#because by God... i fear that you have created a monster | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

clanwarrior-tumbly · 2 months

Note

If you allow yandere, then Can I request a yandere! Catnap x Creator! reader?

Time are in the middle of hour of joy, and Reader are in playcare, catnap are chasing reader and reader are desperately running away from him. and reader is creator or the person who came up with the design of Catnap.

'God..why did this happen? Why did this have to happen?? God, please make this stop...tell me I'm dreaming..'

Sadly, this was no dream.

The screams, the bloodshed, the senseless slaughter..

All of it was very much real, and you were right in the middle of it all, currently hiding within Playcare. You didn't even know what was going on exactly or why.

Everywhere you looked, there was another dead body on the ground, in the grass, and splayed across the stairs...all of whom were either your coworkers, scientists you've never seen before, security personnel, or innocent visitors.

Many of them had similar wounds--claw marks from none other than Catnap himself, who you saw stalking around the premises, looking for survivors.

But why would he do something like this?

How was he even capable of such violence?

It was supposed to be a normal and simple day:

You clocked in, checked up on Catnap's well-being after he put the children to sleep, and then left to attend to other matters. It was a mundane routine, but you were always excited to get up and go to work because of him.

However, you were running a tad bit late today and feared you'd get an earful from your supervisor considering the company's strict tardiness rules.

But on your way to Playcare, the emergency sirens resounded all throughout the facility. You had no idea what was going on, although the distant screams made you utterly terrified and had you running straight to that area, praying you'll find shelter from whatever danger lurked nearby...

Instead you ran straight into the scene of a massacre.

All orchestrated by Catnap and several mini-Smiling Critters who got loose, attacking and devouring whatever poor human got caught in their sights.

You had to throw on your gas mask quickly to avoid inhaling the red smoke. There was very little lingering in the air still, but judging from the corpses who still wore them or had them torn from their heads, they must have been prepared for this massive containment breach.

Even so, none were spared.

Catnap was probably smart enough to know the purpose of those masks. And he put them all to sleep. Permanently.

Yet somehow he hasn't spotted you yet, and you hoped to every god above that he didn't.

This pained you especially as you were on the designer team for the Smiling Critters. You actually made the first drawing of Catnap and presented it to your boss, who approved it right away...but only after making a few minor major adjustments.

Who knew something so sweet and innocent would turn into something so deadly?

He was supposed to be nothing more than a cartoon character brought to life and a plush toy (that unfortunately got recalled). How the higher-ups managed to achieve that with him and the other critters without your team ever knowing...you had no idea, but you were thrilled by the results.

You adored Catnap, and he was well aware that you created the idea of him--almost worshipping you, in a sense, and being the only human he'd properly communicate with.

In turn, you've communicated with him healthily, treating him like a person instead of an experiment. He did mutter strange things sometimes and talked about freedom, but you never probed him on that nor reminded him that he was a prisoner here.

No matter how true it may be, no toy deserves to be told that.

Now that you were here, hiding from the very thing you had loved and created, you weren't sure if you were even looking at Catnap anymore.

It may look like him, but it's not him.

Catnap is not a killing machine.

Whatever those scientists did turned him into a monster. A creature they failed to keep in check.

And he snapped, slaughtering many of your acquaintances and innocent families interested in the adoption program.

He kept muttering about an "Hour of Joy", which you've heard him speak of in the past. But you've always assumed he was talking about an upcoming birthday party or event within the Playhouse the other Smiling Critters were planning..

Not a giant bloodbath that painted the floors and walls of Playcare red.

You ducked behind a trash canister as you watched Catnap creep towards a survivor, who was also wearing a gas mask and breathing hard. Seeing that their leg was torn off at the knee, you knew there was no hope of helping them.

The moment they were spotted, their fate was sealed.

They were his prey now.

You couldn't look away as he paused for a moment, before reaching forward with a quick swipe, tearing off their mask. His claws left big gash marks across their face as they wailed in pain, but it didn't last long as he quickly pounced and slashed their throat next--leaving them to choke on their own blood.

Seconds later, their body stilled, becoming just like the rest of those surrounding them.

You made the horrible mistake of exhaling a shaky breath, the mask amplifying the noise.

That's when Catnap whipped his head towards you, those white dots growing larger.

"YOU. COME HERE."

Realizing your cover's blown, you jumped up and knocked the trash canister over, hoping it'd distract him long enough for you to race inside Home Sweet Home. But the diversion barely did anything, as you heard the loud stomps of the purple beast practically on your heels.

He lunged at the door just as you turned and slammed it shut, locking it and trying to shove a chair beneath the knobs. There was loud knocking on the other side, but eventually it stopped.

As soon as it did, you rushed into one of the many bunkbed rooms, finding it strangely devoid of children, scientists, and caretakers.

What happened to them all?

Did they evacuate safely?

Did they know about this ahead of time?

You had no idea, and quite frankly..now wasn't the time to find out. Rather, it was time for you to think of a way out of this wretched place, but you feared it won't be easy.

You knew the orphanage's interior like the back of your hand--the problem were the little Smiling Critters that you could currently hear pitter-pattering down the halls.

He put them here on patrol.

If any of them saw you..surely they'd alert him.

On the brightside, there were no traces of red smoke to be found, so you briefly took the mask off to give yourself a breather. Sweat poured down your face, and your throat ran dry; you could practically feel your own heartbeat pounding within it as you tried to figure out your next move.

Maybe if you wait here long enough, he'll get bored and leave...

Or maybe he'll-

All of the sudden, a critter leapt out from underneath one of the covers and tried latching onto your head. You yelled out as it screeched right beside your ear, attempting to bite into it and get a taste of your flesh, but you managed to throw it down to the ground and keep it crushed under your shoe.

You grabbed a nearby metal rod from a destroyed bedframe, pointing the sharp end at its throat..

Only to realize it was a Catnap, who looked perfectly intact aside from a little dirt caking its plush body.

Both of you had a bit of a staring contest.

And in the end....you couldn't find it in you to kill it.

All you could do was stare down at the creature, tears in your eyes as you watched it wriggle and snarl, pawing at your foot. It was barely putting up a fight now, which made you realize it probably didn't want to attack you.

Rather..it seemed hungry.

But why would it be hungry for human flesh?

Was Catnap the same way? Was he hungry or just killing for sport?

More importantly...why was he killing at all and tormenting you like this?

Maybe he was angry about his toyline being recalled, or the unfair treatment he's gotten here by the scientists. Or perhaps he felt outcasted by the other Smiling Critters.

You didn't know if any of them were still around, but for all you knew they could be just like him.

Hungry, rampaging monsters.

The ringing phone snapped you back to reality, and you cautiously took your foot off the tiny Catnap. It got up and skittered away into a nearby hole in the rotting wall, apparently having lost its appetite.

You quickly answered the machine, praying it was somebody upstairs trying to get in contact with you. Maybe a survivor who knew how to get you out. Before you gave them a chance to speak, you went first, being so scared, frustrated, and overwhelmed by everything that's happened thus far.

You just wanted this nightmare to be over already.

"Thank god. What the hell is going on?! It's like a fucking slaughterhouse down here-"

"It's a celebration. The Hour of Joy, little mouse."

Your blood ran cold, realizing who that voice belonged to. 'The Toys...they know how to use these phones..?'

"C-Catnap?"

"[Y/n]..why did you run away?" He whispered hoarsely. "I didn't know it was you."

"Wha...b-because you were killing people!" Your voice grew shaky, confused as to why he sounded so calm. "And you would've killed me, too!!"

"No."

"...what?"

"You are special to me, little mouse. You breathed life into me. You must be kept safe, for you are pure..unlike these wretched souls." He murmured. "They would have taken you away from me. Forever. I do not want that."

"Y-You're..not making any sense, Catnap." You struggled to wrap your head around his words. "If someone told you I'm quitting or getting fired or transferring..they lied. Nobody's taking me away from you..is that what you're afraid of? Is that why you did all of this?"

"I did it..for the Prototype...and for you. He told me I could spare one soul when our Hour of Joy is up."

Your stomach sank, but before you could ask him more about this "prototype", he cut you off.

"Shhhhhhhh. No more talking. No more running. Sleep, little mouse."

By the time you realized red smoke was starting to fill up the room, it was already far too late as you began coughing. You dropped the phone and frantically searched for your gas mask.

No way in hell were you going to fall asleep now.

Especially not after what he told you.

You'd rather die with the rest of them.

Suddenly you heard a small crunching noise and looked down, seeing that you stepped on one of the lenses. 'Shit..it must've broke off during my scuffle with Mini-Catnap...'

You could feel your eyelids growing heavy, and you instead tried grabbing something to stuff beneath the door to stop more smoke from seeping in. No matter what, you HAD to stay awake, you told yourself.

And yet..

That stained worn mattress with the blanket you half-dragged off suddenly looked quite comfortable.

You collapsed onto it, feeling exhaustion overwhelm you immediately despite the rest of your body's attempts to fight it--knowing your fate was ultimately left in his hands should you fail.

But you were so, so tired..

You couldn't help closing your eyes. Just for a little while.

Right before losing consciousness, however, you noticed that the door was now open, and through the red fog appeared Catnap himself.

Except he didn't look like a monster made of skin and bones, instead being a little bipedal purple cat who seemingly jumped straight out of the cartoon show.

His fur wasn't tainted with a single spec of blood or dirt.

He was perfect.

Your perfect creation.

All he did was smile, and you fell asleep smiling back.

#clanask #anonymous #poppy playtime x reader #poppy playtime catnap #catnap #smiling critters #angst #yandere #tw yandere #tw death mention

974 notes · View notes

dailyadventureprompts · 6 months

Text

Heavy Topics: A Child's Vision of Evil

One of the first big “aha!” moments in my journey to retrofit d&d’s laughably bad lore was the realization that the way the game treated evil didn’t make much sense. As a dungeonmaster I was asked to create dramatic stakes for my players but the out-of-the-box antagonists supplied to me were as laughably one note as the pollution loving villains in Captain Planet. Who would ever worship the demon god of killing everything that lives? Of torturing you for all eternity? Of being unpleasantly covered in slime?

None of it really made sense until I started to understand the world and recent history through a political lens, at which point several things became clear:

Despite how large a bogyman it played in the satan scare of the late 80s, the people who laid the foundations for the lore of d&d came from a background of conservative american christianity, and baked a lot of that ethos into the game.

The conservative christian imagination can only see things in black and white. People who disagree with them can’t just have a different opinion, even if that opinion is objectively good, they need to be wilfully evil . In fact they must be trying as hard to be evil as the christian is trying to be good, because they’re a backwards person, a monster, a demon.

This idea of the “Backwards Person” is the exact process that gave rise to the bloodlibel, to the witchpanics, to the redscare, and yes, the 80s fear that satanists lurk around every corner sacrificing babies and putting poison in candy because they love evil that much. It’s the same thought that’s given rise to Q-anon and the groomer panic. “People who disagree with just can’t just have a different opinion, they must be demons.”

D&D’s classic enemies are similarly all “backwards people”, hardwired to do evil so that players always have an excuse to kill them. While on the surface it seems harmless or even childish it leads to the default d&d world being one where peace is impossible and genocidal violence is the only correct answer.

We can do better in our writing than a bunch of shut-ins who wanted nothing more than to play cowboys and indians while ripping off Tolkien. Whether you want to write a sweeping epic or a mindless dungeon crawler, there’s a way to reconfigure d&d lore.

Join me below the cut for a discussion of different ways to use evil in your games.

Children cannot control their emotions nor their fear, they lack the life experience necessary to contextualize things beyond a surface level reading. If you ask a child to "imagine something bad" they're going to take something that scared them, something gross or unpleasant or threatening and imagine it blown up to cartoonish proportion. Tolkien got bit by a spider as a kid and the entire fantasy genre has never lived it down.

D&D is weird because it keeps these childish ideas about evil and drags them forward into an adult context. Those three demon gods I mentioned in the intro make a sort of sense when you realize they're fears of dying, pain, and uncleanliness made manifest. That said most of us having outgrown our childish simplicity understand that those things are neutral, Spiders might personally gross you out but we all understand that doesn't make them bad on a spiritual level. In the base d&d lore however that personal distaste is ALWAYS true: Evilness is synonymous with ugliness and monstrousness, drawing a thick crayon line between the good people and the bad things.

That's where we get our particular flavor of backwards people, because one of those fundamental (pun intended) fears d&d inherited from it's creators was xenophobia, fear of the strange, but also fear of the stranger. When the white, suburban, middle class, christian creators of d&d imagined the other they took all the bad things they had been told in their youth about people who were not them and made them into monsters: That's why the default thinking enemies of d&d are tribal primitives who squat in the ruins of greater civilizations worshipping demons while coveting the beauty and wealth of cultured people. It sounds hyperbolic, but there's a one for one parallel between between the weird sexual anxieties conservatives have about black men and orcs raiding human lands to kidnap women as breeding stock. Same fears about emasculation and race mixing and ethnic replacement, only d&d gives the good ol' boys a narrative vehicle where they can revenge themselves upon their imagined foe.

Most modern d&d is not like this, and I chalk that up to the demographic shift that's happened both because of time passing and the influx of new voices that came along with the 5e renaissance. We're all media literate enough to avoid the obvious racial pantomime... except in cases like the Hardozee when the devs port something almost word for word from an older edition and we get a thanksgiving uncle/facebook aunt screed about how the silly monkey people are really SO happy to work for the refined and civilized and white elves.

What's left behind however is that pervasive childlike worldview: Where perfectly natural things that creep us out (like rot) or frighten us (like pregnancy) are made universally villainous regardless of any themes that are going on in that specific story. Ask yourself why the creators of a piece of media made their badguys look and act like they did, rather than just accepting that it's that way because "the lore says so".

Anyway, that's my rant over, and I promised you guys some different versions of how to use Evil:

Classic demons or lovecraftian horrors make for good bossfights but are thin on character, one of the basic building blocks of story. To remedy this, pair your unremitting force of darkness and destruction with a troubled and nuanced mortal agent, someone who is trying their general best but has been forced down this low road by circumstances beyond their control. This gives your roleplaying focused players something to play off against while your combat focused ones battle a building sized monstrosity. Raw evil isn't interesting, it becomes interesting when we see what it makes morally grey people, even good people, do in reaction to it.

Extremity is one of the best ways to turn normal people into villains, a looming disaster or recent crisis that's putting the pressure on everyone and preventing anyone from thinking beyond protecting themselves and their own. Beyond the people acting rashly, you're also going to have a legion of opportunists offering to fix the problem as your higher rank of antagonists to overcome.

Similarly, if you're going to have your villain backed up by legions of faceless mooks you're going to need a reason for their loyalty. Your villain is offering them something worth dying for, which gives your heroes an alternate win condition for overcoming their numbers beyond genocide.

If you're willing to take a step into a more fanciful, cartoony universe, feel free to play with the idea of good and evil as arbitrary teams: It's the badguy's job to cause chaos and it's the goodguy's job to stop em, they're all working professionals and the dungeon is the workplace comedy. This is fun, but then lets you escalate the tension when someone doesn't play by the rules. What happens when a zealot starts executing evildoers who'd already surrendered? what happens when the villain summons something that is more interested in devastation than wacky hijinx?

Think of morality like a punnett square: There's the party, and then there's the villain who wants the opposite of what they want. THEN there's the villain who wants what the party wants, and the ally who wants the opposite of party wants. Suddenly rather than a simple binary, the party is forced to balance the interest of varying groups as well as their better judgment. This can be made even MORE complex by creating different categories of "what the party wants", which is generally how you get complex political dramas like game of thrones.

#heavy topics #writing advice #dnd #dungeons and dragons #d&d #ttprg #pathfinder

611 notes · View notes

alicerosejensen · 1 year

Note

Heyyyy hope you’re doing well!!

Please can you imagine Leon (re6) loosing his shit because they kidnapped his girlfriend and he’s like trying everything to get her back? Imagine him crying as soon as he gets to hug her again!😭

I'm fine as long as I have a laptop connected to the internet and food)

In fact, this is one of my favorite plot tropes, when someone is kidnapped, and the main character is ready to burn the whole world to the ground, but to find an expensive person.

Leon, despite his moral principles, I think he could have made many sacrifices. In particular, he would definitely lose his temper if he grabbed onto any thread to find his beloved. At least he didn't stand on ceremony with Patrizio.

Thus, there will be little left of the scoundrel who kidnapped his girlfriend.

Something constantly happens to the poor girl of Leon (either she runs away from him, or she is stolen from him). Sorry, I just love their relationship and Leon, who is ready to kill for his loved ones :D

I still know shit English, but enjoy it if you're interested.

Please read with extreme caution! There are mentions of physical violence, kidnapping and a maniac!Yandere

Leon is a little paranoid when it comes to protecting his loved ones, so most likely he will insert some tracking device into your phone or earrings to be sure that his beloved is safe.

He tries not to violate personal boundaries, but understands that his beloved is in potential danger in relation to him. Therefore, you are under additional invisible protection.

All you need to know is that Leon is not abusing his position as a federal agent. There is no surveillance on you, it's just that if something happens, he wants to have time to prevent it before the irreparable happens (or he goes on a binge again).

His heart sinks at the thought that he may lose you for some reason. Any encroachment into your personal space by outsiders who create discomfort for you make Leon enter the defender mode (aggressive if necessary). You should be safe.

Since Leon is known to a minimum of people about Leon's love interest, the risk is minimal that you will be harmed. At least Leon considered the threat from various corporations and bioterrorists. He didn't even think about the fact that there is some bastard stealing your things.

It was some little things: pencils, hair bands, a pocket mirror, lip gloss. Yes, you said something to him about it, but maybe you just dropped them out of your backpack?

He was calm exactly until you became too nervous. It seemed that you were afraid of something and called him a couple of times with a request to meet on the way home. Leon is not one of those who will refuse, but your behavior worries him.

And when you were walking home, Leon felt your painful grip on his arm.

His main priority is your well-being. "So tell me, pretty girl, what's going on with you?" Don't think I haven't noticed this nervousness.

He will be wary when he hears that someone is following you and dragging your things. Of course you could have lost them yourself, but the chiffon scarf that Leon gave you was the last straw. In addition, you showed him the abnormal love notes that someone constantly threw into your purse.

Outwardly, it did not affect him in any way, but the stingy "I'll deal with it" means a lot. The anxiety level has increased and Leon is worried that some kind of psycho might hurt you.

He often calls and asks if everything is in order and when you need to be picked up from college. However, when you don't answer the phone, everything dies inside him.

The moment he realizes that you have been taken away, a monster wakes up in him, which can bring down hell on your abductor.

His emotional state constantly fluctuates from constant fear for your lives bordering on panic to Ustanak whose task is to find you and finish off the son of a bitch who dared to take you away from him.

"No god will help this son of a bitch when I find him."

It's sad that you lost your phone on the day of the abduction and did not put on earrings. But a nice little bracelet will save you.

are a fucking goddess.

When you wake up, of course, you will be scared. However, you will try to intimidate the criminal by saying that he is so obsessed with you in vain. "Seriously, my boyfriend will come after me and gut you" You don't think Leon will kill anyone at all, so maybe your words don't sound too confident when the kidnapper's hand is stroking your head.

Do you panic when a fucking psycho says it's some kind of date? No one here hears your screams, you can't run away because you're handcuffed. You can't even go to the toilet on your own only under his control, and this causes you a deep psychological trauma. He brings you a fucking lilac, weaving thin twigs into your hair.

"Why me?" - This is the only question that is spinning in your head when you are hysterically pulling out purple flowers, throwing them away from you. - "Am I going to die here?"

You literally go crazy from the smell of dampness and lilac. Constantly shout Leon's name as if he can hear you and immediately breaking into a loud cry, banging on the walls and the locked door.

You're clearly getting claustrophobic.

While you're suffering, Leon is trying to track the fucking signal on one of your trinkets, but he's afraid that you left that day without any jewelry at all.

Claire is definitely one of those people who can talk some sense into Leon while he's looking for you. Considering that the bug gives a bad signal (or maybe your bracelet was damaged due to the fact that you constantly pull it from nerves) from the basement and your location is difficult to track, Leon has already yelled at Chris

You feel like a frog in formalin or even some kind of toy when your abductor brings you clean clothes, which you throw back to him. It's risky to make him angry like that and you really regret it when brute force is used to force you to change clothes.

Yes, then they "take care" of you, but you are already a cornered mouse. The purple marks on your skin and the marks from the handcuffs are now a reminder of who is in charge here.

And you hate that bastard more and more. Unfortunately, you have absolutely nothing to even hit him with. The food that he brings you in plastic dishes, as well as cutlery. You try not to eat, fearing that he might have mixed something in there, but you are forced by force.

It's been three days, and Leon hasn't found you. You feel like you're starting to go crazy until you hear a muffled noise from somewhere above.

All your belongings (including the bracelet) were seized and probably thrown away, leaving you in one long T-shirt, the smell that causes you to have a gag reflex. You literally have nothing on but this rag and underpants

Has anyone ever told you that you are not the luckiest person?

You tried to attack from behind when they stopped stroking you. It was risky and you failed because the kidnapper reacted before you swung to strike.

You were very painfully punished, left lying on the damp floor in a terrible state, all in tears and without an evening meal.

It's been four terrible days in your life. All because you fiddled with your bracelet too much, which turned out to be thrown away quite far from the place where you were, forcing Leon to go on a false trail.

You felt terrible. It didn't take long to break you. You no longer hoped to see daylight or your loved ones, so you crawled into the farthest corner curled up in a ball and cried.

Having lost track of time due to another fit of hysteria, you did not want to pay attention to the opening door and hurried steps in your direction.

Preferring not to pay attention to your enemy, you became even more hysterical when he tried to turn you around to face him, affectionately calling you "angel".

That's what infuriated you. But when you opened your eyes in another attempt to attack, you froze in disbelief at your own eyes. Have you already gone crazy in this place? So fast, or was Leon really in front of you?

His light blue eyes were dark. Not as bright as usual, but maybe it's because of the lighting… Strong hands carefully examined your body for the number of bruises.

You looked away in the direction of the open door - your freedom, but you felt Leon's fingers gently tracing over your split lips.

You've never seen such quiet hatred before. You were shivering from the cold, feeling that tears were still flowing down your cheeks, and tried to snuggle up to Leon in search of protection and warmth.

But Leon himself pressed you to him, slightly lifting up his T-shirt, checking for underwear. You flinched, and then you heard a single question when you grabbed his back with both hands, pressing your head against his chest.

"That son of a bitch…" - Leon gritted his teeth, still looking at your stolen things on the floor. - "I'll kill him"

The fuse clicked.

Leon took off his jacket, putting it on you (with great difficulty, because you did not want to interrupt close contact with him), and then easily picked up in his arms, like a small child, carrying out of this basement. You closed your eyes just to not see anything else. Leon's scent worked better than any strong sedative, and you wanted him not to let you go anymore.

So small. Defenseless. Bruised all over. He will kiss you on the temple, looking at the sprawled bastard with such a look that it will be clear how it will end. Leon will hand you over to Claire, despite your growing hysteria over the loss of hugs, and do what he has planned.

It's going to be pretty bloody. He expressed some regret about Patricio, but Leon will never forgive someone who hurt you, leaving a scar on your soul. So he'll empty the whole clip on him.

Because of this, he will have some problems, but you are the priority. You will undergo a full examination at the hospital, where Leon will be reassured (partially) that your violence ended with beatings. In general, there are no physical injuries, but both Leon and Claire understand what condition you will be in.

He will take care of you. Try to do everything so that you don't remember that four-day nightmare. He will find a good therapist, but if your brain decided to erase these memories on its own, a kind of protective reaction to stress, then it will even calm him down.

Leon understands the reason for your detached behavior. He is glad that you are not afraid to let him near you, thereby subconsciously making him your shield. he's ready to be one before you start trusting people again.

No one heard it, but Leon was really crying quietly when it was over. You were sleeping after taking a sedative dose, and he was sitting in the bathtub thinking only that he could not save you faster.

He won't touch you once again for fear of triggering some kind of trigger, but in your head it is Leon the hero savior. Therefore, if you are looking for protection in him, then it's even good, because this is how he hopes to redeem himself before you.

In the end, you are faced with dissociative amnesia. You realize that something terrible has happened, but you have a lapse in memory. Leon will be the one who will start distracting you from your memories by persuading you not to remember. He really considers it a gift of fate and will go out of his way so that you don't touch this moment of life at all, leaving him behind a black curtain.

And yet one day he burst into tears clutching to his chest. While you sleep next to him feeling completely safe, Leon will need to hug you tightly and come up with better ways to protect you. He feels guilty that he did not save you and this feeling of guilt will gnaw at him for a long time.

"I'm sorry… sweetheart, I'm so sorry… - what you hear in your sleep. - "Never again…no one will hurt you. Never."You don't remember a damn thing, but you're scared because Leon is crying kissing the top of your head.

He won't let anyone else take you away.

#leon scott kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x you #leon x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon scott kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil x reader #resident evil #re #reader #resident evil headcanons #leon kennedy headcanons #headcanon #yandere resident evil

1K notes · View notes

klausysworld · 9 months

Note

Okayyy so i just had a idea and since you are amazinggggg with tvdu fan fiction, thought I might a request😅

Basically, yn is a wolf but for some reason or another, her puppy sized wolf is out of control and so whenever she gets emotional, she slowly starts transforming, like first she will get the ears and like the shift is slow but not painful anymore since it has been happening a lot and she just gets a headache.

Elena's gang except for Tyler and bonnie dislike her and Caroline doesn't have much of an opinion. She is usually a happy person since she is homeschooled so doesn't have to deal with any bullies or anything.

Klaus finds her with teary eyes and her wolf puppy ears out as she tries to stop herself from full on crying.

Klaus takes her in and cares for her and helps her control her wolf side so that her emotions don't control them. At this point, she loves her wolf form so much that Klaus has to scold her and treat her kinda like am actual naughty puppy and he even has a hard time keeping her in human form because she has learned that she can run off in her wolf form and not have to study

-✨

Tamed and trained

Y/n’s parents had always been worried about her. She wasn’t exactly normal, being a werewolf anyways was hard enough let alone a completely out of control one. They assumed there must have been some sort of mutation in the gene system or something similar which caused her to turn at any time, like how only few vampires were rippers and few witches were siphoners.

They had been to the Bennett’s who told them that this had only happened a very rare few times since the first werewolf was created and that she would learn control as she grew.

Of course their first fear was she would be picked on, misunderstood and seen as a monster, so they kept her inside. And then they worried that her werewolf anger would be 10x worse as instead of having emotions heightened on a full moon, hers are 24/7. But it turned out she showed nearly every emotion but anger. But the tears were the worst. As soon as they started falling they knew they needed to hide her asap. The ears would sprout from her head, then the tail and claws, the nose and paws, until she were howling her sorrows for the world to hear.

And gosh did she cry when she was little, always in a puddle of pity and fear of her own shadow.

He parents had pretty much given up with trying to control her. Just locking her in the house and telling her to be quiet while they went out and tried to live like normal people, pretend they didn’t have a daughter that the council would kill to obtain.

When Bonnie grew up they tried to convince her to spell Y/n but Bonnie refused when she saw the fluffy ears a big sad eyes looking back at her.

They tried to have Tyler help her when he broke his curse but he wasn’t sure what to do either other than bond over the experience of being in wolf form.

So she continued to hide inside, only getting out when her parents had gone away, most likely to get drunk and forget their worries.

She knew she was an inconvenience for them but the harder she tried to control herself, the worse it made her feel and then she ended up turning again. She didn’t know how to fix the cycle she was trapped within.

But on that day, her parents had gotten a little too angry at her. Called her a freak and a mistake causing her to run as far as she could on her human legs, praying to god that she wouldn’t turn halfway through a step.

She huddled up to the big willow tree besides the Mystic Park and kept their until dark. Her sniffles were the only sound heard as she wiped her eyes and cheeks.

Her knees dragged to her chest and she rest her chin on top of them as she kept her cries to a minimum, hiccuping as she tried to fully stop.

It was the sound that drew Klaus Mikaelson toward the park that night. His eyes squinted as he spotted a girl in the distance, two large and fluffed ears on her head which twitched very few seconds. His curiosity was peaked and so he approached the source of such sad sounds and crouched before her. His hand slowly touched her knee making her jolt and look up at him alarmed. Immediately smacking the top of her head to make her ears go away making him frown and grab onto her hands

“It’s alright love” he mumbled as she shook her head and tried to squirm out of his hold. He sighed and resorted to picking her up which made her cry again and him to panic. “No no no” he whispered, covering her mouth with his hand and his eyes widening when a tail curled up between her legs and little claws scratched at his arms. “Oh bloody hell” he muttered before speeding her to his home and getting her on the floor just as she turned entirely.

His brows shot up seeing her so small, running around like a lunatic and barking continuously. He blinked in surprise and slowly shut the front door, locking it and walking around the smashed vase and torn painting as she chewed at his brand new sofa cushions with her tail wagging so wildly that her whole body shook.

He made a gradual approach but the second she was in reach, she had darted up the stairs making him sigh and chase her through the house for the next 20 minutes. Having a little too much fun for an almighty hybrid as he tackled a small wolf to his kitchen floor and kept her firmly to his chest until eventually she turned back.

Asleep and completely naked against him. He cautiously lifted her up and brought her to his bed, not wanting her to run off while he slept.

He slipped his boxers up her legs and henley over her head, not without peeking at her lovely little body of course, and quickly stripping to his boxers before tugging the covers over the both and watching her from the other side of the bed. He kept an eye on her for as long as he stayed awake, until the steady beating of her heart sent him to sleep.

When he woke he was entirely on top of her, her big eyes looking up at him as he lifted his head to find her squished beneath him and shoving helplessly at his chest.

He kept quiet and in response so did she, swallowing thickly as she watched him observe her. She didn’t comment as his eyes lingered on her nipples that stood out against the soft material on his top, nor the way his tongue wetted his lips when he studied her legs.

“Do you do that a lot?” He asked just above a whisper when his eyes came back to hers and she nodded with a blush of embarrassment coating her cheeks.

“I don’t mean to” she uttered and he tilted his head ever so slightly

“I wouldn’t have thought you did” he murmured and she kept silent. He thought to himself for a moment before making an unklauslike decision “I think I’ll keep you love” he told her and she opened her mouth to speak but he was already talking again “no arguing, I’ll teach you to control yourself and we’ll see what happens from there okay?”

“But my mother and- and school! I learn at home, I can’t-“

“Do you know who I am love?” He cut her off and she turned her head

“Klaus?” She questioned, having heard of him before when her parents were researching, the mention of him from Tyler and the smell of both vampire and werewolf which twisted together when she lay under him.

“That’s right little wolf, Klaus, now I’ve been alive a very long time, I can teach you much better than any mother could. And besides, your mother would’ve found you before I had if she were worried” he waved it off and she frowned

“She will be…” she whispered and he watched in amazement again as the ears formed at her head. His hand automatically reached out to feel the soft fur against his skin making her lean into him. He could feel the smirk pulling at his face as he calmed her back down

“Oh you’re right love,” he began, seeing her brighten up a little bit in curiosity, “she will puppy, so how about I’ll handle it okay? She’ll let you come here, you want me to help you don’t you?” He manipulated and she immediately fell into it, nodding and laying still under him. Klaus couldn’t help but admire how she looked beneath him, her big round eyes and wolf ears still on display. If emotion was what brought this out in her, he could only imagine how she would howl if he treated her the way he desired.

But he would wait, he needed to get her under control at least a little so that she didn’t destroy his house and hurt herself in the meantime. He didn’t believe she would be able to hurt someone else, especially not purposely but he saw how she basically ran into walls without a care and worried for her own sake.

He snapped out of his thoughts at the whine she produced, confused on his face before he realised his knee was inbetween both her legs and she had almost definitely never been touched like that. One because of her little wolf issue, and two because she clearly had a lack of time outside her home just based off how afraid she was outside and then looking in wonder at simple objects in his home. Not that it was an issue for him, the more unaware she was in general, the better. She would be easier to tame if he could train a fresh mind.

And she was just that, a breathe of fresh air.

Simple and appreciative. No matter how small a thing he did for her, she was smiling brightly with her tail wagging and ears up. Whether it be a new bookmark or a diamond bracelet.

He remembers when he told her she could decorate her own room, he had never seen someone get so excited so fast. The room looked completely out of place, the rest of the mansion was relatively dark and gloomy but her space was bright but soft, calming in a way instead of tense.

He loved how she was like that, calming. Whenever he was having an awful day, there she was in his lap, ears up and a book in her hands that he had ‘assigned’ her to read for her ‘schoolwork’. She seemed to have at least her ears out all the time, especially when he touched her, just a hand on her leg would have her tail wagging and he couldn’t find it in himself to make her stop.

But he found that if he did tell her to put them away, it was the only way she would do so.

He had found her in tears over two star crossed lovers in a book she had gotten from her personal library, a gift from him of course, and watched as she struggled to calm herself down. But the second he used a commanding tone on her to put the canine features away, they were gone and she was whimpering quite literally like a puppy being told off.

He found that he had more control over her wolf than she did. And he loved it, she was his good girl, his little puppy to play with and look after.

She kept his bed warm when he was gone and made his heart swell when he was there.

He loved seeing her so freely running around in her wolf form, finally able to control where she was going and what she was thinking as she chased the birds and and spun around to get his attention. Only issue was when she gained more control, he seemed to lose some. And she was quick to tease him, running circles around him and nipping at his ankles when he was busy, having him chase after her because she had taken his phone or worse: the white oak stake. Of course she didn’t understand the importance but to her it was a game and she wanted him to play too.

He understood her mindset of course and she was completely entertaining for him but it was a pain to have to hunt her down every time he needed her to practice her school work.

He would always remember the first time he turned to chase her down. The surprise in her eyes when she skidded to a halt and looked up at him. He must’ve been nearly 10 times bigger than her and although she should probably have been terrified, she yipped happily and darted for the tree line. He shook his head before following after the flash of grey and brown that weaves through the woods, ultimately pinning her down and bringing her home before claiming his prize for winning the game.

The prizes varied greatly, sometimes he got a kiss on the cheek from her, sometimes he would get to sink his teeth into her sweet skin, sometimes he would just lay with her, y/n on the other hand got very different prizes, on the rare occasion that she won he found himself wearing a face mask and cucumber on his eyes as she giggled and held his hand.

Whatever she did, whether she were human or a little wolf, he kept her happy and hidden from the rest of the world but this time she didn’t feel like a disappointment, she felt adored.

675 notes · View notes

shuttershocky · 6 months

Note

how do you feel about iori/saber so far by the way, whether as a ship or just their dynamic in general

I really like their dynamic!

While Iori and Saber themselves are full of callbacks to the original Shirou and Saber, their relationship dynamic is something that's all their own.

Usually a servant like FSR Saber would have belonged to a more emotional master. Saber starts the game out as an arrogant, destructive force and a bit of a bully, constantly going "Good grief my master's so weak! How did I get such a weak master when I can solo this whole thing? I should just kill everybody that gets in my way."

Rather than get upset or insecure however, Iori's humility and martial discipline ends up making a wall for Saber's arrogance to repeatedly bounce off of. When told he's weak, he goes "You are right. I don't fight because I'm strong, but because I should." When Saber talks down to him saying his presence doesn't change the outcome of a fight whatsoever, he just goes "I know. I'm doing the best I can."

This doesn't just eventually warm Saber up to him, but it also ends up creating the soul of their dynamic for the rest of the game. Saber's powerful, impulsive, and free in all their aspects, while Iori is measured, disciplined, and tied down (he's poor, he's an orphan, he's a warrior in an age of peace). This leads to fun gags like Saber having that classic Saber gluttony which wreaks havoc on Iori as a poor ronin living hand to mouth every day, but where this really shines is in how it makes its own twist in the original dynamic of Shirou and Saber.

Underneath Shirou and Saber's relationship was the recognition of themselves in the other. Both were willing to give up their entire lives for the greater good without once thinking of themselves, and seeing it in the other person horrified them because that was someone they cared about, while making a special exception for their own self-sacrifice.

In Samurai Remnant, Saber wonders how could such a weak human have summoned a servant as powerful as them, but the answer slowly becomes obvious as their relationship grows. Hiding underneath Saber's smug nature is a legend known for brutally killing anything and everything that stood in their way, whether that be armies, kings, monsters, or even gods. Why? What could compel a human to put a god to the sword just because they were ordered to? How broken and terrible inside must you be to see an aspect of divine power and feel no fear, only the desire to fight and to kill something that should be untouchable by a human?

The most delicious part of Iori and Saber's developing relationship is Saber slowly realizing that the bravery in Iori's eyes when he (literally) locks blades with a Servant is not bravery, but something much more familiar.

It should also be said that FSR Saber is one of the extremely few servants (if not the first even) to cry about the thought of leaving their Master after the ritual has ended.

Bittersweet goodbyes have been a mainstay of the series since Fate/Stay Night, but FSR is the first time in my memory that we see a Servant look back at the short, second life they've been given and actually break into tears about not wanting to go.

Going back to the throne of heroes would mean returning to legend. They'd be the bloodstained killer and godslayer. Unparalleled, feared, revered, and alone. Meanwhile in this incarnation, they run around doing odd jobs every day to afford rice, assumed by the neighbors to be the new fiance of the poor ronin that lives in a shack, destined to be forgotten by history like everyone around them living humble and ordinary lives. And now that they've tasted it, they don't want to go back. They've fallen in love with this life, and have to live out the rest of the Waxing Moon Ritual knowing they don't have a choice about going back.

It's soooooo good. Such a perfect capture of that vintage Type-Moon feeling, I'd almost forgotten this wasn't even written by TM themselves but by the Fire Emblem Three Houses team.

#FSR spoilers #Fate Samurai Remnant

285 notes · View notes

theeoriginals · 5 months

Note

klaus or elijah (your choice) x former flame!reader 👀

all i want | elijah mikaelson

+ Ohhh I loved your cat and mouse one! Could you please make a calm housewife/mom of the friend group type of girl and Elijah falling for her in a kind of best friend to lovers situation? Idk I just think it would fit cause elijah’s very family oriented and I see him falling for a dear old time friend too? Idk so uhm yeah. Feel free to refuse ofc!

elijah mikaelson x vampire!reader (no y/n)

author's notes; combining these requests :) hope that's ok!!

warnings; vague references to past violence but nothing insane. exes to friends to lovers, just plotless fluff, with an extra side of fluff. yes elijah is extremely charming, yes he can't make eye contact with a pretty girl. duality of man.

It’s an unspoken thing, what lingers between them still. Unspoken in the sense that they don’t talk about it, but everyone else does.

It always shocks people to learn that the oldest vampires on Earth are ridiculous, catty gossips. Elijah doesn’t know why it’s such a surprise. Living as long as they all have, you’ve got to keep things interesting, otherwise immortality becomes mind-numbing. He supposes that it just doesn’t measure up to their reputation for being ruthless animals, which isn’t unfounded. It’s just not the only thing they could be classified as.

Ruthless monsters that defend each other to the death at the end of the day, no matter how many times they’ve stabbed each other in the backs, certainly. Childish gossips that like to start rumors and rewrite history when they get a little bored, definitely. The two identifiers can coexist, and very much do.

And this thing, this unspoken thing that is unspoken for a multitude of reasons but none more so than the simple fact that even as long as they’ve known each other it’s still fragile, and something could break it with ease, is only unspoken to Elijah.

His brothers and sisters, however, like to do nothing but talk about it.

“Well, she’s almost here,” Rebekah rolls her eyes, but it’s just for the fact that her older brother is going to be a lovesick idiot the entire time the girl is here, and it really takes away from Rebekah’s own quality time with her. “No wonder Elijah’s been bumbling around like a fool all day.”

Klaus chuckles, and the two of them dutifully ignore the glare their brother sends them. “Do you think she sent him a letter to announce her arrival? Elijah always loves things like that,”

Rebekah’s blue eyes light up. “Oh, yes! I wonder if she sprayed it with her perfume– us ladies used to do that with a suitor back in the day,” She fans a hand towards her face, closing her eyes at the small breeze it creates. “They don’t text or call, of course, it takes all of the personality out of it. And god knows Elijah’s all personality,”

Klaus laughs again, and the two finally glance across the room to where Elijah’s leaning against a wall, glaring at them with his arms crossed over his chest.

“I hate you both,” He says, earning another round of laughter from them. “And stop going through my things, Rebekah. Those letters are none of your business.”

The blonde girl pushes her lips out in a pout. “But I get so bored, Elijah. You can’t be mad at me for entertaining myself,”

“I fear he just hates fun, dear sister,” Klaus says, feigning a wistful tone. “He doesn’t approve of my methods of entertainment either.”

“That’s because your methods of entertainment always end in a bloodbath,” Elijah says accusingly, earning a shrug from the hybrid. “You’re both immature. A thousand years old, still acting like children.”

Their faces twist in offense in unison, and Elijah distantly thinks that even though they’re not even fully related, let alone the same age even in their vampiric years, they were twins put on this Earth to terrorize him and ensure that he never knew peace.

Before they can begin their outcries of dramatized offense, and Elijah can continue to lightheartedly mock them, a voice comes from the hall, echoing fondly.

“Must you two always tease your brother?” The smile is obvious in her voice as she walks into the room, and the three of them snap their gazes towards the woman in surprise. “He’s a delicate soul, you know. His poor heart can’t handle too many jokes,”

Elijah recovers quickly, rolling his eyes, though he can’t (and won’t) stop the smile from growing on his face as she meets Rebekah for a hug. “Oh, wonderful. That’s just what they need. Encouragement.”

She chuckles at his poorly-feigned exasperation, and the sound settles in his ears like a morning dove’s song. She releases Rebekah from the hug and leans down to where Klaus is stretched out in a chair with his feet kicked up on the table, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

Glancing around at the vaulted ceilings of the compound, she sighs wistfully. “I can’t believe this place looks the same as when you bought it,” She shakes her head in slight disbelief.

Klaus shrugs, crossing his arms over his chest. “When we first returned, there was some… cleaning up to do, but it’s maintained its shape wonderfully.”

If she catches onto his double entendre, she doesn’t say anything, just nods in understanding. That’s something Elijah has always liked about her– she lets things go unsaid. She’s always had the ability to connect with him and his siblings in a way that most others can’t, and even when Elijah is at his worst, she’s been that olive branch that he can grab onto to bring him back to himself. Always so understanding and level. It’s a wonder that she still associates with any of them, given their penchant for chaos.

Finally, she turns her attention onto him, and in its entirety he feels breathless. Even after decades of knowing one another, it’s never gotten easier to hide his ardor for her. He knows she can still read him as easily as she could thirty years ago, too.

“Elijah,” She says his name better than he’s ever heard it, with a tilt to her head and a fondness in her voice that makes him feel more alive than anything else he’s found in his centuries on this planet.

She crosses the room to where he’s at, because he froze in his spot as soon as he heard her voice, and wraps her arms around him like she’s never been more relieved to see him.

It’s another thing he’s always liked about her. She’s never stopped loving him. He knows that. Lives with it everyday.

Regrets a lot of things, too.

He says her name back as gently as he can, like she’ll break in his arms. He wonders if she thinks of all the times she has broken in his arms, and then he tells himself there’s no way she’s forgotten it, because he hasn’t. And that is something that is theirs and theirs alone.

She pulls away and he misses her touch the moment she goes because it feels rarer and rarer with each day that passes. Every time she leaves, he fears it’s the last time he’ll see her.

He doesn’t want to ruin her visit with these thoughts. Even though he knows she’d offer him endless comfort, he doesn’t want her to worry about him for a second.

She turns to face them, clapping her hands together with a smile. “Well, then. What’s first on the agenda?”

──────

Something that comes with living as long as Elijah has is learning that some things about yourself you’ll just never be able to change. Such things like being a vampire in itself, having a firm hand when it comes to doing business with people. He’s been told he’s somewhat of a snake, and he’s well aware of his silver tongued ways, and it’s something he knows he can’t change, and hasn’t ever wanted to.

One thing that has yet to fall under that category of acceptance is his jealousy.

In his defense, he’s never jealous when he thinks he should be. He’s never been jealous of his siblings, spare for a few embarrassing months spent around the doppelgängers, but Elijah has never had to envy someone for something they had because if he wanted it that bad, he could just take it.

But this. This he knows is jealousy, pure and unbridled, and nauseating, if he’s feeling that correctly.

This is the jealousy that he’s seen destroy entire regimes. This is the jealousy that has driven his family to madness at times.

And of course, she’s at the center of it all. Of course she is. There would be no other way he could feel this so strongly if she was not involved in it somehow.

She’s the source of a lot of jealousy, he knows. He’s jealous of the carefree relationships his siblings get to have with her because they don’t have to be burdened with the feelings of the past that are most definitely still there. They don’t have to worry if they looked at her lips for too long, or if they held her a little too gentle to be considered entirely friendly. They don’t have to worry about saying the wrong thing, stepping past that line they so carefully drew in the sand for everyone’s sake.

These are the consequences of his actions, he knows. It doesn’t make it any easier to deal with, though. It might make it worse.

Watching his siblings drink freely as the band played on was nothing unfamiliar. Patrons had long since joined in on the fun, and he’s sure there’s a crowd outside looking in on the celebration of unknown origins.

At the center of it all, she is there, standing on a table with a crowd of adoring admirers surrounding her as she swayed and moved to the music. He would swear there’s a light shining on her, just for her, projecting her shadow above everyone like some sort of angel. He thinks she has every right to be worshiped.

And the reason he’s so maddeningly, bitingly jealous is because he is the reason that he’s not the one dancing with her. He can’t be the one to dance with her, and he can’t be the one that makes her laugh like she is because he’s the one that said they shouldn’t be together. He is the one who broke her heart, and he doesn’t deserve an ounce of the kindness she still shows.

So all he can do is sip his drink at the bar and watch as she pulls his sister, sweet, dangerous, devastatingly insecure Rebekah, up onto the table with her and shares her spotlight with her. Making his sister light up like she does with no one else. Earning another round of cheers from Klaus and Kol as they watch on, demanding another round of drinks for everyone in an odd show of generosity.

She brings out the best in his siblings. In him.

It makes him burn bright inside. Boiling, hot to the touch. He knows then and there that there’s a reason he’s seen something as trivial as jealousy take down the most powerful of men. Love is such a dangerous thing to get involved in in the first place, but finding someone, finding the woman who makes you feel like you could conquer the world is something else entirely. It bypasses dangerous and heads straight into fatal.

Because she makes you feel like you could conquer the whole world, but the second you lose her, it all means nothing. You’ll tear it all down if it means she won’t be there, too.

And the worst part of it all is the only reason he feels like this is because he is the one that ruined it. Blamed his family, blamed his parents, blamed everything else but his own fears for the reason they couldn’t be together. The distance, the timing. Whatever he could grasp, he pulled it out of his pocket and gave it to her on a silver platter, served with a distant coldness he’d long since perfect, and never wanted to use on her in the first place.

He had so much time under his belt, but he was such a child. So helpless it bordered on criminal, all because he fell in love and he didn’t know what to do with it.

It’s embarrassing more than anything else.

He hasn’t taken his eyes off of her since she started dancing. Hadn’t stopped listening since he heard her first laugh. Didn’t want to miss a single second, just in case.

For the first time all night, he blinked and turned his head away from her and threw the rest of his drink back like it was water.

He could allow himself a bit more wallowing. Just a bit.

──────

“Well, Rebekah’s safe in bed. I even got her in pajamas, believe it or not,” Her voice carries even in its whisper, and he looks up from his lap as she enters the small living space, hands clasped in front of her as she takes a seat in the chair beside him. “Original vampire or not, I doubt she’ll feel very good in the morning.”

Elijah hummed, thinking of his dear sister and how even if she’d healed a thousand times over, she’d still find a way to complain. He adored it.

“What about you?”

He raises a brow, lips twisting confusedly. “What about me?”

She gestures towards his slightly slumped form on the couch pointedly. He follows her direction, looking at his rumpled suit, and the white button up he’d undone the top four buttons off, at least. He feels momentarily embarrassed at his state of disarray but he simply huffs out a laugh, lifting his gaze to meet hers again.

“I’m a mess,” He shrugs, earning a quiet laugh out of her. “But I don’t think that has anything to do with our drinking tonight.”

“I can’t disagree, unfortunately,”

He hides the way his grin threatens to split his face behind his face, rubbing along his scruffy jawline as he looks at her. The longer he lingers, the more she avoids his gaze.

“What?”

He shakes his head.

“Elijah,” She intones, such a familiar adoration in her voice that it nearly makes him sick. He doesn’t deserve it. “You’ve been so quiet tonight. What’s on your mind?”

“You,”

Her eyes widen in shock at his quick, candid answer, and he has to hide his own surprise at how quick the word had shot out of his mouth.

“Me? What about me?”

“Everything,” He sighs, shifting his long legs so he could turn towards her and give her his full attention. “I’ve missed you.”

“Oh,” She breathes out, looking slightly bashful. “Well, I always miss you. I wouldn’t ever leave if I didn’t–”

She stops herself, covering her mouth with her hand as a sheepish look crosses her face. He knows she wants him to move past her slip up, but he doesn’t. Can’t.

“If you didn’t, what?” He leans forward, looking at her imploringly. “Why do you stay away so long?”

She takes a moment to collect herself, picking at the skin around her nails half-heartedly, like it’s not really bothering her, she just doesn’t want to be so open right now. He’d feel worse about pushing her if he didn’t feel like his heart was leaping out of his throat.

“Well, I didn’t think you wanted me around that much,” She says quietly, gesturing towards him.

He rears back like she’s slapped him.

“How could you ever think such a thing?” He whispers her name, a distant veil of horror laced in his tone. Fear, really.

“You said,” She says, face furrowing in confusion. “All those years ago– you said that there was no reason for me to stay here with you in New Orleans. So, I– I left. And I travel all the time until I come back here for as long as you’ll let me.”

Elijah feels something gripping his chest and it feels remarkably like his heart is breaking.

His voice breaks on her name and he leans forward again, reaching into her space to grab her hands in his. Allowing himself this piece of her that he simply doesn’t deserve.

“I never,” He stops, breathing out harshly. “I never wanted you to leave. I just–”

He stops again, squeezes her hands, and then steels himself because this is the least he owes her.

“You deserved more than to be stuck here with my family,” He starts slowly. “I never– I never wanted you to leave. Every time you walk out of those doors, I want to chase you down and make you stay. You have to believe me when I say that I only ever wanted you to be happy, and you wouldn’t have found that stuck here in the mess we had made back then.”

There’s a poignant silence that settles as she processes his words, and he holds the ragged breath that builds in his chest when she begins to drag her thumbs along the backs of his hands, smoothing at the skin there. Ever so gentle.

“All I’ve ever wanted was to be here with you and your family,” She says, shaking her head like she’s scolding him, even though her tone is anything but. “Being here makes me happier than any place I’ve traveled to. And I’m– I’m truly grateful that you had my best interest in mind, Elijah, but you have to understand,”

She trails off and an incredulous laugh leaves her lips as she smiles at him. “I’ve loved you my entire life. And my heart used to break every day knowing that I’d only have a short time with you. When I turned, I was so– I was so happy because I suddenly had the rest of time to be with you. And you… you broke my heart, Elijah. You truly did,”

She presses her thumbs into his skin firmly, just a pressure point to punctuate her words. “But I have never stopped loving you. And every time I walked out of those doors and left you behind, my heart broke again. You wouldn’t have ever had to make me stay. That’s all I’ve ever wanted to do.”

Elijah’s breath stalls in his chest, and lets it out slowly, shakily. There’s a distant string of hope he lets himself pull on, just this once. Because she let him.

He meets her gaze and smiles softly, just for her. “Will you stay, then? I’m– I’m asking you, truly. Will you stay?”

She nods before he even finishes speaking and laughs quietly, the sound just for him. “Of course I will, Elijah. I’ll stay as long as you want me to,”

“Forever,”

“Forever, then. I’ll stay forever.”

#elijah mikaelson #klaus mikaelson #rebekah mikaelson #the vampire diaries #the vampire diaries fanfiction #kol mikaelson #the originals #fic recs #elijah mikaelson x reader #elijah mikaelson fanfiction #elijah mikaelson imagine #elijah mikaelson fluff #the originals fanfiction

219 notes · View notes

angel-of-the-moons · 1 month

Text

Ligyrophobia

Moon Boys (Jake focused) x Mama!Reader (Feat. Khonshu and Victoria!)

TW/CW: fluff!

A/N: This just popped into my head because i suffer from this as well and God damn it I needed fluffy Khonshu

Note: This ties into my mini-miniseries, "Small Surprises". Just a drabble on Khonshu's tough bitchy exterior chipping away because Victoria is adorable and he's secretly a big ass softie

🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑

It was a dreary day. Another storm sweeping over London, blotting out the sun's rays behind the angry dark clouds.

You and Jake had run out to gather things to make for dinner, and Victoria didn't want to venture out with you. She had a bit of a fever and a sniffle, and you were hesitant to leave her behind.

You and Jake were flabbergasted when Khonshu had offered to babysit her.

Jake was hesitant to leave your precious child alone with him, but... even he had to concede the point when you told him that as a protector of the innocent, he would never hurt Victoria.

He had sneaking suspicions that something else was going on with you in particular, as even Steven was far more protective of you than usual.

But... here he is now, with your sickly daughter who sniffled and rubbed at her eye as she huddled beneath her desk, her plush scarab clutched against her chest as though it could ward off the booming thunder from outside.

The power had blinked out, so the flat was dark, only the dim light from outside provided any illumination, which seemed to frighten the child more.

He kneeled down, peering at her.

"You can come out. It's only thunder." He said, trying to keep his tone gentle and quiet. She was a child after all, and it was natural for children to fear things outside of their control, and things they did not yet understand. Especially children like Victoria (and Steven).

Victoria shook her head and cried softly, burying her face in the stuffed toy, her feet curling and rubbing together again, and again as she rocked back and forth, noises bubbling up beneath her tiny sobs.

"Little one--" Khonshu's voice was cut off when a loud crack of thunder shook the flat.

He looked towards the window to see the heavy rain pelting the glass with loud patters, the wind shaking the glass.

This was a bad one, he couldn't help but wonder what triggered this.

His head snapped back to look at Victoria when she hiccuped and began wailing, rocking back and forth, her breathing so quick and ragged he was afraid she would faint.

Her face messed and streaked with... ugh.

But... he couldn't deny something inside of him tugged at the sight of her so tiny and helpless, afraid of what her little psyche could possibly label as some sort of monster outside her home.

Khonshu sighed and reached down, his voice low and soft.

"Come here, little one." He says gently, his large hands curling around her tiny body and pulling her out from her hiding place.

He wasn't surprised when she squirmed and cried, trying to get free to go back to her "safe place". He let her flail, to fight him, until he sat back, cross-legged and cradled her against his body.

She sniffled, her breathing broken up by little sobs as she finally relented, body tense as Khonshu held her, his robes flowing around the two of them, creating a buffer between Victoria and the storm outside.

She snuggled against him instinctively, drawn in by the warmth he exuded, but still made little noises and groans as the thunder roared outside.

Khonshu cradled her back with his hand and pressed her a little tighter against his chest, feeling her rub her cheek on his robes and bandages in a manner similar to how she would stroke her cheek on you or one of your lovers.

"Hush." He murmurs softly, petting her curly hair in an effort to calm her. "You are safe."

She didn't respond. She didn't usually talk when she was having a meltdown, often only rocked and made odd sounds in an attempt to work off her frightened or nervous energy; and it was difficult to break through to her mentally when she was like this.

Khonshu sighed.

And then... began humming.

It was a small melody, but one he remembered well. Hathor would often pluck her harp and sing it to him before he was sent into exile. He remembered being present during the feasts and festivals in her honor, her followers often sang the same song and performed it in the streets.

His deep, vibrating voice seemed to soothe her, little bit little, judging by how she relaxed against him, the tension in her body loosening as he gently rocked her, humming the heavenly song to her.

While this moment was happening, however, he didn't notice the monitor in the corner, the little red light blinking.

He did not know that it automatically switched to battery mode when the cord was disconnected or the power was switched off.

🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑

Jake squinted at the bottles of vitamins, trying to figure out why one bottle was more expensive than the other when their ingredients were the same.

"Ay, paying for brands is so fucking stupid." He growled, ignoring the weary looks from people as he cursed in Spanish.

He plucked a bottle of the shelves and held it up, clearing his throat so the pregnant young lady next to him would look.

"I don't mean to be rude or anything...." He said awkwardly. "But which bottle of these is better? Would you say?"

The young woman seemed a little nervous at first, until she spotted the bottle on question, and realized he was looking at the same shelf of vitamins she was.

Her left hand rubbed her belly as she shyly took the bottle from his fingers, turning it over, and looking at the facts on the back of the bottle.

"Oh! For these, you can just get generic. They have the same stuff and are cheaper." She chirps.

Jake sighs with relief as he replaced the bottle with the recommended one. "Sí, that is exactly what I was saying."

"You're.... shopping for someone?" She asked.

"Ah... Yeah." He laughed a little stiffly, dropping the bottle in the basket he clenched in his fist.

"My fiancé."

"Aw... how far along is she? Er--I mean, I don't mean to assume, I was taking prenatals before I got pregnant just for the health benefits, uh..." She floundered.

Jake flashed her a charming grin, his beard creasing around his plush lips. "She's due sometime in the summer. Only found out a week or two ago."

"Oh! Congratulations!" She smiled, relaxing a bit.

"Gracias," Jake chuckled. "Our little girl is going to be excited--we hope--when we tell her."

"Aww... I hope everything works out for you guys." She giggled, grabbing a bottle of vitamin gummies for herself as well. "Well, maybe see you around!" She chirped once more before cutely waddling away.

Jake grinned again, he couldn't wait to see you waddle like that. Like a cute little penguin.

"Jake! Jake!" You panted, apparently having run with the shopping trolley just to find him. The panicked edge in your tone had him immediately on alert.

"What's wrong? What is it?" He asked, dropping his basket in the trolley to hold your arms in his palms.

"The power's out at home." You heaved, holding up your phone.

He felt the hair stand up on the back of his neck. Did something happen? Was Victoria all right? Did Khonshu do something--

"You have to see this." You say, interrupting his thoughts as you swiped your password in, opening the app to the baby monitor. You weren't out of range just yet, as the shop was relatively nearby, and you'd purposefully purchased that expensive monitor because of the large signal range it had.

You turned your phone around, a face-splitting grin on your face as you showed him the most recent clip recorded. The monitor, when you weren't looking at the receiver at your bedside, uploaded clips in five-minute intervals to the app for storage for you to look at later.

Khonshu and Victoria were highlighted plainly in the night vision mode. Victoria was curled up in his lap and Khonshu was... was singing to her. He didn't understand the words he said out loud, assuming it was some ancient language that Steven could only decipher; as his large hands patted her hair and back, rocking and soothing her like one would do for a baby.

"....See? Who was right? Told you she'd be fine with him." You grin slyly, a hand over your ear, awaiting the inevitable.

"Okay, okay, mierda." Jake ran a hand through his curls, shaking his head at you. "You were right. Maybe the old bird is... coming around."

"Victoria has a way of charming everyone." You giggle, looking at the recording with a glimmer in your eyes.

He sighed and wrapped his arms around your waist, his hands resting on your belly, thumbs tracing your soft curves beneath your shirt.

"Yeah, well... I'm willing to bet her sibling will have the same charm."

#moon knight #jake lockley #jake lockley x reader #jake lockley x you #khonshu #khonshu moon knight

103 notes · View notes

namisweatheria · 10 days

Text

I really miss the romance dawn trio where it's Zoro and Nami on either side of Luffy. The monster trio is great and everything but it does make me sad how Sanji took Nami's place. I miss the times when Zoro and Nami would threaten someone simultaneously, weapons drawn in sync. It felt so good in a gender way.

I've only just started thinking about this but I'd love to create things for an AU where Sanji just never gets that strong, and Nami powers up alongside Zoro and Luffy instead. I think it could be good for both Nami and Sanji's characters in different ways.

I think Sanji's whole thing about being made to feel subhuman for not being strong enough could be explored in such an interesting and even more powerful way if he really never got that strong. If he didn't ever have to be the warrior, if just being a cook like he always wanted to be was enough. Of course all the Strawhats contribute to the fights, but if he had more of a supportive role like Chopper that could be so interesting when it comes time to explore his insecurities. Going from 'the standards you were being held to are completely unreasonable and there's nothing wrong with being human' to 'you don't have to be strong at all, it's okay to just be you' could be soooo good. HE WOULD SUFFER SO MUCH MORE. But I think he'd end in an even healthier place. The journey could be so interesting.

AS FOR NAMI!!! She could be more like Zoro, fighting with the words of someone she lost in her mind. Bellemere told her to never lose to anyone, that girls have to strong too. It could be such a good what-if parallel to Kuina. If Kuina had a supportive adult encouraging her that she can be strong too, if her father hadn't been sexist, she could have gone just as far as Zoro does. The proof that her gender never made her inferior fighting right alongside him. God it'd be soooo satisfying and it'd make the message so much stronger. Also, Nami's slow development of becoming braver could be in the forefront. She'd have to fight herself so much harder to constantly be on the front lines. Plus, the comedy of an incredibly powerful person being a scaredycat is too good.

Which of course brings up, what happens to the scaredycat duo? I think the answer is related to what happens to Sanji's advice to Usopp in Water Seven. I think just because AU Sanji isn't strong, that doesn't mean he becomes any more fearful or less likely to put himself in harms way. Instead of the background gag of Nami and Usopp cowering together, it could change to Usopp constantly having to brave the battlefield to drag Sanji back out of it. I think they'd fight a lot, but very differently from Zoro and Sanji's fighting. Usopp gets mad because he doesn't want Sanji to get hurt, and it's hard to be truly hostile to someone with those kind of intentions.

Remember when Usopp reassured Chopper that 'it's okay to run away, just do what you can do'? And some of the others kinda made fun of him, like, 'That's your motto eh Usopp?'. He was telling Chopper what he wanted to hear, but much later we find he didn't really believe it, not when it's for himself. He also told Chopper it's okay when Merry's mast broke under his watch, "because we can replace the mast, but we can't replace you!" I think AU Usopp would be saying this kind of thing to Sanji all the time. They'd be very close. So when Usopp's insecurity gets the better of him in Water Seven, it's a huge betrayal for Sanji specifically. How could he say those things to him if all this time, he didn't really mean them? If it's not true for Usopp, where does that put Sanji?

It could go a lot of other ways too, though. Maybe their close relationship based on not being the strongest and being okay with it together would enable Sanji to talk Usopp down from leaving. Or, bad version, Sanji could take it just as personally as Usopp does, since Usopp is to him what Merry is to Usopp, and they both leave. God, they'd all be so heartbroken. Lots to think about...

As for Nami, I think she'd be a lot closer with Zoro. They'd be bickering all the time, but it would have that trust that Zoro and Luffy have underneath it. That if one of them needs a break, the other is there to pick up the slack. This is already their dynamic in a different way, both acting as secondary leaders, keeping things from getting too out of control. To me the best example of that is Whiskey Peak, when they're the only two who weren't fooled. I think it would help both of them retain their silliness if they were always on equal footing, fighting side-by-side. Some of my favorite East Blue moments are the couple of times they played jokes on the others together, and I think we'd see a lot more of that. When you trust the person next to you to be perfectly in-step with you, it's a lot easier to have fun even in dangerous situations.

I think especially Zoro needs help keeping his goofy side, and for Nami it'll help her get over her fears to have her reliable best friend right there egging her on. I just think they'd have a lot of fun!

Nami & Usopp, Zoro & Sanji, they're both fun dynamics, but I'd love to switch it up. There's just so much possibility to explore...

#my posts #my aus #nami #nami & zoro #sanuso #I mean. yeah. it would be.#plus i miss the poly triad vibes of the romance dawn trio. bring them back to me....

72 notes · View notes

fandomxpreferences · 1 year

Text

Living In A Moment You Would Die For (Part 2 of Dirty Little Secret)

Masterlist

Pairing:Rafe Cameron x pogue!reader

TW:angst, violence, mild abuse (fuck you, Ward), I think thats all

Summary: Rafe hashes it out with Ward, and luckily you show up to save the day.

Word Count:2.2k

A/N:Dark Rafe AND soft Rafe? we love the duality

"Have you lost your fucking mind? Do you have any idea what this is going to do to our image?"

Rafe is standing stoically, an unmoving force as his father's rage whips around him like a hurricane. You both decided it's best for him to address it alone; who knows what Ward would do if you were there.

On any given day, you could find Rafe cowering before his father; no more than the scared child that has always tried to get out as unscathed as possible.

However, it seems Rafe's protective instincts over you are the only thing stronger than his fear, and for the first time, he's confronting his father as a man.

Rafe shrugs casually, his hands slotted in his front pockets, as his mouth turns downwards to express disinterest.

"I don't care."

Rose places her head in her hands, stress consuming her while Ward looks like he's about to explode.

"What do you mean you don't care? Rafe, you're jeopardizing our position as the most powerful family in Outer Banks. You're threatening our life that I busted my ass to build!"

Ward nearly hits him when he has the gall to smile, Rafe's hand coming up to wipe at the corner of his mouth as he turns away.

"Your life and position. Not mine. She is my life and future, not you."

Ward is shaking with anger, and for once the tables are turned as Rafe holds control over the situation. He's been at his father's mercy his entire life, completely powerless and unable to make his own choices.

Now, it's his father that is left floundering, unable to do anything to change the outcome.

"Rafe, so help me God I will-"

At this Rafe whips around and stalks forward, now mere inches from his father as he glowers down at him.

"You'll what? The next words out of your mouth better not even resemble a threat or you'll see just how much of a monster you created, Ward. Isn't so fun when you're the one helpless, is it?"

The darkness that he tries so hard to keep at bay is starting to consume him, overtaking his senses and muddling his decision-making skills. He's dangerous when he's like this, but this time he doesn't fight it.

He lets it take over, his ocean blue irises just a thin rim around his blown-out pupils as he takes ragged breaths. He silently hopes that his father chooses his next words carefully because he's fairly certain if there's even the slightest threat to your safety he'll strangle him.

He knows for a fact he wouldn't feel the slightest bit of remorse.

"Son-"

Rafe cuts him off, the beast that sleeps inside him wide awake and looking for blood.

"Don't call me that!"

His voice booms, so deep it's barely recognizable, and bounces off the walls. Whatever demons lurk under the surface of Ward's practiced composure were passed onto him, and grew tenfold.

He is his father's son, a new and improved lethal force. He inherited Ward's psychotic tendencies, and the patriarch left one thing unaccounted for.

His son was born with a storm brewing inside of him, yet lacked the love and support to calm it. Years of neglect and mounting pressure amplified the damage, feeding the devil that resides deep in his chest until it ripped its way to freedom.

A lifetime of corruption and inadequacy is enough to drive someone mad, and Ward has been living inside a guarded bubble, blissfully ignorant to what his only son is capable of.

It's all crashing down on him now, no longer allowing him the comfort of turning the other cheek.

"I've begged for help for years. You are not going to take away and ruin the one thing that makes me feel like I'm not a waste of space! I pissed away a year with the love of my life because of you. If it's between you and her, fucking trust me when I say that I will choose her."

His voice is unnervingly quiet now, more akin to a growling animal than a human. Ward swallows, desperately trying to appear unbothered. Deep down he knows the only thing more alarming than a screaming Rafe is a quiet Rafe.

"Try all you want, Rafe. I'm not afraid of you."

Rafe laughs, and Ward would be lying if he said it didn't send a shiver up his spine.

"You should be. You painted me as the villain before I even knew what the word meant. Maybe it's time I fill those shoes."

Ward blinks a few times, taken aback at the sincerity in his son's voice.

"I'm your father, Rafe."

The younger Cameron purses his lips and nods, taking a step back.

"Why do you think you're still alive?"

Ward is struck silent; genuinely at a loss for words as Rafe licks his lips and places a bruising hand on his shoulder.

"Here's what's going to happen. You're going to give us your blessing and stay the fuck out of our relationship. You will be nice to her and welcome her to the family because whether you like it or not, she's going to carry the Cameron name one day."

Against his better judgment, Ward scoffs and shoves his son back.

"Or what?"

Rafe doesn't retaliate, instead crossing his arms over his chest and shrugging.

"Or I'll tell Shoupe that you killed Big John."

Ward blanches at the promise and takes a menacing step forward.

"You wouldn't do that. You're still my child, and you wouldn't dare put me behind bars."

Rafe's gaze is unwavering as he stares directly into his father's eyes, and he nods.

"Is that gamble you're willing to make?"

Ward's eyes are nearly black now, bearing a striking resemblance to the man in front of him. Like father like son.

"He wouldn't believe you. No one would."

Normally the statement would cause Rafe to back down; erase any fight he had left in him. He's too far gone now, images of you flashing through his mind. Before he fell in love with you, his family and the promise of inheriting the business were all he had.

Rafe always thought there was nothing more dangerous than a man with nothing to lose. Now he's intimately aware of the truth; there's nothing more dangerous than a man with something to lose.

A man with someone to live for, and to protect. That someone is you.

A man that doesn't fear death will play fast and loose with his life; he'll lie down and accept defeat when backed into a corner because he has no reason to keep going.

But a man that wants to live? He'll do anything to keep breathing; he'll fight until his knuckles are bloody and bruised, until every fiber of his being begs him to succumb, and then he'll fight some more.

"Then I'll tell John B. How do you think he and his friends will react to finding out Ward Cameron murdered his father in cold blood? Personally, I think they'll want an eye for an eye."

Ward's hand flies up to Rafe's throat, an unrelenting grip restricting his airflow. Glass shatters on the hardwood floor when Rafe shoves him back against the table, his father's neatly pressed cashmere button down crushed between his fingers.

He's a split second away from connecting his fist to his father's jaw when everything stops. Your saccharine voice floats to his ears and all the chaos, all the violence that has been clawing at his throat and making his knuckles tingle with the desire to be let out, dissipates.

In an instant, the storm clears and sunshine beams within his soul. The raging wildfire is snuffed out and in its place something even brighter; A love and airy lightness that sets him ablaze in an entirely different way, and fills his lungs with desperately needed oxygen.

"Baby? What are you doing here?"

Rafe releases his punishing grip and turns to face you, his hands that are capable of such devastating destruction and usually stained crimson now aching to pull you close.

Ward's eyebrows pinch together, a look of sheer bewilderment taking over his features as he observes his son's jarring change in demeanor. Rafe's voice is soft as summer rain, a stark contrast to the venom dripping off his tongue just a few seconds ago.

Your eyes flit between him and his father, taking in the situation as the wheels turn in your head. You figure out what's going on almost immediately; your concerned expression turning to one of understanding.

You take a tentative step forward, locking eyes with your boyfriend. He knows that you know; his gaze has been set on you since the moment he registered your presence.

That's one thing Rafe has never fully understood; the way you capture his attention in such an alluring manner that he couldn't look away even if the world was exploding around him.

"You were supposed to meet me twenty minutes ago and you weren't answering your phone. I was worried so I wanted to check on you."

Your voice is calm as you explain, bringing Rafe a comfort only you can provide that he can't quite wrap his head around.

"I'm sorry, angel. I didn't mean to worry you. We were just wrapping up."

You nod slowly, still inching forward until you're close enough for Rafe to inhale your intoxicating scent. You stop just short of him and stare up into his eyes, the unwavering adoration ever present in your gaze.

One of your hands comes up to lay flat on his chest, the other one finding purchase on his cheek; grounding him like an anchor.

It's such a simple action, and yet it brings his nervous system out of fight or flight and into stability. It never fails to amaze him; the way he never knew what home felt like until he found you.

It's as if your very existence wraps him in a warm blanket, beckoning him to unclench his taut muscles and lay down his sword.

Being with you disarms him and it's like your soul reaches out and whispers ' It's okay now. Kick off your shoes, grab a cup of coffee, and come tell me your burdens. Stay a while."

His hand comes up to his face to cover yours and the demon on his shoulder breathes a sigh of relief, exhaling slowly and muttering 'Ah yes, there she is. Our north star on a pitch black night'.

"It's alright, my love."

Your voice is tender, an underlying question lingering that you don't verbalize but rather ask with your eyes.

Are you okay?

Rafe peers down at you, and you find your answer in the way his cerulean irises twinkle.

I am now.

You give him a reassuring smile, and he resists the urge to kiss the sides of your mouth where the skin wrinkles so adorably or the corners of your eyes where the muscles crinkle endearingly.

He's almost certain that you shine so bright it casts a glow on him, the warmth and beauty enough to make him fall to his knees and weep.

He resigned himself to his fate a long time ago; made peace with the fact he's probably going to hell. He figures that's okay because he's never been more sure that he's already experienced heaven here on Earth with you.

He had told you as such one night, wrapped in your embrace under the twilight.

"I think it's just my fate to be evil."

The statement had ripped through you like a shockwave, and you sat up to look at him with such intensity he felt like he had done something wrong.

"It's not your fate, Rafe. It was circumstance. You're not evil, you're hurt and scared. You don't want to be that way, and that's how I know that deep down you're good. Bad people don't care that they're bad."

That was the night he knew he loved you, and the words have echoed in the back of his mind ever since. They come rushing to the forefront at this exact moment, flashing like a neon sign.

"Since you're done, why don't we go get ice cream?"

He nods eagerly, not paying his father or Rose any mind as he takes your hand and leads you out of the house. You don't press for details; the fine print doesn't really matter anyway. You're here now, the last year of sneaking around and heartache long forgotten.

Rafe watches out of the corner of his eye as your hair whips around your face and you perform a mini concert in his passenger seat, lost in your own little world. His hand squeezes your thigh periodically, a reminder to himself that you're real and you're his.

He lets himself exist in the moment, committing the smell of salty sea air and the sound of your singing to memory.

He feels electrified, acutely aware of the air conditioning blowing on his face and the leather steering wheel gripped in his hand. Being with you makes him feel alive, and he silently wonders what the hell he thought living was before.

And as he watches you eat your ice cream cone with the cold treat dripping down your chin, he smiles so big that his cheeks ache. Yes, this is what it feels like to live and not just survive.

#rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron #rafe imagine #outer banks #outer banks fic #outer banks imagine #outer banks angst

795 notes · View notes

tightjeansjavi · 1 year

Text

Sing me a Lullaby Darlin’

Joel Miller x f!reader

A/N: I have no words for what I have created. I am a monster and I blame The Civil Wars for this one. It’s all their fault.

Summary: You soothe Joel’s constant nightmares of his daughter dying, and his fears of losing his younger brother Tommy, by singing him a lullaby.

~word count : 1.5k~

Warnings: so much fucking angst. Literally I have tears streaming down my face from how much angst is in this. Triggering themes of child loss, trauma, depictions of graphic violence taking place in the mind. Dark thoughts, depression, mentions of using alcohol, drugs, sex to cope. Nightmares, emotions, comforting themes, some fluff at the end. (+18) minors dni !!

Song used:

“You Are My Sunshine” cover by The Civil Wars

Joel Miller never knew how to evade his endless nightmares till he met you, his sunshine. For the years after Sarah’s death, Joel suffered day in and day out. He found himself lying awake at night, imagining himself crafting a sledge hammer with his worn, damaged hands. He pictured himself cutting his chest open, right down the middle, and wrenching his broken, bleeding heart from his chest. He would smash his heart over, and over again. Broken sobs eliciting past his lips as he would beg a higher power to make the pain stop. Make his daughters gasps, and screams of anguish cease from his mind. He begged that for every time he would close his eyes, he would no longer see her body tumbling in the dry grass. He would no longer see the blood pooling through her shirt, or her lifeless, cold eyes staring up at him.

He begged, and begged, and begged. No one would listen. There was no higher power to hear his cries, his pleas to make his suffering end. The grief, aguish, and turmoil would continuously crash into him, like waves on a rocky shoreline. He often found himself struggling to breathe, clutching at his chest as tears blurred his vision. He’d let out a wail, punching his fist into the wall, feeling his knuckles split, the skin raw, and bleeding. He’d punch the wall over, and over again. Sometimes, on the worst nights, he’d bite down on his fist to block out his heart wrenching sobs. When his tears were spent, and his voice raw, and broken, He’d wrap his arms around his chest, hugging himself tightly as he would rock back and forth, his mouth open, with no sound coming out, just a wheeze of a struggled breath.

He’d find himself turning to copious amounts of drugs, and alcohol. Whatever he could fucking get his hands on. He’d risk his life smuggling this shit into the QZ because it was the only temporary solution to numb his heart, and his mind. When the drugs and alcohol would wear out, he’d turn to sex. Burying himself into a body felt good in the moment. That high would soon pass and leave him in his filth. Joel Miller believed that there was nothing in this fucking god forsaken, shit-hole world that could ever keep his nightmares at bay. Then he met you, and everything changed.

Now, when he closed his eyes at night, he was met with peace. There were no screams, no bullets, no images of his daughter’s tumbling body. There was no blood, no lifeless cold eyes looking up at him. Now all he could see was you. You’d hold each other every night, legs and hearts entwined. Breaths in sync and heart beats slow, steady, calm. You had pacified his nightmares, drove them deep down into the cold dark earth. You soothed this broken man with soft touches and words of love.

Joel nearly lost you one Spring. You nearly bled out in his arms but he would be damned if he’d lose you too. He couldn’t possibly fathom it. He had the chance to save you and he fucking took that opportunity swiftly. He vowed to never leave your side, and you kept his words like an oath. Deep in the caverns of your chest, where your heart laid, beating for him.

Joel’s younger brother Tommy not responding to his radio calls is what finally broke him. The nightmares had clawed their way out from the depths that you had sent them. They tore up the dirt, the flowers that you had implanted into his soul were shredded to nothing. They turned to fucking dust as the darkness encased around his heart once more. You spent years sewing your man back together. Since that day, the moment you met him, you were subconsciously healing him. Needle and thread in hand, you had taken the bits and pieces of his heart that were left and sewed them back together. The pieces, and fragments that were missing, were regrown. Stems sprouting and flowers blossoming. You had turned this man’s soul into a garden where he was safe to flourish. All your effort, all your hard work was turning to dust before your very eyes.

You refused to give up on him when he needed you most. Yes, he had grown cruel. Yes, he had fallen back into his old patterns, his old ways. Yes, he didn’t hold you on most nights, but you knew that your Joel was still there, hidden behind a vast expanse of thick, putrid thorns.

You’d poison yourself over and over if it meant that you’d get him back. Joel was too deeply entwined into your soul for you to not care. When he was suffering, you suffered with him.

So when your sunshine awoke one night in a cold sweat, calling for his daughter, as he looked around in a frantic state. His eyes were wide, his body trembling, hands shaking.

He kept sobbing Sarah’s name as you were knocked out of your dreamless state. You heard his sobs as you sat up, slowly bringing your arms around his shaking form, your touch was gentle, tender.

“Joel. Hey, Joel. Baby, you’re okay. You’re safe, I'm right here. I have you.” You spoke softly, your tone soothing and low, afraid to startle him anymore than he already was.

He was clawing for you immediately, his hands grasping your arms tightly as you held him. His sobs continued to rake over his body, leaving him a blubbering mess.

“Darlin,’ she–she—Sarah–my baby girl!” He gasped, struggling to breathe as you slowly slid your hands under his shirt, rubbing soothing circles into his sweat soaked skin.

“You’re safe Joel. You’re safe. I’ve got you baby and I'm not letting go.”

“They took her from me–they fuckin’ ripped her from my fuckin’ arms!” He wailed.

“Joel, shhh. Baby, I know. I’m so sorry.” You had gently grabbed his face in your hands. He had tears streaming down his face. They were hot and heavy tears, flowing like a river. His vision was blurred as he looked at you.

“Why’d they fuckin’ take her from me. Why? My baby girl..and Tommy. Where’s Tommy?”

You had kissed away his free falling tears. Your lips were soft on his skin as his eyelashes fluttered shut, his grip on your arms loosened as you soothed him.

You couldn’t stomach giving him the answer as to why the government shot his baby girl. You couldn’t give him the answer because he already knew why; you both did.

“Joel, what can I do to help you? Please, tell me. I’ll do anything for you baby. I can’t stand to see you suffer like this every night. It fucking tears me up inside. What can I do to make it go away? There must be something–”

He let out a broken chuckle because you, his sweet girl shouldn’t have to deal with him. Not when he was a shell of the man you once knew.

“Sing me a lullaby, darlin. Sing to me, sweet girl please.” He rasped while you gently cradled him against your chest.

He was clutching your shirt between his fists, his breathing jagged as his tears continued to flow.

It was a simple request for you to sing to him. You’d do anything for this man that you had learned to love so deeply, so unselfishly, so openly.

“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy when skies are gray. You’ll never know dear, how much I love you. Please don’t take my sunshine away.” You began to softly sing to him, your own tears beginning to stream down your cheeks, while you threaded your fingers through his sweaty hair, gently scratching his scalp.

Joel’s eyes slowly fluttered shut as he listened to your soothing voice. He could hear your heartbeat against his ear, where his tear stained cheek rested against your chest.

“The other night dear, as I lay sleeping. I dreamed I held you in my arms. When I awoke, dear, I was mistaken so I hung my head and cried.”

You could feel his breathing grow steady, his body went slack in your arms as you continued to cradle him.

“You have such a pretty voice, darlin’” You heard him whisper. “So pretty, so sweet.”

You glanced down at his face, casted by the soft moonlight. For a brief moment, you saw his features soften. The permanent furrow between his brows ceased to exist. You couldn’t help but admire him in these tender moments. Seeing him in a peaceful state for once. The thorns that were wrapped tightly around his heart, building a thick poisonous wall, were rotting away and being replaced with new green stems that would soon bloom again. The thorns would be replaced with flowers, beautiful, pure, flowers.

You brushed your fingers against his forehead, sweeping away a stray, sweaty curl as you leaned down and whispered, “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy when skies are gray. You’ll never know dear, how much I love you. I won’t let them take my sunshine away..”

“I promise.” You whispered.

You held Joel in your warm embrace for the rest of the night. He did not have another nightmare, with you by his side. You protected him from the darkness that once consumed him entirely. You were his sunshine, and he was yours.

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us #pedro pascal characters #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel the last of us #joel miller fluff #joel miller angst #joel miller blurb #joel miller imagine #joel miller the last of us #tlou #joel miller fic #tlou fic #the last of us imagine #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader

538 notes · View notes

daechwitatamic · 4 months

Text

Of Ruin: Chapter 4 || KTH

(banner by @/itaeewon)

Of Ruin (Masterpost)

Rating: NSFW - minors dni Genre: vampire!au magic!au royalty!au, s2l, slow burn, eventual smut, angst and fluff

Summary: Taehyung of House Rune, Prince of Infracticus has been cursed. You’re the human world’s leading curse-breaker. It should be simple. But unraveling the curse becomes the least of your problems in the face of a world on the brink of civil war… and the love you start to feel for the prince.

A/N: Thank you endlessly to @/sailoryooons for betaing!!! 💕

Section Warnings: tense situations with dangerous vampires, casual wine drinking, language probably, arguments

wc: 5.5k

“What have we here?” the low voice asks, and your adrenaline races, leagues ahead of your logical processes which take a few more seconds to register that you’re standing between the stone statue and an Infracti man, thin and willowy, unnaturally long.

You’re slammed with shame at your hubris, warring intensely with your fear. You’d thought you could just wander around the royal palace of Infracticus, that these natural predators wouldn’t find you, couldn’t sneak up on you?

“A human?” he continues, thoughtfully. His black eyes are on you intently, his upper lip curled to reveal his inhuman incisors. He cocks his head, crowds you in a bit. “Or… something else? What brings you here, little morsel?”

Morsel.

You try to peek around him, to see if anyone might come to your rescue. There’s no one there. You aren't supposed to be here, you’re supposed to be in your rooms, guarded, kept safe. And this is why.

He can’t just kill you right here, you think wildly. We’re in the palace, for god’s sake.

Well, something in your mind counters, he can. There just might be consequences after.

You didn’t even make it twenty-four hours without blowing your cover. Not even twenty-four hours before fucking up the assignment, putting yourself in danger.

This is why you shouldn’t be in charge of the cases.

“I was invited,” you say, and your voice shakes.

He smiles, or something like it, sliding somehow closer. You press harder against the statue, your body trying to create space that isn’t there. Your legs tremble, and you clutch your hands into fists to hide how they shake.

“Oh,” he says, tilting his head even further, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. “Don’t be frightened. I wouldn’t kill you. Only -”

“Only what?” a cold voice interjects.

The Infracti man has backed away from you and bowed deeply at the waist before you can even process his movement. Infracti move unnaturally fast when they choose to, and you feel like your mind is working through molasses in the wake of your adrenaline rush.

Relief makes your shaking knees almost give way. The prince stands before you, a sandy-haired Infracti man behind him, both of them frowning deeply.

You push yourself off the statue, fear sharpening, shifting into a stance that might allow you to run, if you need to.

“Your highness,” the Infracti, still bowing, says. “I -”

Prince Taehyung turns to the man behind him. “Take her to my rooms,” he murmurs, just quietly enough that you struggle to hear him. “I need to handle this, here.”

You freeze, trying to decide if you should bolt (as if you could outrun any of them), or if you should go where you’re told. The word morsel swims through your mind again.

Prince Taehyung must see it on your face - fear, wild and roiling - because he pauses. Then he speaks again, even more quietly, just to you.

“I trust Jimin with my own life,” he tells you. “You can trust him with yours. Go to my rooms. I’ll come right after you.”

The sandy-haired Infracti - Jimin, apparently - holds out his arm to you, as if he’s your date, ready to escort you through the court gathering below. You step forward on shaky legs and are surprised when he supports you easily.

You shouldn’t be surprised. You’ve got to stop underestimating the monsters you’re surrounded with.

He leads you away silently, but once you’re around a few corners he slows his gait considerably and releases your arm so you can walk on your own. You’re grateful; he wasn’t the one who scared you, but you want as much personal space as you can get, right now.

“Almost there,” he promises you. “The prince’s wing is just up those stairs ahead.”

You count your breaths as you follow him, trying - and failing - to still the tremors that still rock your limbs. You reach the stairs quickly and follow Jimin up. At the top, you’re greeted with a gorgeously decorated corridor with thick carpeting and glittering chandeliers replacing wall sconces. Guards stand at attention on both sides of the corridor, backs straight and black eyes forward.

The closest one turns when you approach, but her shoulders relax when she spots Jimin. Her eyes catch on you, and she frowns quizzically.

“The Prince asked me to bring her here,” Jimin explains.

“For what purpose?”

“I didn’t ask,” Jimin says coolly. “You can ask him, he should be right behind me.”

The guard’s expression tells you that she does not want to do that, and she slides back into place, inclining her head towards the guards that flank his tall, golden doors, indicating that you should be allowed through.

Inside, Jimin gestures for you to sit on one of the plush couches in the first room. You sit on the edge, terrified. You’re pretty sure no one is going to actually kill you at this point, but the fear from earlier clings to you, reluctant to leave. Not to mention, you’re sure you’re in trouble for getting yourself in that situation in the first place, for going against your directions.

The only thing the royal family had asked of you was secrecy.

Jimin keeps his distance, turning and watching the fire dance in the fireplace, leaving you to panic in silence. As promised, it is only minutes before the doors open again, and Prince Taehyung pushes his way through, jaw set and brows furrowed. Jimin turns to face him, and you rise.

He stalks towards you, stopping a few feet in front of you. His eyes, made to look human, find yours.

“Are you hurt?” he asks, a bit breathlessly.

“No,” you tell him, but he seems to look you up and down anyway. His gaze catches on your shaking hands. His face softens, some of the anger ebbing away.

“Don’t be scared,” he says, a touch more gently. “You’re safe now.”

You nod, feeling no better for his reassurances. Are you safe?

He backs off a step, shares a look with Jimin, then laughs darkly, shaking his head. He walks away from you, rubbing his forehead.

“I thought you were supposed to be some kind of genius,” he shoots over his shoulder at you. You flinch. “What kind of idiot human walks around Infracticus alone?”

Jimin speaks up, saving you from having to respond. “Did you deal with -?”

Prince Taehyung nods, expression grim. “It’s under control.”

“In that case, we should rejoin dinner,” Jimin ventures. “I’m sure our absence has been noted.”

Prince Taehyung brushes past him and reaches for a crystal decanter, pouring a dark liquid into a glass. He lifts the decanter towards Jimin, who shakes his head, then at you.

You eye the deep red liquid, stomach jolting.

“It’s wine,” he says flatly, correctly reading your reaction. “Ordinary wine. A pinot noir, I believe.”

“No thank you,” you whisper.

Taehyung makes a face like suit yourself and drains his glass. Then, to Jimin, he says, “Will you go back? If anyone inquires… something came up.”

Jimin nods mutely, giving him a quick bow and heading for the door. He pauses as he passes the prince, muttering something quietly to him that you can’t catch. But, as he does, his eyes are on you, and the prince turns minutely to look at you as well.

You feel a shudder travel down your spine.

Jimin shoots one last glance at you and slips out the door. Prince Taehyung heaves a sigh and moves to refill his goblet.

“What did he say?” you demand. You’re so frightened that it makes you aggressive; you’re a cornered animal, no control over lashing out. And it’s clear to you that whatever was said, it was about you.

Prince Taehyung gives you a wry kind of smile, one that you don’t understand.

“He told me to remember that I’m scary, too,” he says dryly. “As if I could ever forget. Especially these days.”

When you don’t answer, he turns, fiddling with the crystal decanter again.

“Are you sure you don’t want wine?” he offers again, not turning to look at you. “It would calm your nerves.”

“I’d rather keep a clear head,” you say, your voice starting to sound firmer, more solid now that your heart isn’t galloping anymore. In your head, you see the swirl of black eyes, and you push the image away.

“Smart,” he says, and comes to sit on the couch opposite you. He opens a hand, indicating that you should sit as well. You do, stiffly. You’re pretty sure you’re about to be fired.

You guess that’s better than being slaughtered.

Still sucks, though.

“That was Jimin,” he says suddenly, like his manners have just occurred to him. “He’s my best friend, for some reason. Has been for… centuries. I should have properly introduced you.”

“It’s okay,” you say, sheepish. “You were focusing on… other things.”

He rubs the bridge of his nose. “I’m not going to tell my parents what happened tonight,” he says, removing his hand and looking up at you. His wavy hair swings a little, and a detached part of your brain gets the errant urge to brush it back into place.

“You’re not?” you echo hollowly.

He shakes his head. “They’d send your team back immediately.”

You swallow thickly, feeling like you’re being handed a gift you absolutely don’t deserve. “They’d be right to,” you whisper, shame crawling up your arms.

He makes a face like he agrees, a little bit. “I have faith in your curse-breaking abilities,” he tells you. “If not your ability to follow directions.”

Your face heats up. “I’m sorry,” you blurt out. “And not just because someone found me - I’m really sorry, I shouldn’t have -”

“So why did you?” he asks, brow furrowing. “I can’t understand. Were we somehow unclear? The other families can’t know we hired a curse-breaker. Humans don’t come here - questions will be asked. And even if you chose not to care about my secret… you put yourself in great danger.”

“I’m sorry,” you say again. “I wasn’t… I didn’t not care about keeping your secret. I just… didn’t think anyone would notice me.”

You’re sure the prince rolls his eyes at this, lightning quick. “My people may be civilized,” he says slowly, nearly in a drawl, “but that doesn’t change the fact that you are a walking buffet table with flashing neon signs. They can smell you before they can see you. They can hear your heartbeat from rooms away. They are inherently built to find you even when you don’t want to be found.”

He stares at you a bit incredulously, as if he can’t believe he needs to explain this to you at all. “I thought you were a scholar on my people,” he adds finally, putting voice to what you’d seen on his face.

“I was,” you croak. “I am. I just… underestimated the situation. I thought I could stay undetected. I just wanted to… look around. I spent so many years studying your people and your culture, it’s torture to sit in one room, so close, but unable to experience any of it.”

The prince sits back at this, looking at you suddenly with an expression that you can’t decipher at all.

“What?” you ask, nervous. Has your explanation offended him?

You start trying to think of how to explain further, when he gives a tiny half-smile and says, “I didn’t expect you to be… curious. About us. About my home.”

You sit back, too. This conversation is not going where you expected it to, and you feel a bit thrown.

“Curious is an understatement,” you admit tentatively. “I want to see everything. I read so much… I never dreamed of seeing any of it in person. It was never a possibility, not even as a wild fantasy. And now I’m here.”

The prince’s tiny smile grows sideways, just a little. “Very well,” he says, putting his hands on his knees, businesslike. “I’ll make time to let you experience Infracticus - safely. With me.”

You look at him, wide-eyed. You’d entered this room thinking you were going to be sent home, and instead it seems like the crown prince is offering to take you sight-seeing.

“Really?” you ask. “You’ll do that?” You try not to ask why, but it’s clear in your voice anyway.

He nods once, still quite serious. “You’re not here as a prisoner,” he says, suddenly not looking at you. “I don’t want you to feel like one. You’ve given up quite a lot and put yourself in a dangerous situation to help me with my problem. It seems fair that you should get some enjoyment out of being here.”

Your brow furrows. “I’m here to do a job for you,” you say seriously. “I don’t want you to think that I’m just… vacationing.”

He nods, his expression clearing, like you’ve said something that alleviates a worry. “Perhaps,” he suggests, “I could escort you safely around the palace grounds so you don’t feel so cooped up, and we could discuss the curse as we walk. That way we can consider our time spent productively.”

You nod. “That sounds reasonable.”

He gives a tight, agreeable smile. “Well then,” he says, “anything you’d particularly like to see?”

Tentatively, you venture, “Well… I’d like… could we… could I see the amarisca up close?”

A smile does cross his face, now, full and genuine, the first one you’ve seen on him. It changes him entirely, takes him from something cold and frightening to boyish and sweet. “That’s an excellent choice,” he says, still smiling. “We can go to my private stable. I’m afraid that tonight I’ve got to show my face back with the court families… but, tomorrow?”

You nod, hardly believing this turn of events. He rises, setting his goblet back where it came from, and you follow him to his doors.

With four of his guards flanking you, he walks you back to your rooms. As you try to keep pace with him up one of the long, stone corridors, he asks you, “From our conversation this morning… do you have any thoughts about…?”

He trails off, clearly not wanting to say the curse out loud now that you’re back inside and surrounded by other Infracti, even if they are his own staff.

“Nothing very substantial,” you answer automatically, sliding easily into professional mode. “The first step is to identify all the threads - then, we can begin to work out the most effective way to unravel them.”

He goes quiet for the length of time it takes you to climb two staircases. Then, at the top, he says quietly, “That sounds impossible. How can you identify things you can’t even see?”

“There are ways,” you say, trying to sound confident - competent. “Magic always talks - you just have to know what to listen for.”

He doesn’t respond to this, but you watch his jaw tighten. Nervously, you follow him in silence.

He stops you around the corner from your quarters. “How did you get past Dansoo and Satuel in the first place?” he asks curiously. “It’s not like either of them to get distracted.”

You avoid his gaze, suddenly fascinated with a decorative vase to your right. He says your name again, and you cringe, wishing you could disappear on the spot.

“I… sort of used magic to distract them,” you admit, unable to make yourself look up at him.

The prince doesn’t respond to this, just watches you out of the corner of his eyes, expression flat.

You wonder if it was a mistake to admit that, a mistake to show your hand - that you had a decent grasp of magic, that you could use it against them if you needed to.

You should have used magic with the Infracti earlier, you think belatedly. You’d been too panicked to think clearly. It wasn’t instinct to you - your fight or flight hadn’t considered it an option. But it may have worked.

“I have to ask you to please not let this happen again,” he says quietly. “I understand what lured you out - but it’s too unsafe. For both of us. If you want to go somewhere, or you need a change of scenery… have Satuel get me. I’ll do my best to accommodate.”

You look at your feet. “I’m sorry I risked your secret,” you say to your shoes. “I really wasn’t trying to. I really thought no one would notice me.”

“Now you know differently,” he says, and you shiver at the cold edge that’s returned to his voice. “Promise me it won’t happen again.”

You can’t look up from your feet. “Yes, Maiesti,” you promise.

He sighs. “Come on,” he says, and leads you around the final corner.

The looks on Dansoo and Satuel’s faces when they recognize you would be funny if you didn’t feel so bad about it. You hope they aren’t in trouble.

“A little tip,” the prince says to them, and you swear there’s humor in his tone. “This one uses magic quite well.”

He wishes you goodbye and you slip inside, closing and locking the door behind you.

Inside, Namjoon looks up from the couch, where he’s lounging sideways, scribbling in a tiny notebook. Upon seeing you, he frowns, closing the book and sitting up.

“Where did you go?” he asks, and there’s definitely an edge of annoyance in his tone. “I woke up and you were gone - I didn’t know if we’d been summoned and I’d slept through it, or if something bad happened…”

You feel yourself go cold with shame for the second time that evening. “I thought I’d be back before you were up,” you say quietly. “I wanted to walk a little. I wanted to explore the palace.”

His eyes flash. “Do you have any idea the danger -?”

“Of course I do,” you shoot back hotly. “I was only going for a minute.” And I got found in that minute, you think, but you’re not sure if he knows this and you don’t want to rat on yourself.

“Let me ask you this,” Namjoon says, tone stony. “When you were in the rainforest with my grandfather, did you go exploring there? Alone?”

Of course you hadn’t. He knows the answer already.

“So how is this different?” he challenges. “What’s the difference?”

I hadn’t spent ten years studying the rainforest. I wasn’t half in love with the trees before I got there.

Again, you fail to put words to what’s in your heart: your life has revolved around studying this place of fantasy, never dreaming you could put your hand on it someday. Now that you’re here, you want to experience it, every bit of it. You want to be part of it so badly it aches.

“Fewer poison frogs here,” you mumble.

Namjoon softens. “Fewer blood-sucking monsters there,” he points out.

You press your lips together. You have no good retort for that. After a minute, you release a quick breath. “Let’s order our dinner,” you say. “Then I’d like to work on our list of threads for a little longer.”

He nods silently, but you can tell by his face that he has plenty more he thinks he could say and is choosing not to.

“Sure,” he says. “Let’s get dinner.”

Later, when your meal winds down and you start stacking dishes, you nudge him with your elbow, lightly.

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly. “It was a mistake to go.”

He nudges you back with a little smile, then rises and gathers some plates. It seems, for now, that you’re forgiven.

Taehyung misses the meal, but it’s no matter - he can order bloodfood to his own chambers. He’d prefer that, anyway.

In his own chambers, he doesn’t have to force himself awake and attentive. Truthfully, he’s been so tired he can hardly stand it, using salves to hide the bags under his eyes.

Under the curse, he doesn’t sleep from midnight to dawn, his body instead spending those hours launching into overdrive, trying fruitlessly to escape his confines, to get out, to hunt. He wakes sore and spent each sunrise, his limbs begging for reprieve, and tries to rest for a few hours before his day begins.

Sleep never comes, no matter how exhausted he is. Or, if it comes, it doesn’t last, not long enough to matter.

As the nights continue in this way, he feels like he has less and less strength to fake it during the day. He feels like he’s existing on spite and bitterness alone, brittle and seconds from crumbling into jagged, splintery pieces.

By the time he reaches the hall where the court families take dinner, most of the crowd has dispersed. It seems his mother has led most of the women outside, where they gather near the edge of the wide balcony and look together at the skies. There must be celestial movement, he figures, something happening with the planets that’s warranted their attention.

He makes his way towards his father, knowing he needs to be seen here. His father quirks an eyebrow, but doesn’t ask the question Taehyung knows he wants to ask.

“Had to handle something,” Taehyung murmurs quietly. “My apologies.”

His father looks at him steadily for a minute, the conversation flowing around them. There’s been a lot between the two of them lately, and most of it ugly. But, for just a minute, Taehyung feels small again, like his father could - and might want to - solve his problems, offer him comfort.

And the King surprises him.

“You should go rest,” he says firmly, and Taehyung looks up at him, shocked. “There’s nothing pressing happening tonight. Rest while you can. You missed the meal, anyway - you ought to eat. You need your strength.”

Taehyung inclines his head, so grateful that he’s almost choked up about it. On his way from the room, he catches Jimin’s eye, and his best friend hurries to come keep stride with him.

“Ooh, am I excused, too?” Jimin asks, mock excitedly.

“I say you are,” Taehyung smiles sideways. “So you are. Make sure I don’t faint on my way to my rooms. At least where there are witnesses.”

After ordering what food he wants brought to him, Taehyung flops on the couch and groans loud and long.

Jimin flops into a chair near Taehyung’s feet. “Has your father started in about her yet?”

Taehyung is so puzzled that he lifts his head to peer curiously at the other man. “What?”

“The curse-breaker,” Jimin clarifies. “I saw how you were with her.”

Taehyung scowls. “I wasn’t like anything with her. I can have you removed, you know.”

“You can, but you won’t,” Jimin grins like the cheshire cat. “So? He hasn’t?”

“What makes you think he’d care about her?” Taehyung grouses.

Jimin shrugs. “Your father’s been throwing suitors at you for at least a month,” he observes. “Now you got this skilled curse-breaker right under your nose. She’s pretty. Seems to like you alright. I just figured it was only a matter of time before he started scheming.”

Taehyung groans again, dropping his head back to the couch. “He hasn’t started yet. Maybe I’m safe.”

Jimin makes a hum like he very much doubts it. “Consider my surprise when you were kind to her.”

“Consider,” Taehyung shoots back, eyes narrowed, “what a pain in my ass you are. I was never unkind to father’s… the suitors he picked.”

“Perhaps not,” Jimin muses. “But you weren’t warm, either. You seemed quite worried about her after her little incident.”

“Shut up,” Taehyung grumbles. “If you’re just here to push my buttons, you can leave. I’d rather get some sleep than listen to your nonsense.”

Jimin glances at the marble and gold clock on the mantle. “You could get in a few hours,” he points out. “Do you want to sleep? I’ll wake you before midnight.”

Taehyung shakes his head. “Thank you, but no,” he says. “I’m too… I’ve got too much energy right now.”

It’s true; he feels keyed up, has since he accidentally stumbled upon you pressed against that statue, eyes wide and heart hammering. He’d heard it from around the corner, knew something was wrong, had willed himself to stay calm and steady.

He’d almost gained his salvation and lost it, all in the same day.

—

The prince shows up the next night after you’ve finished dinner, having sent word to your guards that you should be ready. When Satuel opens the door and announces him, you’re expecting him. You’re not expecting to find him draped in a hooded black cloak, exactly like the ones you and Namjoon had been asked to wear the night you’d arrived. Prince Taehyung holds one out to you, and you don’t argue.

You’d explained to Namjoon what the prince had offered you, and extended an invitation, but he’d declined. As you leave, he watches you carefully, sharp eyes watching the door close behind you.

Prince Taehyung leads you silently down corridors and staircases; you can’t really tell where in the palace you are, but you are definitely going down. As you travel, you notice fewer furnishings - paintings on the walls become fewer and farther between, the lighting on the walls become more plain, you stop passing little console tables decked with flowers and vases.

A lone guard stands at the beginning of the final corridor - you can see closed doors at the end of the hall that must lead outside - and he bows deeply upon seeing Prince Taehyung.

“We should be returning within the hour,” the prince tells him, and the guard nods in understanding. The prince leads you to the doors, pushing through them and holding one open as you follow him out into the night air.

You know in theory that although the human world is considered above and Infracticus is considered below they are not physically so. A more accurate picture, if it was possible to make one, would have the worlds hovering side by side. They link pinkies, never drifting too far from each other.

Right now, that sky is dark and littered with flickering stars - more than you ever saw in the human world, more than you thought could be possible in a finite amount of space.

Prince Taehyung pushes off his hood as soon as the night air envelopes you. You can see lights from a small building down below, and he points to them.

“We’re heading there,” he says. “There are stairs - I’ll help you. I know you can’t see that well in the dark.”

Unlike him.

“I get the cloak for me,” you say, as he leads you to the edge of the stone walkway where the stairs must begin. “But why for you?”

He shrugs. “Just in case. The guards need to know where I am, of course, but no one else needs to. The court families tend to be quite… nosy. Gossip tends to spread.”

This makes you smile. Then, the smell hits you - salt. Specifically, sea spray.

“Are we near the ocean?” you ask, delighted. You wish it wasn’t dark out so you could see. You wonder if you could ask him to bring you during the day.

He makes an affirmative noise low in his throat. “The stables all back up to the sea,” he tells you. “So the amarisca can have access to the water.”

“Smart,” you observe.

Prince Taehyung pauses on the first step, then turns and holds out a hand to you.

You hesitate. It seems wrong, somehow - like it shouldn’t be allowed.

“They’re slippery,” he tells you. “Let me help you so you don’t get hurt.”

You nod, swallowing, and hesitantly place your hand in his. It’s ridiculous the way it makes your heart race to touch his hand. You hope, swallowing back embarrassment, that he can’t hear it. You’re sure he can. Still, he holds your hand firmly and guides you carefully down one step at a time, glancing up at you frequently to gauge how you're faring.

He waits at the bottom as you take the final step; your feet sink into loose, dry sand. The rhythmic crash of breaking waves greets you, closer than you expect, and you breathe in the sea air happily.

“I wish my rooms were here,” you say without thinking, and the prince looks at you thoughtfully.

“If you are here for longer than - rather, if the curse takes very long to break,” he says seriously, “then perhaps we’ll arrange that.”

You go quiet as he leads you up the beach, the lights from the stable growing brighter as they get closer.

“I feel like you’re being nicer to me than I deserve,” you admit, the darkness making you bolder. “I know that I really messed up yesterday.”

He shakes his head, halting and turning to look at you through the dark. You can barely make out his features, here away from the glow of the palace’s many lights, surrounded by the crash of ocean waves and the calls of gulls. “You’re a guest here. And we’re asking a lot of you. I should have offered you the chance to look around in the first place.”

You go quiet, focusing on the sound of the ocean, the smell of the salt air. “I’m still sorry,” you murmur.

“I don’t want you to leave,” he tells you seriously. “I need you. My life has been… absolutely destroyed by this curse. I’ll do whatever I can to make your time here better. Your well-being is the most worthwhile investment I’ve had in six hundred years.”

There are two Infracti at the stable, and they leap to attention when they see the prince.

“Do you want her saddled?” one of them asks.

“No,” Prince Taehyung says, holding out a staying hand. “I’m not taking her out to ride tonight.”

He asks them to be at ease and leads you inside. The smell of hay and feed mixes with the smells of the ocean, and it takes you a moment to adjust.

“There’s a larger stable on the other side of this hill,” Prince Taehyung tells you, stepping up to the single stall door. “That’s where the rest of the amarisca are kept, and the court families can use those stalls when they come and go. But this stable is just for me.”

The amarisca in the stall greets him by pressing her dark teal snout affectionately into his open palm.

He smiles unfettered, cheeks rising, and something in your chest moves as you watch them.

“This is Potato,” he tells you, and you laugh out loud, surprised.

“You named your amarisca Potato?” you ask, still laughing.

He grins. “Her official name is Regency’s Sweet Potato, but she won’t answer to that.”

“She’s so beautiful,” you breathe, inching closer. “I never dreamed I’d see one up close. I never dreamed I’d see one in person at all.”

Again, Prince Taehyung looks at you sideways, but doesn’t interrupt. He shifts sideways so you can draw a little closer.

“Do you want to pet her?” he asks.

You think about it, then shake your head. “Not yet.”

He looks at you quizzically.

How to explain - that you don’t feel like you deserve this dream coming true, after what a fool you were yesterday? That something deep within you feels the need to keep the dream just a dream, that if you touch her it’ll be real and it’ll be over and you can’t dream about it anymore?

“You read about all these things,” you try to explain, eyes on the animal’s beautiful coat, “but never see them - it starts to feel like they’re mythical, make-believe. Seeing them in person… my brain still wants to believe they aren’t real. Like this must be some trick.”

It’s not a full explanation, it doesn’t really answer the question he didn’t ask, but you do feel like you’re telling him something.

“Us, too?” he asks curiously. “Do Infracti seem made-up, too, until you’re standing with them?”

You consider this. “Standing with them,” you finally answer quietly, very aware that you are standing with him, alone, “doesn’t make me feel like I’m seeing something my mind didn’t believe in. My mind just…accepts you as human. Usually.”

“That’s been your biggest mistake since you got here,” he says, and his voice is suddenly much darker. “And it’s the mistake that will get you killed, if you don’t stop making it. Infracti are not human. And they are not all as scared of the protection laws as you might want them to be.”

Goosebumps fly up your arms as the image of the Infracti who’d cornered you in the palace rises in your mind.

“Yeah,” you say quietly. “I’m starting to get that.”

A bit later, he says, “Let’s go back. I have some business to attend to tonight before I… before midnight.”

You step back reluctantly from Potato’s stall, and he seems to clock this.

“Next time I’ll bring something for you to feed her,” he suggests, and you can’t help but give him a small smile.

Next time? Is he planning on walking alone with you around the palace grounds on a regular basis?

You’re afraid to ask. You’re afraid he’ll say yes, make you feel even guiltier for all the kindness he’s affording you.

<;- Prev | Next ->

thank you so much for reading!! lots more to come!

147 notes · View notes

teriri-sayes · 8 days

Text

Reactions to Chaos Creator's Chapter 285

Brief summary: GoC and Blue Wolf fight. Epley and mage chimera dead. DA excited to create new skill. Cale continues to bleed from his mouth.

==========

Lots of stuff happened today. We've got two cute moments with Raon and Lock. 🥰 Lock was ecstatic when Cale relied on him for protection. He was really happy that he had now become a reliable protector.

And Raon sort of acknowledged Cale as his dad today! 🥰🥰🥰

Maren: Your dad will be fine because the Blue Wolf is protecting him. Raon: … M-My human is not my dad! Maren: Is that so? *scratches cheek in confusion* I thought he was your dad. Raon: H-Human is a human, and I'm a d-dragon? Maren: So? Is that a problem? Raon: A problem… It's not! Maren: See? Eruhaben: *looks at the two and shakes his head in disbelief*

DA when excited became a talkative guy that Cale even told him to shut up. 😂 Fortunately, DA did not turn Cale into some eldritch horror eye monster something today. Rather, he simply studied how GoC did it in order to create a new skill for the future.

So why was Cale and DA so greatly affected by GoC's power? Because chaos contained everything, including the core of the beginning, the prime of all things. Primal fear then, was what easily defeated Cale and DA. And one of GoC's attacks even tempted Cale with sweet words, like "Come nearer. You can be anything here." This was primal fascination, and if Raon had not interfered, Cale might have fallen victim to GoC.

GoC and Blue Wolf fought with their auras, and afterwards, GoC created a gray tsunami while Blue Wolf split it with his blue flaming wind. In the process, Epley and the mage chimera got consumed by the tsunami. Those two got a taste of their own medicine as they drowned in the tsunami with faces of despair. What a fitting end.

Who won in the end though? It was Blue Wolf. GoC decided to withdraw after leaving the words, "Eventually, chaos will come. That is the law, the rule." What happened afterwards to GoC was reported by poor GoD. 😂

GoD messaged Cale about what was happening in the god realm. After GoC withdrew from the battle against Blue Wolf, they threw a fit and began destroying stuff in the god realm to the point that GoB was pissed and went mad in anger too. 🤣🤣🤣

GoD also sensed Blue Wolf by Cale's side, and talked about how Blue Wolf should just descend to Aipotu, create a new divine item, and build a new flashy temple. Hmm... a new temple for Blue Wolf? Why do I have the feeling it would have the statue of Lock too? 😂

The Ryan mini-arc ended, but our Cale was already planning on his next move (attacking 3rd Star Exion) even though he was bleeding.

Super Rock: It's good that your body is okay and you did not faint. Cale: *blood continues to drip from his mouth* Super Rock: Well, you overexerted yourself so you're bleeding. Everyone: *eyes shaking as they see Cale bleeding from the mouth nonstop* Cale: *thinking of attacking Exion next* Raon and CH: *shaking eyes* Cale: *sees the two and confidently shouts* I didn't faint or cough blood! Super Rock: For now. You will soon if you don't rest. Cale: *ignores Super Rock*

Cale, this is why slacker life continues to elude you. Tsk, tsk. 😒

Ending Remarks I did not expect to see blood from Cale today. Or Epley to die easily like that. Serves her right. For the next chapter, I think it would be the reaction of the beastmen to Lock and Cale. And Cale fainting if he continues to ignore Super Rock's advice.

#tcf spoilers #trash of the count's family

107 notes · View notes

knapptapp · 1 year

Text

Without Me You'd Just Disappear

Yan!Ghost x Reader

Word Count: 1,970

Part 2 of Your Nothing Without Me

Part one Here!

Sometimes he comes in and sits on the corner of the bed. He really doesn't do anything but stare at you. A silent stare with cold dead eyes. Much to your surprise he never makes any move to touch you or close the distance you have created by flattening yourself against the headboard.

You don't dare allow yourself to look away, afraid when you look back he’ll be closer.

When he’s not there you allow yourself to look around the room. It's rather small, not much to look out for. There's one clock on the wall across from you but it's permanently stuck at 2:30. But you swear, out of your peripheral view you can see the hands click by.

And when you close your eyes and try to get some much-needed sleep you can hear it.

Tick Tock TIck Tock Tick Tock

You know time is passing. Because that's how reality works. You can count the seconds passing but only for a short while before the numbers meld together and you can't remember what comes after what.

You think you are going insane.

Every time you look back at the clock it's still stuck. Maybe time isn't passing. You must have slipped and hit your head on your way home. Bled out on the sidewalk before anyone could find you.

And now you are in hell. Or maybe purgatory. God was punishing you for your sins. He must be. What sins, you do not know. You try to rack your brain. Running through every decision you've ever made. But you keep coming up blank. Were your sins so bad your mortal mind can't even comprehend them?

At least it keeps your mind off of numbers.

You start to prefer the days where he sits on the end of your the bed. At least then fear takes over your mind and all you can think about is your heart ramming in your chest.

He didn't have a face under his mask. It was easier to think of it like that. Imagine him as anything but human The fear of the unknown and the imaginary monster your mind created was less tortuous than the knowledge that he was a real person

You know he’s trying to scare you because why else would he be wearing that horrifying mask? A skull. When you first saw it you thought it was made from a real skull, and that your own bones would soon join the college of horror. Now, you feel stupid. The more you start at it the more it becomes slightly less grotesque. There were no cracks or lines where pieces of bones would have been glued together. The material looks rough and dry.

If you ran your fingers over it you bet it would have the texture of chalk, leaving white dusty residue over the pads of your fingers. The only thing human about him, the one piece your mind can't twist, are his eyes. They are entirely human.

“Are you hungry?”

His voice catches you so off guard you think the clock has started talking to you. It seems like the more logical option. It takes a few seconds for your mind to process his words.

Are you hungry

You narrow your eyes at him. You keep your mouth shut, lips clamped tightly together. You are hungry. And your body is ever so self-centered, protesting loudly against your silence. One of his eyes widened with what must be the raise of an eyebrow. He stares at you unblinking, waiting for you to call your own bluff.

“It's been three days and you must be hungry.”

Three.Three.Three.

Three days of full purgatory and at the same time. Only three.

“Thirsty too I bet,” He says. Your mouth is a savanna desert but you don't say that. How long can humans go without water again? Five days? Four days?

“Just say the words and I'll bring you some food and water.”

Three days. Humans can survive without water for three days.

“Please.” You don't ever realize your speaking until the words echo back to you. Cracked and wheezy.

He stands up and leaves and you have a dreadful feeling he isn't coming back.

You close your eyes for only a moment and open them to the sound of clinking metal.. And a searing pain encompasses your wrist. Automatically you yank it towards you realizing too late it's your handcuffed hand. But the pain of metal cutting into skin never comes.

Instead, your hand hits your chest. You shoot up as soon as you realize you're free, cradle your burning wrist in your other hand. The skin is red and blisters, some of the skin has been cut through or rubbed off from your constant pulling.

“Don't think about trying anything. We both know you won't win.” He’s standing right next to you, handcuffs in hand. And he’s right. He's huge at 6'4 and 200-something lbs. Compared to him you're tiny.

The skull mask has been replaced with a plain black balaclava. It's the first time you've seen him without his skull mask and it just further breaks down the small amount of comfort you've created.

“I’ll treat your wrist after you eat.” He gestures to the bedside table beside him. On it is a tray with two plates of food and a glass of water alongside an old army med kit.

He walks over to the farthest wall where his chair had been placed and pulls it back to the bedside table. He places it down, mere inches away from the bed. The old chair creaks as he sits down.

Of course, he was staying. You half expected him to leave. But that's stupid. You are uncuffed with full access to the room and the door. You are being held against your will after all.

As silently as you can you scoot a few inches away. He stares at you, fingers twitching by his side with the urge to yank you back to him. But he doesn't, instead, he reaches over, picks a plate off the tray, and hands it to you.

The smell of food hits you and you rush forward to take it. It’s just some rice and vegetables but your mouth waters at it. Stomach loudly protesting once again.

He reached out to hand you something else. A fork the plastic kind. Doesn't want to risk you trying to stab him with a metal one. In all honesty, you hadn't even thought about it. Stabbing him or a fork. You would eat with your hands. Would probably get the food into you quicker.

Still, you take the fork, not sparing him a glance before you start eating.

You hear the clinking of plates and look up. Instead of the black mask you're expecting to see you are met with pale skin. He has his mask pushed up over his nose.

You could see his features. His nose, lips, and chin The expansion of freckles along the tiny bit of his cheeks you can see. For once he’s not staring at you, but instead at the plate he has balanced in one hand.

It's the same thing you have. With his other hand, he stabs a piece of broccoli with his metal fork and brings it to his lips. He’s eating with you. Like this is a normal fucking situation. Like you too are a couple eating dinner together and not a kidnapper and kidnapper.

You shovel as much food as you can into your mouth. Some weird part of you is glad he's no longer staring at you and seeing you eat like a rabid animal. Got to keep some of your dignity, right?

As much as your body demands and needs food, It is not happy receiving it. The first few bites make your stomach burn and when you swallow it sends you gagging which in turn, gives you a headache.

It doesn't really taste like anything and it's hard to eat with your constantly dry mouth but you keep going. You need food. You're just about to stab a piece of broccoli when a gloved hand takes hold of the plate and pulls it away from you.

You quickly swallow the food in your mouth and choke down a gag threatening to force it all back up again. You're too tired to try and get the plate back so you let him take it, hands falling to your lap, still clutching your plastic fork.

He places it back on the try, where he has already placed his own. It's close enough you could grab it back if you really wanted to But all you want to do right now is sleep. And water You desperately want water Your vision is starting to get blurry around the edges. You close your eyes to try and blink away the blurriness but your eyelids seem too heavy to lift again. There's a vague warmness on your shoulder and then a slight shaking sensation. It's the first time he's ever really touched you and frankly, you can't find it in you to care

Through the haze you can feel yourself being pulled forward, head tilted back with what feels like a hand supporting your skull. Something pulls your lips apart leaving briefly only to be replaced by something else within seconds. Something cold slowly pours down your throat.

A stream from god it must be. It immediately soothes your sore throat and gives your mouth some much-needed wetness. Liquid gold it must be. Something so precious and reviving. It trickles down until it's gone.

He moves you so you are laying back down, the warmth of a blanket covering you. There's the clinking of plates and then the sound of a door opening and closing.

You wake up periodically, always groggy and confused, only to fall back asleep almost immediately. He’s always there when you wake up. Sometimes on his chair, at the edge of the bed, standing ominously in the corner.

When you finally fully wake up, he’s staring down at you. Wide brown eyes unblinking. It startles you awake, and your brain is finally at full working capacity. You completely freeze, unsure of what to do. He squints down at you.

“Are you awake?”

Obviously.

You nod, ever so slightly, and he moves from your field of vision. You can hear shuffling next to you, but you don't turn to look. Instead, you choose to focus completely on the ceiling above you.

He’s pulling your arm, hand gripping just below the dried blood on your wrist. It's almost gentle. Almost.

Time ticks by. Or at least you think. You can't see the clock from your position. You wonder what it says.

There's some wetness on your wrist and it stings. Automatically your arm twitches. You turn to look at him.

He has some sort of wet wipe in his hand and is slowly working the dried blood away in a surprisingly soft manner. The med kit is open next to him, bandages, gauze, and other medical supplies spilling out.

You can tell your crying, just barely through your haze. Your cheeks are starting to get wet

Once he works the blood off he wraps your wrist with gauze and presses the lower half of his face against your inner wrist. You think he’s kissing you but you can't really tell with the mask.

He pulls it up and presses a proper little kiss to the bandaging before rising again to look up at you.

He leans in. You brace yourself for what's about to come, squeezing your eyes shut as tight as you can. His tongue makes contact with the bottom of your jaw. He licks a long strip up your cheek, licking up your tears.

#cod x gn!reader #cod x reader #cod x you #ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon riley x you #simon riley imagine #yandere ghost #yandere cod

370 notes · View notes