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shenanigans-and-imagines · 7 months

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I Want It All: Part 3

Part 1, Part 2

Astarion x AsexaulBard!Tav Masterlist

Astarion x Reader, Astarion x Tav, Astarion x Asexual!Reader, Astarion x Bard!Reader

Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Soft!Astarion, Allusion to Astarion's Past (Sexual Assult/Dissociation)

Summary: You and Astarion had been playing this little game of yours for a while; he pretends to care, you pretend not to fall for it. It’s easy, even fun at times. The trouble is, what happens the moment you can’t pretend anymore?

A/N: Holy shit! It's done! Thank you so much to everyone who has commented and reblogged and just...everything. I cannot tell you how much it means to be to know this story has resonated with so many people. I don't have any plans to continue this as a larger story (I still haven't played the game); however, if anyone would like to send requests for small one-shots or headcanons involving Astarion and this Asexual!Tav, feel free to send me an ask.

Also, sorry if I didn't tag you. There were a lot of request, so I stuck to those who asked on the previous chapter.

And as always REBLOG AND COMMENT IF YOU LIKE THIS! I NEED VALIDATION TO SURVIVE!!!

Word Count: 5.2K

You didn’t sleep that night, but what else did you expect?

For hours you simply lay in the dark, staring at the window. The patter of rain was the only source of sound besides your own breathing. Even that small comfort didn’t last as the storm passed leaving behind cloud covered silence.

No tears came to you. What had you to grieve over? Everything you felt had been a product of your imagination. You knew that.

Still, it ached. There was a throbbing in your throat you couldn’t swallow down and a constant pressure behind your eyes. You almost wished you would cry, just to get it out of your system. If you could have a nice little breakdown, there was a chance you could get over this. It would be the slap in the face you needed to accept reality. Maybe then you’d stop doing this to yourself.

All the same, it stayed there, pressing heavy on your chest until the sun teased the edges of the clouds beaconing morning.

You groaned, burying your face into the pillow. You couldn’t lie and wallow the rest of the day. You had things to do, places to be, worms to destroy. The sooner you had something else to occupy your thoughts the better.

With an effort you pulled yourself out of bed and slowly made your way to the dining room.

You were a bit surprised to see everybody already up. Wyll, Karlach, Lae’zel, Shadowheart, and Gale were already seated with plates of half eaten food in front of them. Two seats were still empty, settings ready and untouched. A quick look around confirmed the rest, Astarion had yet to make an appearance.

“Morning everyone,” you said, trying your best to be cheerful as you sat yourself between Gale and Wyll.

You could feel all their eyes on you, no doubt noticing the dark circles under yours.

“Morning,” Gale greeted. “I trust you slept well.”

He let out a small yelp of pain.

You looked up to catch him glaring at Shadowheart as she shot him a disapproving look.

You frowned. Did she just kick him?

“I mean, ah, did you lie comfortably?” he amended.

“Seriously?” Karlach questioned.

You swore you could feel the heat of Gale’s blush, as he grumbled into his toast. “Damn it, you know what I mean.”

“Do I?” you asked.

“We just hoped you spent the rest of the night…pleasantly,” Wyll tried, and ultimately failed.

Your stomach flipped, as harsh, dreadful realization washed over you. Yes, of course they would.

“You don’t look well,” Lae’zel noted. “After all his boasting, I had thought Astarion would leave his partners more satisfied.”

You didn’t say anything, deciding to take a bite of egg as an excuse. Now would be a great time for the ground to open and swallow you into the hells. Gods knew it would be an improvement.

“She’s right,” Shadowheart said, sounding a little annoyed to admit it. “You do look tired and not the good kind. Did something happen?”

“Did he hurt you,” Wyll said, his brow furrowing in sudden concern.

“What?! No!” you said quickly. “Nothing happened.”

“How’d you mean nothing happened?” Karlach put in. “We all saw what we saw. How could anyone turn down all of that?”

Fresh embarrassment washed over you, making you wish you could erase the last twenty-four hours and crawl into the nearest, deepest hole. You had spent the whole night worried about what Astarion would make of your vision, you had all but forgotten you had shared that part of yourself with all of your companions. Of course they would have their own interpretations.

“It wasn’t like that.”

A quick look around the table gave away the doubtful thoughts of all.

You took a deep breath, willing yourself to calm. They weren’t going to believe you if you were emotional about this.

“Look, I appreciate your concern, but I’m fine. As I said, nothing happened. We talked, and it became clear that we just want different things. That’s the beginning and the end of it. Now are we done or are you all going to keep chattering on like a bunch of fishwives?”

The silence at the table was palpable as everyone exchanged looks.

Alright, maybe being calm wasn't a realistic expectation, but you hadn’t lied. Sure, there were some details you neglected to share, but that really was the long and the short of it. He hadn’t done anything wrong and neither had you. It just didn’t work out.

The plain truth of it settled in your heart carving out a hollow space for it to lay in.

Gale was the first to act, clearing his throat. “Fair enough, the matter is closed. Please, accept our apology. With such an intimate group as ours, it’s sometimes easy to forget that one’s personal matters can be well and truly personal.”

He looked at the rest of the group, each nodding in agreement to various degrees of reluctancy.

“Just for the record though, if you need someone to knock some sense into that pretty boy’s head, you just need to ask,” Karlach offered.

Despite yourself, you had to smile. “I’ll think about it.”

You then turned to Gale, who met you with kind eyes and a comforting smile. You let yourself be warmed by it, even if you still felt a little guilty for snapping. He really did understand. It was easy for heartbreak to recognize heartbreak.

“Thank you,” you murmured.

To your surprise, his first instinct wasn’t to reach for words, but rather your hand as he gave your fingers a gentle squeeze.

“Anytime.”

“Good morning everyone. Gossiping without me?”

You whipped your head around to find Astarion standing near the head of the table, a sardonic smile on his lips and a hard glare in his eyes. No doubt he had heard everything.

Everybody shifted in their seats, glancing between you and Astarion. You averted your gaze, focusing hard on the table in front of you.

Gale’s hand still rested over yours. Whatever comfort it had given you, faded as something akin to panic flooded your veins. In the next second, you rose from your chair, scraping it hard against the floor in your hurry.

“I’ve still got some packing to do,” you said. “Be back down in a few.”

Coward’s way out? Yes, but after the night you had, you figured you were entitled to it.

Keeping your head down, you slipped past Astarion, feeling him watch you as you made your way back up the stairs.

If you had lingered a moment, you might have caught the flash of hurt in his eyes. You might have noticed how his clothes were more rumpled than usual. You might even have seen his hand twitch with the instinct to reach for yours. But you didn’t see, and anything that might have happened disappeared in a brush of air.

-----------------------

The next several days carried on in much the same way. Not as torturous as that first morning, but still a drudge of avoidance and awkward silences.

In your defense, Astarion seemed just as keen to keep his distance. Where he used to be your preverbal shadow, filling the hours of travel with idle teasing and conversation, now he kept to the back, his mouth decidedly shut.

The others caught on and seemed determined to make up the difference. Karlach, Shadowheart and Wyll especially made a point to walk alongside you, telling stories and jokes in an attempt to make you smile.

You did your best. They meant well, but in some ways they only served to emphasize the absence of another.

Gale, on the other hand, had the foresight to try a different approach. He made it clear he didn’t expect you to talk, but always made sure you had the best spot by the fire and a little extra of whatever he made for the camp. You had to wonder if Tara had provided a similar comfort to him after Mystra. It was obvious he had the practice.

Even Lae’zel offered to help you train it off, something about how your, “objectively weak body had left the rest of you vulnerable to attack”. A part of you felt the insult, but the gesture was appreciated.

Honestly, all of this care was starting to make you feel guilty. None of them were giving Astarion the same courtesy. He wasn’t being shunted exactly, but the message was loud and clear; they were on your side.

This was met by him taking a step back from the late night conversations. His interactions with the others were kept short and lacked his usual humorous flare. He took his shifts on watch alone and he spent even more time either roaming the forest or in his tent.

The only person he consistently spoke to was Gale, which should have raised some alarm bells on their own, but you never caught what they were discussing. All you knew was Astarion never appeared especially pleased while Gale gave a look of someone begging the gods for patience.

All of this was your fault. You just wanted things to go back to normal. Even if you couldn’t be with Astarion the way you imagined, you still valued his friendship. If this kept up, there was a chance he might decide to leave all together. An olive branch was needed, something to signal you didn’t hold a grudge or expect anything more.

The answer came to you one early evening as you took note of his haggard looks and less than graceful steps out of camp. He hadn’t fed on you in a week and there was only so much deer and boar could do.

You considered simply offering up your neck, but that felt too forward. Besides, you weren’t sure if you were ready to have him that close. The only other solution you could think of was to bleed yourself somehow.

This proved more difficult than you first imagined. Astarion seemed to have an instinct for where to bite, balancing enough blood for himself without causing any permanent damage. You couldn’t boast the same. It took more than one cut to fill an empty goblet with what you hoped to be the right amount of blood. You’d ask Shadowheart to heal you properly later. Hopefully she’d accept a poorly executed knife trick as an excuse.

You wrapped your wrist as best you could and, watching to make sure the others weren’t looking, slipped into Astarion’s tent.

You were immediately hit with the scent of bergamot, rosemary, and aged brandy. A sense of calm washed over you at the familiar combination, settling comfortably in your lungs as you took in the space.

A single candle remained lit, allowing just enough light for you to appreciate the rich purple and red fabrics lining the walls as well as the sheer number of pillows littering the floor. How he managed to pack so many was a mystery you doubt you would ever solve. The whole set up was down right ornate, but considering this was Astarion you were talking about, you shouldn’t have been surprised.

It was only then you realized you’d never been inside before. He’d invited you more than once, but you’d always turned him down preferring to keep your feeding session in the open air. You had known, even then, any closer would give the wrong impression; all for naught it seemed.

You pushed the thought aside, pulling your attention back to the matter at hand. There had to be some place you could put the goblet where he wouldn’t knock it over. Why did he have to keep a side table outside the tent?

A shuffle came from just outside. Focusing your ears, you caught the tread of boots on grass transition to the nearly silent carpet just outside the tent flap. You turned using those handful of extra seconds to school your features into something passively innocent as Astarion ducked inside.

His whole body froze, his arm holding the fabric above his head as his eyes went wide. For a long moment, neither of you said anything.

You took advantage of his momentary shock to examine his appearance more closely. He looked…well, tired and more than a little confused. No blood marked his shirt or his lips. His pants appeared to have taken a tear or two from a bramble bush. Even his hair looked just a bit disheveled in a way so unlike himself.

“No luck hunting?” you said, unable to keep the concern out of your voice.

He stared, as if your words were coming from somewhere far away and required extra time to reach his ears.

“I’ve had better,” he finally said.

You nodded in understanding, shifting awkwardly as your eyes went to the goblet in your hands.

“Here,” you offered. “No offense, but you look like you could use it.”

He gave a tight smile. “I’d say no offense taken, but this is me we’re talking about.” All the same, he took the cup, sniffing it cautiously. He blinked hard, his brows furrowing as he stuck his nose further into the cup and took a deep whiff.

“Is this yours?” he asked.

You shrugged, holding up your bandaged wrist. “Whose else would it be?”

His mouth parted slightly as if to say something before closing it again.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he said, his tone oddly serious.

“I know,” you assured. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Once again, he opened his mouth as if to speak, but instead released a breath of a laugh, allowing whatever tension he had formed in those last few seconds to fall from his shoulders.

“I know I shouldn’t be surprised, but it seems I can’t help it with you.”

Before you could ask him what exactly he meant, he raised the goblet to his lips and drank.

The effect was instantaneous. Your blood met his tongue and any control he had slipped away. His pupils dilated to those of a predator as he guzzled the whole thing down in two deep swallows. He let out a gasp of air before returning to the cup, licking the sides so not to waste a drop. A low hum of bliss came from deep in his chest as he savored the rest, allowing his fingers to scrap the bottom before bringing it back to his mouth.

The sight should have left you horrified, but in truth, it was encouraging. Things would be different, but you could at least provide him this.

“Do you need more?” you asked.

This time his laugh was loud and genuine as he wiped the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand before licking the remains; yet another thing you found inexplicably endearing. He really was just a big cat sometimes.

“Dangerous thing to offer me in this state, darling,” he said. “Luckily for you, I found a nice burrow of rabbits yesterday.”

Once satisfied there was truly nothing left, he set the goblet down on the ground before turning his attention to your wrist.

“Let me see,” he said, reaching out a hand.

“It’s fine,” you promised. “I’ll get Shadowheart to look at it later.”

“I’ll be the judge of that, give it here.”

Knowing there was no fighting him, you relented, allowing him to unwrap the bandages.

He visibly winced as he examined the litter of harsh scratches along your skin. “What did you use? A rusty spoon?”

“I had trouble finding a good vein,” you said, feeling the need to defend yourself. You hadn’t thought it looked that bad.

“Oh is that all? And here I thought you’d lost an argument with a displacer beast.”

You pressed your lips into an annoyed line, but Astarion was already digging around his pack, coming back with a salve and potion of healing.

“Drink this.”

You shook your head, ignoring the pleasant little flutter in your chest at the gesture. “I told you, I’ll just ask Shadowheart.”

“Oh this isn’t just for you,” he said, dryly. “Do you think I want her believing you’d willingly butcher yourself just to give me a proper meal? Neither of us would hear the end of it.”

A small flush of embarrassment worked up your neck. He was right, of course. The party really hadn’t been subtle in their disapproval. It was the reason you had tried for discretion.

Without further protest you accepted the potion.

This seemed to appease him as he quickly got to work on applying the salve.

He had bought it not long after you had come to your little feeding arrangement. It helped to sooth small cuts and bruises while minimizing the threat of scars. He had initially offered to provide…other services to relieve the pain, but you had declined. This was the compromise. You’d offered to do it yourself, but he insisted, claiming it was the least he could do. In truth, it was all very…transactional.

This felt different. The hesitation he so often held, as if waiting for the other shoe to drop, was gone. His touch was gentle, his expression focused and his body oddly relaxed. It didn’t feel like an obligation, but an act of kindness, one he was more than willing to give.

Any nerves that remained slipped away. You could find a way to live with this. Certainly it was more than others had given you in the past.

Once he was done, he pulled fresh bandages from his bag and began redressing your wounds with decidedly more precision than you had.

“I am glad you’re here,” he said, breaking the silence. “I was hoping we could talk.”

A sharp sting of anxiety pressed itself into your skin.

“Oh?”

He nodded, tying off the bandage. “I think it’s important.”

You swallowed. The instinct to run pulled at your feet, but you managed to keep it in check. You owed him that much.

“Well, I’m here so…let’s talk.”

He breathed out an audible sigh of relief, raising his hands up as he took a small step back.

“Just stand there a moment. Don’t move.”

He spun around, rummaging through various bags before letting out a cry of triumph. He stepped back holding what looked to be a violin string glowing with magical golden light.

Your head tilted to the side as your eyes narrowed. “Is that…?”

“Part of the violin, yes,” he admitted. “Bit of a story. Short version, Gale was able to extract one of the strings. It shouldn’t cause any permanent damage to the instrument, as far as I know.”

You raised a doubtful eyebrow. “And Gale just let you pluck this from his tent did he?”

Astarion shifted uncomfortably. “Not exactly. I, ah, may have had some trouble understanding how it worked and…inquired as to his assistance.”

“You asked Gale for help?” you asked, astonished.

“Don’t make me relive the experience,” he lamented. “He told me the strings themselves have different magical properties in order to create the effect you demonstrated the other night. Apparently this one alone compels people to tell the truth.”

He then took the string and carefully wrapped it around his wrist before handing the other half to you.

Your eyes widened, glancing between him and the offered cord. “What are you doing?”

“Leveling the playing field,” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

You shook your head, taking a step back. “You don’t have to do that.”

His lips curved into a self deprecating smile. “I think I do though. I haven’t been honest with you and…while that’s not exactly unique to you, the regret I have is. So you see, it really is a selfish action. If I’m to be free of this, I need to know for certain you understand that what I say next is the truth…all of it.”

Your mouth opened to protest, but the words caught in your throat. The expression on his face was one you had never seen before. While he did his best to hide under his usual indifferent airs, his eyes gave him away. You’d never seen them so open and unsure.

Slowly, you took the other end, feeling a familiar tingle spread through your fingers.

“Alright,” you said, cautiously. “What’s your favorite color?”

Flashes of red shot across your vision, moonlit skies and a pair of eyes you only just caught to be your own before the image settled on something else entirely.

“Pink,” Astarion blurted.

Your eyebrows shot up as the start of a delighted smile spread across your face.

“And orange,” he amended quickly, “and dark blue and…honestly just the color of the sky at sunrise.” He pouted as if annoyed at the words that escaped his lips, but he shook it off. “Alright, you had your little test run. Give me something harder.”

You considered a moment. It was very tempting to continue on with some more embarrassing questions, but that wasn’t the purpose of all of this. Best to start at the beginning.

“What did you think of me when we first met?” you asked.

He grimaced, guilt evident not just through his averted gaze but the tug of the string between you. “You were a target,” he admitted. “At best a convenient meat shield. You were just so…open, ready to trust. Manipulating you would be easy.”

You took a deep breath, ignoring the stab of pain between your ribs. You should have expected as much. He wasn’t exactly subtle.

“And that’s what you were trying to do the other night, manipulate me?”

“Yes.”

Another stab of guilt, a flash of your own back walking out of a candle lit room as a hand that was not your own reached hopelessly outward.

Your actual jaw clenched. “I don’t need your pity.”

“It’s not pity.”

“Then what?!” you snapped. “Hells bells Astarion, do you even like me?”

“You drive me to acts of insanity,” he said indignantly, raising up the glowing cord around his wrist as proof. “Do you think I’d willing subject myself to days of Gale’s passive aggressive commentary on my personal life for just anyone? Of course I like you. Gods below!”

You stared, unable to deny the waves of exasperation mixed with the sound of your own laughter as heard through another’s ears. Something warm and unfamiliar bloomed in the chest of the body opposite you making your mind spin, as you tried to re-establish the divide.

“Why did you ask me to come to you?” you asked. “What were you hoping to gain?”

Astarion took a deep breath. It was only then you noticed how tightly he was holding the chord linking you.

“I was hoping to get back on track,” he said, slowly. “I had a plan when we met. A nice simple plan. Seduce you, bed you, manipulate your emotions so you’d never turn on me. It was easy…instinctive.”

He met your eyes and for the first time, you felt him fight against the images threatening to breach the gap between you. You caught the barest flashes, memories of half forgotten faces passing by one after another. Shame and vile brushed the edges of your mind, and quickly faded as Astarion regained control.

“But, you seemed immune to my attempts,” he continued. “I could tell you enjoyed my attentions, but you never asked for more. My simple plan that had worked on countless targets, couldn’t get off the ground. And yet, you still gave me blood, protection…trust. I couldn’t understand it. I found myself wanting to know more, to know you. To anticipate what you would ultimately ask in exchange. And then that night, you showed me exactly what it was you desired.”

Something slipped through. You saw yourself in the center of the tavern with darkness surrounding you. A rise of fear entered your heart as you heard your name called from familiar lips. And then, the world shifted, light came back into the world and it was…beautiful.

“I thought I finally understood you,” he said. “A poor repressed urchin who had been hurt one too many times. All that was required was a more gentle touch. I could provide that. It wouldn’t be the first time.”

He paused, his expression softening. “And then you had to do the most inconsiderate thing and surprise me all over again: you asked for my heart, in exchange for yours. I should have been elated. It meant my plan had worked, not the way I intended, but you had fallen for it…for me. The trouble was, I hadn’t accounted for the possibility that I would fall for you.”

You stared, unable to say anything as a well of emotion threatened to burst from you. It was as if someone pulled a bow across your chest, creating a resonating sound that moved in harmony with your very soul.

It was true, all of it.

By some miracle, you wrestled back control over your lungs and tongue.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I didn’t know how,” he admitted. “Even if I had, would you have believed me?”

You averted your gaze. It was answer enough.

“It’s alright,” he said, offering a wry smile. “Smart really. I wouldn’t have believed me either.”

You nodded in appreciation, your mind still reeling from everything he had just confessed.

“What are you thinking?” he asked.

You frowned, unable to shake a question that had been stirring for some time.

“Do you even want to have sex with me?”

His eyebrows shot into his hairline, his mouth falling open. “I’m standing here baring my soul to you and that’s what you ask?”

“You asked me what I was thinking,” you defended. “Besides, it’s a relevant question.”

He looked like he wanted to argue, but let it go just as quickly with a huff.

“Well?” you prompted.

He made a series of non-commital noises, his mouth half forming words before being wrenched in another direction. The chord between you glowed brighter, twisting just a little deeper into his skin.

“I…don’t really know,” he said, slightly stilted, as if surprised by his own answer. “To be clear, I do find you physically enticing. In that aspect at least, I’d hardly qualify bedding you a chore, but... I spent two centuries using lust and desire to lure people back to him. In that time I developed the habit of taking myself out of my body, looking at it as if it were happening to somebody else. Even in those rare times it could be pleasurable, I still walked away feeling nothing but disgust and loathing. I don’t want those feelings associated with you. At the same time, I can’t help thinking that if we were together, it would be different. But, don’t take that to mean I expect it. Like I said, I don’t even know if I want it. Honestly, before you said it, I didn’t know saying no was an option.”

You took all of that in, your heart clenching as the full weight of what Cazador did to him settled on your mind. Red filed your vision, the sympathetic ache replaced with a rush of fury. He was a dead man. One way or another, you would see Cazador bloodied by the end of all of this. But as quickly as it had come you let the emotion pass. This wasn’t about him. You wouldn’t let him intrude any more on this moment.

“What do you want from me then?” you asked, softly.

To your relief, something familiar and teasing flashed across his face.

“I thought I’d made that obvious.”

With his free hand, he cupped your cheek allowing his thumb to lightly caress your skin. His scarlet eyes burned not with lust, but something warmer and just as desperate.

“You showed me the chorus of your heart. How could anyone look upon that and not desire it? The trouble is, the price you asked. I…I don’t know how to pay it. I don’t know how to be with someone that way, but I’m willing to learn. I want it all. I want you to have it all.”

The connection between you burned hot in your hand, but you couldn’t let it go. It felt so warm, so real. It filled every empty part of you to the point of bursting and still you wanted more. You were insatiable.

Astarion looked just as lost as you, his eyes glazed over with too many emotions for you to name. His body began to tremble. It was becoming too much.

In an instant you pulled his hand away, unwrapping the chord from around his wrist and tossing it aside.

He took a sudden deep breath as if coming up for air after being submerged in deep water.

“Shit,” he cursed, gulping for air. Closing his eyes, he ran a hand down his face as he tried to calm.

Your eyes widened as you caught the angry marks left behind on his wrist.

“Are you alright?”

He blinked hard as if clearing spots from his vision. “I’m fine. Wasn’t expecting that is all.” He turned his focus to you with a bewildered expression. “Does it always feel like that?”

“That’s admittedly a first for me,” you confessed. You reached out your hand, glancing at his injury. “Let me see.”

He followed your gaze frowning, as if surprised to note the welts forming on his wrist. Still he stepped closer allowing you to examine them without protest.

“Does it hurt?” you asked.

He shook his head. “Sort of numb, honestly, tingly.”

You nodded, swallowing hard to keep the rise of guilt and fear at bay. It didn’t help.

“I’m sorry,” you said, quickly.

He tilted his head, his eyes narrowing. “Don’t think a little thing like this is going to scare me off. I meant what I said. I intend to give you your fill.”

“You don’t have to give it all at once,” you promised. “I can be patient when it counts.”

A sly smile turned at his lips. “I almost hope you won’t. You’re not the only one who's starving.”

Heat spread up your neck, something Astarion undoubtedly caught as he gave a low laugh.

“Well, now that we’ve cleared the air, what happens next?” he asked.

“I’m…not sure,” you admitted. “Nobody else has ever given me the chance to figure that out.”

He nodded slowly, before taking a small step back. His head tilted as if to examine you from every angle. A question started to form on your tongue just as the start of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. He suddenly straightened before placing a hand on his chest and regarded you with a deep bow.

You grinned, matching him with a curtsy of your own.

He then offered his hand, which you easily took before he pulled you just a little closer. Your other hand found his shoulder while his pressed lightly on your waist. And then you did what was only natural. You danced.

It wasn’t anything elaborate. There was no fire or sparks of magic. You simply moved together to a song of your own imagination. It stirred in your chest, the barest pluck of a melody, but it was yours and his; the promise of a symphony to come.

Tag List:

@ambrolyer, @cassiecasluciluce, @tamwritesstuff, @hallowedandhungry, @mangomonk, @amefuyuu, @righteous-scamp, @starved-kitten, @tinystarfishgalaxy, @twinkliker3000, @unrestrictedbyreality, @screechingphantommaker, @becksynthetic, @black-sapphic, @dicenete, @isharaneith, @sarcasticlittlebook, @catsandskyrimcafe, @sora-o-kaku, @catching-fire-in-the-wind, @ka-du-trur, @baldursgateslittlestar, @rakilein

#astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #astarion bg3 #astarion baldurs gate #asexual #asexual!reader #asexual!tav #bard!tav #baldur's gate iii #astarion x ace!tav #astarion x evie

1K notes · View notes

kissesforsatoru · 8 months

Note

PROTECTIVE MODE ON YAN FIC of yan Izana, yan Ran, and Yan Kazu who were sent to jail ofc and find out that you been getting targeted from other gangs and been getting jump, mug, threatened, assult- maybe the before where they were in jail and seeing sent photos or words were being passed and then after they get out seeing you at the hospital very badly injured and going after the gang themselves

- 🌑

IZANA, RAN, KAKUCHO x GN! READER (separate)

₊˚⌗ izana, ran, and kaku finding out their darling is being harassed while they're locked away in jail.

⤷ cw : general yandere themes, light descriptions of injury, pet names (angel, baby, sweetheart; izana, kakucho).

notes : sorry this took so long guys, i got stuck on ran's section 😭

izana would be pissed if he found out someone was fucking with his darling while he was locked up. he thinks it's pussy to mess with him while he 'can't do anything' about it. if someone has a problem with him, they should come to him directly and fight him, not get his poor little darling involved while he's not there to protect them. izana has ways to get his revenge though, even while he's locked up. he has informants, people to rough up anyone that touches his darling until he gets out—and when he does, he will find them, and they pay for touching his darling.

"missed you, angel," izana hums into your neck, his arms squeezing tighter around your body. you visited him a lot while he was in jail, but it's been so long since he's gotten to hold you in his arms like this; he can't help but want you closer, closer, closer—especially knowing that someone has been hurting you.

he feels content with you, but it's only for a few seconds before he kicks back into his usual cold, ruthless self—his gang leader self. before he can allow himself any more time to hold you, and kiss you, and do whatever else he wants to do with you, he has to deal with the bastards that dared to hurt you.

"so, you gonna tell me who's been messing with you while i wasn't around, hm?" he asks, pulling out of your neck to look at you. his eyes are void and intense as always, sending a shiver of fear down your spine, and the sweet, lulling tone of voice he took with you just a second ago is now gone, replaced with something a little more dangerous, more demanding.

izana already knows who did it; five guys belonging to a gang that got on izana's nerves, thinking they were better when they were nothing but a bunch of mindless idiots full of themselves. of course, guys like that would go after someone weaker than them, someone easy—it's bullshit. izana wants to hear it from you who did it though because not once while he was locked up did you tell him you were being harassed; he had to find out from his informants, so this is your 'punishment'.

"i'm not fucking around, y/n. tell me who hurt you," he snaps when you don't answer him for a while. his fingers dig into your shoulders almost painfully, urging you to just tell him already. he doesn't have the patience to be playing games with you right now.

"i don't- i don't know their names, but they said they were from, uh- a gang called the serpents," you blurt out, not wanting to piss him off further, especially after he just got out of jail, and you finally get to be with him again. izana grunts but relents and lets your shoulders.

"go back home, baby, i have shit to deal with right now. i'll come back to you in a few hours, yeah?" he doesn't give you time to respond before he walks off. you know where he's going, and as much as you don't like the idea of him getting right back into gang business after getting out of jail, you don't try to stop him.

kakucho's first priority is you. before he even thinks about killing the bastards who dared to touch you, and he does eventually, he has to make sure that you're okay. your safety and well-being are always going to be his first priority. and depending on in what way and how badly they hurt you is what determines the severity of what he does to the guys who were messing with you.

the first thing kakucho does when he gets out of jail is go straight to see you. he's excited, a little giddy at finally getting to be with you again without the annoying and prying eyes of the guards, but kakucho is mostly worried. you suddenly stopped visiting him in jail a few months ago, making up bullshit excuses for it on the phone, so he asked one of the gang members who didn't get busted what's been going on with you, only to find out some guys have been fucking around with you.

if you didn't want to tell him about it, let alone let him see you, it must be bad. bad enough to leave you with visible injuries, surely, but he has no idea what kind of injuries you could possibly have. as bad as it may sound, he's hoping it's nothing more than bruises and little cuts. anything else and he might just lose any semblance of control when approaching the situation.

when you finally open the door for him, kakucho steps into your space and gently grabs you, look you over and searching for any injuries you may have. you have a cast on your wrist, and an array of fading bruises littered on your arms and legs--no doubt in other, more hidden places as well. at least they're faded, meaning those bastards probably haven't done anything in a while. not anything physical at least.

he curses while pulling you into his arms, hugging you tightly while also making sure not to hurt you. "why didn't you tell me, sweetheart? i have ways to handle things like this, you know? even when i'm in jail." he sounds like he's about to cry, and that make your stomach fill with regret as you hug him back.

"i knew you would be worried. i didn't want to stress you out any more than you already were," you explain to him, but now that it's coming out of your mouth, you realize that maybe not telling him and avoiding has made him worried about you even more. that much is obvious with how he's holding you, refusing to let you go even as you try to pull away.

"of course, i'm going to be worried about you! shit, y/n—" he stops mid-sentence, clearly a little bit overwhelmed at the moment. you don't say a thing and just wait for him to calm down and vent all his frustrations to you. it's the least you can do after causing him so much turmoil.

"i can't lose you too," he finally whispers. he pulls away from the hug and looks at you, his expression serious, yet tinged with worry and sadness. you feel another pang of guilt and you pull him back into the hug, as if to reassure him with the action. he hugs you back just as tight and the two of you stand there for a while, wrapped up in each other's arms.

ran doesn't take the situation as seriously as the other two, at least not in front of you. of course, he cares, he's worried, and he wants the bastards to pay, but he doesn't necessarily show it at first. ran will try to remain calm for your sake, to not freak you out with his anger because lord knows how aggressive he gets in fights, and how deeply he cares about you, too. even as he's interrogating you, ran tries to keep his cool, but he can only play it off for so long before he starts to get riled up at the prospect of some guys roughing you up.

"ran, some guys have been harassing me while you were in jail," you tell him randomly, unable to keep it from him any longer, especially now that he's out of jail. he just looks at you, that usual smirk of his on his lips, and he leans back against your couch, making himself comfortable.

"yeah? i already know. want me to do something about it?" he asks as if it's not that big of a deal to him, like it's just something that happens, which- to be fair, you know he probably expected this. ran pisses a lot of people off, makes a lot of guys want to get back at him, and you're an easy target to them, you guess. but still, his lack of concern or care for your well-being is a little bit surprising to you, maybe even a bit upsetting too. you expected at least a serious expression instead of that damn smirk, but then again, this is ran.

"no, just wanted to tell you." you shrug and sit down next to him, leaning your head on his shoulder. ran doesn't respond; instead, he wraps his arm around you and pulls you closer to him while he pulls out his phone with his other hand. you pay him no mind and go on your own phone, assuming the conversation is over with, at least until a few minutes later when he locks his phone and shoves it back in his pocket.

"who'd you say these guys were again? and what exactly did they do?" he asks, and you feel a little smile make its way onto your lips—he cares. you wouldn't lie and say his little display of nonchalance made you doubt he actually cared for you, even if it was only a little bit.

"those guys you fought because they kept messing around on izana's territory. and they just roughed me up a bit, pushed me around and called me– some things.” you say, shifting to sit up and look at him. his thumb rubs along your waist lightly as he tilts his head in thought, seemingly trying to remember who you're talking about. after a few seconds, he looks at you, humming.

"mm... rin and i will take care of them. you didn't think i'd let shit like that slide, did you? nobody touches you without consequences, you know that," he reprimands your little slip of trust in him, but he doesn't seem to really take it to heart—that smirk back on his lips. it is his fault for acting so carelessly, so he won't blame you. he gently kisses your forehead before standing up and heading out the door, intent on doing what he told you he would.

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joneejoestar · 11 months

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Naoya Zen'in x Reader Minors DNI / 18+

Self indulgent because I need smuts to function, lmao

CEO Husband Naoya who would walk around in his grey sweatpants that hung too low, showing his happy trail, who would smirk and chuckle when he noticed you staring at him. He would walk up to you and place a kiss on your cheek and say, "No need to ogle at it, love. It's yours anyways."

CEO Husband Naoya who made sure to diligently check his messages at lunch to make sure he didnt miss any of your texts.

CEO Husband Naoya who almost choked on his meal when he saw your nudes and your dirty texts, asking him to fuck you up.

CEO Husband Naoya who then swore on his life that he'd breed you so well, you wouldn't walk for days and stuck to it when he came home later to find you in only his shirt prepping dinner.

"Whats the matter, sweetheart? Was is all a ruse to make me treat you like a whore?" He spoke utter filth to make you clench incredibly hard around him. It impressed him that you could wrap around him so tight even after all these orgasms he pulled out of you.

Your lack of response made Naoya halt his thrusts, and pull you by your hair, your back flushed against his chest. You swear, you felt electricity shoot through your body from the contact.

He smacks your clit hard, and you cry out, more tears spilling from your eyes. You squirm in his grip, but Naoya is stronger and holds you in place. Your whines and cries just fueled his ego, he was more than pleased to know his effects on you.

He places his veiny hand on your chin, tilting your head and speaking into your ear, "Answer me, slut. I don't know what you need unless you ask me like a good girl, right?"

You could feel his wicked smile and it only made you wetter. But you couldn’t think anymore. Your last orgasms had drained you not only of your energy and senses, but also your cerebral functioning to form a coherent sentence. So you muster your last drops of energy and plead, "Sir, please, I can't cum anymore, I can't, please."

He tsks, disappointed in you, "I didn't ask if you could cum or not, did I, baby? I asked you if you wanted to be treated like a whore. It's a simple question and I expect a simple answer."

He pulls out of you and turns you around, admiring your wet face.

Folding you in half, he thrusts his cock in in one swift go, and you scream.

"Let's try this again, okay? Just answer my question and we'll get going again."

And you cry in frustration because you know he won't stop his assult unless you respond to him, so you decide to agree, "Yes, sir. I want to be treated like a whore."

And Naoya starts to thrust in again at an insane pace, "Wasn't all that hard to admit it, was it?" He grunts.

You tried to push him away, trying your best to make him pull it out, because it was too much all at once. Your body was screaming in pain and pleasure, begging for a break.

But Naoya was anything but sweet in bed.

He held you still, a palm spread on your navel to hold you in place, feeling his dick in you, the bulge from his dick driving him insane.

With his other hand cupping your face, he said brushing his lips against your lips,

"Don't run away like a bitch. You're a grown woman, you should take responsibility for your actions. Come on, be a good girl for me, darling." He trailed hickeys from the back of your ear to your breasts.

He took a minute to admire your upper body crowded in hickeys, both old and new.

You pussy clamping hard around him, was his cue to cum.

Once you came together, Naoya plaed a gentle kiss to your forehead and then your lips.

"That's my good fucking girl."

#naoya being the sex god that he is #naoya x reader #naoya zenin #naoya jjk #naoya smut #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk fanfic #ceo naoya

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konigsblog · 7 months

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mean kidnapper konig definitely mocks his darlings moans and tears when he’s fucking her 🙈

NON-CON

kidnapper!könig's heart is full of love all whilst being heartless and cruel. a brutal bastard who wouldn't hesitate to fuck you raw, into tears, into vulnerability and nativity. your pussy pulses around his thick cock, eyes rolled back due to the force and weight of his huge dick stuffed inside your wet, slick cunt.

he grips your wrists with a threatening grip, watching how you unfold while he spears you on his huge cock. pretty girl left sensitive and aching as he continues with his abuse. “oh, my pretty girl... you're just so sensitive, crying like this?” he mocks your tears, slowing down and faking a frown before pulling your legs over his shoulders and continuing with his assult.

wet pussy swallowing everything so well, he almost see's not issue when you're arching your back and moaning for him to slow down.

your stops mean more, right? :((

#orla speaks #könig #könig call of duty #cod konig #konig mw2 #konig x reader smut #konig x you #konig x reader #konig call of duty #konig cod #konig #könig cod #könig x reader #könig mw2 #könig fanfiction

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griffin-girl-r · 6 months

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Blackhill requests you say? Dw I got you covered!

Natasha and Maria are both happily married with an 8 year old daughter (r) when r’s dad enters the picture (r was conceived in the red room so he’s a bad guy who Nat had a one night stand with at some point idk)

She's mine

Created: 11.11.2023

Finished: 16.11.2023

Edited: 17.11.2023

Age: 8

Word count: 2,935

Warnings: Homophobia , Mentions of sexual assult , Abandonment , Misogyny

Anymore let me know

Request: Yes (Tumblr user) (@ravensinthedaylight)

Pairings: BlackHill, Natasha Romanoff x Lev Ilyin (Original!Evil!Character) (Past mention)

—

Natasha and Maria were quietly sitting on the couch in their living room, snuggled closer to each other as their 8-year-old daughter, Y/N, was sandwiched in between the two women.

'Lilo and Stitch', Y/N's favorite movie was playing on the TV and their little girl was absolutely fascinated about everything that was happening in it as if she wasn't seeing this movie for the millionth time.

Natasha had to buy 40 new DVDs with the movie, in the last 7 years since its release, because Y/N watched them so often that they quickly got scratched and, therefore, almost useless.

Natasha could only blame her wife for introducing their daughter to this movie.

Now, truth be told, Maria wasn't actually the other biological parent of Y/N.

Years ago, when Natasha was still a young mere prisoner of her own life, she was forced by the organization that had taken care of her training to have intimate relationships with a man she didn't even know.

More of like, being offered against her own will by the Red Room to one of their men but that is all in the past.

She was ready to keep living with everything that happened to her as long as the only good thing that came out of everything, her daughter, was by her side.

A knock at the front door interrupted Y/N's innocent giggles and the little family looked confused towards the door.

Who could be at the door at this late hour?

"I'm coming!" Maria shouted, carefully moving Y/N's sleepy body, who was using Maria as a pillow, away

"I'll get it." Natasha quickly placed her hand on Maria's arm, stopping her

Maria looked at Natasha for a second and the agent wanted to protest but the reassuring smile the redhead was wearing was too tempting.

"As you wish, my love." Maria smiled back

"I'll be quick." Natasha quickly peaked her wife's lips, then stood up, making her way towards the front door

—

Natasha opened the front door, unaware of the darkness that was lurking just on the other side of it.

A sickening smirk formed on the face of the man who was standing just in front of the red-headed woman.

"Hello, Natalia." He said "Long time no see. Did you miss me?"

Natasha froze in place for a moment as she took in the sight of the man she never thought she would see again.

Memories of a long-forgotten time had resurfaced in her mind.

She shook her head "No..." Natasha whispered "What are you doing here?"

"Well, you know..." The man began "I came to take back what's mine."

Natasha looked at the man, her eyes widening in shock.

"You are not going to take my daughter away from me!" She protectively declared

"Our daughter, my darling." The man corrected her "Oh, and what makes you think that I'm here just for our daughter?" He chuckled "I am here for you as well, Natalia. You are mine just as much as our daughter is." He stated as a matter of factly "How is she, by the way?"

The man took a step forward, walking uninvited inside Natasha's home, and looked around.

"I bet she grew up a lot in the time I haven't seen her." He added when Natasha hesitated to answer his question

"Leave her alone, Lev." Natasha raised her voice "She's innocent. She doesn't have anything to do with all this madness. I thought you were busy planning the world's dominance. How come you have come for us after all this time? How come that HYDRA let you leave their safe prison."

"How?" Lev chuckled "I was never a prisoner at HYDRA, to begin with, unlike you. I am one of their highest-ranked agents. Why do you think they offered you to me out of all people?" He explained "Now I am here to claim what's mine. And this time, neither you nor our little girl will run away. I will find you anywhere."

Anger raised inside of Natasha just as much as fear built inside her.

She couldn't believe her eyes. She couldn't believe that after all this time, the man who hurt her and took advantage of her body was here to claim something he never took part in.

More specifically, in the raising of Y/N, which he had no right over.

"Just leave us alone." Natasha shouted

"You wish!" Lev laughed sadistically

From inside the living room, Maria's ears picked up on the raising tone of her wife's voice, and her instincts kicked in, telling her to go and check what was happening.

"Stay here, baby." Maria kissed your head "Mom is gonna go and quickly check if Mama is okay out there and see who is at the door."

"Okay, Mom." You replied distracted as your attention was fully focused on the movie

Maria stood up and with one last ruffle of your hair, she made her way towards the front door.

"Honey?" Maria called Natasha confused, as she took in the sight of the unknown man sitting in front of her wife "Are you okay? Who's is he?" She pointed to the man "Were you expecting someone?"

"So this is that so-called wife of yours I've heard about." The man smiled "Well it's nice to meet my replacement but we have to leave, Natalia."

Maria looked confused between Natasha and the man for a second.

"What do you mean you have to leave?" Maria asked "Babe?" She turned her head towards Natasha, waiting for her answer

Natasha looked up from the floor, directly into Maria's eyes and the brunette could see the tears that were present in her wife's eyes, causing Maria's instincts to heighten immediately as a surge of protectiveness overflowed her senses.

When Natasha begged Maria to help her just with one look, Maria pushed Natasha behind her with a swift move.

"I don't know who you are." Maria said, her muscles tensing "But I'll have to ask you to leave. Nicely." Se ordered the man through gritted teeth

"You have no right to tell me to leave." The man laughed "I am here to claim what's mine and you, weak woman, will never be able to make me leave."

Just then, Maria's brain clicked on what was happening and she understood who the man that was standing in front of her was.

"You monster." Maria whispered angrily "I know exactly who you are."

"Well..." The man raised his arms, proud of who he was "It took you some time to figure that out." He sang "I expected you to be smarter than this."

"This is the last time I am asking you nicely to leave this house. That unless you want to have some serious problems." Maria said once again

"Oh, come on." The man chuckled sarcastically "You don't expect me to be afraid of a woman and especially of you, don't you?"

"Well, I wouldn't say the same thing if I were you." Maria tilted her head "I am ready to do anything to protect my family."

"Your family?!" The man shouted "They're mine! I am going to take my belongings and leave."

"They are staying here." Maria protested "You don't even know how my daughter is named, let alone have any right over her. I raised her ever since she was a five-month-old baby. I was the one who changed her diapers, checked for any monsters under her bed, and loved her, not you." She hissed "And the same goes for my wife. She's mine for a reason."

From the corner of her eye, Maria saw some movement right behind her, and she saw the man's smirk growing wider.

"Aha, my sweet girl!" The man cheerfully exclaimed "I finally came home. Are you excited to see me?"

Y/N silently peeked at the man from behind her moms.

"Mama?" You called shyly "Who's that?" You pointed towards the man

"No one, baby." Natasha quickly tried to make you leave "Just go back to the movie, okay? Me and Mom will be there very soon."

"Mom?" Lev raised his eyebrow "There is no such thing as another mom. I am your other parent, sweetheart." The man tried to tempt you in a sweet tone "I came here so you could have a normal family. I am your Dad." He declared

"Dad?" You asked confused, looking up towards Natasha "I have no dad. I have Mama and Mom. I already have two parents."

"Well, your parents must be a mom and a dad, not two moms." Lev tried to turn you against your mothers

"But, I love my moms." You innocently declared "They love me and we're always having fun. And Mom always carries me on her shoulders and buys me ice cream, while Mama reads me bedtime stories and gives me the best hugs in the world."

But just before you got to finish your sentence, the man snatched you away by your arm and forcefully held you in place.

You let out a terrified scream as tears quickly made their way down your cheeks.

"Mama!" You screamed out in fear, begging Natasha to help you

"Leave her alone!" Natasha screamed as she tried to grab you back from the men, but she didn't manage to "My baby!"

"Leave my child alone!" Maria threatened "That's my daughter you're holding there. You just don't get it."

"These two girls are mine! And she's coming with me." He pointed towards you

"She's mine!" Maria shouted as she grabbed your other arm quickly and pulled you towards her with all her force, causing the man to loosen his grip on you "They are both mine!" Maria declared as she quickly shoved you behind her to shield you from anything, just as she has done with Natasha "I don't know what's the reason behind your actions and what your evil plan is, but you must leave right now!"

Lev, in a fraction of a second, lifted his arm and punched Maria in the face.

Natasha let out a horrified gasp, her hands instinctively flying to her mouth to cover it in order to muffle any sound.

"Mom!" You screamed, afraid that your mom was badly hurt

"It's okay, kid. Mom is okay." Maria reassured you as she looked towards the man "So, you want to fight?" She nodded, taking a deep breath "Alright then, that's what you'll get."

And just like that, Maria delivered a punch back towards the man and a fight started.

Natasha wanted to help her wife, but she also knew that you needed protection and reassurance as she took two steps backward, shielding you with her body.

Kicks and punches were thrown around from both sides and just as the fight was getting more violent, a blowing sound was heard and the door of their house was slammed open.

"S.H.I.E.L.D., get down!" A deep voice shouted as agents armed with weapons burst inside their home

—

"This won't end like this!" Lev shouted as he tried to fight his restraints, just as S.H.I.E.L.D.'s agents escorted him away

"We'll see about that, Lev Ilyin!" Maria shouted behind him before she quickly turned her attention back to her wife and daughter "You're okay." She said in a rushed but reassuring voice "Everything is okay now, my sweethearts." The brunette woman pulled you and your mama in her arms "No one's ever gonna be able to take you away from me, I'm here and I will always protect you, you both are mine and no one else's."

Your small whimpers broke both Maria and Natasha's hearts.

Natasha held you tightly in her arms "It's okay, baby, it's okay. You're okay." Natasha kissed the top of your head and you hid your face in her stomach

Your cries slowly turned into quiet sniffs as you basked in the protection you felt from both your mothers as Maria protectively held you and Natasha closer to her.

"You're both okay." Maria whispered "We're all okay."

Natasha raised her head and looked at her wife's face, a gasp escaping the redhead's lips.

"Masha, you're hurt!" Natasha worriedly looked at Maria's bruised face and raised her hand to touch her wife's cheek

Maria tenderly grabbed Natasha's hand, stopping her from touching her cheek.

"It's okay, my love." Maria reassured "It's nothing. I just need a little bit of care from you and our little princess and I'll be all healed in no time."

"I'm sorry." Natasha whispered on the verge of crying "I never expected to see him again."

"None of that!" Maria sternly declared "You have no fault in this. Okay?"

"But Maria..." Natasha began before sighing when she saw the look on Maria's face and the spy changed the subject "How did the agents show up just on time?"

"Well, I kind of activated the alarm I have on my bracelet and they were alerted when I realized who Lev was." Maria shrugged her shoulders as if it wasn't such a big deal

"You sneaky agent." Natasha chuckled, a gleam of proudness shining in her eyes

"Well, what can I say?" Maria tried to sniffle her laughter "I am prepared for any situation."

But just as they hugged again, the sweet moment of the small family of three was interrupted by Nick Fury, who walked inside the room holding a file in his hand.

"Agent Hill. Agent Romanoff." He nodded, greeting the women "I want to thank you for catching one of the most wanted criminals on S.H.I.E.L.D.'s list.

"Well, you know..." Maria turned annoyed towards Fury, angry that he disturbed their moment "He kind of messed up with my family. I had to do something about it."

"As a thanks, I have a very special mission for you both." Fury stated "I need your help and you have just proven to me that you're both fit for this mission."

Natasha sighed, rolling her eyes "I knew there was something about you showing up here, Nick, not just because of Lev Ilyin."

"You know me, Agent Romanoff." He stated unimpressed, extending his hand towards them, offering them the file "Ilyin is just another trophy to our collection."

The couple grabbed the file from his hand and Natasha opened it, looking at the name of their next target that was written on the first page with big, bold letters.

"Tony Stark?" Maria asked confused "Isn't he that annoying, reckless man who thinks he's smart just because he has money and who wears sunglasses at parties that take place at night?"

"You couldn't have described Stark better, Agent Hill." Fury nodded "That's why I need Agent Romanoff to infiltrate inside his company. You have all the information there. You're getting a new alias and your mission is to protect him as danger is too close to him right now. We need to take action or the next events will have a turn for the worst if we don't intervene in this." He explained before adding "For the whole globe, not just for Stark."

"Consider it done." Natasha nodded, accepting the mission

"I promise you both, you won't regret helping with this mission." Fury looked in between the two women

"We hope we won't, Sir." Maria squinted her eyes

And just like that, Fury turned around and left without adding any other word.

Maria peeked at the page where all the details about Natasha's new identity were and quickly scanned the page with her eyes, reading the important details.

"Well, I see he didn't think too much about a new name." Maria said teasingly "Come on! Natalie Rushman? He could do better than that. And you were supposed to be a model?" She chuckled "No way!"

"Oh, shut up." Natasha playfully smacked Maria's arm "Let's just leave the mission for another time, okay? I have enough time later to study this role."

"All right, Miss Rushman." Maria laughed, wrapping her arms around Natasha's shoulders while taking a gentle hold of Y/N's small hand "I think we had a movie to watch."

"Stitch!" You cheered excitedly

"Yeah, baby, Stitch!" Natasha lovingly smiled down at you as you all made your way back to the living room

—

That night, Maria lay awake in the bed she and her wife shared.

Natasha and their daughter were sound asleep as today's events drained them out of energy.

The brunette agent turned on her side with a sigh and scanned the faces of her two loves in the darkness.

"No one will ever be able to take you away from me." Maria whispered "I promise you both that we will forever be a family regardless of our past or of what other people might think about us."

Maria slowly leaned closer and kissed your cheek.

"You're so loved, Y/N." The brunette whispered in your ear "And so are you, Tasha." She also pressed a gentle kiss against Natasha's cheek "You're my blessings and I'm the luckiest woman in the world to have you both."

What happened today, helped not only Natasha and Maria, but also you, to realize how lucky you were to have each other and on how much love your small family was actually built on.

Maria vowed to fight until her last breath, just so she could keep you and Natasha safe, as her love for her girls knew no bounds.

And just as Stitch has said.

'Ohana means family. Family means no one gets left behind or forgotten.'

And a true family is built on love, not blood.

—

Permanent taglist: @lizlil , @mmmmokdok , @natsxwife , @lovelyy-moonlight , @observeowl , @froufrousnowman , @youralphawolf72 , @halstead-severide-fan , @daggersquadphantom , @circe143 , @ravensinthedaylight , @darkstar225 , @dannipotatoo , @justarandomreaderxoxo , @theunchosenonee , @cherlenovix

#mama nat #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x daughter!reader #natasha x daughter!reader #natasha's child #natasha's kid #natasha romanoff x teen!reader #natasha x teen reader #natasha x baby!reader #blackhill #maria hill x daughter #maria hill x daughter!reader #maria hill

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jadewolf22 · 1 month

Text

Storm Clouds

Young!Fem!Reader x Jane Murdstone (platonic)

Warnings: Bullying, mildly toxic workplace, mentions of childhood trauma & abusive parents, PTSD, panic attacks, mentions of yelling & harsh language (not directed at reader), ect…

Summary: When Jane Murdstone hired you as her personal maid she had no idea just how well you would fill the role. After several months under her employment Jane can't help but hold you in high regard, something that strikes a chord in the maids who'd come before you. Eventually this bitter jealousy leads a few of the maids to take matters in their owns hands... and do their best in an attempt to get rid of you.

A/n: This story is the result of my first request. Thank you so much to @reddragon30000 for the promtp. I highly doubt this story does it justice but I've done the best I can. Hope you enjoy!!

A/n: Sorry there's almost no actual dialogue in here!! My dumbass brain didn't seem to think that the story needed it for some reason!!

When Jane had hired you as her personal maid her expectations were quite low as the rest of the staff under her employment was, in her opinion, completely incompetent. Yet, she quickly realised that you were nothing like the rest of the maids. Despite your young age you were rather attentive, respectful, and and an extremely hard worker. Unlike her maids in the past, you took no pleasure in gossip and did everything asked of you with a smile on your face. Though Jane would never admit it aloud, she had grown quite fond of you. Seeing your bright, cheerful face always seemed to make her day just a little bit better.

But, unbenounced to both Jane and yourself, the other maids despised you. They felt it was unfair for Jane to hold you in such high regard and to be fairly pleasant towards you after only a few months of employment when most of them had been their for years and had never recieved such treatment.

One day a few of the maids came up with a plan to get rid of you, hoping their antics would scare you enough to make you leave. They waited until Jane had left for the day before asking you to accom-pany them down to the pantry down in the cellar. You agreed, oblivious to what the girls had in store. They lead you down to the pantry, insisting you go in first. Seeing the small space made you hesitate, but at their persistence you entered, dread flooding you when the girls began to laugh cruelly. You turned, horrified as the girls closed the door and you heard the lock click into place.

You pounded on the door and began to scream, pleading with the girls to let you out, but they were already gone. Tears spilled down your face as you continued your assult on the door, memories of the hours you'd spent locked in the closet of your childhood home flooding your mind. You screamed until your throat felt as if it were being ripped apart before sinking to the ground, crying as you silently prayed for someone to find you.

When Jane returned home that evening she was surprised to find almost all of the tasks she'd assigned you incomplete and to learn that you'd been gone most of the day. Every employee she spoke with said that they had not seen you since that morning. When she entered your room your things were in the usual spot so she knew you had not run off. Worry slowly setting in, Jane began to search the house, anger filling her with every minute you remained missing.

When the rest of the house and grounds had been searched, Jane made her way down to the cellar. She thought it was unlikely for you to be down there but she was running out of places to search.

You heard someone coming down the cellar stairs and, praying that it was not one the maids who'd trapped you down there, you began to shout again, pounding on the door though your hands ached. When it opened you didn't bother to properly look at the figure on the other side, rushing forwards and throwing yourself into your savior.

Jane, who had not at all been expecting you to throw yourself at her, nearly toppled over when the two of you collided, managing to remain upright by keeping a firm grasp on the door handle. Her other arm wrapped around your waist in a sort of half-hug, relief washing over her. She stepped back to take a look at you, pure rage slowly transforming her features. Your fingertips were bloody from clawing at the door and the sides of your hands were swollen and beginning to bruise. Your body shook like a leaf in a storm and your eyes were bloodshot from the hours you'd spent crying.

The anger in Jane's eyes was something you'd never seen and when she went to speak you expected her to be harsh and angry with you, yet when she spoke to you it was in a kinder, much softer tone then you'd ever heard her use before.

"Let's go upstairs and get you cleaned up," she insisted, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear, "Then I want you to tell me exactly what happened."

"Y-yes, m'lady." you choked out, allowing Jane to guide you upstairs.

You kept your head down as Jane guided you through the house, hoping no one would notice your current state. Beside you, Jane was fuming, though trying to keep her rage in check for your sake. She knew what being in small spaces did to you, you'd accidentally brou-ght up the topic of your abusive parents when she'd first hired you, something you'd thought hoped she'd forgotten about, though she never did.

It caught you off guard when you realized Jane wasn't taking you to your room, but to her personal quarters. You were never permitted to be in there unless you were helping Jane or she's told you to get something for her, yet here she was, guiding into her room with a gentle, yet firm arm around your shoulders, instructing you to sit on her bed.

"Give me your hands," she demanded, keeping her voice gentle as she moved to sit beside you on the mattress.

Reluctantly you did so, watching Jane's mask fall away to reveal a look of pure rage as she inspected your hands. Her blue eyes matched the color of the storm clouds gathering outside, her jaw was clenched and her brows were furrowed as she ghosted her hands over your bruised, swollen skin. She excused herself for a moment, retreating to the bathroom across the hall to take a moment to compose herself, grabbing some antiseptic and wraps for your hands before returning. You were surprised by how gentle Jane was with you as she bandaged your hands but you anticipated that it would not last long. Surely she would berate you for being stupid enough to allow yourself to get locked in the cellar, after all, your parents had punished you for less. When she was done you waited for your scolding, but it never came. Jane simply sat there for a moment, allowing silence to blanket the two of you.

"Thank-" you couldn't help but cringe how hoarse your voice sounded, clearing your throat before trying again, "Thank you, m'lady."

"You're welcome, darling." she returned, pausing for a moment before asking, "Who did this to you, y/n?"

You started to tremble again, tears filling your eyes as you remembered the looks on the girls faces as they closed the door on you. Between sobs, you managed to choke out the girl's names and once you had Jane excused herself again, anger radiating from every cell in her body as she marched down to the kitchen where the girls had been assigned for the evening.

The three were beyond terrified when Jane confronted them, cowering meekly as she screamed at them, going so far as to call them "narcissistic little bitches" before declaring that they had until morning to "pack their shit" and leave.

Having found an outlet for her anger, Jane returned to her room to find you lying, out cold, on the edge of her bed. Chuckling softly despite herself, Jane carefully rolled you away from the edge, watching you carefully until you woke, informing you that she had "removed the girls from her employment" and nearly smiling at the look of relief the news brought to your face.

#jane murdstone #david copperfield #gwendoline christie #prompts #gwendolineuniverse

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yetanothergreyjedi · 1 year

Text

Ghosts of Our Pasts: 6

DP x DC crossover

Damian Wayne and Danny Fenton Siblings AU

Masterpost Next

WARNING: Light gore at the beginning of this chapter!! (I didn't get verydescriptive, but it includes blood and broken glass. If that’s not for you, skip the first 2 paragraphs.)

Trempling fingers tore at the vial, desperately trying to break the seal, but the glass was slick with crimson and he found no purchase. Each attempt was shakier than the last. Even prying the lid with his teeth made little difference when his hands couldn't grip the thing. He doesn't know if he made a decision or if he dropped it, but half the vials contents mix on the ground with broken glass and blood. The vibrant glowing green makes the blood look black in comparison, sharp little stars glitter in the morbid nebula.

Half the vial is still in his hand. It's edges are jagged teeth cutting into his hand, healing then cutting, then healing, and repeating. It should probably hurt more.

Danyal's thoughts are sluggish. It takes another minute to realize the new problem, that the wound is on his back under several protective layers. Even if he could reach it, he wouldn't be able to pour the Lazarus water accurately, he couldn't even see the wound. If he set down the vial to get a better feel for it, would he remember to pick it back up?

It only hurts the living, it is good for the dead and dying. He didn't remember who'd explained that, but it was all he could recall about the waters, and he didn’t exactly have many options.

He tipped the vial to his lips and drank. This he did feel.

---

Danny gasped awake gripping his hands over his chest where his core hid. The shard of ice felt sharper than normal, pointed and aimed at his heart. Danny felt cold.

When he'd first come to the Fenton's, he'd been convinced that Damian's blade had broken under his skin. He'd been sure that the blades tip remained lodged in the back of his chest, just under his heart. He remembered saying it felt cold. His theory had been disproven after an X-ray after falling off the roof. (he'd jumped from it to the Assult Vehicle. He'd been fine, but the other parents had seen him roll and insisted on the hospital.) Jazz had called it trauma, and well, it was. So he'd taken her advice on it.

Danny couldn’t tell whether it had always been there or if this was the usual mind over matter ghost nonsense, but now his core was being pointy, so that was great! Definitely not like the last time his core had felt weird and he'd almost frozed alive!(dead?).

He needed some air. He threw on some clothes and didn't bother with doors.

The thing was he wasn't actually sure if he died the first time. It didn't really matter, it was still trauma, but if his core had come from that, and the portal had just... what? Supercharged him? Both events had fundamentally changed him, but he'd gone so long believing he hadn’t died at Damian's hand. He'd survived everything with the League just to die to his own stupidity.

The sun had already set, but smoggy clouds and light pollution blocked the stars. He wasn’t surprised, but it would've been nice to fill a bit of obsession after the nightmare... actually...

He sat on the ledge and focused on chaneling his excess energy to Gotham. It was something he did often for Amity, the smaller city would take that energy and stitch back together any damage from a fight. But there was a lot of ectoplasm in Amity Park. Danny didn’t know how malleable the physical aspects were for her.

The energy was pulled away as she accepted, pulling a thread of his consciousness with it. She showed him a plant on a windowsill, stubbornly blooming despite the lack of sun. She showed him a tiny crack in a support beam mended, a touch of poison in the water flowed away from the supply of drinking water, and more tiny things that would mean all the difference for a few people. But she kept showing him things, too much all at once and he had to rip his mind back because he was in human form and could not handle that much like this.

She withdrew sheepishly, and he got it. Most older spirits did not know how much a human brain could handle.

Something else drew his attention and he turned sharply.

"Oh... Hi,"

"Are you alright?" Batman asked, still a careful distance away.

"Yeah...?"

"Your eyes are glowing."

"Oh..." Danny closed his eyes for a second, opening them again when he was sure they'd look human. He wasn’t really surprised. "That uh... happens, sometimes..."

"You have good control over it,"

"Uh, I guess? I can't always tell when I'm doing it..."

"It's not pit rage then?"

"Not... usually," Danny wasn’t entirely sure what pit rage was. Not that anyone else in the League knew any better, but he didn’t know if something he had a name for might be called pit rage by someone who didn’t know.

"Hm,"

"It's a weird conglomerate of side effects." Danny half explained, looking out over the other buildings and and a parking garage. The Bat crouched on the ledge a few feet away from him and Danny couldn’t help but laugh. "This is ridiculous,"

"Oh?"

"That my first time meeting you is on a rooftop and you're in a bat costume."

"You could have come to the manor," It wasn’t a reprimand, it was an offer, it was a question.

"Yeah, I think the fact that I'm not back to being dead is pretty good evidence your not with the Assassins."

"No. I haven't been for a long time."

Danny took a deep breath. He wasn't going to dwell on other versions of this story. "Cool."

There was a few moments of silence, a bit awkward, but nothing compared to the awkward silence in the alley a few hours prior.

"How's your trip going?" Batman asked.

"Already looked me up, huh?" Danny joked.

"We needed to be sure—"

"I know, I know, my sudden appearance was super sus."

Batman sighed the sigh of someone who has heard far too many Among Us jokes in his life.

Danny grinned, "Pretty good so far, nobody attacked the museum, and we've almost worn down Lancer about the whole 'we must stay in one group' thing."

"Staying in one group is wise."

"We're Amity Parkers," Danny countered.

"You're from a town with a communication blackout."

"A 'magical' communication blackout." Danny finger quoted the word 'magical'. "I don't actually know what you can access. Only someone who's been to Amity can find it."

"Hm,"

"Unless, you go through Elmerton." Danny advised. He was taking a chance on this, he decided. Even if he was wrong about trusting this part of his family, Amity's judgement wouldn't be biased and she wouldn't let them see anything they shouldn't. And of course, in Amity, Phantom could get involved if need be.

"Elmerton."

"Yep, the town a few miles to the east. Our only tether back to this plain of existence." Danny said dramaticly, it wasn’t that bad. He could almost hear him thinking, so he didn't expect the next question.

"Do you like it there?"

"I- yeah, I do." It was his haunt, most of its weirdness was subconsciously his fault. "Ever been to a liminal space?"

"I've been to a few other dimensions,"

Danny snorted, "Mood,"

That got him a weird look, it was his own fault really.

"I'm not talking about anything related to my death." Danny warned. "Sorry."

"That's a reasonable boundary," Bio-dad in a bat suit nodded, but also sounded like he was physically restraining himself from asking. It also sounded like something a therapist was attempting to drill into him, Danny could relate, if it were true.

"Liminal spaces are kinda hard to explain if you haven't been in one. Amity has a lot of ghosts... I mean that literally. Our neighbor died of old age, but she still reads the newspaper on her porch every morning."

"That's..." Danny could actually taste the suprise. It was kinda tangy? Danny really hoped the emotions having a taste thing was just because of low ambient ectoplasm; he really did not want this as a new power.

"The most normal thing about Amity," Danny finished the sentence for him. "Don't go into it trying to makes sense of it or you might melt your brain or something."

"Please tell me that's a joke."

Danny shrugged, then decided it was his turn for questions. He pulled Damian's list out of his pocket. "So, can I get you to explain who all of these people are?"

Bruce returned to the cave feeling significantly better than when he'd left it. Danny had been open, for the most part, but clear on things he wasn't willing to discuss. Despite his children's earlier interaction, he'd seemed willing, even eager to interact with the rest of the family.

Damian was pacing in the same way he'd been when Bruce had left. He'd said something along the lines of 'I do not wish him to feel pressured by my presence' when Bruce had asked if he'd come with him. He immediately noticed when Bruce stepped into the room and made a beeline for him.

"We're going to show him around the rooftops tomorrow night. I asked, you're invited." Bruce told him.

Next up! A brief break from the heavy stuff, let’s drop in for some Amity Parker’s vacationing in Gotham! (If you have prompts, I beg you!!!)

Notes:

If you're wondering: why did he come has Batman? That's because it would be very weird for Bruce Wayne to talk alone with a single seemingly random kid on their senior trip.

Batman talking with a kid sitting on the edge of a multi-story drop? Good! We were feeling worried about that kid!

Also B was just dropping by to check, and lo and behold! His son is chillin on the roof like any self-respecting bird does.

Any future Bruce POV's are gonna be just as short as this one, because I tried writing the interaction from his pov and it caused me pain! Shout out to everyone who does that regularly.

Tag list: Only 50 mentions will link on one tumblr post. I will add the others in under a reply

@spectralstardustandphantomnights @avelnfear @idfk-man10 @blackroserelina @candeartist422 @mur-ururu @luer-mirin @insufferablecatenthusiast @skulld3mort-1fan @alonedustspeck @voidbornposts @meira-3919 @marshmello @aethernorwood @mimilikey @undead-essence @cloudminder @markus209 @everything163 @latheevening226 @roman4517 @moobloomrights @battybatbat @lumosfeather18581 @werv @ahyesanerd @pyramaniac @lexdamo @princessbelix @bun-fish @deeannthepan @edgyboi10000 @thatrandomsarahchick @busterkeel @aconitewolfsbane @spoopyspoony @bright-shade @spidey29phangirl @idontgetpaidenoughforthisshit @keimiwolf @u-a-wizard-jamie @gay-puff @bicerise @itshype @blackfoxsposts @icanneverdecide @lolottes @chubbypotato @jovialherringtacoghost @saltyladynightmare @jesus-camp-the-sequel @agirlandagraveyard @jaytriesstuff @escelia @rosecinnamonbun @justwannabecat @tired-yet-awaken @aro-in-danyl @lesbian-not-american27 @samgirl98 @notanartificialintelligence @chronicallyonline-fandomwh0r3 rainbowbunny0159 @nerdypaintbrush @treepainting @thegoldenguardfan @spacetempest @enderglace @death-magnetic-cyanide @plotwholls @alexzandria-747 @gin2212 @dracotheghostdragon @minnowmarsh @miraculousandmore @memesanddoritos @andaspoonfulofangst-whoops @jotaroslooseeyebrowhair @0nerd @idkmrpianoman @thegatorsgoose @icecweme @escelia @crazylittlemunchkin @dannyphantomphan69 @hetalia-lover-is-here @justwannabecat @chaoticchange @sarcastic-yami @theamazingfox @depuffstuff @rhynereads @mysticsoulgirl @chrysanthemum9484 @thefearfullone @phantomskeep @promptingwips

#dp x dc crossover #dp x dc #danny phantom #batman #grey writes

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case-almost-closed · 4 months

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Hi. How are you ? Glad that you write for DC. not many people do 🥰❤. Can i request for Furuya? Feel free to ignore if you dont like it. But yeah. So there is this girl who is being verbally assulted/catcalled, and the guy is just being a creepy stalker literally following her (nothing serious, just wants to hook up and her number or social media), so she decided to ask for help from the first person she can find, who was Furuya walking with Conan . And she was like (can you pretend to be my husband boyfriend?). Im sure a person like him would understand the situation based on her body language alone even before she explains it, and im sure if he scans his surrounding he will even find the creepy person within secs. So yeah, Furuya being the gentleman he is, will take matters into his hands ❤🖤.

Guardian Angel

Furuya Rei x fem!Reader Words: 1.8K A/N: Thank you so much for that request, lovely idea, really. Sorry that it took a bit longer, but I was busy. It's not as good as I hoped it would be, but I still hope that it's okay.

She knew she should have listened to her friends and taken the opportunity to return with them. However, she had had so much work to do that she simply hadn't been able to afford to go home earlier, but as she walked home in the dark, the path lit only by the lanterns and billboards, she wished she had listened to them.

Although she tried to take the roads where there was a lot going on and a lot of light, it became more and more complicated as she left the heart of the city for the more secluded, quieter areas she had to cross to get home. However, it hadn't been her biggest mistake to walk home so late, but to decide that nothing bad would happen if she took the shortcut through the park.

"Come on sweetie." The man's voice behind her sounded muffled and raspy, sending an unpleasant shiver down her spine.

Of course, it must have been her luck to run into the only person who was in the park at the time, and of course he had to be the creepiest guy who could have been.

"I just want your number!" She walked on without looking back, hoping he would just stay on that bench and drink himself into a stupor. However, when she heard rustling followed by footsteps behind her, a shiver ran down her spine again and she instinctively quickened her steps, clutching her bag tightly. The footsteps behind her didn't pick up speed, but they were still too close for her liking.

"Sweetie, come on now." His words came out slurred and the thought alone made her feel nauseous. "Please...please leave me alone." Her voice was quiet and didn't sound as firm and sure as she would have liked, so she took another step faster, which elicited a laugh from the man behind her. "Don't be like that, I just want your number, nothing more!" By now she had left the park and was back on a street. Her eyes darted back and forth without moving her head much so as not to attract any more attention from him, hoping to find someone who could help her, but the streets were deserted. So she had no choice but to keep walking and hope that her pursuer would just give up at some point. Which, of course, he didn't.

She briefly toyed with the idea of turning back in the hope of getting rid of him, especially as she didn't feel comfortable with the idea of showing him where she lived, but decided against it. It probably wouldn't do her any good as she was already so far away from the busy part of town.

However, she noticed that her pursuer seemed to have slowed down a little, probably due to the alcohol disrupting his coordination, and picked up the pace again, turning the corner sharply only to almost collide with someone. She stumbled and caught herself in time on the fence of a front garden, the wood digging uncomfortably into her hand and her face contorted in pain. " My sincerest apologies, are you all right?“

Her head shot up and she saw a man and a small child in front of her, the former crouched down to be at eye level with her, looking at her with equal concern. In a matter of seconds, she took in their appearances.

The child was young, perhaps six or seven years old, had typical dark hair and wore glasses that covered half his face. The man, on the other hand, appeared to be tall, athletic and, to her fascination, had blonde hair that seemed to be natural and fell into his tanned face. He gently grabbed her elbow and helped her up, looking at her with concern. "I'm really sorry, I really should have been more careful..." She wasn't normally the kind of person to interrupt others, but she felt it was appropriate at this moment.

"Help." Her voice was no more than a whisper, a breath, and she would be surprised if he heard her, but he seemed to do just that. He furrowed his eyebrows and tilted his head, which might have been cute in other circumstances, but her heart was pounding in her throat. "Excuse me, but is everything all right?"

She shook her head, which deepened the worry line on his face, and started to speak again when she heard the shuffling footsteps behind her. Her body stiffened instantly, which was noticed by the man, whose gaze shot upwards only for his expression to darken. "There you are, sweetheart..." slurred the man, whose speech was now riddled with hiccups.

She shivered slightly and turned her head so that he could hear her. "I've already said I don't want anything to do with you." "Oh come on, don't be like that. It's just your number I want. For now." With that, he laughed and stepped towards her, reaching out for her arm. Her reflexes weren't quick enough and she just managed to tear her eyes open, prepared to be grabbed by the arm, but the blond man she had bumped into seemed to have other plans. He quickly pushed himself between her and the man, gripping his wrist tightly. "And what exactly is this supposed to be?“

Her harasser stared at the blond, as if only now realising that he existed. "What do you want, you scumbag?" he blurted out, spittle spraying through the air, but she tensed up when she saw him raise his hand. The little boy next to her, however, only took her hand reassuringly and smiled knowingly. "Don't worry. Amuro-san knows what he's doing." And the little boy was right. The blond, Amuro, blocked the blow with ease, twisted the man's arm behind his back, causing him to let out a painful groan, and pressed him against the nearest wall. "I should be asking you that." Amuro's lips were set in a knowing yet grim smile, giving her goosebumps as he leant forward and pulled his arm up a little further, eliciting another groan of pain from the man. "What kind of scum do you have to be to chase after young women in the dark and molest them?“

"I only asked her for her number, not sexually harassed her!" The man's face was contorted in pain. "Besides, it's none of your business!!!" She winced at his shout and the boy pulled her back slightly so that she had enough distance between herself and the man. "It's enough to make you guilty of molestation," Amuro hissed. He glanced at her for a moment and an idea seemed to occur to him as, unbeknownst to the man, a small smile played around the corners of his mouth. "It would concern me if she were even a stranger. However, it's my business especially because she's my girlfriend. So?" As the heat shot into her face, the man blanched and began to stammer out pathetic apologies.

She could see that Amuro was far from satisfied, but he seemed to realise how uncomfortable she was, so he snorted, grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him onto the road. He stumbled and landed almost face first on the tarmac, but managed to catch himself. He took one last look at them before he took to his heels and fled. Amuro looked after him, shaking his head in disgust, before turning back to her, his expression instantly softening.

Before she was able to thank him, he smiled shyly and scratched the back of his neck. "I apologise if I went too far in calling you my girlfriend. It's just been my experience that most people are more easily put off by that sort of thing, at least in the peaceful way." She shook her head hastily, her face warm with embarrassment, and bowed to the man. "No, no, not at all. I really am incredibly grateful to you for helping me. It wasn't a matter of course." He shook his head slightly. "Which is a shame, because it should be." He eyed her intently and a shiver ran down her spine under his gaze. "Are you all right?“

Only now did she notice the slight throbbing pain in her hand and when she looked down, she realised that a splinter of wood was stuck in her palm. "Just a small splinter, nothing more. You made sure of that." Instead of reassuring him, however, her comment seemed to have sparked renewed concern in him, as he took her hand in his and inspected it without thinking about it.

"It looks big," he murmured, gently stroking the skin around it, making her feel cold and hot at the same time. "You should pull it out carefully at home and disinfect it, otherwise it could get infected. It's not a big wound, but we don't want to take any risks."

He looked up mischievously and gave her a slight wink, causing the heat to rise in her face again and she took her hand back.

A clearing of the throat sounded and she looked down at the boy, who gave Amuro a look that she couldn't interpret, but he could. "We should get going." "Sorry if I kept you," she bowed again, this time a little lighter. "Even though I'm grateful for your help, I don't want to keep you any longer." Amuro frowned, obviously not keen on the idea. "It's not a good idea to walk home alone in the dark." "It's not far now."

"Still," he replied, looking at her with a gaze that ran through her heart and soul. Beautiful, but deadly piercing, as if he knew everything about her. "I wouldn't want anything to happen to you, and I wouldn't be able to do so with a clear conscience, knowing you were wandering alone." He smiled slightly. "If you don't mind too much, I'd like to walk you home. Just to make sure the guy's really gone."

At that moment, she was grateful for the dim light, as she couldn't remember the last time she had blushed so much. "I...I really don't want to be a bother."

"Not at all." His eyes sparkled and he tilted his head. "If you don't mind: I insist." She was unable to look at him, so embarrassed was she, but nodded curtly, which elicited a pleased chuckle from him and, to her surprise, he even held out his arm for her to hook under. "Thank you very much, my lady. Lead the way."

Annoyed, Conan watched after them as the nervous woman led Amuro, who was obviously thriving in his role as hero, down the path and rolled his eyes. It was obvious that Amuro would insist on accompanying them to the front door, the courteous guy that he was. He sighed and followed them at a distance so he wouldn't have to listen to Amuro, who seemed to enjoy making the woman blush and embarrassed, charm her.

Ran would give him hell for being late home again.

#furuya rei x reader #amuro tooru x reader #bourbon x reader #furuya rei #amuro tooru #bourbon #detective conan #conan edogawa #edogawa conan #rei furuya #tooru amuro #case closed #case closed x reader #detective conan x reader

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starrclownshazbinblog · 4 months

Text

I was sitting in a box when I realized something. I've given you guys GENERAL facts about my Hazbin Rewrite, but have I given you STRICTLY angst facts? Sad depressing facts about these characters? I have not. Good thing I have angst to spare.

☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★

Angsty, Sad facts about my rewrite for Character purposes, general information, or because I want your day to be a little worse than it was.

TRIGGERWARNING: DEATH, RACISM, SEXUAL ASSULT, GROSS TOPICS IN GENERAL. PLEASE BE WARNED!!

☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★

Angel's wife died in child birth. She wasn't a main priority condensending she's a POC like Angel. The baby managed to survive but Angel developed depression after that instance.

Nifty's parents were never able to have a proper funeral for their daughter. When Nifty was pushed into the fire, her husband's mistress ran out of the home, leaving Nifty's body burning. She was so unrecognizable and burnt that he parents couldn't have a funeral. (I kinda just spoiled why Nifty's in hell didn't I?)

Arakaniss was the one to mess up Angel's eye. Angel holds some resentment over this but not as much as he rightfully should. Arakaniss still makes himself suffer for it.

Angel almost killed Alastor when they fought. He's the reason Alastor has that scar at the base of his neck.

Valentino gets... handsy with Vox, even more when he's drunk. It's never gotten super far but he's definitely had to be pushed off. Vox refuses to call himself a victim. (He is.)

Angel has alot internalized homophobia. Like alot.

Valerie's crack on her head is from her ex boyfriend smashing her head into the counter, affectively killing her.

Valerie's parents are kinda homophobic. Not viciously homophobic, juts passively homophobic. Valerie ended up in a relationship with a man even though she's a lesbian because she didn't want her family to disown her.

Lucifer kicked Charlie out and claimed to disown her. Lilith was the one to gift Charlie the Hotel so she could achieve her dream.

Cherrie Bomb was absolutely terrified when she showed up in Hell. This terror and confusion lead to her almost being murdered by a exterminator. Good thing Angel was there.

Cherrie was heavily abused and neglected by her parents growing up.

Angel kinda lost himself after his daughter died.

Madame Pentious was harassed and fun of when she was alive for being "ugly." She's never really been treated well.

Husk is someone who is passively suicidal. He isn't going out of his way to off himself in his afterlife but if Alastor snaps or a exterminator happens to catch him then he won't do much to fight back.

Cherrie actually gets really upset she can't hear well.

Valerie will do anything and everything to make sure Charlie is happy. Valerie has been treated so bad that she thinks "I'm nothing without you. I have to do everything right cause what am I without you."

Arakaniss and Molly we're the one to find Angel's body. They died shortly after him. They don't like to talk about it.

Husk will let you treat him like a punching bag.

Nifty has undiagnosed Adhd. She also doesn't know she has Adhd. This leads her to breaking down at times because she doesn't understand what's wrong with her and why she can't just be normal.

Alastor's parents died extremely young. Being a orphaned black child that inspired to be in a white dominated job lead to much harrasment and troubles. Over coming this harasment and being successful is one of Alastor's greatest achievements. This is where his ego stems from.

Angel, Alastor, Nifty, Valerie, Arakaniss, Molly and Velvette have all been harassed for their race.

Angel used to be like Cherrie in the worst way. Arackaniss is really bad at showing his love and appreciation so this lead to unintentional harshness he showed on Angel. Angel strived for YEARS to make Arakaniss proud. Cherrie is like this currently. Angel is trying to change this mindset because he knows how exhausting it is.

Husk was abused by alot of people in his life.

Husk being transgender has caused him problems when it comes to dating. Men see him as a woman, Woman see him as a woman. Sexual relationships are even worse.

Valerie used to self harm alot. She still has these scars on her arms. (Charlie tries to put bandaids on them not understanding that she's not actually in pain.)

Angel isn't someone who relies on drugs. He's more of a passive drug addict. He only resorts to drugs when things get tough or if he's in his own head to long. This developed after the death of his wife but got worse when his daughter died.

Isabella, Angel's daughter, died even younger than Nifty. She was somewhere in her teens. She's not in hell. She's all alone in heaven.

Henroin (Angel's dad), died before Isabella. He doesn't know how Isabella died or when she died.

Henroin, Arackaniss, and Molly don't actually know where Angel is. A Lil bit of a lore dump: After Angel became a overlord, he doesn't go out barely at all. He doesn't go to meetings ND he doesn't show his face. He only goes out for personal meetings or when he needs too. Most people don't know who he is or what he looks like, like the spider family. The spider family also keeps a low profile considering they are a actual mafia. Both sides are actively looking for wach other.

Henroin doesn't know Arackaniss is the one that messed up Angel's eye, Angel never told him.

I have more but I feel like this is enough. Why I decide to write these I don't know, just felt like I needed to take these characters and be them down emotionally.

Asks are always open, art is always here, have a good time :)

- ⭐️StarClown⭐️

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superlarva · 11 months

Text

Happy Sunday! I had a little more time than usual this week, so I tried my hand at a more realistic rendering (there's a slightly different version under the cut with Fives's injuries).

Anyways, here's chapter 1 of my fic (I promise I'll come up with a name soon) about Rex parenting baby domino twins!

Summary: Rex and Cody go to Kamino and pick up Fives.

Prologue here!

Next Chapter: 02

CW: Implied/referenced child abuse, implied/referenced sexual assult (not of Fives)

^Please stay safe, friends, there's a decent amount of talk about trauma in this chapter.

Chapter 1 - Fives

Cody had insisted on driving. He knew Rex well enough to know his brother, normally unbreakable under any stressors, was just barely holding himself together.

Cody was barely holding himself together.

Rex had never explicitly told him what had happened when they had been separated, but there had been hints. Hints that made guilt and protectiveness and anger surge through Cody’s veins.

Rex came back quieter, more cautious, less trusting. He would get night terrors that left him pale and trembling, only soothed back to sleep by the sound of Cody’s voice reading stories or whispering affirmations.

Back then, Cody had not wanted to assume, and Rex had not wanted to share.

Now Cody knew. He knew beyond the shadow of a doubt what she had done to him. He knew why his little brother had come back from her care nervous and shaken. Why he hadn’t let anyone so much as tap him on the shoulder for years afterwards.

It made his blood boil.

If only he had been a few years older, he could have gotten Rex out before they were split from the group home. If only he had realized the lack of letters he received wasn’t because Rex was making new friends and didn’t have time for his older brother, but because he needed help.

He had needed help and Cody had not been there for him.

He had not, but he would be damned if he was not going to be there for Rex now.

Cody stopped at a red light and looked over to his brother. Rex was hunched over in the passenger seat, slumped against the window, lost in thought.

“You alright, Rex?”

Rex slowly turned his head towards Cody, his eyes still anchored on a spot of air in front of him. After a moment he tore his gaze away to focus in on Cody, fingers pulling at the hem of his sleeves, “Fine.”

Cody’s brow raised; Rex was a horrible liar. The light turned green, and Cody eased onto the gas, shooting his brother the occasional glance to let him know he was still listening if he wanted to say more.

“Nala Se,” Rex mumbled the name so quietly, Cody would not have caught it if he had not known to look for it. Then Rex’s eyes filled with grief and his voice turned desperate, “They were with her, Cody! Her! I didn’t know! All this time, they were with her! I- I could have- I should- I didn’t know!”

Cody grimaced and gripped the steering wheel tightly but tried to relax and remain calm for his brother, “I know. It’ll be okay. They aren’t with her now. We can make sure they never will be again.”

Rex sank back into his seat and closed his eyes. Cody was happy to see some of the tension in his brother’s shoulder lessen.

They drove in silence until they crossed into Kamino. It began to pour, buckets of water thudding against the windshield. Cody grinned and nudged Rex playfully, “Twins, huh?”

Rex opened his eyes and Cody thought he saw the ghost of a smile play across his lips, “Echo and Fives.” Rex dropped his gaze to his lap and sighed, “I don’t even know how old they are.”

Cody shot his brother a soft smile. He knew, he had already done the math, “They’d be at least seven. Maybe eight.”

By the time they arrived at the KCPS office, Rex had had plenty of time to steel himself for meeting the twins. Even if he did not really feel it, he wanted to appear calm and collected for the boys after the day they must have had.

Walking back into the familiar white, sterile building of his childhood almost broke down everything he had built up over the drive, but a gentle squeeze on his shoulder from Cody grounded him.

The waiting room was empty save for a tall, gangly woman sitting behind a sleek white desk. As Rex and Cody approached her, she looked up from her computer and smiled, “What can I help you with this evening, sirs?”

Rex took out his wallet and slid his ID over the counter, “My name is Rex Fett. I’m here to pick up Echo and Fives.”

“Of course.” The woman checked his ID, typed a few things into her computer, then slid it back to him, “If you’ll just follow me, Mr. Fett.”

The woman stood, grabbing two folders from the desk and then briskly made her way towards one of the hallways branching out from the waiting room. Rex followed hot on her heels with Cody not far behind him.

When they reached a room at the end of the hall, the woman turned to face the brothers, one hand on the door handle, “I apologize. I didn’t make it clear on the phone. Fives is the only one we are currently holding. Echo is in the ICU. There was an… accident.”

Rex and Cody exchanged worried glances.

“What happened?” Cody asked.

The woman shrugged, “We believe there was an explosion. The police are currently investigating the matter. Nala Se was arrested on site. Echo was taken to Kamino General due to extensive injuries. Fives was unharmed and sent here.”

Rex opened his mouth to ask if Echo was okay but stopped himself. From the way the woman had worded her response it was clear she did not have much information on his condition. Besides, she had said Echo was in the ICU. He clearly wasn’t okay.

Cody rested a hand on Rex’s shoulder and said in a reassuring tone, “I can check on Echo tonight, alright?”

Rex nodded numbly, staring at the closed door in front of them.

“Good, focus on Fives. I’ll iron out the details with, uh,” Cody squinted at the woman’s nametag, “Taun We out here.”

“Yeah,” Rex said, shaking the anxiety from his mind and squaring his shoulders, preparing himself for whatever awaited him on the other side of the door.

Taun We nodded to the brothers before slowly opening the door. She stepped to the side, letting Rex take a few steps into the room.

The room was much like the waiting room: white floors and white walls. There was a small table in the center of the room with a few chairs pulled up to it and a shelf with a few meager toys lined up on it against the back wall. The space didn’t look lived in one bit. The toys hadn’t been touched and the chairs were angled slightly towards the door as they might be if they were in a picture for a magazine. Rex would have felt like he was breaking a rule if he moved anything from its place. In the back of his mind he wondered what kind of interior designer would okay this design for a CPS office.

In one of the far corners there was a single small white cot with grey sheets tucked tightly around it. In the other sat a small boy, legs pulled up to his chest, head tucked down and hidden from view. He was wearing what looked to be pajamas: a white wifebeater and a pair of striped boxers.

Cody and the woman began talking in hushed tones and Rex pulled the door closed a little more without shutting it completely to muffle their voices. The boy didn’t acknowledge his presence, so Rex cleared his throat and gave a small wave despite knowing the boy could not see him.

“Hello. My name is Rex.”

The boy made no response.

Rex took a tentative step forward before retreating back to where he had been standing only seconds before. He wasn’t sure if getting closer to the boy would spook him or not and he didn’t want to make his first impression a bad one.

“Is it alright if I sit next to you?” Rex asked, watching the small form carefully.

The boy’s head shifted up a bit, peaking up over his arms and a curious eye regarded Rex. After a moment the boy’s eyes narrowed in on Rex’s jacket. “I already talked to the police,” he said with an accusatory hoarse voice that sounded like he had been crying or screaming recently.

Rex looked down at his jacket, realizing that his 501st patch was stitched proudly over his left breast. “I’m not-” Rex stopped, he had been about to refute the boy’s claim on the principle of his tone. He tried to smile instead, “Well, I am a police officer, but I’m off duty right now. I came to pick you up. To bring you to stay at my house.”

Rex cringed internally at how lame he sounded, but the boy raised his head a bit more out of his arms and squinted at him. Taking the boy’s curiosity as an invitation to move closer, Rex slowly made his way over to the far wall and slid down against it until he was sitting cross legged about a meter away from the huddle form in the corner.

Rex evaluated the boy once he was closer. Fives was small, too small for him to be at least seven, and his bones jutted out of his skin at sharp angles. He looked like he was the same height as the little kindergarteners that waited for the bus on Rex’s streetcorner, and to Rex’s dismay, he was much thinner.

Rex ran his eyes over the boy, scanning him for any injuries and spotted multiple cuts and dark bruises, old and new, covering his arms and legs. “Uninjured” my ass. He covered his automatic grimace as best he could and met the boy��s puffy red eyes, “It’s nicer than this place at least.”

Fives cocked his head to the side, his eyebrows drawn together, and his mouth set in a small frown.

“I live in Coruscant,” Rex supplied.

The young boy’s confusion only intensified, “Not Kamino?”

“No, not Kamino. The next city over. Have you ever been there?” Rex asked, wanting to keep the boy talking.

“No.... What about—” Fives cut off abruptly, suddenly breaking eye contact and tightening his arms around his knees.

Rex waited for a minute, trying to give Fives time to formulate his question, but after a while it became clear that he wasn’t going to try and finish his thought.

Rex thought he knew what the boy wanted to know. He shifted a little closer to Fives and lowered his voice, trying to soften it, “Are you worried about Echo?”

Fives’s wide eyes snapped to his and he slowly nodded.

“Can I let you in on a little secret?” Rex asked, smiling mischievously, hoping to God that little kids liked being in on secrets.

Fives nodded, wide eyes still scared, but now also betraying some seriousness, as if he was trying to let Rex know he was trustworthy.

“Once Echo is all better, he’s going to come live with me and you too.”

“R-really?” Fives sounded like he didn’t believe him.

“I promise,” Rex said seriously, glad that some of the disbelief fell from the boy’s face. “As soon as the doctor’s say we can bring him home, we will.”

“Why?” The question was barely audible, and the boy’s eyes began to fill with tears.

“Why?” Rex questioned back, confused. He had thought that being able to stay with his twin would make Fives happy.

“Why are you l-letting Echo come?” Fives’s tears were falling freely now. “I-I thought you w-w-would t-take him away b-because w-we were— b-because we were b-bad.”

Rex watched as the boy’s small frame was racked with sobs, unable to comprehend what could have possibly happened to make him think that they were going to take Echo away for being “bad.” Deciding it didn’t matter, he scooted closer to Fives.

“Hey, listen to me,” Rex said softly, only continuing when Fives met his eyes. “You and Echo weren’t bad. You were good and brave.”

A sob racked Five’s body and Rex moved instinctively to wrap the boy in a hug, stopping with a rush of guilt when Fives flinched back. “Sorry,” Rex said, retreating. “Do you want a hug?”

The boy studied him for a second before slowly nodding. Rex shifted so he was sitting shoulder to shoulder with Fives, then reached his arm back and wrapped it around the boy in a side hug. Fives rested his head against Rex’s side and sniffled, tears still running down his cheeks.

“No one is going to take Echo away,” Rex soothed as he tried to wipe some of the tears and snot from Fives’s face with his sleeve. “He’s just at the hospital right now because he’s a little hurt. They need to fix him up, but they aren’t going to take him away.”

“Really?” Fives looked up at him with big, desperate brown eyes.

“Really,” Rex said firmly. “And I’ll tell you what: we’ll go see if we can visit Echo tomorrow morning after we go home and get some sleep. Sound good?”

Fives took a deep shuddering breath, and Rex was glad to see the tears had finally stopped falling, “We c-can’t see him now?”

Rex shook his head, he had no clue what Echo’s condition was or if they would even be allowed to see him in the morning, “Not right now. I think Echo needs his rest. But I can ask my brother if he would check up on him tonight and he can let us know how he’s doing.”

“You have a b-brother?”

“Yup, his name is Cody. He’s just on the other side of the door if you want to say hi.”

Fives glanced between Rex and the door suspiciously.

“He’s a police officer, like me,” Rex added, hoping that that knowledge might make the boy feel safer.

“O-okay,” Fives said, a little uncertainly as he uncurled himself and began to stand.

Rex stood as well and moved to the door. Fives followed close behind. When they reached the door Rex popped his head out before opening it all the way. Taun We was handing over the two files she had been carrying to Cody and they both looked up at the movement. Cody spoke first, “How’s it going?”

“Good,” Rex said quietly, “I think we’re ready to go.”

Cody and the woman both nodded and Rex opened the door the rest of the way, revealing Fives, standing half hidden behind his leg.

Cody immediately crouched down to the boy’s height and smiled kindly, “Hey, I’m Cody. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Nice t’ meet you. ‘m F-Fives,” the boy mumbled as his eyes scanned over Cody and the woman. Then he looked up at Rex, eyes searching for something. Approval? Rex wasn’t sure, so he offered the boy an encouraging smile.

Taun We stepped forward and Fives shifted back a little, positioning himself more behind Rex’s leg. The woman didn’t seem to notice and addressed Rex, “We just have some papers to sign back at my desk and then you can go. I’ve filled in your brother on all the details we were given access to.”

Rex nodded and Cody straightened up. The woman turned and began walking back down the hallway towards the waiting room. Cody gave Rex a face he knew meant he needed to tell him something later before trailing after the woman.

Rex turned to Fives, “Ready to go?”

Fives nodded, then frowned, “I’m really allowed to go with you?”

“Yes,” Rex said, smiling.

Fives looked from the room he had been waiting in, to Rex, to the receding figures of Cody and the CPS worker down the hall, “Okay.”

The boy cautiously reached out and took Rex’s hand, holding it tight as if he were afraid if he let go, Rex would disappear.

Rex squeezed back.

He wasn’t going anywhere.

@marierg @stressed-cherry

#you can't tell me Fives didn't immediately imprint on Rex like a baby duckling #also #I'm so so so sorry Nala Se #I know she's not that evil #I just needed a name and hers was the one that popped into my head #the clone wars #arc trooper echo #arc trooper fives #captain rex #clone trooper echo #commander cody #tcw #clone trooper fives #clone wars #superlarva #domino twins #baby dominos

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gojos-thot-patrol · 1 year

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Sukuna was a long forgotten God, one with only one true devotee left. And he would do anything to keep his high priestess safe.

NSFW God!Sukuna x HighPriestess!Reader. lots of religous refences and symbolism, heads up. also full of Mahito slander. an attempted (and failed) assult attempt. Blood kink if you squint. I believe thats it for TWs. 18+ only minors DNI, reader is AFAB and uses she/her. i wrote this while very very drunk. no beta reader, we die as men. no editor we die as fools.

On the edge of the village, deep in the woods, across the river and past the graveyard, there stands a long forgotten temple. Though, “stands” is pretty generous these days if you were being honest with yourself. The temple had fallen into your family's care you don't even know how long ago. That record had long since been lost to time, as well as any record of the temple even standing, thanks to your 7 times great grandfather. Your family had at one point taken great pride in maintaining the temple, but, since sorcery came to your extremely small village and took over as the dominant religion, running a temple of any sort could have gotten you killed.

And your family just so happened to worship Sukuna, a god deemed the worst of the worst by the sorcerers. It made maintaining the temple almost impossible. And with the death of your father, you were left as the last of your bloodline. The last person that would ever care for that holy ground. These are the thoughts that plagued your mind as you made the hike to what you genuinely considered to be your safe space. The place that your mind summoned when you closed your eyes and envisioned home. You grunted as you opened the door, noticing that it was starting to stick again. Yea, the winter was coming. That checked.

The only thing that stood truly tall in this church for a heretic was a 7ft tall marble statue, representing the visage of your god. At least you think it did. You’d never met the man (being?) personally. “I’m sorry I’m late my lord,” you muttered softly to the marble as you knelt by the altar in front of it. You’d taken to talking more casually to Sukuna these days. Despite being a literal God, he was the only being (entity?) you had ever felt comfortable talking to. “Mandatory worship ran late today, though, I suppose there's nothing new there.”

Despite the relationship a priestess should have with her deity, you had taken to almost considering Sukuna to be a friend of yours. Should you do that? Probably not. But, as far as you knew, you were the last person in the world that worshiped this God, and as far as you were concerned, that met you got to decide how best to honor him.

You spoke freely with the god as you placed the offerings on his altar, a long ornate table with a plush velvety cloth running along its length. The offerings were nothing special. Some roses from your garden, a few gold you were able to spare, and some coffee. You had brought enough for 2 cups, enough to share. As you placed the offerings, you swore the statue behind the table warmed, the energy in it changing from cold stone to something with more life in it, as if Sukuna himself had awoken to spend yet another evening listening to you.

Of course, you had no way of knowing that was literally what was happening. It had become how Sukuna kept track of the days, marking each one with a visit from his high priestess. He watched from the statue's eyes as you curled up at its base with your coffee and a book. He noticed a cup next to him.

“Oh, how cute.” he thought to himself, “We’re sharing coffee now…I used to kill people.” he groaned to no one, rolling his eyes inside the stone. It annoyed Sukuna to no end how long it had been since he’d been summoned. It wouldn’t take much, her unshakeable faith in him had kept him relatively strong. A blood sacrifice was all he was asking. Any trivial reason would do, any excuse to escape this miserable marble. He resented your however many great grandfathers for burning the information on how to properly worship him.

“Mahito came to ask for my hand in marriage again today.” you told your god as you sipped your coffee.

“Oh, this fucking guy again.” Sukuna growled. That failed science experiment of a man had been harassing you for months now. “I’ll slaughter him for you. Just let me out of this marble hell.”

“He said I couldn’t keep denying him forever.”

“Yes you can.”

“I told him I very well could.”

“Good.”

“Then he told me that no one else in the village wanted me. And that if I keep this up I’d just die an old hag.” you sighed into your cup.

“I’d rather you die a hag than touch him.” Sukuna scoffed. He couldn’t imagine his last priestess being violated by that unloved rag doll.

“I said better a hag than his wife. I’d rather cut my hand off than touch that breathing corpse.”

“Atta girl.” Sukuna smiled. He didn’t know if you felt his influence that strongly or if you were just inherently on the same wavelength as him. Whatever the case was, He couldn’t remember liking any of his other followers quite as much as he liked you. Not that he’d ever admit it. For him, an immortal god of war and death, to care for a mortal was disgraceful at best and a sin unto itself at worst. Still, he knew a part of him would mourn you when your inevitable last breath escaped you.

“Honestly my lord, every day I come just a little bit closer to faking my death and running to live the rest of my life here, away from the village.” you announced, agitation lacing your voice. Honestly, Sukuna wasn’t against the idea. At least then he’d always have you near. “I know it’s my duty to bear children so your worship continues after I'm gone, but the men in this village are truly insufferable my Lord! Couldn’t you send me just a half decent one? I’ll settle for one that showers!”

Yeaa, that wasn’t really in Sukuna’s wheelhouse. Besides, He’d given up long ago on his worship being continued after you were gone anyway. He wished he would find a way to tell you that. That he’d rather have no followers than a follower that came from any of those filthy fucks touching you. He thought for a moment, then summoned what he hoped was a sign.

“Oh! A spider friend!” you laughed as you noticed a garden spider crawling up your leg. You took it in your hand, knowing Sukuna was historically considered the father of spiders due to his many arms and eyes. “I must have said something you liked, hmm?” you purred, gently placing the friend at the statue's base. “Does this mean you will send me someone?”

Sukuna decided that signs were utterly ineffective against humans, because everytime he sent one they fucked it up. He’d have to just spell it out for her. And he would! If she would just SUMMON HIS CORPOREAL FORM, FOR FUCKS SA-

“Oh dear, it’s getting late isn’t it? “ you muttered, packing up your things. “I should return home…” you never wanted to. As far as you were concerned, this was home. Here, in the woods you grew up in, hidden by the walls you had entered every day since you came to age, next to possibly the last idol of your god left in the world. But, sadly, if you choose to just up and leave, people would look for you. And you couldn’t risk them coming here.

“Goodbye, my lord.” you muttered, moving around the altar, stretching on your tip toes and still only managing to kiss his sculpted robes. You chuckled to yourself. The sculpture was so nice, even all these years later you still expect the cloth to give at your touch.

“Goodbye Y/n.” Sukuna sighed as he watched you ready yourself to leave. So ends another day. You gathered your things and made your way back to your little cottage at the edge of your village.

~~~~~~

The walk back to your place was as uneventful as ever. It was peaceful even. The moon was full and bright, lighting your way easily through the dark woods, and you didn’t even feel a little spooked when you passed through the graveyard. But, that wasn’t really anything new. You always felt more confident after visiting Sukunas altar. It may have sounded crazy to others (I mean, it sounded a little crazy to you,) but you swore you could feel your Gods protection as you walked home.

That was until your cottage came into view. You didn’t know why at first, but when it came into view your blood turned to ice. Your body instinctively stopped, knowing the danger before your brain did. Why were you so scared? Then it hit you. The lights were on inside. You never leave the lights on when you leave your home. Hell, you barely had the lights on when you were home, they were far too bright and you could think of nothing more opposed to your soul than sitting with them on when they didn’t need to be. That's what candles and table lamps were for, not the main light.

So then why the fuck was the main light on? Your body went into defense mode, which..was honestly just the symptoms of a panic attack coming on. Your mouth became a desert, your stomach threatened a violent revolt, and your heart decided to run a marathon. You could feel spiders crawling up your spine, as if they were telling you to walk away. Don't go in there, return to the safety of your shrine. But when you touched your spine, you found nothing there.

Your entire being was shouting at you to turn around, That that house held something dangerous inside. But you had never been one to listen to your instincts. And you had contraband in there. Journals filled with your day to day activities. Including your worship habits. Confessional after confessional sat on a bookshelf in your living room. How could you have been so foolish? You mentally apologized to your ancestors for being angry at them with burning ancient texts, and ran to your demise.

You honestly should have been less surprised by what you found. “Oh, Y/n. You're home.” Mahito greeted you, looking up from one of your many journals as you walked into your living room. Your eyes didn’t meet his though. You were more focused on the knife shining in his free hand. That didn’t come from your kitchen. Why did he have it? Mahito was more than annoyed now. He was standing in your home and yet you still had the audacity to ignore him? He closed the book with a soft thud and stood up from your couch, walking over to you.

Suddenly, you were forced to make eye contact with his cold mismatched eyes. He had grabbed you by your cheeks and forced you to look at him, his grip tightening as you struggled to move away. “My my Y/n…look at the mess you’ve gotten yourself into now.” he sighed.

“Let me go!” you demanded. He pulled you closer.

“But I can't do that dollface. You’ve been practicing curse worship! I should report you to the church, you know that right?” he faked a sigh, his voice dripping with pity, but his eyes enjoying your pain a little too much.

“No! You wouldn’t do that! You hate the church as much as I do!” you gasped as he brought the knife to your face.

“No, you’re right. I wouldn’t, and I do. It would be much more efficient to just kill you myself, then show your diaries to the church as a defense.” you hated the fact that he’d get away with your murder by showing the church leaders some bound paper, but..it was still a fact that he would.

“Mahito, please..” you whimpered.

“Please what doll? Make a deal with you?” he asked, pulling your body unwillingly closer to his. He nestled the cool steel of his hunting blade into your cheek, and became all too preoccupied with your chest. “We could do that..but of course, I’m going to want something for my silence..”

Oh, fuck that! If you were going to die anyway, you were gonna die fighting. You Violently shook your head, freeing your face from his grasp and cutting your cheek in the process. You reached up and grabbed his knife by the blade, not even feeling it slice your hand open as you rammed your forehead into his nose. The pain that pulsed through Mahitos skull in electric waves forced him to stumble back.

“You fucking cunt!” he roared, regaining his balance. But, you were already out the door, running for your life to the woods. When nowhere else was safe, your shrine was. You could hear Mahito stumbling after you, determined to finish what he started. You began to pray with everything you had that you’d at least survive the night. Not that you needed to. The moment you had felt you were in danger, Sukuna had been hyper aware of you.

In his current state though? His hands were all but tied. All he could do was will you to his side, and hope the temple would scare him off. He watched as you burst through the temple door, almost knocking it off of its old hinges in your desperation. His outlook on the situation greatly approved as he saw the crimson dripping from you.

“My lord!” you yelled despite yourself, running to the shrine.

“Look at you, you pathetic wench! Calling out for a god that doesn't even exist!” Mahito yelled as he entered the temple behind you. You fell onto the table, your bleeding face and hand in the offering altar. “And now, you’re going to die here, screaming for help that won’t come!”

“Sukuna!” you yelled, not entirely sure why. It seemed to work though. While normally there was supposed to be more showmanship and bravado involved with summoning Sukunas corporeal form, he’d make an exception all things considered. The candles in the temple all went out as an ice cold wind blew through the thin walls, and lighting cracked the sky, so violently even Mahito had to pause to take notice.

The very foundation of your small temple began to shake, causing the roof to rain down spackle. You covered your head with your arms, blocking the view. “What the, who the fuck are you!?” you heard Mahito yell in confusion as the smell of pine and iron filled the room,

“I’m the God that doesn’t even exist.” a rough unknown yet familiar voice said. It was like a poisonous honey, sweet with the promise of death. “And you're in my temple. Harassing my high priestess. And I can not let that slide.” No fucking way. You thought to yourself. You opened your eyes to see the back of an impossibly tall, muscular man. He was covered in tattoos, with too pretty to be on him pink hair. Oh, and he had four arms. Is that?..

“Oh, are you now?” Mahito asked, ever the incredulous one. “Well then, what are you going to do about it?!”

“I’m going to kill you.” Sukuna said, deciding that sugar coating it would be a disservice to both of them. I guess Mahito didn’t see that the man in front of him was seven feet tall, or that he had four arms. Or maybe Mahito forgot this was a Sukuna fic, and he was the villain. We don’t know what went through his head. What we do know is he ran at Sukuna, knife up ready to kill. He didn’t get very far though. Sukuna grabbed him by the throat the moment he was in arms reach.

“You don’t listen very well, do you punk?” Sukuna asked as the small man struggled for air in his hands. “I didn’t expect you to. My priestess has told me all about your refusal to take no for an answer.” Sukuna pulled Mahito close to him, getting a good look at his face. He was far less than impressed. “I don’t like it when others try to play with things that are mine. And you’re notorious for that.”

His claws dug deeper, drawing blood. Sukuna watched as horror filled the blue haired man’s eyes, and it sent a rush of blood straight to his head. He grinned. Gods, he missed this. “Not only that, but after harassing my girl, you come to my temple and disrespect me. I was going to make this quick at first,” no, he wasn't. “But now? I think I’ll take my time.”

You covered your eyes again as your God got to work, not wanting to see his bloody creative process. Mahitos screams were unlike anything you had ever heard before or would ever hear since. The sounds of someone begging for mercy, then for help, then for death is a sound that becomes etched into the human soul. You wanted to feel bad for him, but you couldn’t help but feel like he deserved it.

It felt like hours before the man had finally fallen silent. In the quiet aftermath, you heard footsteps coming toward you. “Are you hurt?” the man (being? entity?..deity?) from before asked, noticeably less edge in his voice. You felt a heavy hand rest on your shoulder, and you finally opened your eyes. “It’s..it’s really you.” you muttered softly. Sukuna gave a sly grin.

“In the flesh,” he confirmed. You quickly remembered your place under him, and scrambled to your knees to pray. You..should have taken worship waaayyy more seriously than you had.

“Oh, don’t do that.” Sukuna scoffed. You had been far too casual with him in the past to start doing shit like that now. It felt unnatural. “Look at me Y/n.” he demanded. You were not one to refuse an order when given to you by a god. You looked up at him with giant doe eyes that would have pulled on his heartstrings if he had one. He inspected your cheek, brushing the blood away with his thumb. Disgust filled his blood as he realized someone else had left their mark on his shrine maiden. But, at least they did a shit job of it. It wouldn’t scar.

“Hand” he said, extending his own. You placed your injured hand palm up in his clawed one. He inspected the cut, maybe a little longer than he really needed too. It always fascinated him the way humans bleed and how easily they did so. That liquid crimson gave them life, and yet they were always so quick to lose it. He brought your palm to his surprisingly soft lips, kissing the wound gently. And bringing you to your feet. Your blood tasted sweet to him. He wondered what else tasted sweet.

For the first time you got a good look at the deity you had been worshiping. He looked at you with four maroon eyes, burning into yours. Your heart skipped a beat and you couldn’t help but mentally compare him to a puppy. Ok, well, maybe not a puppy. More like a fighting dog. All of his features held the pain of war, his clenched jaw, his muscular body, the way his very presence demanded and commanded fear, the cold steel he held in his eyes. Even so, beyond all that cold steel and rage, his eyes held a softness you had no way of knowing was reserved for you.

“Thank you.” you whispered, finally finding your breath. You forced yourself to look away from Sukuna.

“For what?” he asked, though he already knew your answer.

“For, well..I mean..” you vaguely gestured over to the pile of red goo formerly known as Mahito.

“Killing him?” Sukuna asked, raising a sculpted eyebrow at you.

“Yea..” you gulped, looking over at the massacre, then down. They were gonna need a sponge to get him into his funeral… “You took care of a major problem for me..”

“I know.” It was like you had forgotten all those conversations you had with him. Or you didn’t realize he heard them all, even through the thick barrier of the marble. “Don’t be confused mortal, I didn’t do this just for you. He was a problem for me too.” you suddenly felt embarrassment explode in your chest.

“O-oh, of course! How silly of me to think that a divine being would sully their hands just for me, I think I must forget myse-”

“Stop that.” Sukuna tsked, shutting you up instantly. “Were you not listening earlier mortal? He was a problem for me because he wanted to possess you. And I don’t like it when entitled fucks try to touch what’s mine.”

Oh. He considered you to be his property. You supposed that checked out. You had dedicated your life to him after all. “I just..I can’t believe you're real.” You muttered despite yourself. That almost offended Sukuna.

“That so? So tell me then, do all humans make a habit of bringing their imaginary friends offerings, or are you just the odd one out here Y/n?”

“Oh, come on, you’re a God! You know that's not what I meant!” you argued, forgetting that it wasn’t your friend you were arguing with, but a literal god of death, destruction, ruin and war. Someone that could tear you asunder with just a flick of their wrist. “I ment like…I can’t believe you're here and well…real! In the flesh! Something corporeal that I can touch and not just a distant entity..”

Sukuna was smirking at your little outburst. This is how he loved you. When you forgot where you stood before him. “I assure you darling, I’m real.” he promised, amusement leaking into his voice.

“But you shouldn’t be.” You reminded him, “So, It’s hard to believe..” your body froze as you realized Sukuna was walking closer to you. He stood mere centimeters away from you. You felt suddenly overwhelmed with his presence, he was suffocating, filling your senses with nothing but him. A divine sense of warmth and a blood chilling sense of dread and danger. He leaned down, his face so close you could feel his hot breath wash over you.

“Do you want me to prove to you just how real I am?” he asked. Your brain couldn't register the question. You were too focused on mentally tracing the lines on his face.

“I-I..” you mutter, looking for words other than may I please see your cock my lord, I want to see if it’s tattooed as well.

“I-I-I,” Sukunas mocking forced you back into focus, “What’s wrong pet? Deity got your tongue? What happened to all that tough talk from earlier?” Sukuna cooed mockingly.

“Would it be sacrilegious if I touched you, my Lord?..” you muttered softly, your mouth spitting out words your brain gave it no permission too. Sukuna grinned, your words going straight to his dick.

“Oh, most definitely.” He promised, closing the gap between you two. His hands found your hips, rubbing circles into them with his thumbs as he pulled you closer to him. His touch sent static to your core. “I'm no fertility God, fucking isn’t typically allowed in my temple.” fucking. He said it as an insult. “In fact, the very act of you lusting for me like this is considered sacrilegious.”

You felt dirty. You should have known better. Fantasizing about a supreme being in their own temple, how shameless were you? Not to mention self absorbed, thinking a God would be intimate with a lowly mortal like you. You suddenly become hyper aware of his every touch.

“But, I’ll make an exception for my favorite shrine maiden.” he purred into your ear, his head dipping down to kiss your neck, one of his unoccupied hands coming up to move your head to give him more room to work with. If his touch was static, then his kiss was pure lighting. Any thoughts that you shouldn’t be doing this melted from your mind as you relaxed into his arms. A soft purr escaped your lips, bringing a grin to his face.

His last free hand moved in between the two of you, finding the waistband of your skirt. A small gasp left your mouth as he slipped his clawed hand under it, using said claw to cut a slit in your underwear right where your folds are. You felt your heart race with anxiety and excitement as he ran his long fingers along your slit.

“So needy, aren't you pet?” he groaned softly. “I’ve barely even touched you and you're already dripping for me. So cute.” He mocked, his finger brushing against your nub. You whimpered softly, trying to move your hips for more friction, but his hands held you still. Curse him for having four arms, and curse your monsterfucking heart for being so into it.

“All for you..” you muttered softly, “Please...I-I need your touch my Lord..” Embarrassment burned you as you spoke. “I beg..” Your words went straight to Sukunas already hardening cock. The way you whined for him, like a desperate sinner begging for forgiveness. As if his touch and his touch alone could save you from damnation, when in reality, it was your one way ticket to hell.

Sukuna moved your head so he could get a better look at your still bleeding cheek, licking the blood away as he finally began to massage your swollen clit. Ecstasy pulsed through you as you moaned out your god's name. “You like that, don't you Heathen?” Sukuna taunted you, adjusting to slip his finger inside you, rubbing his thumb against your nub. You nodded dumbly, focusing on how he seemingly instantly found your G spot. “It’s so good..” you muttered.

Sukuna held back a laugh. Of course it was good. He knew your body better than any mortal man ever would, before he even touched you. He slipped another digit into your weeping pussy, forcing a moan from you. “Look at me Y/n.” He demanded. You forced your eyes open, unsure when you even closed them. You stared into his molten crimson eyes, an intensity drilling into your soul that forced you into submission.

Sukuna licked his lips as he stared into your tear pricked eyes, watching you desperately try to keep it together while he pumped his fingers into you. You looked even better than he ever could have imagined. And you we’re only going to look prettier the more fucked out you got. He caught your lips in a kiss, his tongue slipping into your mouth before you could even register what was happening.

You moaned softly into his kiss, losing yourself in him. He was all consuming. His lips were soft and plump, his fingers moved with expert skill, between the electric storm forcing your toes to curl and the fiery passion that filled your head with smoke, you forgot everything that wasn’t Sukuna. You could feel a knot forming in your stomach, threatening to break. His thumb focused on your clit, switching from lazy half circles to massaging with precision and purpose. A moan ripped out of your lungs and you felt your breathing become more labored.

“Sukuna, I-I’m,”

“I know you are.” Sukuna growled, focused on bringing you over the edge. He could feel the way your walls clenched around him, the way you gushed around his claws. The sound was obscene. “Cum for me darling,” he ordered, his mouth latching onto your neck to leave evidence of his ownership there.

It was as if your body didn’t know how not to follow the deity's command. The knot inside you snapped, waves of pleasure crashing into you and pulling you under as your cunt convulsed around his fingers. His name ripped its way out of your lungs as ecstasy shot through you, your vision turning white hot. Sukuna finger fucked you through your high, feeling his dick ache for you as he watched your blissed out face contour with pleasure.

“That's it slut,” he purred, “Cum all over your god.” you whimpered as your body finally relented, letting you look up at him. You’d never cum that hard on your life. Was this what it was like to be intimate with divinity? He removed his fingers from your dripping pussy and sucked them clean, humming in satisfaction. “You taste just as good as I thought you would.” he praised.

“Thank you my lord..” You muttered, unsure what else to do here.

“Oh, I’m not done with you yet, Pet.” Sukuna laughed. “I've waited for centuries to be summoned into my physical form, and I’ve waited far too long to fuck you to let you tap out now.” He chuckled darkly. He should be more embarrassed, frankly, That he was a God, a being of pure divinity and holy spite, that was desperately lusting for a human. But he was also the last of his kind. Who the hell was there for him to be embarrassed for? “On your knees, slut.” He growled.

You feel to your knees without having to even think about it. It was honestly your natural position in this holy temple. Sukuna looked down at you, on your knees, your head bowed before him, as if in the middle of prayer. It made his already impossibly hard cock twitch, desperate to sully you even further. It was times like these Sukuna wondered if he was really a god or just a demon parading around like one.

Doesn't matter. He rid himself of his robe, finally freeing his straining cock. “Look up.” He commanded you. You did so, your eyes filling with shock as you came face to face with the cock that was going to ruin you. Your innocent eyes widened as you forced yourself to look away from his dick and make eye contact with the devilish deity. He looked down at you with dark eyes.

“Don’t be so frightened. You can handle this.” He assured you, grabbing the back of your head and urging you to take him in. you licked your lips and wrapped your mouth around him, determined to please your god. Sukuna had a pretty cock, long and far thicker than you would have expected. And yes by the way, it was tattooed, just like the rest of his body. You sucked on his leaking pink tip, your hands moving to massage the prominent vein on his shaft. You moved to take as much of him in your mouth as possible, your hand handling (ha) everything that wouldn't fit.

Sukuna tangled his clawed hands into your hair, his hips rutting into your mouth and hitting the back of your throat. You gagged around him, pulling a satisfied moan from Sukunas lips. You could feel the intensity of his eyes drilling down into you. You imagined this is what a bunny felt like when spotted by a wolf. You willed your eyes to look up at him, and felt ice run down your spine and straight to your soaking cunt. All four of his eyes were blown to hell with lust, a burning need to touch you in ways no mortal ever had before. If he had it his way, you’d be addicted to ‘worship’ before the night was over.

“That's right pet, just like that.” he praised you, before very abruptly slamming his entire length into you, forcing you to gag around him. “Your mouth feels so good princess,” He cooed, looking down as tears began to stream from your face. You’d think that may have slowed him down, but in reality it had the very opposite effect. Sukuna had never seen anything sexier. It set an explosion off in his blood and mind. He was suddenly done playing.

He pulled you off his cock, groaning at the sight. You looked up at him with a tear stained face, confusion in your red eyes, a string of spit connecting your puffy lips to his cock. He wanted to paint a picture of the scene and hang it in a museum. Wanted to frame the work of art and hang it in every temple that had ever been dedicated to him. He pulled you off the floor and into his arms, carrying you to the sturdiest wall his temple had left.

“M-my lord?..” you asked weakly. His touch burned your body in all the most exquisite ways. The feeling of being touched and desired by that was untouchable was forever engraved into your mortal flesh. He pushed you up against the wall, two arms holding you up and two arms ripping off your blouse. “M-my lord,” you tried again, “Should we really-”

You were cut off by an absolutely sinful moan ripping from your throat as Sukuna's mouth wrapped around your hardening nipple. His now free hands we’re bunching your skirt around your hips, finishing the job from earlier and ripping your panties in 2. Anxiety and excitement exploded in your chest as you felt the tip of his cock glide along your folds. Two hands continued to hold you up, one finding your exposed breast and massaging it while the final hand intertwined itself with your injured palm. Salt from sweat filled your open wound, stinging it and spilling blood into his own hand.

“Beg for me Princess.” He demanded, teasing your entrance with the head of his dick.

“Please! Please fuck me Sukuna!” you panted out, trying to grind your hips down onto him, desperate for any friction. A desire unlike any you had ever known overtook you. “Please! Fuck me, I need it. Leave your mark on me, fill me, do whatever you want to me, but please I need your cock inside me.”

Sukuna would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little taken aback by just how vulgar his little shrine maiden could get. He’d also be lying if he said he wasn’t beyond into it. “Look at me.” He demanded, holding your gaze as he finally lowered you onto his throbbing cock, pulling you down to his hilt. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he split you open in the most delicious way. Your head back as you savored the burn he sent through you.

“You’re so fucking tight.” Sukuna groaned, burying his face into the crook of your neck as he lost himself in your warm velvety walls. He would have cum right then and there if he was any closer to mortality than he already was. “I’m going to mold this cunt to my cock.” He said, pulling back just to slam you right back down onto him. He set a ruthless pace, slow yet hard. He wanted to take every moment of you that he could. You moaned out his name as a broken prayer, dragging your nails down his back to try and ground yourself in reality. Nothing was real about this.

“‘So good…” you moaned, unable to form words.

“I know.” He chuckled darkly, quickly deciding his favorite version of you was the fucked out one. “What kind of god would I be if I couldn't please my priestess?” he hummed, littering marks wherever he could on your neck. He squeezed your thighs tight enough to leave bruises, and made sure to brush your g spot with every stroke of his cock. An unholy symphony of your sounds filled the once holy temple.

You could feel your skin heating up as electricity coursed through your blood. You lost sight of everything that wasn’t the divine cock punishing your pussy for every sin you had ever committed. You tangled your free hand into his hair. Trying and failing to catch your breath as a now familiar knot formed inside your abdomen.

“Fuck, Y/n,” Sukuna moaned, catching your lips with his. “You’re taking me so well, it’s almost like this cunt was made for me. What do you think Pet?” He asked with a particularly hard thrust to your cervix. You nodded without thinking.

“Yes! Yes, lord, yes!” you moaned breathlessly. Sukuna grinned, looking down at you through half lidded eyes.

“I was hoping you’d agree.” he moaned, his hand slitting itself in between the two of you and rubbing calculated circles into your clit. You screamed out his name at the added stimulation, so close to the edge it hurt.

“Oh God, I- fuck..” You spoke through broken moans.

“Look at you, calling for me like a whore when I'm right here.” Sukuna mocked, “Still doubting if Im real or not?” if you could have formed a thought, you would have said ‘no my lord, not any more.’ but at that moment, your brain only had one thought.

“I’m gonna cum! Gonna cum, please, let me cum-” you begged for him.

“Cum for me darling.” He moaned, basking in the way you came undone around him. The way your pussy squeezed him was divine, your legs locking him in place as he rocked into you, helping you ride out your right. He was lost in the way you felt, your pleasure the greatest offering he’d been given. Euphoria and ecstasy washed over you in intense waves, so much so you thought you might suffocate. It was overwhelming in all the best ways.

Sukuna felt you gushing around him and couldn’t hold himself back anymore. He came undone, spilling his divinity into you in white hot spurts. Your fluids mixing together as Sukuna fucked his holy seed back inside you, riding out both of your highs.

You went limp in his arms, his head rested on your shoulder as you both struggled to catch your breath. “My god..” you muttered softly.

“Yes?” Sukuna asked with a light chuckle. You softly hit his shoulder, as if that was going to do anything. He pulled out of you, letting the warm fluids drip down your legs. He adjusted your position in his arms. Holding you bridal style as he walked you over to his altar, arguably the most comfortable place in his table. He laid you down as if you were an offering to him, holy and sacred in your own right.

He chuckled when he saw you reach out for him. He was going to ignore you, but cuddled up beside you on the table despite himself. He couldn’t get enough of your mortal warmth. It was comfortable having you in his arms. He could get used to this. How bad could fucking your last devotee be anyway? He liked this.

“The townspeople are going to surely ask about Mahito.” you muttered. You had to ruin it, didn’t you?

“Don’t worry about them darling.” Sukuna muttered, pulling you closer to him in hopes of lulling you to sleep.

“How can I not, my lord?” you asked with those innocent eyes Sukuna was growing to love and loath.

“Because in the morning I’m going to burn your village to the ground with everyone in it.” Sukuna didn’t mince words. You were his follower, you knew what he was about.

“Oh, I see.” you nodded, not bothering to talk him out of it. You didn’t want to talk him out of it.

“Yes. so get some sleep Darling. We’ve got a big day tomorrow.” he said, pulling you into his chest, keeping you more than warm while you slept.

#sukuna x reader #sukuna x reader smut #sukuna smut #jjk #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen #trueform!sukuna #size kink #blood kink #sacriligious #sacreligious #possessive sukuna #mahito slander #soft sukuna #maybe?#almost soft sukuna #dom sukuna #bottom reader

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starfirewildheart · 4 months

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I am so sorry for the delay. RL has been in my face and also writers block has been a bitch!

Chapter 14

Scars and Souvenirs

Summary: Sy and his lady both retire from the army but not before tragedy befalls Sy. He slowly tries to adjust to life again on their ranch.

Pairing: Sy / OFC

Word count: 3,131

Rating: mentions of war; being a POW, death, talk of trafficking, forced prostitution and assult.

Sy looked around his kitchen, which quickly had become their war room. He looked at his four friends, his four brothers at Arms, four of the five people he could always count on. He knew no matter what, these people would be there for him. This was his Special Forces Unit - Black Ops. They did missions under the radar, things not many people could do.

Farthest to his right was a younger man with curly brown hair, tall build, piercing blue eyes. To any normal person he would look completely unsuspecting and innocent. This man was Will Shaw. Will's family was CIA. He came into it naturally. Will was their cleaner. He would go in after every mission and make sure everything was cleared so there was no evidence against the unit or anything that could trace back to anyone.

To Will's left was another tall, well-built man with sleek, dark hair, piercing blue eyes and high cheekbones. A man who always dressed very dignified, usually in a three-piece suit. That is unless he was in fatigues or Mission attire. This man was Napoleon Solo. Napoleon was the finder. Any artifact, any information, any person, any lost item, Napoleon was the one that found it. He could find anything.

To his left stood another tall well-built man with what Sy lovingly called a porn stash. This mustached man with dark hair and also with piercing blue eyes was August Walker. August was the true definition of a spy; it's the work he loved most. August wasn't afraid to get dirty, he wasn't afraid to blur the lines between black and white and sometimes he lived in such a dark gray area that it made the others uneasy. Walker could be a petulant asshole, he could be stubborn, bullheaded and even arrogant but he always had your six.

Next to him stood the man that Sy felt was the big brother he'd never had. Of course he felt that all the men were his brothers but there was a bond that he had with Geralt that was hard to explain. He could see Geralt as almost a father figure, a big brother, a guide, a mentor. Grealt was muscle and so much more.. He was the leader, the planner. Geralt knew things instinctively that sometimes the other guys missed. He was a master at defence and weaponry and could be diomatic when he needed to be and was not afraid to step in between any of them when they were fighting. He was menacing but had a heart of gold.

Then of course there was Sy himself. Sy was the calm head, the planner, the leader. He kept things cool and calm. He kept everyone on task. Sy was the muscle, he was the one that wasn't afraid to go in and put his life in danger. He would lead them and do anything in his power to keep them safe.

These are the men Sy trusted with his life, with Debbie's life. These are the men that were going to go in and help him save her. They were all dressed in black, their faces covered with black paint black and gray paint, armed to the hilt. Guns of every kind and size. They had flash bangs, grenades, everything they needed to go in quietly or to make a big noise if need be.

Sy glared at August as the man rubbed his sore jaw. had punched him. August tried to insist that Sy stay behind when they went on this mission. He tried to say that Sy would be a liability because they were going to get his girlfriend. It made Sy vulnerable and it made him one track minded so to speak. He didn't want Sy to get hurt but, being August he didn't phrase it the way. He said that Sy would be a liability and needed to stay in the surveillance truck with Shaw. Sy took offense. He told August that he was full of shit. He was going in to get Debbie with or without them then punched August in the jaw. Needless to say August didn't like that one bit and a scuffle ensued. Geralt of course stepped between them and scolded them like they were young kids fighting over the last piece of candy. Needless to say It was decided that Sy would indeed be going.

Geralt knew that there was some logic to what August said but he knew Sy was a professional through and through. It was what would happen after the rescue that Geralt was worried about. What they found would likely crush the man and it would be up to his Brothers to rally around them until they could pick up the prices.

It was two a.m., time to head put. They all loaded into the box truck that had been fitted with the surveillance equipment and they're coms where Will would be staying while the mission was taking place. He would guide them via the cameras that they had hacked into that were in the building using earwigs.

Walter, who hadn't been happy about being left out of the mission, met them at the predetermined location. He was to help Will in the surveillance van then notify authorities at the right time. Walt would be given full credit for taking down the S17's local trafficking ring, not that he was concerned with credit. He was pissed at first when Sy told him he couldn't go but after a long conversation about how Sy didn't want Walt to have any blood on his hands and not wanting to endanger his shared custody of Fay if anything went wrong during the mission he reluctantly agreed.

They parked the box truck out of sight and moved to a position at the back gate tgat was not under any surveillance where they cut through the metal fence and the barbed wire to get inside. Once they had breached the door into the building they encountered guards and had to take a few of them out, which they did silently to not draw attention to themselves. The others were subdued with zip ties around the wrists and ankles and injected with sedatives before height hidden out of sight.

Moving silently as a team, each clearing every doorway, every hallway or every possible spot for someone to be hiding. Will follows their steps on camera from the surveillance van telling them which way to turn and the quickest way to get to where they believed that Debbie and Mike were being held. They were able to avoid a lot of people in the hallways thanks to Will's guidance with the cameras. However they did meet face-to-face with a few people here and there. Did their best to subdue them but would use deadly force whenever necessary. They moved with stealth like skills as August and Sy simultaneously snapped the necks of two guards and Solo stabbed under the chin dropping him silently to the ground.

It seemed like it was taking forever to clear their route but in truth they had only been in the building for under five minutes when they reached the room they thought Debbie and Mike were being held in.

Cautiously they breached the door and stepped inside and were instantly hit with horrible smells they all knew too well. Smells that happened when someone was held prisoner and tortured. The smell of urine and blood filled the air and the copper and ammonia scents made their nostrils burn and eyes water.

The room was solid concrete with a drain in the center of the concrete floor. In the right,back corner Mike was curled into a ball,, hugging his knees to his chest rocking repeatedly muttering, “No, please, no! No more!” His hands and feet were bound tightly with plastic zip ties wrenched so tight that his hands and feet were turning blue and the skin was bloody and raw. Solo and August went to acces him.

Sy's heart pounded and constricted when he saw Debbie. She was hanging by her arms from a metal pipe, feet barely touching the floor. She was bloody and battered. Her face was swollen, both eyes blacked, nose and mouth bloody. Her shirt had been cut open and was hanging off her body and shreds her bra was cut open as well. Her skin was a myriad of bruises, burns and gashes. Her wrists were bloody from the metal cuffs she was hanging from. The skin on her neck was red raw and different shades of blue and purple like they'd tried to hang her.

Sy and Geralt went straight to her. Sy began accessing her injuries as Geralt worked freeing her from the cuffs. “No!” She rasped, her voice gone at this point as she struggled and kicked out at them with one leg. “Get away from me!” She bit at the nearest skin near her which was Geralt’s arm.

“Fuck!” He hissed quietly.

“Deb it's me, shhh. Darlin’ It's me,” Sy told her. “We're here to get you baby.”

She burst into tears at the sound of his voice. He was here for her. “Told them you would come,” she whispered before losing consciousness.

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#henry cavill #henry cavill fanfiction #syverson fluff #syverson x you #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill smut #henry cavill characters #captain syverson fanfiction #syverson

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royallyprincesslilly · 1 year

Text

Title: If This Is Love, You Gotta Ride For Me {4}

Lewis Hamilton x Reader

Warning: Heavy Angst, Cursing, Violence, Heartbreak, Blood, TW: Cancer Talk, TW: Murder, TW: Cancer Death, TW: Mentions of Sexual Assult, TW: Mention of Attempted Sexual Assault (Not graphic nor successful), PLENTY OF WORDS, Plot Heavy

Words: 9.4k

Summary: They say the truth will set you free but these truths can kill. Will revenge be enough?

Note: We're almost there. 1 more part to go.

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Previous: If This Is Love, I Don’t Want It {1} | If This Is Love, You Need To Prove It {2} | If This Is Love, You Need To Mean It {3} |

-Lewis-

That was it then. He’d lost you. He could see it in your eyes. Those damn expressive angel eyes that always bored into him, always haunted him, always crippled him. He guessed they’d haunt him for the rest of his life now. He’d dream of them, envision them, and miss them. He didn’t know how he’d move on; he didn’t see a way to, but he also knew that when you’d made up your mind you made it up for good, and rarely if ever was it changeable.

His phone sounded with another notification. He expected it to be Aleeza, but it was the fellas group chat.

MSG Miles: I feel like we should be there when you tell old bitty to kick rocks.

MSG Andrew: Or to make sure she don’t tie your ass up and have her way with you. I totally see her being a Mrs. Robinson on 1000.

MSG Daniel: Things any better with Y/N? If you want I can put in the good word.

He sighed feeling more than thankful he had them. Throughout his life, they’d remained loyal and never fake. He was grateful they were there for mostly all the highs and even more of the lows. This low though really felt all-consuming.

MSG: Nah, I can handle the old bitty. I’ll show y’all the security footage later if she gets outta pocket.

MSG Miles: For entertainment purposes I kinda want her to get outta pocket and get shamed. Can’t wait for this cold dish of revenge Y/N is planning on serving.

MSG Daniel: She was def wild for all that shit she’s done. You don’t ever try to take anyone’s life for stupid reasons like dick.

MSG Andrew: Guess you can officially say you got these chicks wildin’ the fuck out over yo’ dick.

He knew it was a joke and any other time he probably would have laughed at it, only right now, it was too fresh—too raw. He was right though. Before he’d had situations with fans and groupies who’d done some wild shit to get his attention or even get close, but this took the cake. He wasn’t proud at all.

MSG: Shit’s wild.

MSG Daniel: How’s Y/N? frfr.

MSG: Not good. She’s not taking care of herself, avoiding the situation when it comes to us, and pushing me away. Shit’s not good. She looks at me and it feels like I’m looking at a stranger.

MSG Miles: That’s tough.

MSG Daniel: You gotta understand tho. Imagine finding all this shit out which changes things but still being on the receiving end of all that hurt. She must feel betrayed.

MSG Andrew: The whole virginity thing too is crazy. Give her time. It’s fresh right now. She probably hasn’t registered it all.

He knew Andrew was right, he could even see Daniel’s reasons too, but it didn’t make it any easier for him. The worst part for him was that he was trying to protect you the best way he thought of at that time, he was trying to protect you from any more danger after your accident and instead, he’d ended up shielding you from nothing. He’d caused the damage, but he couldn’t contain the fallout.

The self-loathing part of him wanted you to run away from him and never look back. He’d always worried that he’d only bring heartache to anyone he truly loved and here he was doing just that. Groaning, he rubbed the back of his neck trying to take away the pounding that had settled in since you walked into his bedroom in Monaco. He didn’t know how he was going to make it through the rest of the week.

MSG Daniel: Did she tell you the plan?

MSG: Nope.

He wanted to support you in this but rather than inserting himself he decided to let you take lead. If you wanted him to be involved you’d tell him. He knew better than to hold too tightly because it would have the opposite effect.

The sound of his doorbell rang throughout the house, and he knew who it was. He’d expected her. Even though he’d texted her his decision he knew she wouldn’t stand for it. He pulled up the security app on his phone and sighed seeing her standing there in a matching white pencil skirt suit. Her professionally dyed hair reflected the sun until it shined. She looked irritated and he decided then to irritate her some more.

A minute stretched and she waited. Before 2 minutes passed, she rang the bell again and again and again. She was really beyond getting on his nerves. He’d had enough. Tapping the microphone he began.

“What do you want Aleeza?”

Her head spun around before looking up right into the inconspicuous camera there. His security team thought it was the best spot to catch people unaware.

“Really Lewis!? Open the fucking door. You’re really pissing me off!”

He scoffed, “Why would I care? You gave me an ultimatum, actually, my blackmail options and I promptly gave you your response in the allotted time, swiftly go fuck yourself, lady. My dick isn’t for sale, lone or rental.”

Her jaw dropped. “Lewis! I suggest you think this through and think about your future and career. Think about everything you’re putting at risk.”

“Fuck! Shut up! No matter what you say or do my answer won’t change. It’s a no. I don’t want you in any way. You disgust me.”

She looked like she could blast off into the air any minute. He could actually see the steam coming out of her ears. Either she wasn’t used to being told no, or she’d really expected him to agree.

“You’re going to regret this come Friday. I swear it! Her blood is on your hands.”

He saw red! “Shut the fuck up! I swear to everything I value in this world, her being a primary one, if you touch her or hire someone else to touch even one skin follicle on her I will make you regret the day you ever put Jordan Y/L/N in your sights. I hold grudges and have a lot of money at my disposal and those two things spell trouble for people like you. Leave before I call my security to escort you off the property. Also don’t come back.”

She shoved her middle finger in the air while glaring at the camera then she stomped off. He watched her get into her car and slap and punch the steering wheel as she jerked back and forth. She must have been screaming and losing her shit. She’d played her ultimate hand—the four of a kind but he’d outplayed her with his royal flush.

As she rolled off his property he pulled up his messages with you.

MSG: From this moment be extra careful. She’s livid and feels she has nothing to lose. People like that are wild cards and wild cards are dangerous.

A few minutes passed before you replied.

MSG AngelEyes: Let the bitch come.

Your confidence and rage came through each word and though he was worried he also fell deeper in love with you because of them.

~~~~~~~~

-Y/N-

Rage is a quiet beast. It was one of the trickiest motherfuckers out there. There’d be times you think you’d tamed it and found a way to simmer it down only for a fragment of a word or a look made it flare. Rage was something familiar to you. You’d felt it when your mother passed, felt the crushing and suffocating feeling of it coiling within you, felt it trying to take over everything until it had. That rage changed your life.

This was the second time you’d dealt with it. You thought you had a better handle on it, but you’d come to realize that it was in your veins, in your blood, embedded in you. Shit, you were rage. when you least expected it the beast raged, and it took everything to rein it in. You had to because it wasn’t time to fully unleash it yet.

So Monday passed in a whirl. You worked, took meetings, did interviews, made plans for the team, and even the last-minute foundation event that you were in charge of planning. You were surprised no one saw the difference in you. It was your father who looked at you with an extra layer of worry. You had to assure him you were fine while making a note to make it up to him Friday night. By Friday night, he was going to see the scales of the chimera he’d married.

Tuesday came and mirrored Monday. You piled more and more on needing a constant distraction from the war in your head and the ache in your heart. This week was extra torturous because you were supposed to be at one of Lewis’ races to stand in for your father and you had no idea how you were going to make it through. Looking at him had become next to impossible, being anywhere near him was too much. You had no hope it would go smoothly.

When Wednesday came around and you landed in Barcelona, you told yourself to just get through the rest of the week. You were practically shutting down already. It took everything in you to get through the interviews. Took all of your composure and high media training to smile and laugh for the cameras. It took even more strength to take pictures with Lewis with his hand at the small of your back.

Your body still remembered him, still craved him, but your brain and heart were at war, leaving you in a chaotic state of panic. He must have noticed because he tried to put you on the end with George in between you as often as he could. Even that small action made your heart reach for him though your brain scoffed at it claiming it was the least he could do.

As you watched his race, you felt dead and suspected you looked it too. You noticed his distraction during the race, noticed he was driving very unlike himself but rather than not caring you found yourself getting upset about it.

“Maybe it’s time for Jordan to think about ending his contract if this is the quality of racing he’s giving us.”

Aleeza’s voice had the impact of nails running down a chalkboard. Instantly you reared around at her. She stood there in a mini skirt that was several decades too young for her and a blouse that was almost see-through. Trashy, you thought. You envisioned yourself Naruto running to her to then headbutting her then slamming her face into the cemented floor of the paddock and jumping on her back with your knee between her shoulder blades while placing her head in a headlock until she took her last breath.

It was then you realized you hadn’t tamed shit. It was in full control.

“Uh hello! What the hell is wrong with you, Y/N?”

Snapping back to reality, you saw she stared at you with confusion and amusement. Your head twitched with the effort it took to contain this beast you wanted to unleash in every way.

“See, I told Jordan that giving you too much responsibility wouldn’t be good for the brand or the family.”

She sighed and watched the screen.

“He definitely doesn’t look to be doing well today. Any idea why?”

“Oh, how would I know that now Aleeza? However—you don’t look to be doing well either. Your skin looks quite—dry.”

Aleeza gasped and clapped her hand on her cheek.

“Maybe you should make an appointment with my esthetician. She’d never let me go out looking like this.”

Aleeza glared at you then she took one step too close. It was a step you mirrored. “I can also give you the number to an age-appropriate stylist who won’t have you out here looking foul.”

You gave her the once over furthering her humiliation.

“When your father isn’t around the real you comes out.”

“Says the scaly slithering snake to the human.”

She looked as if she wanted to hit you and you prayed she did.

“I wish you would bitch. Make my fucking day.”

Aleeza must have seen you really didn’t give two fucks because she backed off a few seconds later.

“Enjoy this week, Y/N. Enjoy it well,” Aleeza said before she walked off.

The effort it took to flip back to the unbothered professional should have been huge, but it felt like lite work and that scared you a little.

“Don’t allow anyone, man, woman, or child, but especially a man turn you into something or someone you are not!”

Your mother’s words came back to you then and you clung to them more fiercely than you’d ever hung on to anything before. Her sage words held new meaning now. Was that how she’d taken the high road when it came to Aleeza back in the day? Was that how she’d remained so classy? You missed her even more now than ever.

By the time Friday came around and the fundraiser event arrived, you were back in London and more than ready to get the night over with. You looked yourself over once more then nodded at your reflection. This was as good as it was gonna get, you said to yourself. A message from your father told you of his arrival then you quickly made your way down to the waiting limo.

Once you got in, you smiled adoringly at your father.

“Wow, you look absolutely beautiful darling.”

“Thanks dad. You’re looking very debonair too.”

He smiled then straightened his tie and posed. You giggled and shook your head.

“The ladies won’t know what hit 'em.”

He chuckled but Aleeza’s hating ass cleared her throat exaggeratedly.

“Really?!”

You rolled your eyes. “Figure of speech. Really Aleeza, since you like to dress so young you’d think you’d keep your vocabulary just as young too.”

A small hiss escaped her. An actual hiss. The bitch was showing more and more of her true form with each passing day, you thought.

“Ladies,” your father warned.

You raised your hands up in defeat. “Kidding dad, you know I joke a lot.”

Aleeza glared at you from across the limo, clearly not interested in pretending anymore. Good, you thought. Tonight was going to be her big reveal. Once the three of you stepped out of the limo in front of the flashing cameras you smiled, waved, and portrayed the perfect family. The majority of the photographers wanted pics of you and your father together sans Aleeza and that suit you fine. It was the perfect beginning of the night, starve the bitch of what she craved most—attention.

As the event went on, you smiled, took interviews, joked, and dazzled always remaining the center of the group discussion. Plenty of attendees complimented you on not only how beautiful you looked but how knowledgeable you were about a plethora of things not only F1 related. Those compliments were what brought you the most flattery. You’d always prized your brain over your beauty. Your mother taught you that beauty could fade and be taken away, but your intelligence was always yours.

More than halfway through the event your back was turned to the crowd as you guzzled another glass of champagne. They weren’t helping with anything really.

“Look who cleans up like an actual princess of F1.”

You turned to the teasing words and smiled at Miles. “Ha ha, funny.”

“You look great, Y/N,” Andrew said leaning in to kiss your cheek.

Miles and Daniel mirrored his actions and sentiments.

“Thank you.”

Lewis came into view, and he looked good—too good. The black tuxedo he wore looked made for him and probably was. From the look of it, you could tell it was probably a McQueen piece. He always could cut a good suit and Lewis loved how they fit him. You got lost scanning his attire for a few moments before you looked away and grabbed another glass of champagne from a passing waiter.

“Hi,” he quietly said.

You nodded and looked around the room.

“Glad you guys could make it,” you said.

“Of course. We said we had your back and if she really plans on making her move tonight then nowhere else we’d rather be,” Daniel said.

Being the amazing hacker—no information investigator he was, Daniel had been able to tap into her phone and clone it. Whenever she got a message so did you and she’d gotten plenty of messages over the week. She was very busy making plans for your downfall. It was insane how she moved. It was like she was highly intelligent or had bouts of it but was basically a basic dumb bitch. Who made illegal plans through cellphones? Who tried to off someone more than once? Who used the same person the 2nd time as the 1st? It was confusing as shit. Was she smart or stupid?

“I think she will. She’s said plenty of shit that hints at me not making it past this week.”

Lewis turned to the bar giving the group his back as he hung his head. You glanced at them hoping they could fill in what that was. Daniel, Miles, and Andrew all solemnly shook their heads. You wondered if he was still beating himself up about not placing in the last race. The race he practically had the worst finish in his entire career. He was always the hardest on himself.

A thought hit you then. Was he putting everything on his shoulders and beating himself up?

“This is dangerous,” Lewis said before he sighed. “It’s too dangerous.”

“I’ll be fine,” you dismissed.

“You can’t use yourself as bait.”

“There are so many of my guys on her tonight, no one will get near her. I promise bro.”

You felt safe knowing Daniel had assigned an additional 8 guys to bodyguard you. They were guys he’d personally chosen so you knew he trusted them and their ability to get the job done. A message came through on your phone and you knew it wasn’t for you. It was a message to Aleeza from whoever “Dom” was.

MSG Dom: Everything is ready. You sure you want sharp.

MSG Aleeza: Definitely. I want it to be excruciating.

MSG Dom: Such a waste. She’s hot. Maybe a little fun before it’s done?

MSG Aleeza: I don’t give a shit what else you want to do. Just get it done by midnight.

MSG Dom: Consider it done.

Your stomach rolled as you showed them the message.

“Wow,” they said in unison.

‘Yep. Anyway, enjoy yourselves, fellas. Seeing as it is my actual death day, I intend to live it up.”

You walked away and joined a group of faces you knew while trying to put the very disturbing facts in the back of your mind. When you made your speech to the crowd no one could tell anything was wrong. You were the picture of calm, grace, and professionalism. Your father oozed pride while Aleeza oozed her usual disdainful slime. It was more fun to fuck with her now so you did taunting her with glares, smiles and waves as a loving stepdaughter would. She hated it but the photographers loved it and ate it up.

Once business was finished you mingled and even allowed some of the attendees to swirl you around the dance floor. How you got through it, you had no idea. The sheer will of the heavens was not enough, it took everything above and in between. Twenty or so minutes after your father left, you looked at your phone and saw it was nearing 11:30. Deciding it was time to leave you shot Daniel a message letting him know.

As soon as you stood, Lewis approached you. The sad puppy dog look in his eyes made your belly flip and heart beat out your chest to him.

“If I don’t ask you now I’ll regret it. Can I have this dance?”

He held his hand out to you and you hesitated. So many urges filled you. Walk away, run away, slap him, stomp on his foot, crash your lips to his, and even accept his hand. You stood there unsure what to say but when a camera flash caught you from the right you realized the only thing you could do was accept it.

You placed your hand in his and tried to ignore the instant static shock that coursed through you. Sticking your finger in a socket had nothing on this feeling. Lewis led you to the sparsely spotted dance floor then wrapped his arm around you holding you firmly bit gently. He led you in a demure dance that drew the eyes of the remaining attendees. They smiled and raised their glasses to you as if blessing the possibility of this union. If only they knew, you thought.

You danced in silence for a long while as you battled the feelings bubbling within you. You couldn’t afford to fall apart now. The finish line was within sight, and you needed to remain objective.

“Can I say something?”

“What? Y—you just did.”

“Something else then?”

You nodded.

“You—ehm, you look absolutely breathtaking tonight.”

Your eyes locked and just like that, you felt yourself being sucked in. They were simple words that should not have elicited this reaction but that had, nonetheless.

“I’m so proud of the amazing job you managed to do tonight. You never cease to amaze me, but I am always blown away by you.”

You felt the tear roll before you could stop it and that tear led to another. Lewis’ features softened and he pulled you closer wrapping his arms around you. “Angel eyes,” Lewis whispered against your ear.

You buried your face in the crook of his neck, seeking refuge, and allowed yourself to cry. The way he held you tightly but so damn gently made you want to climb into his skin and allow him to comfort you until he’d erased every bad thing about the last few weeks. You wanted it so badly that it made you cry harder.

“I’m sorry,” he added voice rough with emotion.

His large, strong hands slipped lower from the middle of your back to the small apex at your tailbone. It was a small action, but it had a major impact. The erratic beat of your heart steadied and the tears that were flowing like a torrential downpour slowed to trickles. When he held you tighter against him so there was not even a microscopic speck of space between you, everything else faded.

A soft sigh fell from you as your body relaxed for the first time in days.

“I’m so sorry angel eyes. It kills me to see you like this, it kills me to know I’m the cause that had I made a different decision this may not have been such a colossal clusterfuck.”

You’d thought that same thing many times. In hindsight, it was easy to put the blame on him. If he had told you or your father from the very beginning maybe things would have been different. Or maybe Aleeza’s tight hold on your father would have made things convoluted and more complicated, maybe it would have made things worse. Maybe you would have lost your father’s trust. There were so many possibles, maybes, mights, and should haves but none of it was certain.

Your logical mind underneath all the rage, pain, and distrust knew this. It’s just when it all comes back, logic disappears and that was what happened. After blotting your tears on his fancy designer suit, you slowly took a few steps back from Lewis. His arms were reluctant to release you, but they did and when you were an arm’s length away, his hands fell to his sides.

Your eyes met and instantly you knew he had so much he wanted to say, so much he wanted you to hear but his lips remained sealed. A message on your phone brought your attention back to the task of the night. Revenge.

“I gotta go.”

With that, you slipped past him allowing your fingertips to graze his as you passed. Still, his touch sent jolts of electricity through you to rival the joules sent through a lightning strike. Forcing any thoughts that weren’t about the plan out of your head, you waved to others as you left then slipped outside. Though it appeared you were alone, you knew there were at least nine pairs of eyes on you and the panic button that was in your purse which tracked your location while recording every sound around you.

You slipped a pair of sunglasses on and then began swaying.

“Ms. Y/L/N? Are you waiting for your car?”

“M—My—car. It shoulda been ‘ere,” you heavily slurred.

“Let me find out for you. Lean against here so you don’t fall,” the attendant said.

“No, no, that won’t be necessary, Ms. Y/L/N, we are here. Right this way,” an unfamiliar voice said.

“Are you her driver?”

“Of course. Come, Ms. Y/L/N, your father has already made it home and wishes to see you.”

The man’s arm wrapped around your shoulder as he began leading you to a legit looking black car. You knew this guy wasn’t your driver and suspected it was that Dom person that Aleeza had been planning with. You allowed him to slip you into the back of the car and you immediately slumped sideways and started singing the first song that came to mind.

Why was it Britney Spears? Maybe because it was the easiest thing to sing off-key or because kidnappers and murderers wouldn’t think someone singing it would be dangerous. You had no idea but since you were running on pure instincts now, you did your best to drunkenly sing “Hit Me Baby One More Time”, you worked the panic button out of your purse and slipped it into your cleavage just in case they took your purse. The man who’d put you in the car got into the passenger side then looked back at you and laughed.

“She is hammered out of her mind. Aleeza really had her number. Are you still heartbroken sweet ‘art? Still missing someone or something between those thighs? Don’t worry I’ll fulfill all your desires in a little while. I’ll fix your loneliness.”

Your stomach churned and fear gripped your heart but again instinct kicked in and you belted the next line as loud and off-key as possible.

“My loneliness is killing me, and I!”

The men in the front laughed.

“Nah, your loneliness isn’t the one that’ll be killing you. Just wait.”

You don’t know how you did it, but you managed to be the best drunken socialite ever and the Daily Mail wasn’t around to see your Oscar-worthy performance. The whole time you tried to keep your mind off where they were taking you and what they planned to do. You focused on the fact that Daniel and his guys were tailing you and Miles had his detective friend on standby to apprehend these assholes.

When the car came to a slow rolling stop, you pretended to be passed out. As you were pulled out of the car you heard the men laughing with each other.

“Easiest job ever.”

“Tell me about it. I almost feel bad for the girl.”

“Your sister really has it out for her huh.”

“My sister is bat shit crazy and doesn’t know how to let shit go, but she is right about one thing with this bitch out the picture more money for her and to split with us.”

These guys were fucking idiots, you thought to yourself as you got all the inside information about what was going on. Worst criminals ever. Who talks about all this with the victim within earshot and alive?

“Come on it's almost midnight let’s have some fun then off her.”

“What a pity.”

You heard the clinking of belt buckles and the rustling of material, and you knew shit was about to go south. You sprang up and looked around.

“Where am I?”

“Detour,” the man you now knew as Dom and Aleeza’s brother said.

You let your head lol forward as if it were too heavy to hold.

“She’s still drunk,” the other man said snickering.

“That’s good, it’ll make this easier for you to accept.”

You saw his pants drop and you panicked, well sort of. Your heart raced wildly but your head was calm. You took in the men and looked to all the points you knew would cause the most pain. Throughout your life, you’ve gone through plenty of training and classes. Dance, piano, flute, gymnastics, media training, etiquette training, and even self-defense.

Your parents thought it was important that you knew basic survival moves in case you were ever the victim of an abduction or home invasion. What started as basic moves turned into detailed mixed martial arts training by the one man your father trusted, Hammond, your personal bodyguard, and trainer. He’d gone deep into your training and because of it, you knew how to take someone down in 6 moves or less.

Thankfully you’d never needed the use any of the in-depth moves on anyone. Kicks to the nuts and flying five fingers to the throat worked all the time. You knew you could take these idiots in under 5 moves. Before either could lay a hand on you, a phone rang.

“Goddamn it,” Dom grunted before he dug the phone out of his pocket. “OF course it’s her. What!”

You strained to hear who was talking on the other end, but nothing came through.

“I was just going to have some fun. Come on Leeza you promised. What’s it so fucking important that she’s dead by midnight? What the fuck is this some fucked up Cinderella reenactment? It’s bullshit. I’ll kill her after we’ve tried her out. A virgin with one fuck under her belt is still practically a virgin.”

He chuckled and his lackey joined in as his beady eyes looked over your body ready to pounce given the ok. You should have pressed the panic button then so Daniel and his men could be there within a minute, but you didn’t. That rage that was silently bubbling within you was no longer silent.

“Fine!”

Dom pushed a button on the phone then shoved it to you. You sat there expectantly waiting for something.

“I bet you’re wondering what is going on right now, huh? Trying to understand who they are and even why I am on the phone now.”

Aleeza giggled as if she’d won the biggest prize in the world. Yeah, laugh now bitch, I’m coming for you, you said in your head.

“Who—who is this? What’s happening?”

“Oh that’s right, you’re drunk off your ass because the man you thought was a diamond turned to be nothing but trash. The man you fell for used you and tossed you out like the trash you are.

She giggled again. “My god, it was such a good show to watch as your heart shattered into pieces on the floor and Lewis didn’t give one flying fuck.”

You were getting tired of her laughs. She sounded like a demented Cruella DeVille.

“A—Aleeza? Is that you?”

“Fucking right it’s me. I told you to enjoy this week. Did you? I hope you did because you won’t be seeing next week.”

“Wa—What are you—what do you mean?”

“For the life of me I don’t know how Jordan put you in charge of anything let alone the board, you’re as dumb as a box of nails. You didn’t see this coming at all, did you? My god, I don’t know why I’m surprised, neither did your whore of a mother.”

Your heartbeat picked up making your ears ring loudly. For a few moments, you couldn’t hear anything but the sound of your own body fighting.

“Hello? Dom, for fucks sake tell me you didn’t kill her.”

“I didn’t touch her. She looks like she’s about to pass out though.”

Again Aleeza cackled. “Your drunk brain won’t be able to put it together but don’t worry I’ll tell you 2 secrets, because you’ll be dead after you hear them and ya know dead whores tell no tales.”

You clenched your jaw and tried to control your breathing.

“I was behind your whole Lewis break up. I blackmailed him into breaking your heart in a precise way that you’d feel that pain for the rest of your life. I was there when he did it too, it was a good show. I told him either break your heart or end his career. Can you really be surprised he chose his career over you?”

She laughed.

“Is she crying? Please tell me the bitch is crying.”

The lackey bent down and looked at your face then smiled.

“She sure is.”

That only made Aleeza laugh louder. She thought you were crying tears of sadness when in fact they were tears of rage. Before, you were going to let the police handle the justice part of your revenge, but the decision was now made that your hands would deliver justice.

“So weak. If that made you cry then my 2nd secret might actually kill you. Get close, Y/N.”

A few tense moments passed in silence before Aleeza spoke again.

“I—killed—your—mother,” she whispered stretching out each word.

Your world came apart then. Your body shook as your head tried to understand. It made no sense. How was that possible?”

“How? You’re lying. My mother died from Cancer.”

“Oh, I know. Did you know that arsenic compounds can cause cancer? Matter of fact it’s classed as a group 1 carcinogen. That means science has proven that it conclusively and all the time causes cancer in humans. When I read that it only took me a few days to come up with a better plan. See I was just going to slip her some arsenic and wham bam she’s dead, but she didn’t deserve a quick death after stealing Jordan from me and living my dream for decades. So me and my big brother Dom committed to the slow game. If you give this compound little by little every day in small enough dosages that won’t harm right away but build up to kill. I was surprised it only took a year for her to actually get cancer. By then I’d run out of patience and upped the amount and well—she was gone 3 months after her diagnosis leaving your father all alone and ready for me. The rest well—is history.”

Your tears of rage were now tears of despair. This crazy bitch was so venomous, so evil that she planned and killed your mother. What the fuck was this? This couldn’t be real life. There was no way normal people went to these lengths to get what they wanted. How? Your breathing hitched and within seconds you were hyperventilating.

“Fuck Aleeza, you might have given her a heart attack.”

She only laughed louder. Your world had just fallen apart, and she was laughing as if it was the world’s funniest comedy series. This woman had single handedly ruined yours, your mothers and your father’s lives. She’d taken your mother from you leaving a chasm within you that would never be filled. Suddenly what you’d had planned for her didn’t seem like nearly enough. The bitch had to die.

“I can’t believe we got away with it. Now it’s your turn. Anyway, don’t worry about your dad, he’ll be following soon, and I’ll take good care of Lewis for you. Very good care. Bye-bye. Dom, get it done, kill the bitch.”

“You got it little sis.”

The phone beeped, ending the call and you sat there in disbelief. In your head your mother’s final day played in your mind. She’d been in so much pain, but she still kept a brave face on never giving anything away. You knew though and watching her say goodbye to you and your father broke all of you. She’d died holding both your hands her final words being, “I wish I had more time, but I love you both.”

Fresh tears filled your eyes, and you wailed feeling a whole new sense of loss. She’d taken everything from you.

“Aww, sad bitches aren’t any fun in bed,” the lackey said.

Dom however didn’t seem to care, he approached you then gripped your shoulders with both hands. As he began pushing you backward trying to make you lie down you snapped. Suddenly your knee raised and connected with his nuts. He shouted out then collapsed on top of you. Shoving him off, you bolted up in time to see the other man running toward you. You lifted your leg and connected the pointed tip of your heels under his chin in the spot where his windpipe began. The man instantly began coughing as he struggled to get air.

You jumped to your feet keeping your eyes on both of them. Dom came at you with a metal pipe swinging wildly wanting to connect with any part of you. Bobbing and weaving, you did just as Hammond taught you all those years ago. When he realized he wasn’t going to accomplish anything, he charged you taking you by surprise. His hands wrapped around your throat and squeezed.

“I was going to make this quick but fuck that. I’ll make it slow and painful. Ever been fucked in your ass gorgeous?!”

His smile was sinister and disgusting. You lifted your knee again and kicked his in his nuts for the 2nd time. Dom dropped to his knees holding his crotch.

“You’re as dumb as your sister.”

You picked up the metal pipe then smiled.

“Have you ever been fucked in your ass gorgeous?”

He looked at you in all seriousness. Before he could get one leg up, you swung the pipe and hit him right in the face. His body dropped and he writhed in pain. From the corner of your eye, you caught the other guy coming at you, but his fist connected with your cheek before you could react. It hurt like a motherfucker, but you didn’t focus on it, instead, you swung the pipe again and whacked him at his knees taking them out and sending him to the ground. You then stomped on his crotch and hit him in the back as he rolled over hoping to protect his equipment from any further attack.

You turned to Dom to give him another hit, but it was then Daniel and the bodyguards he’d assigned came running in. As you watched them overtake Dom and his partner, you saw Lewis swing the hardest punch right to the center of Dom's face breaking his nose and knocking him out completely. A true one-hit quitter. That wasn't enough though, Lewis then kicked him in the gut twice.

"You fucking wanker! You're gonna do what to her? Fuck out of here!" He finished on another kick.

Seeing the blood gushing from Dom's face only made you even more berzerk. You screamed out and turned whacking the shit out of anything that was nearby. Soon you were a raging maniac screaming, crying, and hitting what you could as the emotions ran through you.

Strong arms wrapped around you stopping you from bringing the metal pipe down on or into anything else, then the pipe was gone as Miles yanked it out your hands.

“It’s okay Y/N, I have you. It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s okay.”

Lewis’s voice tried to break through the haze of rage and everything going on in your head, but it was barely making it through. His grip tightened and slowly the ringing in your ears stopped and his voice could be heard.

“It’s okay, I have you. It’s okay, I have you. It’s okay, I have you. It’s okay, I have you. It’s okay, I have you.”

You turned to him and saw sympathy in his eyes. One look around the room told you that they’d heard.

“You—you—you--,” you stuttered.

“We heard.”

Standing beside Daniel you saw Hammond with a solemn look on his face.

“We heard everything, Sparkle,” Hammond said.

The nickname he’d given you when you were a kid broke through everything.

“Hammond.”

You ran to him and crashed your body into his. Hammond hugged you tightly.

“It’s okay Sparkle. We’re gonna take care of this.”

He led you away and you let him because you trust him completely.

Twenty or so minutes later you were sitting outside your house in the limo with Hammond, Daniel, Miles, Andrew, and Lewis. On the ride over, Hammond had filled you in on how he’d cornered Daniel at the event thinking he was planning to do you harm only to be looped into the whole Aleeza mess which led him to take point with Daniel to make sure you were safe. You thought he was still on his vacation with his wife Yulee.

You were staring at the mansion you grew up in with so much going through your mind. Right now, you were sure your father was waiting in his office for Hammond after he made a call telling him there was something important to discuss. The plan was to present him with all the evidence without Aleeza present then call the cops to come in to haul her ass off to join her brother.

As you walked through your house, it felt like you weren’t walking at all. When you looked down you found Lewis’s hand engulfing yours. You looked over at him and found his eyes boring into you.

“I have you.”

His voice was muffled almost distorted as if this was real right now. However, you knew it was because you would never dream this up. This was a nightmare. Hammond led the way into your father’s office and when he saw all of you, he immediately stood.

“What’s going on? Y/N, are you all right?”

He must have seen the forming bruise on your cheek and your split lip. He came over to you cupped your cheeks and examined your injuries.

“Who did this to you?”

His eyes roamed around until they landed on Lewis beside you who was still holding your hand. Your father’s eyes dropped down to take in your clasped hands. The only reaction was a raised eyebrow. You wiggled free from Lewis’ hand then put yours behind your back.

“Hello, Mr. Y/L/N,” Lewis said.

“Hello. What’s going on? Why are you all here this late?”

He looked at Hammond who sighed.

“Old friend, I wish I were here under better circumstances but I’m not. You should sit down for this.”

Your father looked at you and you could see the worry and alarm etched on his face. You took his hand and led him to his chair then stood beside him and let the chips fall. Lewis was the one to lay it all out. You didn’t think you could get through it without turning into a completely different person. As he calmly explained everything beginning with Aleeza’s first approach to him you kept your father’s hand in yours. You watched as Lewis blew up his contract and possibly his own career to tell everything.

Your father shot up to his feet. “You did what to my daughter!”

He lurched forward to Lewis, but you squeezed his hand hoping to reign in his anger and bring his eyes to you. “I’m fine.”

“Fine? Honey--,” He began cupping your cheek with his free hand.

Tears pricked your eyes, but you fought them off. Now was not the time to fall apart.

“I’m all right.”

“This is crazy. Aleeza did this?”

“Yes, and there’s more and it gets crazier,” Miles said.

Lewis placed his phone down on the desk as your father sat back down. Then he pressed play and the recording from his place with Aleeza admitting everything and even propositioning him for sex while blackmailing him with his career played in its entirety. Your father’s hand went limp then.

“Oh my god,” he muttered weakly.

When the recording went silent he looked back at you. “Oh my god, sweetheart I had—I didn’t—oh god.”

He turned back around and dropped his head in his hands.

“Old friend there is more.”

Silence stretched again and they looked at you expecting you to take the lead but you couldn’t. You were so tired. Daniel stepped forward and explained the new information you’d found about Dom and their plan to kidnap then kill you. Your father’s top popped then. His anger was so evident that Hammond had to brace his arm around him to try to calm him down. When Daniel went on to tell him the plan you’d concocted and the precautions he’d taken, you could tell that your father was even more anxious.

Hammond took over to finish the story with how the night ended but placed the voice recording on the desk so your father could hear everything from when you were put in the car to when they’d shown up. In a matter of minutes you watched a man who’d always been your hero, a man who you loved more than anything, a man who’d been your crutch since your mother passed, a man who you saw as a pillar of strength crumble before your very eyes. His legs gave out and he staggered to the set of leather couches on the other side of his office and the minute he sank into the couch he was bawling with the weight of his anguish.

He was no longer this strong indestructible man and father; he was a distraught and broken husband riddled with guilt for the signs he didn’t see and the life he’d led with his wife’s murderer.

“Noooooooooo!”

He began punching the coffee table before him with no thought of injury to himself. You knew this, it was rage. The same rage that was overflowing in you, the same rage that you feared would consume you unless you let it out. However you knew if you did there would be no stopping it. Miles, Andrew, Daniel and Hammond did their best to restrain him so he couldn’t hurt himself any further. Lewis stepped in front of you peering into your eyes.

“I know you’re not okay right now so tell me how I can help.”

You bit your bottom lip which you’d just realized was shaking. After a few moments, your resolve crumpled as did your face. You tried to formulate words, but nothing came out, just a wail. Lewis instantly wrapped his arms around you pulling you into his strong arms. You were content releasing your despair until the office door swung open and you heard her voice.

“Jordy bear,” she sing-songed.”

Once she’d stepped into the office she stopped in her tracks holding a tray with one glass of dark liquid. Her words from earlier filled your head.

“Don’t worry about your dad, he’ll be following soon.”

What was a quiet beast before turned into a thundering monster. You tore yourself from Lewis and locked eyes on your prey like a predator. Once Aleeza’s eyes landed on you, you watched every emotion in the book wash across her face. When it settled on one, “Oh I’m fucked”, you pounced.

“Y/N, don’t,” Lewis shouted.

It was too late though. With speed you’d never had before you crossed the room to Aleeza who let go of the trey and shrieked. She made an attempt to turn and run but she was too slow. You yanked the bitch back by her hair then took out her legs bringing her to the floor right on her face. Keeping her disgusting hair wrapped around your fist, you pulled more while keeping your foot in the center of her back.

It was then you felt several pairs of hands pulling at you trying to get you off of her but you must have possessed the strength of a hundred men because you didn’t budge.

“Let her go!”

“No!”

Aleeza screamed louder as the voices behind you shouted even more for you to let her go. Fuck that you thought. You’d let her go when she’d departed to hell. A hand managed to yank you back so your knee came off her back, but your hand remained gripped in her hair. The force of you going back meant she came along for the ride which made her scream even more.

“Let her go!”

Suddenly all that was in your hand was the hair that was wrapped around it. It took a second or two to realize you’d yanked the bitch’s hair right out of her scalp. The bloody ends only fueled your anger making you see red completely. The hands that were holding you suddenly felt like a hindrance and you fought against them. You sent an elbow into someone’s gut, the back of your fist into someone’s nose, the back of your head into someone’s forehead then your forehead into someone’s forehead.

You then took off where Aleeza was running, a hand grabbed you, but you turned and shoved them before getting back to the scheduled program of beating this bitch into the grave. She screamed wildly as she ran. Seeing she was getting close to the steps you grabbed one of the vases in the hall and threw it at her feet. Aleeza screamed as she came crashing down. Before she could get up you jumped on her and began hitting her over and over and over. You didn’t stop for nothing and no one.

The more she screamed and begged you to stop the harder you hit her.

“Y/N, stop. You’ll kill her,” Lewis shouted as he tried to pull you back.

“Good! Like she killed my mother! Like she tried to kill me!”

Lewis grabbed your hand giving Aleeza a chance to squeeze out from under you. You elbowed him not caring where it landed then lunged for her again. As you wrapped your arms around her neck, you both toppled over the top step and then tumbled down the spiral staircase.

“Y/N!”

You were a bundle of legs and arms as you tumbled over and over. You felt the pain of every collision with the flat surface and blunt edge of the steps, but you didn’t care. Finally, your fall ended, and you lay there dazed and dizzy on the cold marble floor trying to catch your breath. As you breathed you ached but as you breathed it sounded more like a wheeze than a breath. Staring up, you thought you saw your mother’s face hovering above in the painted ceiling—her painted ceiling. You tried to raise your hand to touch her, but you ached too much. Her voice sounded then.

“Don’t allow anyone, man, woman, or child, but especially a man turn you into something or someone you are not!”

She deserves this,” you rasped. “After eve—everything she’s done to you. She killed you. She deserves to die.”

“Don’t allow anyone, man, woman, or child, but especially a man turn you into something or someone you are not!”

You bawled as you battled your wrath and the need for mercy. You didn’t know how to draw the line; you didn’t want to. You wanted her to bleed. You screamed loud and long then suddenly the all-consuming rage you’d felt the last week slowly left you as if it had found an opening to release itself.

Lewis came into view then. His mouth was moving but you heard no words. What you did hear though was a raspy “please.” As if possessed you turned toward the sound, ignoring the pain you felt. There was Aleeza crawling to the front door still trying to escape.

“Fuck—no!”

You flopped onto your belly then slowly inched toward her. It took forever but you managed to crawl over her and flip her onto her back. Her face was bloodied and bruised with both eyes swollen. She looked almost as ugly on the outside as she did inside.

“P—lease.”

“Look at me.”

Her pupils met yours through the tiny slits the swelling would allow and you saw her fear. Good you thought.

“I could kill you if I wanted to and no one here would bat an eye. They would help me dispose of your body and no one would ever think of you again because you are a pathetic, vile, and evil person who deserves to rot in hell for eternity. You spent so much fucking time hating my mother, hating me because you knew she was better than you. You knew that you were nothing but a speck of dirt on her shoe and you couldn’t stand it. She had what you never will, class and the love of so many people. You ruined so many lives. For what!!”

You raised your hand ready to hit her, but your hand was caught. Looking back, you saw your father.

“Don’t. Your mother wouldn’t want this for you. She wouldn’t want you to do this.”

“We’re never going to know what she wanted because she killed her!”

“I know. I know your rage honey, I feel it too, believe me, it is taking everything in me to not do what you’re doing but I won’t allow her to take anything else from us.”

His words were filled with so much pain, so much hate.

“I don’t know if I can daddy.”

“You can. Just take my hand,” Lewis said coming to stand beside your father.

You stared at him then looked at your father then back at Aleeza. Long moments passed with you not making any move until you saw your mother’s painting on the wall. Somehow the painter had managed to capture everything about her; her class, her beauty, her gentleness, her calm, and the pure peace she emulated. That peace washed over you and you knew it was her, it had to have been.

You took Lewis’ hand and allowed him to pull you up to brace yourself against him. As if sensing the fragile peace in the air, the police burst through the door. You watched them grab Aleeza and haul her out. The police there took statements from everyone and confiscated the recordings for their evidence and samples of the brown liquid Aleeza was bringing in for your father.

After an hour, the foyer only had the seven of you. No one knew what to say.

“You need a hospital,” Lewis said to you.

“Please this is nothing. Hammond has put me through worse during training.”

“She’s tough,” Hammond replied with a proud smile.

Lewis nodded slowly but you could tell he was still worried.

“Tell you what I’ll get them both to the hospital for a proper exam,” Hammond compromised.

Lewis nodded with more enthusiasm.

“You gentlemen should be on your way,” your father said.

You looked at Miles, Andrew and Daniel and saw for the first time how banged up they looked.

“Oh my god, are you guys okay?”

They all backed up. “We’re good.”

It hit you then that you’d done this.

“Oh god guys I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re good. We’re going to head out,” Andrew said.

“Thank you guys for—everything.”

You locked eyes with each of them for a few moments and saw they understood just what you meant.

“That’s what fam is for,” Miles said.

You smiled then nodded. As they made their way to the door you noted how slowly Lewis walked.

“Are you okay?”

“He took an elbow to the chest, a headbutt, and a kick to the thigh,” Andrew listed.

Your jaw dropped. While he deserved maybe the headbutt for what he’d done, you felt bad about how you’d beaten him.

“I’m--,” you began.

“Don’t say it. I deserved it. It’s cool.”

“Ehm, speaking of what you deserve. I will see you bright and early in my office come Monday morning,” your father said.

Lewis took a deep breath and nodded. “Understood sir.”

The door closed and your eyes drifted back to your mother’s painting. You felt your father’s arms around you.

“She’d be proud of you. And so disappointed in myself.”

You turned to him. “Dad, you’re a victim in this. How were you to know? She played everyone.”

“I’m afraid to meet her again because I told her I’d protect you and look, I couldn’t.”

“Mom raised me with enough sense and all the tools to protect myself, plus with Hammond’s training, no one stands a chance—unless you’re a staircase. I think I may have broken a rib.”

Hammond laughed. “Let’s get you checked out. Come on,” he said as he got on your right with your father on the left. The two helped you hobble to the door.

“Lewis Hamilton, huh.”

You groaned totally not ready to have this candid conversation with him about your love life.

“He’s a little on the pretty side compared to your tastes. I have to admit I did not see that coming.”

You snorted then groaned as pain washed over you, “Neither did I, dad. Neither did I,” you said as you walked through the door and to the waiting car.

You knew this trip to the hospital was not going to be a quick in and out. You were close to crashing and honestly, you needed the rest. You were tired, your heart was tired—your soul was tired and ready to lay its burdens down.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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jestercake · 3 months

Text

Finished some writing for you lovelies! Sorry for the delay but the concept piece to go with it took more time than I expected it to.

Preliminary Before Reading:

This short story is based almost entirely off of Disney’s Haunted Mansion 2023 film, with some allusion to the 2003 film adaptation. All of the characters within this story belong to Disney and I have adapted many of them to my own personal interpretation. This storyline takes place the night before Ben Matthias enters the mansion and Kent has gone back to New Orleans in order to seek him out. This story is a tragedy! (NOTE: I often capitalize the pronoun “He/Him” in most sentences in order to identify the Hatbox Ghost.)

Word Count: 10,414

DISCLAIMER:

Before reading, this story has specific and mature content listed: Necrophagia, Suicide by manipulation, poisoning, implied assult, explicit violence to ghosts, and implied enslavement.

The Dining Room

…

Almost every night at midnight, many ghosts were forced to set the elongated dining table for dinner. Some servant spirits had no trouble setting the table for their previous masters of the house, William Gracey amongst them. However, those times were far behind them. Now that Gracey had fallen victim to what others called, “the Hatbox Ghost,” dinner was a time of misery and melancholia.

William Gracey watched the upper levels of the grand dining room with a sunken heart and a sunken soul. How, in retrospect, it used to glow with warm orange candlelight, full of life and merriment, especially when guests used to come round. Now, the only light was an ominous, cold purple, gloomy and wrong.

William decided to ignore the subtle beat of the grandfather clock, thumping akin to a metallic heart. It would soon strike the thirtieth hour, signifying evil was on its way. He dematerialized down to the grand hall with a fair swoop of blue light as he grappled his yellow lantern. He was fond of it, for it was reminiscent of Elanore’s warmth.

“Quiet night tonight, isn’t it?” The ghost of a footman seemed to exclaim with a mellow tone to Gracey.

They patted the obvious pillows upon the largest dining armchair. Gracey exhaled as if he still had life within his lungs, folding the napkins as if to make himself useful.

“Yes...it always seems so.”

“It’ll get lighter!” Another spirit had said rather optimistically.

“It was lighter then…” Gracey finished the rest of the napkins off as if he were a footman himself, contemplating how many would be eating here tonight.

Every night was different now that the new master of the house had taken authority. The unfortunate souls that had seemed to disturb His presence spent the rest of the night locked away in objects of his choice, or worse. Sometimes, it was any object He’d set eyes upon— such as a lamp or a curtain hanger. William particularly remembered a time where He trapped a soul inside a chaliace and started to drink from it. Really, it was all who enviced such cowardice that were selected, brought forth to their ferocious master, and were led off immediately to be punished as an atonement for their offense. It was quite tortuous actually, being trapped inside something inanimate just to further the idea of enslavement. Being used was another abuse.

“Oh don’t let Him get to you now, Master Gracey. Grief wants something in all of us, y’know.” A parlor-maid spoke after she had set the chairs in their places.

William Gracey looked around in anxiousness after the maid had called him ‘Master Gracey.’

“Don’t say that dear, not at this time. He could be listening.” Another parlor-maid had said in a sudden response.

William then noticed a much wilder, tall-stature spirit materialize across the room, but it was not black like a shadow. It was the Hatchet Ghost, titled that way by the Hatbox Ghost, where his mortal name was once Vincent Gracey. William’s shoulders ran tight when he spawned near the rest of the maid-servants and footmen.

Vincent wore the same tattered dark suit and tailcoat, accompanied by a straight Victorian bow tie. More noticeably, there lay a prominent and raw wound across his neck. He grimaced, side-glancing at one of the maids who addressed William as ‘Master.’

“Ah…I thought I’d heard something out of you few. Still resisting, are we?” Vincent sneered with his strange, grotesque smile and sickly bulged eyes.

His skin remained a ghastly color with somewhat sunken features. William Gracey watched the Hatchet Ghost paced past the two maidservants, skimming the decorative table once or twice. Then, he stopped at the dining armchair, scoffing.

“Who patted the pillows!? Our master likes them rather billowy! Was it you?” Vincent suddenly pointed at a servant who’s back had faced the scene.

Suddenly, the soul turned with a terrible expression while the Hatchet Ghost forced them to the floor with a strange unseen power. The ghosts screamed and were blasted out of the dining hall in a matter of seconds. The other servants cowered after the event, looking toward the floor with dreadful expressions, while others retreated themselves.

“That’s better...” Vincent grumbled as he turned his head back to the chair.

He took the time to readjust the pillows so that they were perfect. After he did so, his eyes met with William Gracey. Although William wanted to react, use what little power he could to resist, he had no control over the situation. Any situation, in that fact.

“Oh, William. Why the long face? You of all… specters should know these rules…” Vincent made his way over to his nephew.

There was a small moment of silence between the two until William decided to speak.

“I don’t care, Vincent. I don’t serve devils like you do.”

With subtle fury upon his face, Vincent closed his fists tightly in response. However, he was cunning enough to know William’s mannerisms would be dealt with rather soon.

“…I’m..sorry to hear that, William. I expected more from you. But…” Vincent paused for a moment as he neared his distant relative with an unforgivable face.

“I remember you’re just a coward who lives in the past.”

William Gracey stood his ground, but in response, the slight flame within him was snuffed out in a matter of seconds.

“…You’re stuck, Gracey, just like the rest of them. Stuck mourning over some dead drab that wouldn’t even remember you.” Vincent spoke with such poison.

William brought his head down to where it was less painful, contemplating those words that were sharp as spears. He knew his uncle was right and it sickened him. It almost made his bones twist deep within the Earth, as he knew the truth. No matter how much he tried to resist, how much he’d tried to better himself, nothing would change the fact that this was all his fault. All his damn fault.

“…Perhaps if you did your job you wouldn't be so…useless. Besides, I won’t be the one to help you when you’ll inevitably pay Him for your actions.” Vincent continued to speak.

“And I’m sure you know His punishments quite well…don’t you…William?”

The Hatchet Ghost smiled unpleasantly at William and watched him return to a submissive state of sorrow and regret. It wasn’t hard to degrade him, and he knew that all too well.

“Now then…How about you go and pour our Master His glass before he arrives. Make yourself useful for once…”

William kept his eyes off of Vincent as he passed him. However, it was obvious to him how the other spirits watched as he carried himself in misery towards the end of the table. As he passed the maidservant, she returned glances with him, truly sorry that he’d fallen victim to this darkness.

He poured a large chalice full of arsenic for the Master of the house. Arsenic was His favorite and quite a strong delicacy for dark spirits to consume. It was like any other form of alcohol in the mortal realm, though much more potent. Devil’s whiskey, he thought.

William set the glass back down as more spirits were forced into the grand hall without liberty. He could recognize a few of them in the large crowd, some of them distant friends he’d once known in his past life. However, many of them were new acquaintances that he’d met during his purgatory. He made his way to Victor, a pipe organist, and Dorian Gracey, a distant relative to himself. He was also good friends with a harpist who had no name, for she couldn’t remember what it was, but she was a kind spirit. Dorian was the first to speak.

“William, I wish I could say good afternoon to you, but…” Dorian’s voice faded slightly.

William Gracey only smiled with his lips in response, but his expression hadn’t changed.

“It’s good to see you intact, Dorian.” William said half-heartedly.

He knew Dorian was cursed and would soon start to deteriorate, but it was always good to remind him of his obvious beauty.

“I didn’t know you were helping tonight, Gracey. And if I’m being quite frank I’m not even hungry.” Victor had said afterwards as he met up with the small group of spirits.

“One is always…particularly hungry. We don’t even need to be here.” The flutist caught up with Victor, adding into the conversation.

“It’s good to see you both. The realms haven’t been so kind to me.” William spoke with a dreadful undertone, knowing the reasons why.

“Don’t dwell on the past, William. At least we can see each other now.” Dorian patted William’s shoulder in an attempt to lighten the mood.

“Yes, In the grand hall….Which I can never seem to escape…” Victor Giest scoffed in slight annoyance, though he was glad to be with his fellow spirits.

William exhaled a small laugh as the four of them continued to converse with each other. However, he couldn’t help but notice the darker spirits around them, maintaining the proper order of their master. Constance was one of them, corrupted by the Hatbox Ghost and forced to do his bidding unwillingly, despite her general liking to frightening mortals.

“You know, I sometimes wonder why He invites so many of us. One should not invite fewer than the Graces nor more than the Muses.” The flutist had commented upon the obvious, uneven amount of spirits present.

Constance met eyes with William suddenly, her eyes blinded with a strange blue light. Even for a ghostly entity, she was quite awful to look at. He inhaled suddenly, turning his head towards the upper levels of the house in a moment.

Suddenly, the grandfather clock echoed throughout the entire realm of the mansion, refracting perfectly as if to evoke fear upon every sorrowful soul. The painful ticking heartbeat seemed to cease after the twelfth stroke, as every spirit turned heads without content. William inhaled and watched as every exit seemingly faded away within the walls of the grand hall, which had stretched effortlessly in every direction. All spirits were lively, some even attempted to flee. However, an unknown presence forced their standing as if the floor became an ethereal cement. Even William had come to find himself stationary, which made every particle of his plasmic form circulate with worry and anticipation of what events would unfold.

Soon, the last chime of the clock echoed through the atmosphere and the repeated loud tapping of a cane’s ferrule could be heard everywhere, as if to snare the helpless souls once and for all. Every loud clap was a disturbing reminder of agonizing pain, akin to the sound of a whip to the abused. Each stab noisier than the last until the final blow came to a halt almost suddenly.

William Gracey looked around for the rest of his small group, no sign of the Hatbox Ghost anywhere. His eyes found movement when Vincent walked from the table effortlessly in silence. As he watched the spirit near one of the walls that had recently closed off, everything ran cold and still. Not a single Spector made a sound once the world around them grew dark with a black smog. He was near.

Trapped in thought, Gracey gripped onto his lantern in means of comfort, hardly able to make out his friends beside him in the thick fog. The feeling of grief began to overwhelm him without control, as he began to recall his beloved Elanore’s passing. Frightened souls wailed in the darkness as they heard the Hatchet Ghost’s calling.

“Everyone in their places…”

William shut his eyes as he was engulfed in terror, unable to escape. Every move seemed torturous as a now present sinfulness resonated throughout the endless realm, pure and maddening. The void of the fog started to reabsorb itself into one large, singular entity. An evil spirit of tyrannical might and manipulation. An infamous, malevolent entity.

“…Sir Hatbox Ghost…” Vincent exclaimed softly as he stood behind a nearby dining chair, arms folded.

The remaining section of a wall was ripped open as the dark spirit entered the room, only to have it close quickly after he’d entered. The air was deathly still as his cane tapped mockingly against the cold tiles. An animalistic growl escaped the entity as His great dark, ghostly cape dragged shortly after His grotesquely discomforting limp, a hatbox held in His left claw. The dark spirit had about him a spectral aura of blackness, something unnatural for even the ghost realm, where a strange bright orange light illuminated within the hatbox.

“…No reason to be…afraid…” came an omniscient, dark echo.

William Gracey attempted to move his feet, but to no avail. It was unwise that he had to stand so near the end of the table, for that was where the Hatbox Ghost approached. The Hatchet Ghost followed his master shortly after, making sure he drew the seat from the table.

However, before Hatbox Ghost took a seat, he stopped. Suddenly, the light within his hatbox faded to reveal a dark and desolate face of demoniacal features upon his hunched shoulders. He stared across the lengthened grand dining hall without a single sound, looming above them all. Only His great yellow eyes sifted every soul within His vicinity, followed by a deep, breathless inhale and a low snarl with bared teeth.

Many ghosts never saw his true face upon his shoulders, for he was a cursed entity, head bound to his hat box. Only during midnight was he able to soothe his own pain, once his head rested upon his shoulders.

The darkness within the dining hall never ceased as long as the Hatbox Ghost was present. No one held a voice, for he was too powerful to be spoken with. The only way one could stay below the radar was to disengage Him. But that was inevitable.

“Ah, what a…delightful bunch I have here tonight. I’m sure you are all…ecstatic upon my arrival.” He spoke through his booming, guttural, accented voice.

“Yes, Sir—Marvelous indeed!” One of his goons had said suddenly without context.

The Hatbox Ghost turned to face the outspoken spector, only to have them fall to silence instantly. Then he exhaled, finishing off his strained cycle towards his enlarged dining armchair.

Every eye watched with underlying dread as the Hatbox Ghost first analyzed the pillows. He glared with some content upon the work, akin to a critic, then held out his cane for a footman to take. Then he set his hat box beside him, still standing. Quickly, the footman took the large object in complete, almost robotic sync against his very will.

Something upon the entity’s face painted an impatient and ferocious expression in such a gradual manner as He stalked the still atmosphere. Then, He grimaced with sharpened, decayed teeth whilst he set himself down with a bit of strain. Within an instant, every spirit had made their way to the table without their will present. They all waited for Hatbox Ghost to sit before anyone could. Only after, did everyone take their seat in a repetitive manner.

William Gracey had found himself bending down until he and the rest of his friends were glued to their seats, unable to get up. It was an engaging, yet terrible entrapment caused by the evil spector’s supernatural abilities. Only He was in control.

After a moment of long silence, The massive ghost lifted His dark spell upon the spirits so that they could move freely. However, no one could leave their seat after He turned his clawed hand in a strange manner. Some whispering and vickering came shortly after the Hatbox Ghost had done so.

“Ah, yes. There’s no need to thank me, for I am rather…generous tonight.” A deep bellowing growl escaped His thin lips.

Then, He set his folded claws upon the edge of the table. It was in such terrible grace it made William Gracey feel quite weary. No one responded, in fear of what Hatbox Ghost might say or do to them. It was something every old spirit had painfully adapted to. However, some still spoke, for they were rather young and oblivious.

“Generous you are, Sir Hatbox Ghost! But, I was wondering something myself of late...” A rather plump spirit had responded, for it was Phineas, as most ghosts went by.

The Hatbox Ghost lifted his chin a bit, eyes now gazed upon the ghost irritatingly. His chest rose and one could notice the sheer width of his ribcage through his eccentric clothing.

“What do you…want, Phineas? Or should I say…you three.” Hatbox ghost snarled, for this has happened almost every evening occasion.

“Well, Phineas is just being quite chaste! If you—your uh—excellency…can lend us a car—” Another ghost beside him, Ezra, was brought into the conversation rather swiftly.

William Gracey, as for many of the other spirits at the table, observed the Hatbox Ghost as He pressed two of His long fingers against the sharp bridge of his sunken nose, closing His eyes in annoyance. This was the usual, everyone presumed.

“Yes Sir! I think we could be a great help if we weren’t—well, y’know—all cooped up in this house. Of course we all know you can't even leave the grounds yourself!” Another spirit, Gus, added his voice as well.

After a short bit of laughter, the trio changed expressions upon a quick thought. They noticed the Master’s widened, yellow eyes, beaming back at them unpleasantly. It was enough to even frighten the Hatchet Ghost, who sat closest to Him. It was rather animalistic and unnatural how small His pupils were slit.

Ezra looked away quickly, nudging the two others to quit their useless bickering. Then, he grinned back as if to relieve the thick atmosphere.

“We’re sorry, Master. Please…Do carry on in ignoring our requests. They are stupid requests…”

“Oh yes, childish!” Gus added.

The Hatbox Ghost exhaled with bared, slimy teeth. However, His terrible look was drowned out with a sudden, strange and false smile. Then, He spoke with sound gravel.

“The…only reason why I seem to be..stuck here…”

Suddenly, Hatbox Ghost clenched his fists and the three spirits were lifted slightly from their seats, which encouraged distressed cries. Then, they were all forced to face the evil Spector.

“Is due to the pitiful failures of little souls such as YOU THREE!” He bellowed.

Suddenly and by force, the Hatbox Ghost made the three of them strain painfully midair as if they were foolish puppets. Then, after enough torment, he brought them back down as they scrambled to their seats in a panicked frenzy. It was quite a terrible spectacle.

“Tedious old fools…” The Hatbox Ghost muttered.

William Gracey exchanged looks with Dorian, who now looked deathly sick as he reached the decomposition process of his curse. William turned his head in an instant, too overwhelmed to deal with Dorian’s malformations. Instead, he’d begun to fidget with his translucent, skeletal fingers underneath the table with his eyes shadowed.

“Now, where were we…” The Hatbox Ghost spoke with undertones of latent ravening. He was, however, quite capable of hiding such fury.

“The...mortals, Sir.” Vincent had imposed as he subtly whispered beside Him.

Slowly, the evil Spector wore a strange, deathly grin in light of the news, as He glided His vision across the table.

“Ah…yes. As many of you know, we have some new…guests with us of late.” He sneered.

The Hatbox Ghost grappled his chalice as he brought it to his gaunt lips with great emphasis. He took a rather considerable gulp, as he knew that all eyes were upon him.

It was strange to see the dark fluid melt into His ghostly form. William could see how it passed down His body, through His ribcage, every time lightning flashed into the room. It made him shudder. It was unnatural.

It brought Him much pleasure to be surrounded by the horror of others. Many souls knew He was not one of them, a cursed demon of sinfulness and lingering desires. Upon setting His toxic refreshment down, the Hatbox Ghost dragged his lengthy tongue across the surface of his teeth with such unpleasantness. His stare soon caught up to Victor, then to William Gracey, which made both of them presently unsettled.

“A priest, a mother and her…boy. What a bright little bunch if I do say so myself.” He spoke.

There was some short murmuring from the souls after the Hatbox Ghost addressed the news, most of them up to date. However, it was more due to their anticipation of the mortal guests that made them apprehensive.

“Oh…what will become of these most sorrowful souls?…” He spoke almost rhetorically, masking a wicked chuckle.

A grumble escaped the Hatbox Ghost as he failed to hide his content. It wasn’t unclear what the dark spirit would inevitably do to the mortals. For the entrapped souls, such as William Gracey, it was enslavement.

“Well, never mind that…for now. Let us dine together as acquaintances…”

After a moment of silence, the Hatbox Ghost raised his right claw and administered the footmen to leave the dining hall at once. As if it were almost routine, the ghouls headed towards the kitchen for the first course. That’s when the murmuring started up again.

“I heard the mother’s name was Gemma, or Gabbie, or something of that sort. Wonder where they’re from.” Victor spoke quietly from across the table to William Gracey and the Flutist.

“I do wish them well—That poor kid. He must be a bright young lad.” The Flutist had said to Gracey, who glanced back at her.

William attempted to disregard the obvious gaze from the Hatbox Ghost as he spoke to the spirits beside him.

“Uh—yes. Poor kid…” he muttered.

William Gracey now sifted his view upon Dorian, who’s skin had completely fallen apart from putrefaction. He was now an acrid skeleton, left in humiliation beside his friends. From the gratified look of Vincent, he enjoyed this quite awfully.

Dorian lifted the bare bones that were his hands, in an attempt to shield his brother’s gaze. However, William Gracey had stopped his relative before he could take any action, staring at him. Dorian looked back in slight bafflement.

“Don’t let them get to you..” William managed to say as he shook his head.

Vincent, among other goons, watched in subtle fury as the other spirits conversed, and perhaps even schemed, against the superintendency of the Hatbox Ghost. What dishonor they had for their glorious overlord, sitting in the very company of Him as if it meant nothing.

Willam Gracey set his eyes upon Vincent, and gave him a stern look. However, that soon vanished as the Hatbox Ghost suddenly gave him a look of absolute intent. It sent an unanticipated shiver down his entire form, filling him with despair, as he found himself frozen upon the deathly eyes. He couldn't help but relive those memories so long ago.

…

A pen had taken itself to parchment, he remembered. It was filled with words written in her handwriting. Every curve, every dot was hers. Instinctively, he wrote back to Eleanor, longing to see her again.

“I miss you as I loved you so. Why must death do us part?” He wrote in an expression that reflected his soul.

Madame Leota had warned him about this entity weeks on end, but he was blinded by grief and sorrow. He had seen Eleanor at times- as pretty as a picture and all the more. Sometimes she’d appear in a mirror or glass, refracting in a similar nature to water or dew. And sometimes, he heard her whisper things in his sleep. But mostly, she appeared in his dreams, and it was a presence that had wrapped him tight. A presence he couldn not escape.

“Gracey, my dearest love…” Eleanor had said within Gracey’s dream one night.

She caressed his false body, moving up his back and shoulders from behind. When William attempted to look at her, she set a hand upon his eyes and said,

“Mortal eyes cannot look directly upon the deceased…”

Gracey inhaled, soothed by her soft hand almost instantly. He moved his fingers across hers as he felt into complete darkness.

“…But why? Why can’t I look upon you, my love?” William remembered saying.

“…No man can gaze at My face and live. look at Me and you shall be lost for all eternity…”

“Then I beg of you to let me indulge in other senses! I want to picture you—remember you so that I don’t forget!”

After a subtle silence, Eleanor responded.

“…I will give you something…you will never forget.”

Her voice echoed within the darkness, giving off a shallow, uncanny feeling. It was as if it were doubled and strangled out in some strange way. But nonetheless, Gracey disregarded it.

With great dread and longing, he attempted to get the most out of his once lost love. He could remember her breath—absent of warmth—as she set her lips upon his. Together, they were in complete, desolate harmony as Gracey felt overcome with this lustful addiction. He continued to kiss her and so did she, arms intertwined as he felt her body like a blind man would with the world around him. He could almost picture her face clear in this dream until he felt hers draw away from his.

“…Eleanor…” Gracey exhaled, eyes locked away from sight as he shivered from the cold.

He gripped at her clothes, begging for more. However, slowly Eleanor had pulled away from him.

“—please—don’t leave me…” He uttered mournfully.

Gracey’s hands shook desperately as he held onto her.

“My time with you grows shorter. Listen to me, my love…”

“…no—please.”

“…Only the force of life has parted us from one another. You must give the life you have to Me. Only then will we reunite on the other side.”

“No!…”

Gracey reached out at nothing but ice-cold blackness as Eleanor faded away. On his knees he cried out, but she was no longer there to listen to his dreadful groans. In silence, he cupped his face with both hands until the dream slowly grew faint. But one echo was still heard from within the void, deep and omniscient.

“…Only through death can you see me once more…”

With the words reverberating infinitely in his mind, Gracey finally awoke in a sweat. Rapid breaths overcame him and quite suddenly, he drew away the covers to light a nearby candle. As he made his way towards the study of the mansion, the sound of spirits began to accompany him. Whispers filled the halls as he ran down them, trying to escape the chaos yet to unfold around the mansion. Nothing in the world would stop him from seeing his lost love tonight.

Upon entering the study, Gracey lit the fireplace to draw the darkness away. He stood within his office, noticing a piece of parchment enveloping an object on the large desk. with great anxiety and desire for action, he took the note and small object into grasp and brought it close to the light. He read the note first:

“Tonight we will meet on the other side. —Eleanor.”

Then, with terrible anticipation, he unraveled the note from the object, revealing a small bottle of arsenic. Poison.

Grasping the small bottle at hand, he covered his mouth and inhaled. It was all loud and true, and he knew what had to be done. However, even in grief something never set with him right. He started to quarrel with his morality as he paced in a panicked frenzy. Someone had told him once not to be envious of death, but Gracey felt as if even the malice of Hell would be meek compared to the torment of grief.

Gracey’s pacing subsided as he stopped to look upon the light of the fireplace, face wet with tears of confliction. It was warm and radiant— something he longed to feel again. Without Eleanor, he felt lost in the mortal world. Even after months of performing the same repetitive seance, it all felt futile, for he finally had a chance to see her again. He wouldn’t just let her fade away as if nothing had happened. It was only terror that seemed to engulf him. To live or to die, that was the question. The question that had brought him more pain than poison or hellfire. Finally, he felt as if he was in some control of his decision. He felt something other than misery.

And with this in mind, he slowly unscrewed the cork of arsenic as if it were a bottle of strong liquor. A liquor strong enough to stop a man’s heart. A subtle pop was heard and William Gracey glanced at the bottle with great apprehension, palms sweaty as his heart thundered. He winced away his fear and thought of Eleanore’s desperate command. With this in mind, his jaw tightened as he gradually brought the bottle to his lips. And finally, he slipped it down his throat with curled lips.

Upon finishing the bottle, he grimaced at the pungent and sour metallic flavor of the poison. He searched the room with rapid, uncontrollable thoughts, knowing there was no turning back. He gazed upon the table, setting his hand on the hard leather surface while he dragged his fingers across it. Then, he walked towards the fireplace, standing by it.

Hastily, Gracey’s breath started to stagger as he felt incredibly nauseous. His intestines screamed in anguish as he clutched his torso, for the pain never ceased afterward. It felt as if every organ and bone within him started to break apart and leak out in puddles upon the floor. He wretched out what he could in an attempt to free this sudden agony, but this acute state had him snared.

“AGH—” He screamed only once, gurgling a mixture containing vomit and foam.

His muscles had lost all control and he stumbled around the room with such terrible pain. Objects fell and broke all round him as every sinew within his body was electrified with excruciating pain. It was absolute Hell— something a simple poison could not inflict upon a mortal. This was something far greater.

Eventually, gravity had taken Gracey’s weight down to the cold hard tiles within the study. His eyes blurred the images about him as he faded in and out of consciousness. Now, in a deep state of paralysis, he only twitched in an attempt to move. The agony had overcome his state, for death would shortly arrive. Blood creeped down his lips in a deep red stream, indicating internal bleeding.

As William Gracey heaved his last breaths on the ground and awaited death, a cold presence overcame him. From what his eyes and mind could barely comprehend, he noticed a black silhouette on the left side of him, carrying a fog-like shadow as it moved across his lens. It was no angel like he’d imagined.

Slowly, the unlighted entity dragged itself toward him, circling him like doomed prey. It drew closer and closer with terrible rapping rhythm until it stopped close to Gracey’s face. It seemed to heave a deep and terrible breath, something that made his soul quiver in terror. This was not Eleanor…

Unable to escape, Gracey drew his last, long breath and the dark entity took it in like life. It groaned with terrible pleasure as it watched Gracey’s mortal form fall limp on the floor, bottle and note still at hand. The rest of his soul was devoured and trapped in an endless cycle of fear and grief as the entity had seized it from its eternal rest. This terrible entity was the first to greet him in the afterlife.

A demon.

…

All the painful memories flooded back as he stared at the Hatbox Ghost with fear and terrible regret. He held no conception of time as he did once so, never quite snapping out of it, heavy and lifeless breath engulfing his ribcage.

“Well…William Gracey. Once again pestering your relatives…” The Hatbox Ghost’s voice came, which accompanied a grim smile upon his face.

William opened his mouth to say something but quickly stopped himself. He stuttered, not knowing what to say to the evil Spector that sat before him. He was wrong— he was just attempting to ease Dorian’s humiliation. But, he knew he was just trying to convince his mind otherwise.

“I—” William stammered.

“Perhaps I should put an end to your…pestering…hm?” The Hatbox Ghost shifted slightly in his seat.

And before another stutter could escape, William Gracey was forced from his seat beside his friends and led down the table to where Hatbox Ghosts’s ghoulish goons sat, right beside the looming dark spirit that had entrapped him for eternity.

William, though persisting in his defiance by stance, could only withstand the agonizing pain of resistance for so long. Eventually, he stayed seated in order to keep the agony he felt at bay. It was a terrible feeling— to have the devil force one’s spirit like a puppet. With a widened lens, William looked around at the entities he sat with. They all stared at him with an occulted hatred as the Hatbox Ghost sat to the right of him, encompassing sinful pride with every expression. William looked down almost immediately.

“You see…That’s much better now. No more pitifully distracting side shows that squander my valuable time…”

Dorian attempted to comfort William from across the table, but it was obvious that he wasn’t responding to anyone, too frightened to do so.

“Speaking of wasting time…” The dark spirit spoke with prolonged groans in between.

He watched as the footmen carried in a multitude of silver platters, all of which were covered quite beautifully. Every spirit watched as the food came in, curling in their chairs with loads of anticipation. Despite the Hatbox Ghost’s torturous, inhumane mannerisms, he still allowed the ghosts to dine through offerings. It was a sick way of manipulating naive souls, causing them to almost believe He cared for them.

Normally, the feast was carried out with a variety of specific smells and memories found only in the past lives of the spirits. Whether it was the meaty scent of Jambalaya, or the pungent and delectable crawfish Étouffée with crispy crab cakes, it was a dish fit for a soul. And of course, a subtle glass of red wine on the side never hurt anyone. He knew that of all entities.

However, something was quite different as soon as the silver platters were placed in a manner that appeared planned. William slowly turned his head curiously and noticed the Hatbox Ghosts’s rotten grin when he spoke.

“Finally…something to celebrate my success. Satiate my hunger…”

Gracey inhaled without breath and winced almost immediately at a sudden odor. With terrible speculation, his fears were eventually portrayed through every spirit within the room. The platters were lifted up, revealing the nightmare.

Upon the long table was a rotting corpse, still fresh in a sense that it gave off a significantly horrific odor of death and decay. On everyone’s plate was a random piece of it— a hand or cheek alike. However, a lifeless body formed across the table in front of the Hatbox Ghost. It was enough to make all the souls’ wretch back within their chairs or simply stare in shock. Even the hitchhikers and goons had sat in silence as they gazed back at their plates.

Many spirits watched in utmost terror as the Hatbox Ghost inhaled the putrid scent of the corpse as if it were a dessert. He let out a sickening cackle afterward as he pressed his palms against the table, his gloved hands squeezed involuntarily. It was absolutely horrid, and many of the souls would rather die again just to get away from the situation. Even Vincent, the Hatchet Ghost, found that ideal hard to resist.

The Hatbox Ghost then shifted his cruel gaze upon every expression, for he found a gruesome pride in the fact every spector had a new and profound fear of him. He traced his green tongue against his rotted teeth, chuckling in the back of his throat.

“What seems to be the matter? Haven’t any of you had your fair share of tartare before?”

The dark spirit bellowed out in maniacal laughter again shortly afterwards, akin to a madman, as he covered his chest as though he had a heart. Even when he joked, it was as if the sorrowful souls had perished again all those years ago.

“Please…let us dine together now on this fine evening…”

The Hatbox ghost adjusted within his seat as he began to remove his black gloves one finger at a time. He acted in a manner of which every ghost could watch him with grueling anticipation as he revealed his monstrous claws.

Too frightened to look upon his friends, William Gracey’s skeletal hands shook underneath the table as he stared onto his plate. He had to look more than once to realize it was. A heart— a mortal heart—on his plate, covered in an array of dull greens and purples. There wasn’t any blood pouring from what he could see, just holes deep within the ventricles and shriveled, brown fat encasing its shape. If he were alive he would have evacuated himself. But now, he just felt paralyzed as the heart gazed back at him quite menacingly.

It all made devastating sense as William watched the Hatbox Ghost’s prominent side-eye. It was as if He vouched for such a dish just to vex him. In fact, the dark spirit had been tormenting him ever since the beginning, and He would do the same now. There was always madness within Him, but it was madness with an underlying method to it. There was always something the Hatbox Ghost wanted.

Vincent among other ghosts continued to watch his master once he set his large talons upon the table. The dark spirit’s elbows and wrists ceased to touch the edge of the cloth, which was a rather polite courtesy. He even picked up the silverware neatly placed upon the cloth as he examined its condition. He brought the fork to his eye level and slowly turned it before his hands began to tremble subtly.

It was His humanity slowly disappearing.

Then, as if something had snapped within the Hatbox Ghost, immediately the pupils within his yellow eyes began to wane as he dropped the utensil. He then violently grabbed the atrocious corpse in his massive claws as he began to devour it vigorously, revealing his truly famished presence.

Some airless gasps and mourns could be heard from the ghosts present, for it was an utmost horrible sight to see. There was strenuous struggling within the dining room chairs as the souls attempted to get away, unable to watch the beast take fourth in His sinful actions.

The Hatbox Ghost’s eyes evinced his pleasure as his whole massive frame hunched forward, continuing to partake in the gluttony. He felt a joyous impulse as he saw the fluids of innocence flow through his fingertips.

William nearly gagged as he watched Him, thoroughly revolted by His manners. But he knew the Hatbox Ghost was cursed to feed off of the living and deceased alike, truly unable to enjoy memories of food He had once indulged in. He knew this dark spirit truly felt hunger—something that all of the trapped souls did not.

The ghost’s claws were covered in the grotesque green and brown coloration, but nevertheless, His talons grabbed what was left of the slimy entrails. He seemed to devour most of them within minutes. However, time was irrelevant in the realm of darkness, and to some ghosts, it felt like He was eating for hours on end.

The souls that sat nearest to the Hatbox Ghost were quickly splashed and dirtied by the gush of old blood and gruel. William Gracey couldn't help but shed tears of misery and pain of what had unraveled before him. He was filled with agony, for the lifeless corpse returned him to his constant bereavement.

Oh—Why must this be so! To live among Satans whilst Eleanor lived in the realm of kings and queens? Was she even watching from above? He felt torn apart at the thought of her forgetfulness of him, mangled from the infinite pain, with no hope and no home. This was not the region beyond as he was promised. This was Hell. Because, unlike the eternal dream, this was the land where souls dwelled in torment and agony, forced to watch the Hatbox Ghost take his share of blood, flesh, and marrow. It was, of course, the acrid flavor that He desired, barely enough to satisfy His superimposed gluttony. The way He ate was enough to degrade even the toughest of souls.

William Gracey kept his face hidden, reminiscent of his dread. Normally, the Hatbox Ghost’s goons would’ve helped out with his wicked pestering, but they were all strictly preoccupied with his latent ravening. It was enough of a distraction until Gracey started to sniffle. Goodness—why did he have to sniffle?

Nevertheless it was heard, which had caught the attention of the monster to the left of him. The Hatbox Ghost’s claws unsheathed the mess intertwined in them, which fell from his hands slowly like a bloodied slime. Then, He quickly looked toward William with an unkenneled pleasure.

William, who shielded himself from many lingering eyes, wiped the tears and purged the marks from his face in an attempt to alleviate his constant dismay. However, he couldn’t stop pouring himself out with dreary wet tears once he’d started, which was no help to him in the end.

The Hatbox Ghost slowly leaned closer to Gracey and smelt the almost tangible atmosphere around him. He emitted a terrible groan—the sound of a monster as he widened his mouth to taste the addictive sensation. His ghostly hair seemed to stick on end subtly. In the Ghost Realm, sensations were like memories that gave off the scent of nostalgia, sorrow or any other deep emotion as a replacement of taste. Of course, they weren’t as pungent as the feelings of mourning spirits and mortals. And how pungent grief was to Him.

It didn’t take long for the Hatbox Ghost to become addicted to it, eyes maddened with the same inherent voracious prodigality. Many ghouls and spirits attempted to leave their seats again, aware of the inevitable outcome of this display. Eventually, The Hatbox Ghost would lose any mannerisms he had previously held before dinner, and would leave behind a madman. This needed to be stopped before anyone was permanently harmed. Vincent quickly proposed this ideal as the evil spector moved Himself closer to Gracey.

“Now, Your Excellency— Master of the Realms— perhaps you should finish devouring your lovely meal?” Vincent exclaimed quickly.

Other spirits had started to add onto this distraction in an attempt to draw the Master of the House away from the stench of grief. However, The Hatbox Ghost had already started to drool ferociously with every spectacle matching his inward appearance.

“Yes!— I think we all enjoyed the courtesy of your meal! Perhaps we should be excused before you—”

“SILENCE!” He roared.

And presently, not a sound was heard afterward, other than the mourns of William Gracey, who’d attempted to cease his internal dilemmas rather quickly.

William shut his eyes and only sniffled now that he had shielded his rather robustious cries. Though it was hard, he couldn’t let the demon before him get what He desired so desperately and with such ease. Even with eternal blackness to cloud out his vision, William pictured Him perfectly. It was disturbing how every component was laid out within his mind with no comparison to a painting. And it was that same painting that had been stuck within his mind ever since he’d died so many decades ago.

Slowly, the evil spirit made His way towards William Gracey, not hesitating to push his chair away from the long table. As He stood tall over William, many heads turned in utter terror, for they knew they were nothing against the wrath of their unwilling Master. This was quickly proven as Hatbox Ghost looked at everyone with a sudden animalistic fury.

“…What are you all looking at?! DINE!” He spat.

Almost suddenly, every ghost took up their forks and knives like puppets that feasted without hunger or desire. It was such an ugly sight to anyone, even the deceased, that some spirits would much rather suffer for years trapped inside an airtight box than have to face eating the remnants of a human. The spitting of sludge and crunching of bones was a bitter enmity to anyone forced to participate or even listen, the crimes justified only by Hell itself. After all, it was His realm now.

Even William was forced to take up the fork. He unwillingly sliced off a stiff piece of the old, wretched heart, much like the rest of the thralled spirits, forced to bring it to his tongue and eat it. Nothing in the mortal realm before prepared him for the disgust as he began to chew without will. Every empty tear fell to the floor without a stain, almost as if every one of them meant nothing in a dimension of infinite sorrow. They were tears in the rain, pointless to remember even if they meant something. Once William swallowed with great misery, he’d given into the inevitable that was The Hatbox Ghost’s eternal torment.

“—Why…” William had said rhetorically with a cloudy and woeful expression.

He spoke aloud but with little volume, for his spirit felt low and chained from within. It was more than just a spell that he and the ghosts were under— it was a curse. A terrible curse.

As if the deathly dimension couldn't take any more away from him, William was quickly torn from his seat by a large set of claws that had tightened painfully around the rest of his torso. He yelled only once, before the large hands suffocated him as if he had air to breathe. He couldn’t escape it.

The Hatbox Ghost ceased his terrible laughter as he neared William Gracey to his monstrous facade. His ferocious and lifeless breath exited the emptiness of his nose cavity. It was truly His face altogether that expressed His violent yearning towards such helpless and innocent souls. There was no exaggeration as He savored the grieving spirit’s aroma grotesquely, full of content.

“Mmm…You smell of…Misery…”

It was William's fragrance of grief that He’d found irresistible. It was enough to impose the sins of Gluttony and Lust simultaneously. What a mistake it was to show this heartfelt pain. He’d begun to feed a demon.

“…In-toxicating…”

William felt his ghostly form ripple painfully as the Hatbox Ghost took fourth in his own obscenities. He fed off Gracey’s grief, which caused his spirit to cripple and lose all thoughts that were dear to him during the process. The love he held for his friends turned sour, into dread and sorrow instead. He began to focus on Eleanor’s death once again.

“Leave him alone!” One of the maids screamed toward the Hatbox Ghost with a small spark of resistance.

The Hatbox Ghost let out a deep chuckle as he violently grabbed Williams neck instead, allowing him to dangle midair. William let out a strained noise as the grasp tightened like a serpent around his neck, firm and constricting.

“Oh, you really care for him, don’t you?…” The Hatbox Ghost’s voice seemed to grow darker as he gazed at the parlor maid with monsterous eyes.

“…Willing to share the same fate?…”

Suddenly, the maiden fell into the floor that stretched open beneath her. She let out a shrill scream of terror as she fell into a large pit of black sand that emitted a dark aura. The ghosts around her gasped audibly as some peered into the gaping hole next to them, which began to fill up quickly and swallow up the poor soul. Her screams ceased as the floor closed up afterward with a strike of lightning from outside.

The Hatbox Ghost let out a horrendous, boisterous laughter afterward, and it was clear he gained sickening satisfaction from the event.

William gripped at the Hatbox Ghost, almost in a pleading manner, desperate to be set free from the torment. This elicited the dark spirit to focus his gaze back toward him. He bared his slimy teeth as He fought His ferocious desire to confiscate and devour Gracey’s kind spirit in an instant.

Even in sorrow, William was so full of life—brilliant and caring—everything Hatbox Ghost was not. But He was patient.

“Don’t you recall…that night…” The Hatbox Ghost muttered as he neared William’s face closer to his own.

William scrunched his expression horribly as he struggled to relieve himself from the monster's grip. His translucent, skeletal fingers grappled the Master’s tough dark claws in an attempt to relieve himself from the constant, agonizing restriction.

“The night Eleanor deserted you…” The Hatbox Ghost whispered through a chuckle.

His eyes fiercely studied William’s, for He still desired much more delicious grief from him. William quickly felt the torment burn down on his soul again, which had forced his sorrowful tears to pool in his sockets. And those terrible words repeated endlessly within his head. It was all his fault…

“She never loved you…” The Hatbox Ghost uttered through a masked grin, eyes pulsating with a strange, yellow aura. Soon, He would get what He desired. And how He deserved it.

Gracey mouthed “no,” too weak to project any resistance. Even if he were a strong and enduring spirit, nothing could withstand the excruciation of this Devil.

“…She…left you here, allowing your torment. To waste away and rot in your own home…Just to suffer.” His words came again like poison.

William let out a strained sob as he shut his eyes. The misery was almost too much to bear, for tears began to stream rapidly down his face without an end, almost forced out. The Hatbox Ghost’s eyes widened at the tormented soul with an exhilarated pleasure. Only He noticed the visible aura of misery and grief illuminated around William. This is what he longed for.

William kept his eyes shut tight as he felt the Hatbox Ghost lean in towards him. He could feel a demented chill wash over his spectral form as he realized quickly that he was being drained of his life force slowly—feasted upon.

William understood the enslavement he constantly found himself under—all willing souls shared this fate. Many of the willing souls He fed on were wasted away into entities too weak to move or speak. In other words, they only existed for Him and his desires to satiate Himself. They were the true course— the reason why the Hatbox Ghost hosted the demeaning dinners. Why was he to be damned for all eternity this way, devoured into nothingness—Left with empty torture and grief?

The Hatbox Ghost groaned pleasantly as he began to consume William’s soul, exhausting him in the process. His jaws opened extensively whilst he drew in the concentrated anguish and suffering from Gracey. It roused and stirred the madness within, rather thrilling to Him.

“You’re…Mine!” He growled.

The Hatbox Ghost wheezed airily as he took in another lifeless breath full of grief and pain. lightning crackled in a much more electrified manner outside the windows, which had flashed in strange shapes of purple and green. Every loud crack against the immaterial realm sent a shrill scream of terror throughout the dining room, adding onto His deranged symphony.

Even Vincent, the Hatchet Ghost, had taken recognition of this most demonic sight, watching his very nephew waine and weep as he was feasted upon by the new Master of the house. He couldn’t help feeling an indiscretion deep within his spectral form, for he found the execution incredibly hard to watch. He suddenly intervened on behalf of any ghost unwilling to make the sacrifice.

“Master— Must you stop this…this madness?!”

A jolt of loud thunder was heard afterwards, silenced through the ferocious stare of the Hatbox Ghost. His beady, yellow, and menacing eyes were enough to stop any mortal heart— any soul’s at that. And it sent a terrible, antagonizing might that stunned Vincent into a state of pure shock. The only movement he could bear was his own trembling. It was only through this reaction that The Hatbox Ghost temporarily recessed his gruesome mannerisms, snarling as he spat.

“You DARE…disrupt ME?!”

The Demon roared with great severity towards the Hatchet Ghost among the other trembling spirits. The dining room had darkened all around them and all fears had been brought forth to their salacious Master. William, still trapped beneath the claws of the massive spector, held only the strength to look toward Vincent Gracey, who stood his ground even in fear. He winced in appealing agony with tears that could’ve burned at his skin if he were still alive. Why was he doing this for him— a ghost weak and pathetic beyond comparison? This was all his fault…

“Sir—” Vincent had managed to say before the fear had restricted his lifeless vocal chords.

Although he loathed his nephew, he couldn’t face the fact that he too was a willing soul just like him.

And how He craved the Willing.

“Even my most…Loyal adversary…Seeking to betray Me?…”

The Hatbox Ghost sifted himself towards the Hatchet ghost with William Gracey still snared in between his massive talons, much like a hawk with its prey. He bared His gray, rotten teeth at the demented, meek spirit with no desire to blink even once. The darkened aura seemed to engulf most of His cape now as if to stretch His shadow across the room, which gave Him a much larger expression than before.

“Of…of course not—” Vincent managed to speak.

The darkness around him started to crawl close to the putrid scar embedded across his fleshy, green neck. It made him grunt due to the sudden enforced agony.

“You’re not…caring for him, are you now? Much like…the others?”

The Evil Spector studied the Hatchet Ghost’s perturbed expression, His eyes enticed with such insanity and deception, they were enough to entrance any ghost who gazed directly at them. Every spirit hid their eyes from Him. All except Vincent Gracey.

“I…” Vincent muttered, enraptured by the Hatbox Ghost’s pulsating yellow eyes. He couldn’t resist them.

William Gracey watched in horror as his relative fell under the hypnotic and tractable spell. His eyes— Why must he look into those eyes?! He had almost seen Vincent Gracey’s true self, shrouded out within an instant through the manipulative power of the Hatbox Ghost. He almost had his uncle back. He almost had hope.

“Besides…I won’t be the one to help you when you’ll inevitably pay him for your actions…Right?…” He chuckled.

The Hatbox Ghost restated the Hatchet Ghost’s previous statement to William Gracey as if He’d known of their recent encounter. It sent a petrified chill down William’s spine.

He listens. He heard everything. And all roads lead to Him in the end…

The Hatchet Ghost strangely inhaled as the darkness faded around him, seemingly done with him. Then, those hypotonic clouds ceased within his eyes and revealed the same bitterness William Gracey had always seen in him. Hatred.

“...Of course, Master. Thank you for your…assistance.”

William Gracey faintly struggled within the Hatbox Ghost’s claws and watched as the Hatchet Ghost got up from his seat without hassle. It was quite alarming for the rest of the sorrowful souls, still glued to their seats without content. It was a statement which meant the loyal were favored over the enslaved. A terrible statement that meant one had to give into the dark spirit’s bidding just to be free. It was all an illusion, however. No one was free.

The Hatbox Ghost’s perpetual smile sneered all the more wider, now that the Hatchet Ghost had gazed at William with such unpleasantness. It made William shed more empty tears, no longer recognizing Vincent Gracey in those addhorrent, misshapen eyes.

“What do you think of…poor William Gracey now?…” The Hatbox Ghost snarled in his guttural voice.

Presently, He lowered William Gracey back down to the hard tiles so that Vincent could gaze upon him. William’s knees buckled from his lack of strength, kneeling as he held a heavily depleted expression. The Hatbox Ghost still kept an intense hold of his neck and torso while he wheezed, watching Vincent walk up to him with a sadistic grin upon his face.

For a moment, the Hatchet Ghost lingered his daunting smile at William Gracey, who had no choice but to gaze back with tired eyes. After a moment of silence, he spoke…

“I want him to…suffer…” He spoke through an inhale.

“I want to…watch you break him. Only I…”

Vincent’s voice was layered with darkness as he knelt down in front of his tormented relative. What was said was something imparable and vile, addressed to no one except the once luminescent soul before him. Now, he was nothing but an eternal feast for the demon before him.

“…And let the others’ blindness overcome them with a fear far greater than the sweet escape of closure…” The Hatchet Ghost added, looking up to his dark ruler.

William shook with a sunken head, eyes glassy and darkened by the condition of his very being. He could only listen to the quaked voices of his fellow friends, for they too always winded up paying for his actions. Why must this always be so? This was all his fault. Always his fault.

“What a…pleasant surprise…” The Hatbox Ghost uttered through an utmost sinister chuckle.

He was infatuated by the animosity He’d caused between a once happy family. How he loved the capability of destruction caused by His own making. He was a monster, vain and vile, created with misanthropic power and the disposition for committing atrocity.

“Wouldn’t you agree…William? He bellowed.

The dark spirit hunched down with a most wretched snarl, one claw upon the floor, while his eyes gazed upon William Gracey. He was once again lifted off the ground with such ease and carried back towards the Hatbox Ghost’s mummified facade. It was acrid and dark, his face. Void of any life or pleasantry it had once possessed in a forgotten timeline. His nose cavities enlarged after every powerful, lifeless inhale, eyes but yellow fragments of hellfire as they stared back at William. William had made no effort to voice out even a feeble ‘no,’ too dreadfully exhausted to do so. All he could muster was a heart-wrenching stare at the dark spirit before him, eyes blurred from tears.

“Well then. I shall see to this manner…personally. Within a more…confined setting...”

As the Hatbox Ghost straightened himself up back into his menacing, overbearing stance, he fixed his eyes upon every quivering ghost and spirit within the room that had watched the grimful spectacle commence. He groaned and bared his spear-like teeth as he made his gaze known across the room, then inevitably stopped at William’s acquaintances.

Victor, the Flutist, and Dorian Gracey couldn’t help but share the same alarmed expression with each other, the rules made known to all of them clearly. The Master was never wrong. The Master was always listening. And if He shall ever look upon you with greatness, He will do so with great reason. And ‘great’, He was. It was this final oath that had made them tremble with anticipation.

The darkness began to ripple throughout the massive dining hall, which had echoed its deathly sweet lullaby into the infinite chambers of the mansion. Sometimes it thundered like lightning or rippled akin to waves. Nevertheless, it taunted every soul under His mighty curse. Haunted them.

“Oh, I hate to be a terrible host and run, but I do think it’s time for me to go. You see, I have some…important matters to attend to…”

The Hatbox Ghost’s aura had begun to ripple and mystify him as he took a gradual step back from the chair that was his throne. Everyone had eyes on the Master of the house as he took William Gracey with him into the blackness that had been summoned. The Hatchet Ghost was beside his Master, and observed as the black veins started to crawl and intertwine around them. Although it was inevitable to show fear, he’d embraced it long long ago: something his nephew did not.

“Enjoy the dinner…Ta-ta, now…” The Hatbox Ghost muttered in an exaggerated voice.

The dark spirit quickly dematerialized within His own darkness alongside the other two spirits. He always spoke the final word. Even after He’d vanished just as elegantly as He’d come, no one was allowed to leave until they were finished with their dish. And Every ghoul alike held this deep and unforgiving punishment, the solemn supper being only the beginning of it all.

Many had known what this celebration had meant, for it was all loud and clear what the Hatbox Ghost had in store for the delicious mortal souls entrapped within the mansion. Eventually, they would all share the same fate as every ghost had—forced to abide by the dark spector’s command. And the willing souls? The willing were special to Him; potent to Him. It was something He craved ever since his arrival, something eternal that would fuel his insatiable hunger for more. Because, unlike the mortal realm, there was no escape from the infinite oblivion waiting for them on the other side.

And how He waited ever so patiently…

…

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