaimed in happiness, running towards her and giving her a big hug. “I missed you! It has been far too long since you came to New York.”

Yelena smiled and brushed some hair out of your face.

“I was enjoying spending some time with my other half of my family,” Yelena started, leaning in a little closer so she could whisper in your ear. “Don’t worry, you are still my favourite.”

You smiled, giving Yelena a kiss on her cheek.

“We should go inside,” Natasha then said, handing Yelena a bag to carry inside.

“Sure,” Yelena said, whistling for Fanny, who had slipped past her to get out of the house when Yelena opened the door to wait for you, to come inside as well.

Fanny ran towards you, excitedly jumping on you and begging for cuddles. You, obviously, happily obliged, spoiling Fanny in hugs and pets and kisses while she excitedly jumped on you, licking your face and cuddling close to you.

Once you were inside, Yelena told Natasha that Melina and Alexei were waiting in the living room.

Natasha had gone to greet them and to explain the situation with you, while Yelena stayed with you. Yelena led you to the spare bedroom, where she settled the bags down.

“We only have one guest room, so you and Natasha will have to share. I am sure you do not mind,” Yelena explained, and you smiled and nodded as answer.

“Did mom… tell you? Why we came here? Why she is so afraid?” you asked Yelena, sitting on the bed and settling your shoulder bag next to you. Yelena sighed before joining you on the bed, taking a moment to collect her thoughts before she spoke.

“Natasha did not tell me a lot, but she told me that you were now… magical. She told me that something was- is hunting you,” Yelena explained, shaking her head. “She didn’t tell me much more.”

You sighed, looking down and picking at your skirt.

“I am magical. I think I am a witch, but like, a really powerful one. Two demons came to attack me. They were aggressive, and they spoke about doing something for their master. They were sent to kill me, to assassinate me. My magic, or my powers, unlocked when the second one tried to hurt mom. And after, after he had hurt her and she was bleeding, I suddenly knew how to heal her, and my powers did. Someone powerful is trying to get rid of me, and I don’t even understand what I am,” you explained, looking at Yelena carefully, hoping you didn’t scare of confuse her.

“Okay, so what you are saying is that my little niece is an ass kicking awesome witch?” Yelena said, smiling when she saw the relieved smile form on your face.

After a moment of silence, Yelena moved to sit a little closer to you, indicating that whatever she was going to say next was probably serious.

“Listen to me, y/n. You are Natasha’s daughter. You are my niece. You are family, and no matter what you turn out to be, you will always be our family, and we will always be yours,” Yelena promised, cupping your face in her hands to get you to look at her. She smiled kindly, leaning forwards and pressing a kiss on you forehead.

“Thank you, Auntie Yelena.”

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After your talk with Yelena, you had showed her your new book. The book that Strange gave you. It was full of spells and knowledge, and after reading some of it, you had started writing your own notes in your notebook.

You also showed Yelena a little taste of your magic. You had managed to effortlessly change an eraser into Yelena’s favourite cookie, which disappeared the moment you took your eyes off of it. Not because the spell failed. Simply because Yelena had eaten it…

After about an hour, Natasha had come up to the room, knocking on the door and letting you know that it was time to meet your grandparents.

You weren’t sure how you were supposed to be feeling. You were nervous, sure, but everyone is when they meet someone knew. You were most nervous about their importance. You knew how important Melina and Alexei were to Natasha and Yelena, and you did not want to say or do anything that might upset any of them.

Natasha took your hand, rubbing reassuring circles on it to hopefully soothe you.

“Everything’s gonna be okay. They are going to love you, and you will love them, I promise,” Natasha assured you, leading you downstairs.

Once you entered the living room, Melina and Alexei were sitting on the couch. Melina stood up immediately when she noticed you entered.

“Y/n, dear, we are so happy to finally meet you,” Melina said, walking over to you and embracing you in a hug. When she pulled back, she placed her hand on your cheek, taking a good look at your face. “What a beautiful girl you are,” she said, and you smiled.

“Thank you, Melina,” you said, and Melina smiled stepping aside and motioning her hand towards one of the other couches.

“Please, sit down. Would you like some tea, or another drink?” Melina asked, going into the kitchen to get your chosen drink while you sat down.

Natasha sat down next to you, while Yelena chose the couch across from you.

“It is very nice to meet you, my granddaughter. Welcome to the family!” Alexei exclaimed happily, laughing at the stern look Natasha gave him.

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After you had settled in, and you had gotten used to being around Melina and Alexei, you had all decided on some pizza for dinner. Slowly but surely you grew to like being around Melina and Alexei, even though Alexei was painfully loud and unaware at times.

After you had settled at the dinner table, you sat beside Natasha, Alexei at the head of the table while Melina sat across from Natasha, and Yelena sat across from you.

“So are you liking Russia, y/n? I believe Natasha told us you have never been here before?” Melina asked, and you nodded.

“It’s very beautiful, definitely more beautiful than the busy city,” you responded, and Melina smiled.

You reached forward, about to grab another slice of pizza from the pizza box when a strange wind picked up inside the house, and the squeaking of mice could be heard.

You froze in your actions, looking around the house cautiously.

“What’s wrong darling?” Natasha asked concerned, laying her hand on your arm.

“Don’t you hear that? Don’t you feel that?” you asked, looking at Natasha with wide eyes while she shook her head no.

“Do you need some water?” she asked, but you didn’t respond as you looked down at your feet, standing up quickly when you recognised the rats running around your legs.

You gasped in surprise, taking a few steps back while Natasha and Yelena looked at you with concern.

“Are you okay? What are you feeling?” Natasha asked, and you looked at her confused.

“Can’t you see the rats?!” you asked surprised, pointing at the rats that ran around your legs. Natasha shook her head no, but once the door to the living room slammed open, Natasha head turned towards it. What came through was something she could see.

“What the hell is that?!” Yelena said in surprise, standing up herself.

Through the door walked a disgusting looking demon. His skin looked rotten and old, almost as if his body had been dead and rotting for weeks.

“I AM BEELZEBUB, DEMON OF VERMIN, ONE OF THE THREE KINGS OF HELL. MY BROTHERS HAVE FAILED TO SUCCEED, BUT I WILL FINISH THE JOB!” the demon, Beelzebub spoke loudly, raising his arm out towards you. The rats charged at you, and you quickly ran to the couch to grab your bag.

You pulled you spellbook out, going through the pages quickly to find the banishing spell that you had researched before.

“Y/n what the hell is going on?!” Yelena yelled at you, but you ignored her as you found the right page, raising your own hand towards the demon Beelzebub.

“Beelzebub, I shall banish you as I did your brothers. You shall burn in the pits and fires of hell! Exilium, gehenna, evanescet. Beelzebub I banish thee!” you yelled out, lowering your hand when the demon Beelzebub disappeared into dust.

“That was awesome,” Yelena spoke quickly, after assessing that you were not injured.

“I need a nap,” you said, dropping the book and letting yourself fall down onto the couch. Natasha ran to your side quickly, holding your head in her hands.

“Are you alright?” she asked, a confused look overtaking her when she noticed your smile.

“I just banished, not just a demon, but one of the three kings of hell, with my own magic,” you explained proudly, letting your eyes fall close. “But it was exhausting, and I really need a nap now.”

Natasha smiled softly, nodding.

“Go to sleep, we’ll talk in the morning.”

Permanent tags: @marvelnatasha12346 @lesbionion @nova-kyle @darkstar225 @saraaahsstuff @marvelwomenarehot0 @screechcat @iheartjohansson @tia-thesimp @swaqcenix @karmasgxrl @marvel-lous3000 @hor1zond1ar1es @lorsstar1st

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alt-vera · 3 months

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— whiskey girl ⁀➷

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joel miller gives his whiskey girl a gift.

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✿ | joel miller | 1.06k | ❛ whiskey girl - toby keith ❜ | part one

warnings: pre outbreak!joel miller. drinking. allude to sex. age gap.

note: who knows when im gonna post again lol stay tuned for part two tho

❝ just ain’t enough good burn in tequila, she needs somethin’ with a little more edge and a little more pain ❞

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JOEL MILLER LIKED HIS GIRLS LIKE HE LIKED HIS DRINKS.

　Strong, neat, and not cheap enough to make him gag.

　That’s why he liked you: a farmer’s granddaughter majoring in agriculture who worked hard for what she had and knew the value of respecting those around her without being walked over. A little ragged on the edges, but Joel liked ‘em rough.

　Same could be said for you. You liked Joel for the same reasons he fawned over you. He was charming, and assiduous, with enough edge worn into his features to draw you in at the drop of a dime.

　So, when you invited Joel to a local dive bar on an eventless friday night, he sure as hell wasn’t going to say no. It was rare for you both to be free; usually he was working late, or you had classes, or tests, or were helping on the farm.

　He saw your worn mustang parked by the entrance, and spotted you instantaneously as he walked inside. A welcoming aura surrounded you as you chatted with some old men, presumably other farmers who knew you from your last name and came in for a drink after a sweltering day of plowing fields. Your smile gleamed under the warm lights of the bar, and Joel couldn’t help it as his lips curled into a smile just from looking at you.

　“Haven’t been making you wait long, have i?” He drawled as he sauntered up to you, hand making it’s way into the back pocket of your jeans, pulling you closer to him.

　You directed your smile his way before bidding your goodbyes to the old folks. “‘Course not, Miller. You know that if you did, i would’ve given you hell as soon as you set foot in the door.”

　Joel chuckled, running his free hand through his messy hair. “Fair enough, darlin’. You need a drink?”

　“Please,” You replied, and Joel put two fingers in his mouth, throwing a loud whistle at the bartender.

　“Can i get a beer and a, uh,” He glanced over to you for a moment, deep eyes meeting your own, before a smirked danced across his features, “…a whiskey, neat, for my girl, please.”

　You couldn’t help as your cheeks warmed at his words. My girl. You rolled your eyes, turning your face away from him so that he couldn’t see the ruddy heat spreading across your face.

　The two of you didn’t have a label. You drank together, you kissed, you fucked. You’d make dinner for him and his daughter, and he’d take you for drives at sunset down empty country roads, radio blasting through the open heat waves as you yelled gleefully out the windows.

　Still, anyone who looked at you and Joel knew there was something there, even when his hand wasn’t in your back pocket or your fingers were grasping his forearm. You were his girl. And he was your guy. No denomination necessary.

　One whiskey turned to three before you were singing along to the jukebox in the corner of the bar, holding up invisible microphones to random folks who’d join you in your performance. Joel watched, amused, as you twirled around to the twang of the guitar blaring through the speakers. His smile grew as you crept closer to him, pretending to reel him in to dance with you like a fish caught on a worm.

　Little did you know that you already had him from the moment he met you. Hook, line, and sinker.

　His hand found yours as he gave in, not much of a dancer, but eager to spin you around. You let him lead you, swaying to the pace of the music, pulling you closer to him as the tempo continued on.

　He pulled you flush against him. Forgetting the music, forgetting the dancing, forgetting the watching eyes. He kissed you, a passionate catch of the lips that left you craving more, the dull glow of amber above you acting like a spotlight that shone on you and Joel solely.

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　Joel couldn’t help himself as reached a hand up and drew a sloppy happy face on the fogged up windows of your mustang. Your head laid on his bare chest as you both fought to catch your breath, crickets chirping loudly in the farm field, audible even through the barrier of your car.

　You felt him bury his nose in your hair, breathing in the smell of you. Vanilla, and sweet musk, and whiskey. He felt you smile against his pec, eyes stealing a glance up to meet his.

　“I have a present for you,” He spoke suddenly, voice worn and husky.

　“Better than the way you just fucked me?” You joked with a light chuckle, feeling his arm move as he went to fish something out of his jeans that had fell on the floor of your backseat.

　He held the gift in his large hand before opening his palm to you to reveal a small wooden box. His fingers inched it open, and inside was a thin-banded ring with a dainty diamond in the middle.

　You turned dreadfully quiet as you stared at the band, and an anxious prickle crept over Joel’s skin.

　You raised yourself off his chest, turning to look at him. “Joel, if you’re proposing to me before even asking me to be your girlfriend, then i’m going to chuck this out into the field.”

　“What?” He laughed, inching so that he was sitting upright. “No, no, it’s a promise ring,” He said, plucking the jewellery out of the box and grabbing your hand, pushing it delicately onto your ring finger.

　“Ever since Sarah’s mom up and left, datin’ has been hard. I didn’t even wanna look at another woman—“ Joel’s deep eyes met yours, and you felt your heart swell, “—Until i met you.”

　“I don’t want t’distract you from your studies,” He continued, “But you’re my girl, and i want everyone to know it.”

　There it was again. My girl. Your pulse raced as you kissed him eagerly, full of adoration. Joel could still taste the smooth relish of whiskey on your breath.

　You smiled at him euphorically as you pulled away, words leaving your lips before you could even register the weight of them. “I love you, Joel.”

　Joel’s thumb stroked your cheek affectionately, returning your grin. “I love you too, my little whiskey girl.”

#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us hbo #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #joel tlou #tlou fanfiction #smut #joel miller self insert #joel miller imagine #joel miller fic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you

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jubilationsart · 5 months

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You have 8 ferrets!!??!? What a DREAM plz I need to see pictures of all of them ;u;

Yea! They have their huge room too! HERE I GO IM GONNA START BRAGGING

Lemon. Our oldest. We got him from someone who needed to rehome him as they were moving to a place that doesn't allow pets. He's 7 years old now we believe. He's always been a lazy boy but he's also the boss of everyone and has the last say.

Puppy, aka Space Cadet Pizza Puppy. We got him from a girl who was gifted him but didn't know what to do with him. He's around 4 now. I swear he thinks he's people. He is a HUGE suck up, obsessed with us and a bit ridiculous. When we first got him, i had to lull him to calm down and sleep because he had no off button.

Nero, 3 years old. He's from Romania! We wanted healthy non-mill bred petstore ferrets and you can tell. He's stocky and big. Feels so much sturdier than Marshal (petstore/mill ferrets) ferrets, as do the rest of our ferrets I'm gonna list. He's our little demon. He likes to cause problems but is always funny about it.

Lottie, 3 years old also, she came along with Nero, but is from Hungary originally. She's very bossy and wants to mother everyone but it gets the others frustrated with her and she gets mad that they don't listen to her. She's out biggest stasher. She's more withdrawn than the others but loves to be held over the shoulder and stroked.

Warboy/Nux, he's 2 years old! He's from the UK and is an extremely sweet boy. Everything is funny to him. He does a huffy laugh noise if he's not dooking about something. My fave thing about him is his big doe eyes.

Whiskey, 3 years old, also from the UK along with Warboy. She's insanely short and squat for some reason lmao. Holding out her hand to clip her nails is a chore because she only has so much arm to stretch out! Shes fussy and her and lottie tends to butt heads on who is the boss girl. Other than that, she loves to be throw into bedding or chased and will dook loudly in excitement!

Ofelia, she's from the states. She's half angora and we just got her. I need better pics of her because she grew out her coat for winter. It's soooo pretty! She just never stays still. She's also a bit more withdrawn as she prefers a calmer environment but loves to play with the other ferrets or being a lap ferret. She turns into a warm pillow on your lap.

Quinn. We got her the same time as Ofelia. She's a year old. She's the great granddaughter of a ferret we had that passed away a bit ago. And we see a lot of her in Quinn, it's so sweet to see. She loves being cozy in hammocks and has the silliest wiggle dance when she wants you to chase her. She also tries to stash our hands.

#irl #ferrets #ferret

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smallgodseries · 11 months

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[image description: A woman is shown in profile, looking at herself in a hand mirror with surprise and delight. Her hairdo resembles Elsa Lanchester’s in James Whale’s 1935 Bride of Frankenstein. She wears a lightning-bolt earring, and a white shirt against a deep green background. Text reads, “26 Tesla Jefferson – Small God of Experimental Hairdos.”]

It’s only hair, she whispers, sweet and sultry as a summer breeze. It grows back. So live a little.

She is in every pair of scissors, every comb, every bottle of bleach or tube of dye. Her hands, clad in sanitary latex, move through every stylist in the world at least once.

Her gifts are sometimes subtle. An inch off the ponytail of a scared sorority girl; new bangs for a child who has never worn them before.

Her gifts are sometimes wild, tangled, and untamed. Electric colors. Perms and buzzcuts and sculptural formations fit to scrape the sky. Like any artist, she matches her art to the audience.

It’s only hair, she whispers. Express yourself.

She is with the young musician shellacking Elmer’s glue into his mohawk, encouraging it to reach higher and higher, hair set to reach up and touch the stars.

She is with the old woman who takes a bottle of temporary dye into the shower at her granddaughter’s urging, stepping out with wet curls as pink as a Sunday sunrise, with the blushing cheeks to match.

She is with the teen who cries slow, sad tears as the last of their chemotherapy-stricken hair drops away under the stylist’s clippers, as they open the box containing the rainbow wig they requested from their parents. It fits like a dream. It brushes their cheeks like a kiss.

She doesn’t care how conservative your experiment seems to anyone else.

It’s your skin. It’s your hair. And she thinks, always, that it looks amazing.

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bts5sosempire · 1 year

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the tyrant (vi); side one

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: sukuna ryomen x reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 4,583

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: old time period, mention of arranged marriage, polygamous marriages, slow-burn yandere, power imbalances, peer pressure, nothing major atm, mentions of infertility, etc.

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: "you were the apple of Sukuna's eyes, the one who brought him solace and everything. The only thing you were incapable of was giving him a child, an heir he wished to spoil like he did to you."

𝐚/𝐧: splitting this into two parts, leaving y’all on a cliffhanger. pls like, comment below for tagging, and reblogged. (edit: forgot there were "broken" links or something when clicking to find the chapters, those are also fixed too.)

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

In front of you were two boxes, one that was gunpowder with a bold black label written at the top of the crate, and the other was written in potassium chlorate. You notice that these two items share similar fates but different structures. "Handle with care," you instructed, snapping the fan in your hand shut. Walking off with shoulders squaring, your eyes trail around when you stop right in the center of the trading post. You finally owned a small port that allowed you to transport essential items from different countries. From using the money, the inn has accumulated over time.

All the time you've spent inside your room, stuck reading boring materials and trying to navigate into the world as a man, was brutal. You would never have the luxury and freedom as a woman, but you've become too accustomed to dressing up as a man. It doesn't mean you let yourself fall freely. This world wasn't built for women; you've always known that from the start, although that doesn't stop you from bending the rules to your will if you wish for it. The effects of reinforcing you into roles from everyone start to wear off when there isn't anyone keeping tabs.

And it feels liberating, you admit.

The first few steps you have taken for yourself without the help of anyone powerful give you a sense of clarity—something normal among the norms. You eye the small port, seeing the future play out in front of you. If you kept a steady trade of items from the small shops, you have gambled around the area for their compliance (you were hasty, something you ought to keep in check, too), then the port would grow big in no time. But quality wares is something you noted and took from the vendors you think would make it big if they produce what you're looking for. Owning important essential items or daily use objects was often sought out, and knowing what was going on in the market with the ledgers you kept, the vendors were happy to update it every week.

The smell of sea salt brushes against your nose when a spray mist of the ocean settles across your face like a thin veil. It brought you back from reality. The dark soft fur that clings around your neck tickles your jawline. It was a cape that had a lined coat inside for heat insulation. It was a gift to you from the seamstress. At first, you refuse such a gift as you weren't expecting anything in return but their devotion. The seamstress was an elderly lady named Rue with pure grey hair with specks of white, with milky pupils who ran the shop with her granddaughter, who was the age of fifteen. For someone blind, they have an impeccable sense of design, where to thread their needle, and even hand spin the silk threads with deer tail fur to tone down the bright arrogant colors.

Last but not least, you didn't bypass her as male.

You wonder how at first, Rue could tell, but you couldn't stop them from shoving their hands all over your face to see as further confirmation. It isn't until when you're alone that she sends her blushing granddaughter, who keeps gawking at you, to fetch warm jasmine tea from the kitchen. When she breathed out how the light footsteps and breathing differed from men, the soft scent of your natural smell under the musk of pinewood wasn't enough to fool her. Years of blindness hone her other senses.

To say you give a nervous smile even though Rue can't see, but she could sense it. You remember how she didn't ask questions about your true identity, but traces of understanding was written across her withering face. Rue was indeed an enigma and a master of changing the topic onto herself with woos of stories of her ambitious youth. You don't mind her rambling; as long as it's not you divulging into your life, then you're fine.

Readjusting the cape, you walk off the port onto the mainland, and before you can go any further, a woman who is a bit tad shorter than you bumps into you. They let out a yelp and seemed to trip over their heel as they braced for impact when falling back and shut their eyes. Based on reflexes, you grab their wrist to pull them upright, but all it does is wring their weight your way as they collide into your chest with a delicate sound of discontent.

"Hey! Watch where-" The words died on their lips when they opened their soft pomegranate-colored eyes. Their eyes almost remind you of someone. As if they couldn't utter a word after nearly insulting you, the shade of their face became gradually warmer, like the colors of their eyes. "I'm sorry!" They sputter out in nervousness. You only look down at her with your questioning piercing gaze that has her even weaker in your arms. Unknowingly. Ripping themself out of your hold, she set a space between you both.

"What are you sorry for? It was my fault for not seeing you." Simply reassuring her, the woman across from you became a more blubbering mess. You don't know what's going on in her head; the more you observe, it becomes a headache to decipher each passing second. Cutting her off, you notice the sky gradually getting darker and bid her farewell with a tilt of your head down.

It wasn't until that you were gone she allowed herself to bask in the memories of you. With both hands on her flaming cheeks, she gushes over her Prince Charming and starts to create scenarios in her head. "They were so cool!~" The aura around her was warm and pleasant, and even some bystanders who walked past her glanced at her—some young love.

"Lady Kiriko!" The young woman's handmaid finally reaches her as they huff and pant. They stop in front of her. Kiriko only clicked her tongue in distaste as she lost her sense of a heart-warming aura. "I finally found you! We have to go to the inn before it gets dark." The handmaid wheezes out.

Like a flip that has been switched, Kiriko activated her brat mode. "Why do you always have to ruin my fun?" She pinches the maid's arm harshly, and they cringe back. "I still have a bit more time left before sundown." Kiriko overlaps her arms, but her thoughts trail back to you, and then brat mode is switched off. She had a deluded smile on her face. Then again, it was back on instantly when she turned around to her maid. "By the way, did you see a handsome man on your way here? They walk where the way you came from."

The handmaid crinkles her brows in confusion.

Kiriko rolls her eyes, "You know about this tall?" She gestured to where your height would reach, which is a head taller. "They wore a cape in the color of brown, but it looked like gold with intricate design, and the neck had soft black fur surrounding it." Kiriko waited a few more seconds, "And they look adorable too."

The maid then snaps their eyes at the lady, "Ah yes! I saw them; they walked into a rented house near here!" Kiriko didn't waste time asking which house the handsome man rented, and the maid told her it was the Red Koi and sped away.

Eisha coughs as the weather gets colder and harsher. With the months flying by and winter coming, she tried to stifle another hack. "Where are the imported red coals?" She asked nearby maids, who gave each other a look, deciding who would break the news. They were a jittering mess and kept avoiding eye contact.

Eisha's lady-in-waiting ensured her Master was comfortable as she brought the finest furs and pillows to create a sturdy and warm nest. "Your Lady asked you a question, and you won't answer her?" The personal maid sternly made a face, and the lowly ranked servants quivered.

"The red coals that you requested were given to Lady (Name)," one spoke up, still refusing to make eye contact; they whispered the last part in a hush, "by Lord Sukuna's order."

As if what they said were whiplash to their Lady and the personal maid, Eisha's lady-in-waiting was about to blow a fuse for her Master. "All dismiss." She tried to say calmly. Although it was barely contained, all the servants could see how Eisha's handmaid eyes bled red with rage, and no one wasted a second to flee the room. If Hell existed, it would be this very castle.

Eisha's handmaid, Miyo, turns to their master. "Your Lady, even Lord Sukuna knows about your condition and that regular coals could suffocate your lungs and worsen it with the amount of smoke it emits." Miyo then curses you inside her mind; like everyone else, she couldn't understand why Lord Sukuna would put you above all else. Are you made of gold or something? Miyo was sure you were nothing; you hadn't made yourself worthy with a single childbirth. Something that everyone knew was important.

"Don't worry about it," Eisha's quiet demeanor made Miyo even more raucous, but she held it inside. "Go to the clothing department today and pick up my lined fur fleece and my daughter from her study." With the command, Miyo respectfully now to Eisha and left the room.

There was a quick and sudden announcement from Hanami about her niece visiting her from a different region of Japan in a week. So the Doom Mother (Motherzilla) had expected everything to be perfect and lavish. Even the concubines were putting on their best behavior as they discussed what to wear to welcome their mother-in-law's niece.

This was the first time the girl would make an official trip to visit Hanami alone. But that doesn't mean you haven't heard of her before; there were brief mentions of her throughout your marriage to Sukuna. Where Hanami had plotted the idea of her only son marrying a cousin with who he had no interest. Additionally, Sukuna only met her once when she was only eight. Even the age gap was a decade between them. In the faint memory of her ten years ago, Sukuna had said she was a spoilt brat to the brim and expected the world to bow down to her.

You could almost laugh at how ironic he was judging someone when he was the same way. Well, minus the spoilt parts, then it would be perfect.

"Lady (Name)," a lady you recognize was two years older than you, was part of Hanami's entourage, Ubi. Judging by her clothes, she was in the second rank, closely behind Hanami's vassal, Naiyu. This instantly made you put on an air of neutrality; you didn't know what to expect from her as you didn't know much about her. Out of all of Hanami's retainers, only Ubi and Naiyu were the ones you watch out for, as Ubi was specially trained under Naiyu, so their facade was perfect craftsmanship.

Since they both represent Hanami's strengths, they had to be fearless in what they do, and you suspect that much—being the blade for their master. Still, they have shown indifference toward you, but doubt lingers in your mind. You can be careful and wary of them, but that would invite your demise if you failed to see beyond, so you try to harden your eyes.

Ubi, who senses you putting up barriers, instantly tries to disarm it with a soft smile that is part of her service. "The Head Mother has requested your presence," and around you, the air of jealousy and envy from concubines rises through the roof and filters through the hallways. Whether it's deliberate or not, Ubi semblance never falters. She held onto that patience.

"Lead the way," you monotonously said, and she turned around for you to follow. Starting at her back, it's unsettling how you can't pick what's happening inside Ubi's head, unlike how you did with Sukuna. For them, it's a blank slate.

"Ugh, look at her acting like she's so important just because the Head Mother had called for her," Sena whispered with hidden jaundice around her little clique, and they all agreed. One rolls their eyes, and a few sniggers at the action. Her eyes trail close to where you left.

It took a few minutes to lead you to Hanami's residence.

"Head Mother, I have brought Lady (Name) as per your request," Ubi announces, and the door slides open. She side steps to the side to allow you in without looking up.

You enter the room with quiet steps and sit on the zabuton, and before you can bow as a greeting, she lifts a hand to stop you. "There's no need." Hanami tries to mask her displeasure at seeing you, and you weren't stupid to not see it. It's just you didn't bother to point it out. Since she has an important matter to discuss and it involves you, Hanami decides to make it quick so your face isn't a constant reminder of your Aunt.

Hanami: "You're going to take over on welcoming my niece."

You: "Pardon? Isn't that supposed to be Lady Eisha's role?"

"Yes, it is," Hanami spoke as a matter of fact, "due to her ailing health, this task might be arduous for her since the doctor has told her to stay warm, so Eisha is taking bed rest to recover. Thus I'm assigning this to you."

Well, this is news to you. Out of all the people she could've picked, she had chosen you for such a task. You would have thought she might select one of the lower concubines to do the job. With her blatant prejudice against you. "Wouldn't any other concubine be better for the job?"

"Are you shrinking your role as the second wife of my son?" Hanami blurts out in annoyance as her tone rises an octave high; she looks up and down at you repeatedly with quick eyes. Like, you have gone crazy for even suggesting that.

With lips service smile, you retort back politely, "Head Mother, you seem to be offended by my innocent question. I'm only asking since you seem to tolerate my presence barely, let alone we haven't spoken to one another within five years of being married to your son. The only time we spoke was, instead, very brief and short, two days after the wedding consummation." It was the first greeting for the mother as a new in-law from the wife or concubine as respect.

Hanami clenches her jaws tightly; your sharp tongue and dim-witted acting seem to prick her nerves. You and your Aunt are very much alike in some ways, unbearable and arrogant. "Are you going to refuse my order?"

"Ah no," you quickly reply, "that would bring shame if I didn't uphold my duty as the second wife of Sukuna and Lady Eisha's left hand too."

Hanami didn't know if what you said was pure mockery, but each passing second in this room with you got her blood pumping in anger. "Since you have understood, you're dismissed."

You courteously bow deliberately (on purpose) to bid farewell before standing up with grace. Hanami was sure you were playing with her; your ungenuine smile wasn't even hidden. She curses daily due to her son's favoritism of you; you're like a plague that never vacates. And have you grown uncouth that you don't even respect her?

"Lord Sukuna, Lady (Name) will be taking over Lady Eisha's task of welcoming your cousin in a few days," Uraume informed their master, who quirked a brow.

"Oh? So that brat of a cousin is visiting?" He asked no one in particular; it was more of saying it to himself out loud. "Mother has finally given her such an important task for once." The thought of his Mother warming up to you sounds so funny that he can't help but chuckle. His Mother barely tolerates the idea of you and loathes Sukuna himself for a self-evident reason sometimes. "Make sure my wife doesn't overwork herself and help her if necessary; I'll tend to her afterward."

Uraume silently left the room, and Sukuna mulled over his thought. He rests his temple against his knuckles and watches the candlelight flicker under a breeze. But in his spare hand was a familiar thick jewel; Sukuna toys around with a gold bangle with assorted gems in various sizes, colors, and labyrinth designs indented into the gold.

It was your bangle.

After the night he had spent with you, he took what's most precious to you, and it was what was given to you by your deceased parents. There were years of work on it, seeing how the inside of the jewel was fading away from constant use. Sukuna noticed how the clasps were loose, most of all when he kept twisting the bangle around to feel every rigidity and bump.

The more he looks at it, the more something seems off.

Sukuna barely saw small noticeable lines on the inside of the bracelet; it was in the shape of a square. A small hidden compartment; if his keen and trained eyes missed that tiny detail, he deserved to be killed on a battlefield for not seeing an enemy, ambush, or assassination. Still, Sukuna was curious and grabbed a small wooden toothpick to unlock the small door.

He was surprised when multiple seeds fell out of the bracelet when he shook them out onto the table. The color of the sources was rather old, seeing how raisin and dried they were. Something stirs in his chest, and he doesn't like it. Sukuna's fierce eyes were glaring at the jarring sight before him. Cold like Hell has washed over.

"Someone, go and fetch me the doctor. Right. Now." His voice was low, with his wrath was barely concealed through clenched teeth. "Now!" Sukuna repeats their voice bellows out from his room to outside when no one makes a move to move. One male servant scamps away to do what they're told out of fear.

You're crafty. He gives you credit for that; whatever you're hiding, he would sniff it out. Sukuna then set the jeweled bracelet down and ran a hand through his hair; he puffs out a shallow breath. He's barely an anxious man, but his opinions of you and your sensitive nature slowly etched their way into his mind as he started to pick them apart one by one in a logical sense.

When emotions run high, clouds of judgment obscure his views. Sukuna is a man led by ideals and a futuristic sense; scarcely emotions ever run by him. He knew deep down when he allowed himself to feel emotions, it would cause him trouble, and he was right. Few selected people could be worthy of his regard, but to him, it didn't change his output of you very much. He dislikes being blind by someone, even so, he fully lets himself be when it comes to you, but seeing differently from a different angle, Sukuna should know that you're not soft and malleable.

You're like glass, pretty in the light, but there are still sharp edges around it. You shouldn't be underestimated. When he thought he had you at the center of his palm, you find a way to slip away. The game of chase was a back-and-forth thing, with its up and down.

Sukuna took another breath and exhaled deeply, pushing away the negative introspections.

You were busy interacting and directing where everything should go the next few days. It almost felt like a routine when you were dressed up as your alibi, Seijuro Hajime. Your breath fogs up in front of you, and your nose itches when cold air brushes against it; turning your head to the side, you sneeze.

"You should dress up warmer for the occasion," a voice snuck up behind you, and you froze for a quick second when a heavy cape was draped around your shoulders. Sukuna had made his presence known, and the servants around you suddenly worked harder than before. You were about to shrug off his cape, but his hands were on your shoulders, "Keep it on."

Another moment of pregnant silence passed through; no servants bothered to be in your and Sukuna's line of sight. They make sure to steer clear away from the invisible bubble that was presented around their Lord of the House. Sukuna presses his broad front against your back; you can feel his heat seeping through, then he slides his hands down your shoulders until it reaches your cold hands. His callous palms envelopes your own, and there was a minor battle of you struggling to tug it away.

"Could you please let me do my job," you patronize Sukuna, who only takes it as amusement and doesn't move an inch.

"No, I came here to spend time with my lovely wife." He tunes out, and his voice is much lighter, much chirpy to your liking. "Do you want to know what I discovered today?"

"No," flatly refusing him, one of Sukuna's hands retracted for a second, and you felt something cold and heard a slight click on your wrist. You look down to see your bracelet that has gone missing adorned your wrist. Toring yourself away, you whirl around to meet his eyes; you accuse him with a quiet, burning, seething look, "So it was you who took it."

The corners of his lips quirk up. You have spent days looking for your precious bangle, even flipping your room upside down. You didn't think it was this menacing man in front of you swiping it right under your nose during that day he had forcefully bedded you. You even thought that you lost it during your outing to the castle and that anyone could pick it up and pawn it to set themselves up for life.

"It was a pretty little thing; I know it was a special gift to you from your parents. So I took it as an inspiration to see your taste, as you never wore what I gifted. " Sukuna explains while lazily giving you a nonchalant expression without losing his carefree nature. He lops his head to the side, "And here's the fun part, I fixed your little bracelet problems for you."

You clench your jaws and roll your eyes again with a deep breath, "There's nothing wrong with it."

"No, no, no," Sukuna tuts out as if he's dealing with a lying child, "There is a problem with it. You, my lovely wife here, have been plotting something bigger against me this whole time." The light in his eyes darkened and was replaced with something entirely devious. Mentally preparing yourself, Sukuna brushes his knuckles against your cold, bitten, ample red cheeks. "There are many things I've been tolerating from you," Sukuna's tone reeks of hurt and betrayal, despite failing to mask it, "but not this."

The hand caressing your cheek was suddenly behind your nape; Sukuna grips, and for once, he didn't care how he made you look in front of his servants, who were surprised at his treatment. Many hold their breath and further avoid the personal bubble as they could see trouble brewing between you both. All we're opting the long way to complete their task.

"You know I always wanted a child with you, but seriously, basil seeds?" Sukuna let out a haughty laugh when he saw your expression crumble a bit from fear of realization that he knew. "Yes, I now know what has caused your infertility."

The smile he wore never seemed so big and scary in front of you. Your mind was repeatedly reeling that Sukuna knew. He. Knew. Now you're not safe, and you can no longer avoid his advances.

Sukuna could see the vulnerability displayed before him; this was what he was waiting for. You're so open for him to take and relish. "I admire the length you're willing to go, and honestly, I genuinely do." You don't know what will come out of his mouth anymore. "No one can save you from me now. Not even your precious bracelet."

[Days Ago]

Sukuna patiently waited for the physician to arrive at his headquarters while drumming his fingers against the dark red oak table. His eyes trail to your bracelet that sticks out like a sore thumb, along with the seeds. The doors to his room snap open as the physician enters. "Finally," Sukuna said out loud; he has patience, but not today.

The doctor stopped in front of Sukuna and greeted him with a bow. "Lord Sukuna, w-what seems to be the problem?"

The man smirked, "You always seem to tremble whenever you meet me, but never mind that," Sukuna motioned with his head where the bracelet and seeds lay, "Tell me what is on the table." The physician saw and quickly took action.

They took a seed and examined it before sniffing it, and a faint scent emitted. "My Lord, this is basil seed."

Sukuna: "Basil?"

"Yes, basil." They confirmed it.

"What's so special about it?" Sukuna asks with interest.

"Lord Sukuna, basil seeds are used for many things, and especially if consuming it, doing it in small quantities once in a while not to cause side effects. Too much may cause bloating and abdominal pain. This is also used to help... " The medic explains in tangent detail.

"Then explain why it was inside the bracelet." Sukuna cuts to the chase when asking about something the doctor does and tends to run their mouth sometimes.

"A-Ah, yes." He took the bracelet from the table, "May I ask who the bracelet belongs to?"

Sukuna: "(Name)."

The doctor should not be surprised it was you. They took a moment to examine the bracelet and saw the open compartment door and sniffed the inside of the bangle, and found traces of it. "My Lord, how long has Lady (Name) worn this bracelet?"

The sound of urgency in his voice caught Sukuna's interest. "For as long as I married her. It was from her parents. What's the problem?"

Since there was no time stamp on how long, the doctor could only conclude one thing, "If Lady (Name) has worn this for a long time, then the cause of her infertility could be this all along." The words are like a cold wake-up call from the doctor; Sukuna's eyelids droop low with fury. The thought of you, 'How dare you (Name).' The doctor nervously continues, "Long exposure to basil seeds entering the bloodstream could thin out the blood, affect her hormones, and even her menstrual cycles. This could also explain—"

Sukuna raised a hand for the medic to shut their mouth as he was complimented on how he should deal with you and what he had just learned today. At first, he took your bracelet to understand your personal preferences, then return it to you later, and now he doesn't regret stumbling onto your long secret by chance. The amount of time he had bed you and you failed to conceive a child was out.

"You're dismissed, and keep your mouth shut." Then he looks at the corner where Uraume resides, "Take the bracelet to get it modified from a nearby jeweler. Fix the clasps and seal the door."

•

Taglist: @sukunasobject @lilliansstuff @lucyrocks86 @ladywolf44005 @watyousayin @sandronebabyy @pinkrose1422 @skepticalleo @please-help-therapy-needed @whatsonthemirror @krispsprite @loser-alert @saturnknows @samdric @littlemochi @akigoat @mxghostbee @rose4958 @shadowywizardarcade @huicitawrites @baji-keisukes-wife @choso-wifey @jovialeggsbailiffsoul @sanderaen @peonnnny @tiredlattes @waytomanyhusbands @whatamidoing89 @utena-akashiya @outrofenty @welcometodemonschoolfan @im-a-killer-queen @loverisa @bubera974 @sashaphantomhive @chaoticstrawberryland @onetwo123three

#fan fiction #jujutsu kaisen #masterlist #jjk sukuna #jjk x reader #anime #sukuna ryomen #jjk fanfic #sukuna x reader #yandere imagines #yandere fanfiction #yandere fic #yandere x reader #yandere #yandere sukuna x reader #yandere sukuna #jujutsu kaisen x reader #yandere headcanons #yandere sukuna ryomen

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lordgrimwing · 24 days

Text

How Elwing Lost A Silmaril

The first letter—sealed with an eight-pointed star pressed into red wax and delivered just before dawn—left Elwing trembling in her small office, stomach rolling and the taste of bile thick on her tongue. What was she to do? What could she do? Her parents’ murderers were coming here.

The letter didn’t say as much outright. The writer (Maedhros, she’d learned his name eventually, but he would always be the red-haired orcish monster that took her home away and haunted her worst nightmares) veiled every threat behind eloquent lines of meaningless placations and enteritis for the silmaril. He asked her, granddaughter of a thief, to return it to him, eldest son of its maker and rightful heir. But she could read what he did not say: that if she did not bend to his will he would do to Sirion as he did to Menegroth. He would come with his fell army and slaughter everyone in his way.

But how could she give up the jewel? It protected them, kept the forces of darkness at bay just enough for the refugees to eke out a living on the shores. And should Eärendil, her dear, brave husband, find a path to Aman, its light might be the only thing that could stay the Valar’s Doom long enough for them to listen to him. She could not give up their hope.

The second letter—sealed in red wax and delivered as the barley fields were harvested—brought more promises of horrors unnamed falling upon the settlement. She wept after throwing it in the fire. She could not do this on her own. The city council was terrified into inaction at the thought of what lay before then, and Eärendil was still out at sea. She missed him. She missed him so terribly when the councilors looked at her with fearful eyes and asked for her decision.

The fifth letter arrived in the hands of an underfed Mannish girl as the first winds of winter blew in from the sea. Elwing gave her food and a family offered a spot in their home, but the girl said her lord instructed her to go nowhere else until she had a reply for him. Elwing thought of banishing her from the city unanswered, of telling the guards with their rough-made weapons to see that the Fëanorian did not return. She regretted the thought nearly as soon as she had it. The girl was young and it was not her fault that her parents joined themselves to a mighty Elf lord. She could stay for a day.

Tell me whatsoever you desire, the greatest or smallest need of your heart.

The letter said in handwriting that was fast becoming too familiar.

I will give unto you that thing and greater still if you would part with my father’s Silmaril. I would bring you all the provisions of my camp, all the weapons of my army, every other precious thing of power left in this land if you would but willingly part with that one small thing that I must otherwise be driven to take by force in the spring. Tell me your desire, and I will give it unto you. Let this not end with blood.

She fumed in her office, angrily pacing the thin rug gifted to her by the weary-eyed wife of one of her father’s guards who fell in the tunnels of Menegroth. She does not need anything from the murdering bastard! Sirion has all it requires. They would be safe if only they were left alone. How can Maedhros think that he could ever give her anything to make up for what he’s done, to convince her to do what he wants? He’s a monster and a coward who wishes to soothe his conscience by acting as if the attack is all her fault, an inevitable consequence of her resistance. He wishes to absolve himself of yet more evil.

She will not let him. If it is the only thing she can do, she will defy him.

Elwing takes up precious ink and paper. She throws herself into her chair and leans over the beaten desk, pouring her anger and helplessness into the words she scratches across the page.

You’ve taken everything from my people. You wish to take everything from me again. You are monstrous, servant of Morgoth. May the Valar stand against you as I cannot. What would I have, you ask? I would have what you’ve taken from me restored: I would have Dior, my father, and Nimloth, my mother; I would have Eluréd and Elurín, my brothers, alive again and in my arms. But I shall never have them for they died at your hands and at your command. You cannot give me my parents. You search for my little brothers but still cannot give them to me. So, what would I have? I would have your brothers. Give me your two youngest. I have lost my twin brothers for this gem. You must do the same.

She signed the bottom with a vicious strike that split the quill’s nip, blotting the page with ink as dark as orc blood. Her heartbeat in her chest, thumped against her ribs under her breast as though it would escape fate. Her letter would change nothing and she hesitated for a moment before dripping wax from a flickering candle for the seal, tempted to throw the paper to the fire.

She’d written in a tantrum, a final kicking of her feet against what would come in an impotent rage. But what did it matter? Did she not deserve to beat her fists against the Doom once? Everyone looked to her for leadership and guidance as Dior’s heir but she felt like little more than a child. This would be so much easier to handle with Eärendil at her side but he still had not returned and at times she doubted he ever would (what Doom had befallen him on the waters? What lonely fate for him and the crew on the waves?). She would send this letter then say goodbye to all childishness and face what came bravely as her parents and grandparents did.

Resolved, she dripped the wax and sealed the letter. She’d give it to the messenger tomorrow with what small food they could spare so the girl did not starve on the journey. And then…

And then all would be out of her hands and fate would fall as it would.

The sixth letter came in the hands of two red-haired Elves on tall horses. The men sat straight and tall in the saddle, their heads held high. Elwing would have called them haughty if they hadn’t dismounted and bowed deeply before her, falling to one knee as one might before royalty. A third Elf, dark-haired and somber-eyed, rode with them, though he kept himself aside and astride his steed.

“Queen Elwing,” one of the red-heads said, his face fire-scarred. He paused, waiting for permission to go on.

She nodded and waved her hand impatiently, wondering what new trick Maedhros was playing or if this was how he announced an impending slaughter.

The speaker went on, looking up slightly though he stayed kneeling. “We are Ambarussa–” he gestured to the other– “youngest sons of Fëanor. We give ourselves up at your request in exchange for the silmaril.”

Elwing stood in frozen silence as he continued, icy sea breeze biting at her fingers and face.

#the ambarussar are hers now i guess #will this change everything or nothing?#i have my ideas #maedhros is the worst of the sons of feanor actually because he will justify doing anything for a silmaril #crack fic #but i'm treating this crack seriously #elwing #amrod #amras #maedhros #ambarussa #elwing's ambarussa au #grimwing writes #the silmarillion #the silmarils #sirion #third kinslaying #(except it doesn't end up happening now)

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