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justagalwhowrites · 5 months

Note

I saw this video and I feel like something like this would be fun to read! I have to ask would you ever consider writing a kidnapper!Joel fic?

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZT8Dfp6Na/

Hi Bestie!

So.... Yes :)

Not quite the vibe of the linked video but I hope you enjoy it!

Run Rabbit: Part One

It was just over a year after the world ended that you were captured by Joel and Tommy Miller. They're harsh, they're cold and they're killers. But, as a nurse, you're a valuable person to have around and they're not the worst thing wandering the wasteland that was the United States. And there might be more to these men than meets the eye.

PLEASE READ ALL WARNINGS. Written as part of the @romana-after-dark Dead Dove December event (but posted late because it's impossible for me to make a deadline at the moment apparently.) This will be in two parts.

Relationship: Joel Miller x Female Reader X Tommy Miller

Warnings WHOLE FIC: DUBCON (reader is a captive, participation might be enthusiastic but consent is dubious under the circumstances.) Raider!Joel; Raider!Tommy; Captive reader; Canon-typical violence; graphic depictions of violence; graphic depictions of injury; attempted SA (not by Joel or Tommy); Dom/Sub dynamic but not an established relationship; Dom-ish Joel; Brat tamer-ish Joel; Sub-ish reader; DDDNE; M/F/M threesome; unprotected P in V sex; Anal sex; Oral sex; No use of Y/N; Minors DNI 18+ Only

Length: 8k

PLEASE NOTE: part one does not get smutty ❤️

Part 2

November, 2004

“You can have whatever you want, please!”

Your hand was clamped over your mouth as you tried to keep quiet from your place below the floorboards. Your boyfriend, Zach, had tucked you into the crawl space when he ran in from hunting with three men on his tail.

“They don’t know about you,” he’d said, breathless. “Stay quiet, I’ll get us out of this.”

But even a year into the apocalypse, Zach wasn’t a great shot. It wasn’t long before he was out matched and the men were breaking down the door to the cabin you’d been holed up in for a few days.

“Seemed awful keen to protect whatever it is you got,” one of the men said. “How do we know you’re not gonna just come and try to take it back?”

“Should just kill ‘em,” another man said. “Don’t gotta worry about it then.”

“No, no, I swear I won’t,” Zach pleaded.

“Prove it,” the final man spoke for the first time. “Got no reason to trust you now, why should we leave you alive?”

You kept your hands tight over your mouth, trying not to cry, trying to stay quiet, hoping they’d leave Zach alive.

“Because I have something better than supplies!” He yelled it, his words flowing together as he stumbled over them.

“Like?” The third man said.

“My girlfriend,” Zach panted. Your breath caught. “She was a nurse before, in an ER, she can keep you alive, you can have her, please…”

“And where is this girlfriend?” The first man said. “You seem awful alone here…”

You hoped Zach was just buying time, that he wouldn’t actually tell these animals where you were.

You were wrong.

“In the closet,” he said. “There’s a crawl space there, I told her to hide there while I took care of things here. Please, she’s worth a lot, she’s good at patching you up, she’s real pretty, you can have her, you can have her…”

The sound of his begging almost covered the thud of boots as you heard the closet door creak open and the floor over your head disappeared.

“Well, would you look at that,” a large man with shaggy curls and a patchy beard - the first one who has spoken, you thought - smirked down at you. “He’s not full of shit.”

“No,” you shook your head, eyes wide. “No, please…”

The man ignored you, grabbing a fistful of fabric at your chest and hefting you up from the crawl space with a grunt. He dropped you on the ground and you tried to scramble away only to have another man grab your shoulder and throw you down. You landed on your backside, a different tall, broad man with dark curls looming over you.

“Where you think you’re running to, little rabbit?” He smirked, the second man who had spoken. You pulled yourself back from him, looking for a way out. The third man, blond and pale and the youngest of them, stood over Zach, a gun pointed at his head. He started humming Run, Rabbit, Run as he smiled at your boyfriend, glancing your way, prowling toward Zach. A predator enjoying his prey.

“So,” the first man dropped your pack that had been in the crawl space next to you at your side with a thud, making you jump. “You really a nurse?”

“She is,” Zach answered for you. “She is and you can have her, please…”

“Zach!” Tears tightened your throat.

“I’m sorry, honey,” he said, not looking at you. “I’m sorry, but I can’t…”

The man who pulled you from the crawl space sighed, pulling a handgun from his side, going up behind Zach and pressing the barrel to his head before pulling the trigger. Your scream hung in the air longer than the crack of the gun, the salty, metallic taste of Zach’s blood on your tongue as his body slumped to the ground.

“Hey,” the man who shot Zach dropped to one knee in front of you, grabbing your face roughly, gripping your cheeks in his large hand. There was blood on him, too. “You really think that piece of shit is worth screamin’ and cryin’ over? He was sellin’ you, girl, he ain’t worth any grief of yours.”

He released you and looked over his shoulder to the other dark haired man.

“Tommy, got something we can hold her with?” The other man - Tommy, apparently - started going through his bag. He looked toward the blond next. “Vince, gather what you can, we’re heading out in 10. Made a lot of noise here, don’t want to wait and find out what that attracts.”

“Are you going to kill me too?” You asked quietly.

The man who seemed to be in charge cocked his head at you.

“Now why would we go and do a thing like that?” He asked. “Your boyfriend might have been scum but he was right, you’re valuable cargo. You’re gonna be a good girl for us, right?”

You weren’t really sure what to say to that, your heart beating so hard and fast you were sure this man could see your pulse in your throat.

“Don’t really matter either way, does it?” He said as Tommy handed him some rope. “You either cooperate or you’re more trouble than you’re worth and we just kill you. Don’t make much difference to us. Hands out, wrists together.”

You just looked at him and he sighed, pulling his sidearm out again and putting it below your chin. The muzzle was warm and wet from where he’d just killed Zach and, for a moment, you thought you were going to vomit.

“Didn’t I just say I’d kill you if you got to be more trouble than you’re worth?” He said. “You’re already a lot of trouble by bein’ and extra mouth to feed so I recommend cooperating before my temper runs out. So. Hands out, wrists together.”

You obeyed and the man wrapped your wrists in rope tight enough that you had no hope of wriggling out but not so tight that it was painful, just uncomfortable. He wrapped his large hand around the cluster of rope between your wrists and yanked you to your feet.

“Got anything on you I should be worried about?” He asked. “Be a lot easier on you if you tell me now than later.”

“Knife,” you said, voice shaky. “Right pocket.”

“Good girl.”

He reached into your pocket and pulled the weapon free, opening and examining the blade.

“Know how to use this?” He asked, brows raised.

“I’ve used it,” you replied. He nodded and closed it, putting it in his pocket.

“Be a good enough girl for a long enough time and maybe you can get it back,” he said before turning to Tommy. “I’m gettin’ a head start with this one, heading north west, back to site. You know the way.”

“I know it,” he said. “We’ll clear out quick, catch up soon.”

The man who had you grabbed your pack from the floor and slung it over his shoulder before bringing his rifle around to his front, nudging you forward with the muzzle.

“Let’s go,” he said. “Try and take off and I’ll shoot ya. And I don’t miss.”

The man kept close to you, nudging you along in front of him and you tried not to trip on roots and overgrown brush but you’d only been walking about 20 minutes when you failed, falling with a pained grunt. The man sighed and grabbed you by the collar, pulling you to your feet.

“You OK?” He asked, gun pointed at the ground and not at you.

“Yes,” you said, even though your hands were scraped up and your knees hurt and you had your boyfriend’s blood on your skin and your throat hurt from screaming.

“Keep movin’,” he ordered.

You kept looking back over your shoulder at him. He reminded you of a guy you dated once who was in the army. He never looked in one place too long, head constantly turning, looking, searching. There were threats, he knew that. He also knew how to see them coming. The gun was tilted toward the ground but close and ready. You were waiting for him to change his mind about you, to shoot you, too. Part of you wondered if this was part of a game for him, if he was going to walk with you just long enough to lull you into a false sense of security before shooting you. Maybe he liked the fear, the surprise. Maybe he’d given too much away by killing Zach and now he couldn’t get what he wanted from you.

Maybe that was better than the alternative.

You were only walking about an hour when the other men, Tommy and Vince, caught up to you. The man you were with turned and pointed the gun, noticing their approach before you did. You froze, only realizing that it was probably a good time to run now that his attention was elsewhere once it was too late.

“Just us, Joel,” Tommy called as they climbed up the hill you’d just made it up yourselves. “No trouble behind us.”

The man - Joel, apparently - lowered the rifle and the men joined you. They had four packs between the two of them, two you didn’t recognize and two backpacking bags that you recognized as yours and Zach’s. Your stomach turned.

“Not a terrible haul,” Tommy said. “These two had decent gear and must have just taken somethin’ good. A lot of jerky, good stock of ammo, some medical shit.”

Joel looked down at you, his eyebrows raised.

“You know how to use the shit in those bags?” He asked. You just looked back at him. He sighed and grabbed a fist full of your hair, jerking you close to him, making you squeak in shock. “Don’t play dumb, girl, you know how to use that shit?”

“No,” you said sarcastically, not sure where the guts for that came from. “I enjoy hauling around shit I can’t do anything with.”

Joel’s jaw tensed and you weren’t sure if he was about to yell or laugh.

“Not gonna get far with an attitude like that, little rabbit,” Tommy said, but he was smirking a little. “Lot better for you if you just answer the questions when we ask ‘em.”

You looked between the two men closest to you for a moment. You wondered if they were related. Their eyes were the same, same hair, too. They would have been handsome in another context, one where you weren’t afraid they were about to kill you.

“It’s mine,” you said after a moment. “We were backpacking when the outbreak happened, we didn’t even know for a day or two, we were in the middle of the mountains and there weren’t other people around. I know how to use it all.”

Joel released you.

“Good to know you ain’t completely useless,” he said.

“You mean outside the fact that I can save your life?” You bit out. Again, you weren’t sure why.

He snorted.

“Outside of that. Keep movin’.”

With the other men there, Tommy took the lead and you followed, Vince and Joel behind you. You could feel Vince’s eyes on you, the cold, lecherous feeling of his gaze making your stomach churn.

Night was starting to fall by the time you reached a cabin that showed greater signs of people than you’d seen in what felt like forever. There was a stack of wood on the front porch, a line between the house and a tree that looked like it was meant for drying clothes, barrels placed to gather rain water. You stopped, staring at the small structure.

“Inside,” Joel said after a moment.

“I have to pee.”

He sighed.

“Vince,” he said. “Take her to piss. Don’t fuckin’ touch her unless she tries to run, got it?”

Vince groaned but nudged you off to the side of the house with the muzzle of his gun. You looked around, trying to get a lay of the land, see what a good route out might be. There was a small path that looked like it would take you deeper into the woods, eventually up into the Smokies. That was fine. If you could get your pack, you could survive out there for at least a week or two on your own, maybe find a settlement or something. You’d never had to survive on your own, you’d never hunted or shot a human being. Zach had handled that. You weren’t sure how long you could really make it on your own but you’d rather give that a shot than leave yourself to whatever these men had in store for you.

“Here’s good,” Vince said after two minutes of walking. You held out your wrists and he raised his eyebrows. “You think I’m a fucking idiot?”

“I can’t really pull my pants down like this,” you said. “I’m not a man, I can’t just whip my dick out…”

He stomped over to you and unbutton and unzipped your jeans before yanking them down to your knees, ignoring your surprised sound before going back to your hips. His fingers trailed over your skin, sinking into the meat of your ass and making your stomach churn, before he pulled your panties down, too. You could feel his eyes on you, lingering on you, before he stood up.

“There,” he said. “Happy?”

He walked a few steps away and turned back to look at you.

“I can’t go with you watching.”

He shrugged.

“Not my problem. You have to go bad enough, you’ll go.”

You glared at him and held his gaze before squatting and peeing, missing toilet paper and privacy more than you had since the damn outbreak started. You straightened up when you were done and stood there, still looking at him.

“Afraid you’ll have to come pull up my pants, too,” you said. “Since your boss apparently wants you to wait on me hand and foot.”

A muscle in the man’s neck twitched but he stalked over and yanked your clothes back up, harshly buttoning and zipping your jeans before shoving you back toward the cabin hard enough that you stumbled.

Inside, Joel and Tommy were sitting at a rustic table, a fire going in the nearby fireplace. There were two Nalgene bottles of water on the table and a bag of jerky between them. The jerky you recognized. You and Zach had made it just a few days earlier.

You tried not to think about it.

“He behave himself?” Joel asked, stretched out with his legs far in front of him.

“You’re really gonna take this little cunt’s word over mine?” Vince asked.

Joel just kept looking at you, ignoring him entirely.

“Asked you a question girl,” he said. “He keep his hands to himself?”

You glanced at Vince who was staring down Joel, his blue eyes hot and angry. You looked back to Joel.

“He was fine,” you said.

“Good,” Joel said, getting up, grabbing a bottle of water and going over to you. He put one of his huge hands on your shoulder, guiding you to the nearby couch and nudging you down onto it.

You obeyed his unspoken command, lowering yourself slowly down but not relaxing into the cushion, staying on the edge of it.

“Open,” he ordered.

Your eyes narrowed. He glared back.

“Open your mouth,” he said when you didn’t obey.

“You put your dick in my mouth I’ll bite it clean off.”

Joel squared his jaw and held up the bottle of water.

“Don’t got a smaller bottle right now and you can’t hold this with your hands tied. Don’t want you droppin’ dead from dehydration after we went through all the trouble to get you here so open your goddamn mouth.”

You ground your teeth for a moment before you obeyed. He unscrewed the top and poured the water on your tongue, crisp and cool and making you aware of just how thirsty you’d become in the few hours you’d been with him.

“Good girl,” he said. “Was that so hard?”

Eventually, he stopped and you closed your mouth, wiping your lips on the back of your tied hands as he closed the bottle.

“Don’t gotta worry about that shit from us,” he said. “Prefer when a woman begs for it, not about to take it from one who ain’t.”

“Because I can trust what a group of murderers says,” you snapped.

“Murderers,” Joel shrugged. “Not rapists. Hungry?”

“Why?” You asked, tongue still sharp. “Going to be kind enough to give me scraps of the food you stole from me?”

“Something like that,” Joel said. “If you’re gonna try to starve yourself to death, just let me know. Save you the trouble and put you down quick instead.”

You watched him for a moment. For some reason, you trusted what he was saying to you. That he wasn’t going to hurt you - at least, not like that. That he was intending to keep you alive.

“Not hungry,” you said eventually.

Joel shrugged.

“If you change your mind.”

You sat on the edge of the couch cushion as the men took inventory of what they stole from you, what they killed Zach to take. You tried not to cry.

It’s not like you’d been especially close to Zach when the outbreak happened. You hadn’t said “I love you” yet, you’d been dating for a month and a half and fucking for just a few weeks of that.

The backpacking trip had been a spur of the moment thing for both of you. You had some vacation time to burn before the end of the quarter, his job was flexible and you’d bonded over a shared love of the outdoors. You’d ignored the words of caution from your girlfriends when he wanted to take you hiking for a second date, the two of you ending up exhausted but proud as you came to the end of the seven mile trail he’d selected. He kissed you there for the first time, his lips salty with trail mix and sweat and a view of a valley swelling with shades of green spread out below you.

You were somewhere in the mountains when the world collapsed. You didn’t even know it had happened until you returned to where you’d parked your car to find the windows smashed and the inside looted, a body missing a chunk of its skull not far away. You’d ran to it on instinct, dropping to your knees beside them to check their pulse even though it was clear that there was no way they would be alive. Their skin was cold and there were fibrous, vine-like tendrils swarming in their brain.

It had been you and Zach from there. He was more of a survivalist than you. He knew how to hunt and trap, taught you how to skin a rabbit and process a deer. You weren’t sure if you’d truly come to love him or not, if the feeling you had for him was just what happened when you went about surviving the end of the world with another person and became dependent on them for your very life.

But you were certain that he hadn’t loved you. Not really. If he had, he never would have given you over to these men.

You’d never have done that to him.

Maybe you did love him. You weren’t sure you’d ever know.

“Sleep here,” Joel ordered as the day fully shifted to night and Tommy and Vince started readying for bed. “I’m keepin’ watch for now. We were gone long enough, some dumbasses might think they can move in. Don’t try anything.”

He went onto the porch and you stretched out on the couch, the other men going into what you expected were bedrooms at the back of the cabin. Your hands were still bound. You stared at the dying embers of the fire, the orange glow, and cried.

***

Joel needed Vince to stop acting like a shit head.

The man didn’t seem to understand the position he was in. He was the least valuable person here. He was young, he was dumb and he was disposable.

He just didn’t seem to realize it. If he kept looking at you like you were something he could take, he’d find out just how disposable he was.

Joel came in from his watch about 5 a.m. to find you whimpering quietly on the couch. He sighed.

“You really still crying over that jackass you were with?” He asked as you sniffled quietly.

“Shut up,” your voice was thick and wet.

“He ain’t worth it,” he said gently, sitting in the armchair that was near where your head was. He wasn’t sure why he was bothering. But then, he’d never really taken a captive before. He usually just killed people or turned them loose. You were valuable enough to keep and sending you out into the wilderness alone seemed crueler than holding onto you. He just had no idea what the fuck he was supposed to do with you now. “He didn’t know who the fuck we were or what the fuck we’d do with you - lot worse out there than us, little girl - and he handed you over on a silver fuckin’ platter. More than happy to trade your pain for his sorry life.”

“He’s the only person left that I knew,” you said softly. It was the first truly genuine thing Joel had heard you say. Except, maybe, when you asked if he was going to kill you. “I’m alone now.”

“Not alone, little girl,” he said. He wasn’t sure why he was reassuring you. He shouldn’t care. “You’re better off.”

“Why do you call me that?” You asked, lifting your head ever so slightly from the arm of the couch to look at him. “I’m not a little girl…”

“Little compared to me,” he said.

You scoffed and sniffed at the same time.

“You’re a giant,” you said. “Everyone is little compared to you. Don’t see you calling Vinny there little boy…”

Joel laughed a bit.

“Maybe I should. And you’re a girl.”

“I’m a woman,” you said, a spark of defiance in your tone. “I don’t think I’m much younger than you, if I am at all.”

Joel frowned a bit at that.

“How old are you?” He asked after a moment.

You thought for a second, like you were doing the math. Which was fair. It’s not like he’d celebrated his last birthday, either, his stomach twisting at the thought. He had to think about it, too.

“I’m 33,” you said. “How old are you?”

He was surprised. Not that you looked terribly young, now that he thought about it. More that human faces lacked much definition to him anymore. Anyone older than a teenager looked about the same until they started going gray. You just seemed younger.

“I’m 37,” he said.

“Yeah, I’m not a girl,” you said, putting your head back down.

“You could tell me your name,” he said.

You scoffed.

“Then I’m not sure what I’m supposed to call you, little girl,” he said. He could feel you glare at him.

“I had a whole life before,” you said quietly, more to yourself than to Joel. “I had a house and a job and friends and I used to go to dinner and to concerts and buy the people I loved presents. I had a life before.”

He realized then why he’d thought you were younger. You were, possibly, the most human person he’d come across in a year. Some small spark of divine mortality - the juxtaposition of life and a kind of death that was still possible - there in your eyes that didn’t exist in others. It seemed naive, in a way. Made you seem younger than you were. But he wasn’t sure that was it. Maybe you weren’t naive. Maybe part of you was just clinging to your humanity harder than anyone else left.

“We all did,” he said, voice harsher than he’d really meant it to be. There was part of him that wanted to snap that tie in you. It was unfair that you got to keep it when he didn’t. But it was a kindness, too. You’d survive better without it. “You move on. Go to sleep.”

He went to the room he shared with Tommy who was unconscious, sprawled out on the bed and snoring. Joel took the sleeping bag on the floor and stared at the ceiling, trying to make himself not listen for the sound of you crying in the next room.

Things were surprisingly smooth with you for the next two days. Vince was a fucking idiot and got a nasty cut on his arm that you tended to, giving him stitches while he leered at you and Joel ground his teeth.

He felt better with you tied. Your wrists, at the very least, but during the day when the men were coming and going, Joel bound you to a chair at the table.

“Comfortable?” He asked the first time he did it.

“No,” you spat, face scrunched in anger that was so fierce it was almost cute. If Joel even found things cute anymore. “I’m not.”

“You gonna lose a hand from me cuttin’ off your circulation?” He asked instead. You just glared at him. “Good. Stay put, like a good girl.”

“I hate you,” you seethed at him.

Joel shrugged.

“That’s fine,” he said. “Don’t gotta like me to keep me alive, do ya?”

He went outside to gather wood.

By the third night, you were yawning and looked barely conscious before the sun had even set. Joel frowned.

“I keep telling you to sleep,” he said. “You ignoring me for fun or you think exhausting yourself is good for your health?”

“I’d love to sleep,” you snapped. “But something about having my wrists bound keeps me up at night. Maybe it’s the discomfort, maybe it’s the looming threat of death, who can say?”

Joel pulled Tommy and Vince aside after dinner, the men standing in the dirt outside the cabin, snow starting to drift down.

“She hasn’t tried to hurt anyone yet,” Tommy shrugged. “Don’t think she’s gonna go far if she gets away and doesn’t seem like the kind to kill us in our sleep.”

“Don’t like it,” Vince said, glaring at the cabin for a moment before looking back at Joel. “Can’t trust her as far as we can throw her…”

“No one said shit about trust,” Joel cut him off. “But we can’t keep ‘er tied up forever.”

“Fine,” Vince shrugged. “We can put her to use then kill her. Won’t need to tie her up then.”

Joel could hear the blood in his ears.

“Suggest that one more time, little boy, and see how long you last,” he straightened up as he said it, the full six inches he had on the younger man all the more apparent then. “You want to do that kind of shit, find someone else to run with.”

“Fuck, sorry,” he raised his arms in a moment of surrender before crossing them again. “Just don’t come crying to me when she slits your fucking throat.”

“Can’t cry if she kills me, can I?” Joel said, stomping back toward the house, pushing past Vince on the way.

You were still bound to the chair. He wordlessly unwound the rope and you relaxed your elbows, stretching your arms as best you could with your wrists still tied.

“Hands up,” he said. You frowned, just looking at him. “You heard me, you want me to untie you or not? Hands up.”

You practically flung your wrists at him and he tried not to laugh at you as he loosened the knot and pulled the rope from your wrists.

The second you were free, you rolled your shoulders and closed your eyes, groaning at the feeling of it.

“God that’s good,” you moaned before you started flexing your fingers and rotating your wrists before you glared up at him again. “What? You try being tied up for days, see how you deal with it.”

“Rather not,” Joel said, winding up the rope. “Better be a good girl, don’t try anything stupid.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” you said as you spread your arms wide and sighed. Joel found himself smiling a little for the first time in he didn’t know how long. He stopped himself.

“Actually get some sleep,” he said, voice gruff. “No good to us exhausted.”

He left you alone, taking the bed in he and Tommy’s room that night and Tommy taking the floor. It took effort to not listen for you moving in the front room as he drifted off.

He wasn’t sure how long he was asleep when Tommy shook him awake.

“Joel,” he said urgently. “She’s gone.”

***

Absolutely none of this was ideal.

You were exhausted, the only thing keeping you upright the adrenaline that ran through your whole body. You didn’t have supplies, your pack and all its valuable contents in the bedrooms of the men. You were stuck running through snow, leaving a clear path to follow until the woods got dense enough that the snow hadn’t piled up much.

But you had to go, you had to go now, now, now, right now. You couldn’t spend another night there like that, not when you had the option to get away, not when you had the use of your arms back.

Your body wouldn’t let you sleep, even for an hour or two, even just for a night to try to make a break for it tomorrow. The second Joel had freed your hands it was like you could feel every part of your body in sharp, acute detail. Every frayed nerve, every thrumming vein, every peaked hair was stark and clear. You couldn’t relax enough to sleep. You had an opening, a chance. You had to take it, you had to.

You didn’t even have your knife.

But you had your body and you knew how to push yourself over long distances in the mountains. You’d been good at it before, too. You’d hiked most of your life, knowing how to get yourself to make it to the top of the next ridge even when your calves were burning and your lungs felt on the verge of collapse you knew you could make it.

All you had to do was do that now, through all the exhaustion and all the panic, and put as much distance between yourself and those men as possible.

You’d find some way to keep yourself alive eventually. There’d be supplies or a settlement. Something. You were sure of that.

Mostly.

Your breath rose in a cloud in front of you and you broke away from the trail into the brush of the woods, thankful that the moon was bright enough that you could have some sense of where you were going.

You were just starting to relax a little when you heard it behind you. A sharp, shrill whistle. You froze.

“Come on out, little rabbit,” Tommy called. “Not gonna hurt you…”

“Shit,” you whispered as you panted for breath. They sounded pretty far away but they’d catch up eventually.

You scrambled through the forest until you reached a cluster of ferns that was thick and full and you ducked into it. If you stayed quiet and still, they’d walk right past you. You could stay put for a while and then find your way from there. Simple.

You tried to not shake from cold and fear as you heard the signs of the men getting close. There was the crunch of sticks, the rustle of leaves and the eerie sound of Vince humming Run, Rabbit, Run. The glare of a flashlight trickled between the ferns and you held your breath, the humming getting louder.

For a second, a glorious second, you thought you were in the clear. Vince had passed your hiding spot, poking through the brush closest to the trail with his rifle but you were just far enough off the trail that he missed you, and you relaxed.

Then you heard the snap of a twig.

“Found you.”

You spun, Vince turning the flashlight on and shining it in your face, all but blinding you. You threw up a hand instinctively to protect your eyes and he grabbed your wrist, yanking you out of your hiding spot and almost pulling your arm out of its socket in the process.

You yelped in pain, you couldn’t help it, and he all but threw you onto the trail. Your eyes were still adjusting to the light but it took you a moment to realize that he had his gun trained on you.

“Knew you’d take off on us,” he said, panting a little. You put your hands up and looked for a way out. “Knew you’d be more trouble than you’re worth…”

You backed away from him, more on instinct than anything else, not able to watch where you were going and you shrieked as you tripped and fell back, landing hard and barely catching yourself before your head smacked into the rock of the path. You rose up on your hands quickly, scrambling back from him as best you could but he was standing, could see where he was going. You didn’t have a hope.

“Please,” you whispered. “Please just… just let me go, you already have my supplies and…”

“Can’t let you go with you knowing where we are,” he replied. “And you were already more trouble than you’re worth in my opinion…”

“I stitched up your arm,” you said, tears stinging at your eyes. “I helped you…”

“And those two idiots won’t even let me fuck you,” he cut you off. “What good is pussy you can’t fuck, hm?”

“Please,” you said again.

“That’s not an answer,” he prowled closer, the muzzle of his rifle so close you could almost touch it. Your heart was in your throat. “Think I’ll just kill you, bet that pretty head of yours would make all kinds of nice colors when I blow it off…”

“Hey!” Tommy snapped, his gun up and pointed at Vince. “Know you’re not threatenin’ to kill her, not when we all agreed to keep her alive.”

“You agreed,” Vince snapped. “You and your asshole brother, not me.”

“That asshole has been keepin’ your sorry ass alive,” Joel growled from behind you. Your head whipped around to see him there, looming large over you. His gun was up, too, pointed at Vince. “You need us a whole hell of a lot more than we need you. You can do what I fuckin’ say or you can move on. But you keep pointing that gun at her and you ain’t gonna have much to move on with.”

The three of them stood there for a moment, Vince aiming at you, Joel and Tommy aiming at him. Your heart felt like it was going to break your ribs it was beating so hard.

Vince lowered his gun. Tommy did the same but Joel left his up.

“Joel,” Vince said but Joel cut him off.

“Don’t like men who don’t listen,” he said. “Not worth shit to me if you can’t take orders. Said you could join me and my brother if you did what you were told.”

“I told you she’d run!” Vince snapped.

“Don’t give a shit,” Joel said. “You think nurses pop up every five fuckin’ feet? She’s valuable. To us and to people we come across. Worth a little trouble. Worth a whole hell of a lot more trouble than you. Know your goddamn place.”

He lowered his gun and looked down to you.

“You alright, little girl?”

You were too shaken to fight the nickname. Instead, you just nodded.

“Good.”

He slung his rifle on his back and reached down, yanking you sharply to your feet, the movement so rough it shocked you. Once you were on your feet, he grabbed you by your chin, his callused fingers harsh on your cheeks, and pulled your face close, so close that you’d expect him to kiss you if he were your lover.

But he wasn’t that. He was your captor.

“Thought I told you not to try anything stupid,” he asked, his face almost eerily calm but his tone on the edge of anger. “You seem smart enough to know better, give you an inch and you decide to take a mile. Several, in fact. Maybe Vince is right, maybe we should kill you…”

“Joel,” Tommy said cautiously but Joel threw him a glare and he quieted.

“You really think you can do better than us out there? Hm?” He demanded. “You think you can survive all on your lonesome?”

“No,” you said, fighting to not cry. You hated that you reacted this way, that when you were scared or mad your first instinct was to cry. “But I could find…”

“Find what?” He cut you off. “Find someone else who’s willin’ to stick their necks out for you? Willing to feed you, shelter you without takin’ more from you?”

He released your chin and you slumped back from him, massaging your face and working your jaw, trying to right it.

“You’re damn lucky to be with us, little girl,” he snapped. “Real damn lucky. Better start actin’ like it instead of running off like some scared little rabbit. Hands out.”

“But…”

“No,” he shook his head firmly. “You lost the privilege of using your fuckin’ hands without my permission. Hands. Out.”

You obeyed, arms trembling, and he bound your wrists together, the ropes finding the same indentations they’d made on your skin before. He dropped your wrists once they were bound and you looked at him as you still fought to not cry. His eyes met yours, sharp and cold.

“You’re mine now,” he said harshly. “Sooner you figure that out, the easier this gets for you. Move.”

The walk back to the cabin felt long and, when you got there, you went to lay on the couch but Joel stopped you.

“What do you think you’re doing?” He asked, shrugging out of his coat.

You frowned.

“Going to sleep…”

“Not there you’re not,” he said. “You’re sleepin’ with me, you don’t get to be unsupervised anymore.”

Your eyes went wide and you shook your head.

“No, no, please, you said you weren’t…”

“Wasn’t offerin’ to fuck you, girl,” he cut you off. “You’re sleeping where I can fucking see you so get in my bed.”

Your whole body shook as he nudged you to one of the back rooms. You hadn’t been in one of these before. You had no idea how to try to escape if you needed to. It was stupid of you, you realized now, to trust Joel when he said they might be murderers but they weren’t rapists. Just because they hadn’t forced themselves on you yet didn’t mean they wouldn’t now.

The room wasn’t huge, a queen sized bed in the middle and a sleeping bag on the floor. There was a door - to a closet, you assumed - and a dresser with some picture frames on top.

“Shoes off,” Joel said.

“Please,” you said softly. “Please don’t do this, I…”

“Didn’t I say I wasn’t offering to fuck you?” He asked, sounding exasperated. “I don’t want you tracking dirt into the goddamn bed. Shoes off, get in on that side, one by the dresser. I’ll keep my hands to myself if you will.”

You obeyed and curled as tightly in on yourself as you could, facing away from him. You felt the bed dip as he climbed in, the heat of his body close to yours. But he didn’t touch you.

“Actually sleep,” Joel muttered after a moment.

You glanced over your shoulder at him. He was flat on his back, eyes closed, arms crossed over his chest. The opposite of someone who looked like they were about to grope you the second you passed out.

Still, you rolled to face him, curled tightly on yourself, and watched him until his body loosened and his breaths evened. Tommy snored lightly from the sleeping bag on the floor. You weren’t sure if their unconscious state made it feel safe enough to rest or your body gave out from exhaustion but, the next thing you knew, it was morning and you were alone.

You sat up slowly, hands still bound, an unfamiliar blanket draped over you that hadn’t been the night before.

You made your way slowly, cautiously, to the main part of the small house. The men were talking in low voices around the kitchen table and you hovered for a moment, not sure if you wanted them to notice you or not.

But Tommy was the first to see you there, a slow smile spreading over his face.

“Well hey there little rabbit,” he took a sip from a mug. “You look rested.”

“Probably wore herself out taking off,” Vince muttered.

“Gonna be just you and me today,” Tommy said, ignoring Vince’s comments. “Those two are headin’ out to do some business.”

“Business?” You asked, brows raised. “Is that code for murder?”

“Our business is none of yours, little girl,” Joel said, drinking from a mug of his own. “You stay here, behave yourself, and maybe we’ll bring you something back.”

“Rather not get anything that comes from killing,” you said. “Thanks though.”

Joel just rolled his eyes and shoved back from the table.

“You’ll take what I give you and you’ll like it,” he said, coming to stand in front of you. He put two fingers below your chin and tilted it, forcing you too look him in the eye. “Gonna take off on me again? Or do I need to tie your legs up, too?”

You gritted your teeth.

“No.”

“Good girl.”

Tommy helped you use the bathroom and you sat on the couch with jerky and sore wrists and resentment as you watched Joel and Vince get ready to head out to do… whatever it was they were about to go and do.

You weren’t sure what you were supposed to do to pass the time. You’d had some books in your bags but you weren’t about to risk pissing off the men for a little entertainment.

But Tommy didn’t let you sit in silence for too long, flopping down next to you on the couch as you tried to find patterns in the peeling paint of he wall. You looked at him, cagey. He smiled.

“You’re cute when you sleep.”

You frowned.

“What?”

“You’re cute when you sleep,” he said again. “All curled up and shit, just like a little rabbit.”

You shrank back from him and he put his hands up.

“Not gonna touch you,” he said. “Unless you wanted me to.”

“Well… I don’t.”

He shrugged.

“Didn’t expect you would,” he said.

He was quiet again for a few minutes before he spoke again, a gleam in his eye when he did.

“Wouldn’t happen to play poker, would you?”

You didn’t but he seemed happy enough to teach you. But you couldn’t hold the cards well with your wrists bound and, after a few minutes of struggling, Tommy glanced toward the door like he was half expecting Joel to walk through it.

“Gimme those,” he said, holding his hands out. You thrust your wrists at him faster than you were proud of and he laughed a little, taking hold of you gently. He paused before starting at the rope. “You’re not gonna take off on me, right, little rabbit?”

“Not at the moment,” you said.

“Good,” he replied, untying you. “Not a fan of keepin’ you all tied up anyway…”

You turned your wrists, the bones popping as you luxuriated in the movement.

“Thank you,” you said, massaging one wrist and then the other.

He shrugged.

“The game is Texas Hold ‘Em,” he said, dealing. “We’ll play a few hands open and then see how you do…”

It was oddly easy to forget that you were being held captive when playing cards with Tommy. He was lighter than the other men, more like people you remembered from before, making easy going conversation about things that hadn’t mattered in more than a year.

“I’m still mad that I didn’t get to see the second Matrix,” you said, watching as Tommy put the flop on the table.

“That, darlin’, was a blessing,” he replied. “Wasn’t nearly as good as the first.”

“I heard that, but still,” you said, looking at the seven of clubs, three of hearts and king of clubs on the table and trying not to smile at the seven of spades and king of hearts in your hand. “I think it might have been better than I heard. And maybe it would have made more sense when the third one came out…”

“Maybe,” Tommy said, putting the turn on the table. Ace of diamonds, no good for you. “But I dunno, you seem too smart to like something that shitty.”

“Bold assumption,” you smiled a little and he smiled back.

“Before I put the river card out,” he said. “How about we make this interesting?”

“Interesting,” you frowned. “Interesting how?”

“I win, you tell me something about yourself,” he said. “You win, I’ll give you something you want. Can’t be a weapon but something else.”

You looked at him, brows raised.

“C’mon, little rabbit,” he gave you a cocky smirk. “Let’s have some fun.”

You looked at your hand again.

“Alright,” you smiled a little. “Let’s do it.”

The river was the king of spades and you tried not to smile too wide.

“Alright,” he said, looking like he was holding back a grin himself. “I’ll show you mine then you show me yours.”

You shrugged and he smiled as he put the king of diamonds and the three of spades on the table.

“Full house,” he said. “Kings over threes.”

“Damn,” you sighed. “I just have the kings…” you lowered the card, looking disappointed and enjoyed Tommy’s excited expression for half a second before you put the second card on the table. “Oh, and the sevens. Sevens are higher than threes, right? I mean, I only went to nursing school, I can’t be sure…”

“You little shit,” Tommy laughed. “You’ve got a damn fine poker face on you! Alright, what is it you want?”

“My books,” you said immediately. “I had two, I think, in my pack. I’d like them. Please.”

“I can get you the books,” he smiled. “You sit tight.”

He brought you the books and you played another hand with the same stakes. And another. And another. And more after that.

You got some hair ties and clean socks out of the deal. Tommy got to know your favorite food and what you liked to watch on TV back when there was TV.

After a while, he looked at the books that you’d set aside on the table. He picked up the top one, Slaughterhouse Five.

“Think this was on my reading list in high school,” he said, looking over the back of it. “Never actually read it though.”

“It’s good,” you said. “You missed out.”

“Read it to me,” he said, holding it out to you.

“Read it to you?” You asked, brows raised. “What are you, five?”

“Never much enjoyed reading,” he shrugged, still holding the book out. “But I like listening. Like listening to you well enough. C’mon, little rabbit. Tell me a story.”

You considered him for a moment. You felt oddly safe with Tommy. You weren’t sure if it was because he was showing you kindness and one of the only three people left in the world you knew now or if he was actually safe. You weren’t sure you could trust anything you were thinking and feeling.

But reading to him didn’t sound bad.

“Can we move to the couch?” You asked.

He laughed.

“Think we can manage it.”

You settled on the couch, you folded into a corner and Tommy stretched out. He watched you closely as you opened the book.

“All this happened, more or less…”

You fell asleep on the couch before Joel and Vince made it back but you woke up in he bed, Tommy snoring next to you.

Part 2

A/N: Hey yeah so... this was supposed to be a one shot but it got away from me. So now it's two parts. Part two up sometime within the next week or so ❤️

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x oc #run rabbit #dddne #dubcon #raider!joel #raider!Tommy #dead dove december #tommy miller x reader #tommy miller x you

367 notes · View notes

m1d-45 · 1 year

Note

any chance of a part 2 of opportunities arisen? perhaps tighnari finds out who we are? or someone else comes after us? 👉👈 i love him sm and ur characterization of him is perfect, that fic is 100% canon in my mind for every imposter au now

prime fortune

a/n: hope this one didn’t absolutely destroy your expectations anon. it took a hard left turn halfway through and i couldn’t bring it back—

word count: 3.1k oh wow-

-> warnings: minor spoilers for sumeru archon quest (3.0-3.2), dubious medical facts that you should not follow, likely ooc cyno, excessive use of the word ‘something’ with little reasoning to show for it, cyno’s excellent humor

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie

<< part 1 || < masterlist >

adapting to life in the forest was easier said than done.

you’re often paired with collei, who’s in the middle of a bad eleazar flare that keeps her confined to the village, and though she teaches you the different salves and plants, a lot of it goes over your head.

you’re interested, you are! the liveliness with which she speaks, and the animated gestures from tighnari as he explains proper safety when preparing medicine easily capture your attention, but when she hands you two mushrooms and asks her to tell you which one is morchella….

by some strange luck, you often guess correctly, your intuition knowing more than you do, but when she nods with a smile and asks you to repeat the differences…

your mind falls blank.

something about the density of the fibers inside the mushroom floats through your mind, but you can’t remember whether the true or false mushroom is heavier.

collei’s smile falters, and yours turns sheepish. when she takes you out on walks, slowly walking up the paths so you don’t strain your ankle, you can point at the differences between portobello and death caps, you can pick out holly and honeysuckle and marigold, but here…

you pass the field practice with flying colors, but your basic by-the-books forest ranger tests always end in failure.

tighnari picks out two plants from a small case, holding them up in front of you.

“you come across amir sitting just off the side of a path, clutching his stomach. after some questioning, you determine he has a stomach cramp from dehydration, and spot these two plants nearby. you’re about a 15 minute walk from the village; what do you do?”

one of the plants has many flat white flowers blooming from the top, with yellow centers, while the other has orange petals that form a ball shape on top. you know one of them is yarrow, but not which one…

you pick the latter on a whim, spinning it between two fingers as you think. “pick the petals and crush them into a paste, taking care not to overwork them. give him about a spoonful, which should be most of it, then help him up. report to shirin once we return.”

the blank mask on his face falls into confusion. “how do you even mix up marigold and yarrow?” he asks, picking the flower—marigold, you now recognize—from your hand. “you got the procedure correct, at least, but marigold is bitter and will only worsen his aches. oh, and additionally, the leaves of yarrow—however small they-“

the door to the cottage slams open, jars rattling on their shelves, and tighnari whips around to face whoever it is, one hand steadying a stack of reports.

“and just what do you think you’re- w- collei? is everything alright?”

collei’s violet eyes were wide, her shoulders heaving with breath, when she spoke, exhaustion was evident. “m-master tighnari! the matra are here on behalf of the akademiya! i tried to tell them to wait so i could get you but they just-..”

emotions flashed over tighnari’s face faster than you could catch, eventually setting on a sharp determination. “alright collei, calm down. go find amir and do your best to delay them, but don’t seem too suspiscious, okay? just remember what we planned, i’ll take care of things here.”

her eyes flicked to you, worry evident, but she quickly turned away.

the moment the door closed, you and tighnari sprung into action. he collected the plants from your test and tucked them into their proper places, you standing to help return a mint plant back to its place.

he caught your wrist, taking the pot. “don’t. take your bag and go, don’t worry about this.”

you hesitate for longer than you should, then nod. he lets you go and returns to his case, and you move to crouch by the bed. feeling under it, your hand eventually brushes against a cloth handle, which you grab. you take a step to unlatch the window with one hand and sling the pack over your shoulder with the other, leaving with your good leg first. as you carefully close the window behind you, you can see tighnari moving to hide all the notes you’d taken, the only sign of his worry being his tail lashing behind him and the slightest flick of his ears.

with a soft smile, you turn away.

tighnari checked over his room once more, ensuring that every trace of your presence was scrubbed clean. your laundry was out and mixed with the rest of the rangers’, but your notes and records were carefully hidden under patrol logs and his own personal binders. he knew everything was tucked away, he had explanations lined up and answers to every conceivable question the akademiya could have, but his heart still beat frantically against his ribs. even as he pulled apart and neatened up a stack of patrol logs, repeating the action to look like he was doing something whenever the matra came to his hut, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he missed something crucial.

he had to fight to keep his tail from betraying his emotions, the energy not going into mussing up and then fixing the papers spent on hiding the symptoms of his distress. he knew he didn’t miss anything. the moment you told them the sages were on active lookout for you and he knew you weren’t a threat, he had memorized the plan. he was foolish to worry.

he hasn’t known you for long, barely over half a year, yet his mind is clouded with the same worry as when collei collapses out on patrol. the same numbing sort of adrenaline, the icy feeling in his bones even as his skin starts to burn up, the apprehension in every movement, as if at any moment-

somebody knocks on the door.

tighnari takes a steadying breath and fusses with the papers a final time. “come in!”

the door creaks open and he taps the papers on the table, turning slightly to speak over his shoulder. “sorry, you caught me in the middle of something.”

“no matter,” a familiar voice says, and he can’t stop the way his body freezes at the speaker.

he carefully tucked the papers into a folder, finally turning around. “general mahamatra. to what do i owe the honor?”

cyno crossed his arms, red eyes surveying the room. “oh, nothing at all. just somebody from vimara village reporting somebody that looked suspiciously like the primo fortuna walking around with collei when they’re supposed to be in liyue.”

tighnari stares. the primo fortuna…? he thought they were after you, but you couldn’t be…

“are… are you suggesting somebody is attempting to imitate the creator?”

sure, he wouldn’t deny you shared some features—you had the same shape of nose, you were around the same height and build—but for you to be the creator? no, it wasn’t possible. your eyes were much kinder, you stopped and helped nasrin when she couldn’t find the proper forms, you directed shirin to the area of the forest where you and collei found nilotpala lotuses, you were nothing like the creator he saw at pardis dhyai. you didn’t stare with glazed eyes as padisarahs and sumeru roses were brought forth, you listened in earnest when he spoke about the differences between the various kinds of ferns.

if anybody were to meet you, they’d know in an instant you were not the creator.

his heart itched within his chest. he ignored it as worry.

“that’s exactly what i’m implying. as i’m certain you know, their identity is hallowed, and anybody attempting to infringe upon it needs to meet justice.” the golden eye on his headpiece flashed, the sides beginning to narrow into eyes before he shook his head and it passed. “but in truth, that is not why i am here.”

tighnari stared. despite having a fondness for jokes, cyno was never one to laugh about his duties. “what do you mean? collei told me you were here on behalf of the akademiya.”

“the matra are here on behalf of the sages,” he clarified. “i… i am here for other reasons. personal ones.”

his eyes flicked around the room again, and tighnari’s narrowed. “well, don’t hide behind double meanings, then. what is it?”

cyno’s jaw flexed as he chewed at nothing, his arms uncrossing. his eyes focused somewhere around the bed, and he seemed lost in thought. whatever it was, it had to be a big deal, but for him to hijack the matra’s arrival instead of coming on his own time…

“the one on the throne is not our god.”

he said it with such conviction that tighnari found himself agreeing, waiting for whatever had gotten him worked up, and it was only when cyno’s eyes closed as he braced himself that it registered what he said.

“what?”

“i have gathered evidence across many sources, both academic and religious, common and exclusive, and i can’t bring myself to kneel at their feet any longer. i have been ignoring my own mind for too long for the sake of my conscience, and i am confiding in you now what has been brewing in my mind for months.”

in the silence that stretched, tighnari almost wished he hadn’t spoken.

the way he spoke, from his words to his tone, reminded tighnari of when he reported to the sages, like he wasn’t tighnari to him and was instead an authority.

“cyno, i don’t.. is this why you didn’t go when they were at pardis dhyai or sumeru city?”

he nodded. “i can’t be in a place where they’re being worshipped when i’m so conflicted. i thought about pulling you aside in the city, but…”

tighnari didn’t think he’d ever seen cyno so meek in his words, none of his normal power behind it. he’s… tired, a quality he knows he’s felt but has never seen on him, the almost nervous way he keeps glancing around the room edging on alarming.

“alright.. uh, moving past that for a moment, what does that have to do with why you’re in gandharva ville? wouldn’t you want to not be involved?”

cyno’s eyes dragged from where they were locked behind him with uncharacteristic slowness. “the person you’re hiding may be the real creator.”

the simplicity to his words had tighnari believing it, even as it didn’t fully register in his mind. he knew cyno attached a religious aspect to his work, to the point the people in sumeru city sometimes calling him an extension of their judgement—even as it was more like the akademiya’s, most time—so he knew that whatever he said on the topic was both well thought out and reliable.

which is why he was silent even after it clicked.

“what are you saying, cyno?”

“they’ve been staying here, haven’t they? in this room?”

“this is my and collei’s-“

“don’t tell me you haven’t been able to feel the difference in the air? the way it seems to flow slowly, lingering, like it has something to wait for? there’s no heavy blankets on the bed, and yet everybody else is talking of how cold the weather’s been lately.”

“that’s because this is an insulated room, and we’re right up against a cliff.”

the quick pace to his heart was back, this time less of worry and more of confusion. you couldn’t be the creator, not when you bore so little resemblance to the one on the throne. you were good at what you did, plants thriving under your care even if you forget to water them. call him selfish, but tighnari almost wished the creator could go back to wherever they’d been, since they’d been much kinder there, both to their vessels and the world.

you weren’t them. they weren’t even close to being you.

“you’re considering it.”

he crossed his arms, forcing himself to still. “i’ll admit—not that you didn’t already know it—that we have taken a refugee into the village, one the sages might call a criminal-“

“that’s not what i mean, tighnari, and you know it.”

“can you give me a minute? you can’t just drop a massive load of information on me like that and expect me to continue like it didn’t happen!”

“you’re reacting oddly.”

“well of course i am, you’re telling me the same person i took in and sheltered from your bosses is somebody you want to take away back to them, and that’s not even covering their injuries- they’ve barely been able to walk outside of the village, and you want to take them to the city?”

“when did i say anything about the sages?”

tighnari stopped, his chest heaving. his hands froze mid-air, his tail still flicking in a mix of irritation and stress, thoughts moving quicker than he could understand them.

“what?”

“i never said anything about the sages. i never said i would take them.”

“w- well it’s implied, if not in your words then-“

“i don’t deal in implications. you know this.”

he did.

he knew cyno. he knew how he spoke and acted, he knew that the small emotion in his eyes was indicative of empathy and not ruthless justice. he knew he held reasoning in high standards, he knew that if he stopped and thought about the words coming from his mouth then he would agree.

but he couldn’t think.

all of his usual composure had faltered and faded, leaving him grasping for a hold as his thoughts swam like a raging river around him, even standing a struggle amidst the tide. all he could do was watch, his head racing and hands shaking, as cyno stood on the bank of rationality, with his crossed arms and cool eyes that dared him to step forward and sink beneath the waves.

he had no real reason to fear so much for you. by now you were gone, by now you were safe and far past the statue of the seven by the chasm, hidden in a place where even cyno would struggle to find you. you were crafty, clever, and you had more than enough supplies to last until he could go to find you.

he had no reason to be afraid.

yet his heart still raced a rhythm he couldn’t follow, his mind tripping and skipping with worry.

why?

his tail wrapped around his side and he picked out a cluster of petals from it, mostly just to give his hands something to do.

as he did, he noticed it was a full flower, likely knocked off one of the samples on the desk. it was small, blue, with smooth petals, and he recognized it after a moment’s pause.

“this is a hydrangea. what is it used for?”

the flower quivered in your shaking hands. “root and stem are for… for medicine. petals are tea.”

collei nodded, smiling brightly. “exactly! you’re a quick learner, aren’t you?”

you smiled sheepishly, trying to hand her back the flower, but collei held up a hand, closing her pack with her other hand.

“no, you keep it. take it as a congratulations for all your progress!”

you were hesitant to accept it, that much was clear, and tighnari tied off the small parcel in his hands before speaking.

“you really have done well. you’ve only been here for a few weeks, but you’ve learned a lot.” he set down the packed herbs beside where he was leaning on the table, directing all of his attention to you. “i know it’s mostly for safety, and you’re not going to be a ranger-“ too much paperwork was required, he couldn’t risk it “-but still. i’m proud of you.”

you smiled.

it likely wasn’t the same flower—that ‘class’ was months ago, now—but it dragged a realization to the surface of his mind.

in the short, fleeting time he’d known you, he had come to care for you as he did collei.

even then, only after a week or two of you being there, a certain fondness had taken root in his chest. something bright, something that bloomed like a rose yet without any of the thorns. something that he watered every time you winced when you walked, something you fostered when you helped treat collei’s eleazar when he was out clearing a withering zone.

something that grew as he realized the poultice you had made had helped clear the pain faster than anything he’d made, even as you both used the same recipe, something that lashed out when kamran questioned your place in the village. something that spurred him to action when he thought you were in trouble, even if it was only cyno.

something that burned bright, something hot that blurred his reasoning even when he knew it was wrong, something that made him want to bare his teeth and keep you safe by his side.

something that should be impossible for him to feel towards you, as it was a golden and warm feeling that did not exist in teyvat, only ever glimpsed at altars.

tighnari looked up from the flower and into cyno’s knowing eyes.

“alright.”

relief washed onto his face, a small nod the only other sign that he’d heard.

“i’ll report nothing to the team—i trust you’ve gone over this, given your reaction?”

he let the comment slide. “yes, everybody here knows what to do in the case of the akademiya or the millelith coming here. it was collei’s idea, actually, and she took care to make sure that everybody had it memorized.”

cyno nodded, taking a step towards the door. “good. and if you ever need to collei matra, just get me instead.”

“…”

“do you get-?”

“i got it, cyno.”

#this is not the norm but i am having Thoughts[TM] about cyno so…. here #genshin sagau #sagau #genshin #genshin impact #self aware genshin #sagau impostor au #genshin imposter au #tighnari #tighnari x reader #sure why not #sagau tighnari #collei #sagau collei #cyno #sagau cyno #to anybody that’s wondering: a hydrangea symbolizes family/familial love. so. there’s that for all you tag readers #‘primo fortuna’ is just prime fortune—probably the title of this piece; depends—and has been bouncing in my head for a while #while i believe cyno would swing more for ‘prime /justice/‘… i didn’t think of that and this sounded cooler #actually cyno might fuck with the ‘first law’ title. ‘divine balance’ -> ref egypt mythos: anubis weighed hearts on a scale.#may or may not do a thing touching on preferred titles of the vessels bc this got me thinkin #this piece reminds me of that clip where it’s like ‘she’s doing girlboss shit!! all in the name of allah of course’#dunno why. it does though.#me pointing at cyno and tighnari:#‘they are gatekeeping; they are slayqueening; they are doing all of this in the name of allah of course;#but! they are doing girlboss shit!’

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sterekunhinged · 24 days

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LET'S GOOOOO Thank you to everyone who participated and became unhinged with me <3

tumblr fic here! by @cantgetoversterek

Worth Fifty Thousand Words by Definitively_Different_Drivel T | 344 words | tags: crack treated seriously, rated T for language/references to porn

Summary: Stiles gaped after Mrs. Brooks. Derek stood beside him, eyebrow raised. Stiles pulled out his phone, searching frantically. "You're not looking that up." Stiles typed away. "Fuck off, do you really think I can just- ignore that possibility?" Derek grimaced, scraping his fingers through the back of his hair. Stiles sputtered beside him. "Holy shit I found it! Oh my god, this was a bad idea, Derek, why didn't you stop me?"

In which Stiles hears some interesting information about his father's past career aspirations and proceeds to makes literally the worst decisions possible.

It kills me to love you by TalesoftheEnchantedForest E | 5958 words | graphic depictions of violence | tags: canon divergence, a hint of dark!Stiles, Pack Alpha Derek Hale but the pack's not in this fic, Getting Together, A bit of stalking, freak4freak, Cum drinking, brief armpit and feet kink, Jealousy, Marking, Bottom Derek Hale/Top Stiles Stilinski ,fucking on corpses, Breeding Kink, Mating Bond, Angst and Porn, Stiles is 17 at the beginning but it's not explicitly stated

Summary: "How did you know?" Derek asks because he didn't mention the date to anyone, and maybe that was a mistake he shouldn't repeat in the future. "I put a tracker on your phone," Stiles says casually, and yeah, that sounds like him. Stiles and Derek's relationship might not be the healthiest, but it works for them, so does it really matter?

Trading Ties by Definitively_Different_Drivel E | 4181 words | tags: Porn With Plot, Kidnapped Stiles Stilinski, Magical Stiles Stilinski, BAMF Stiles Stilinski, Morally Ambiguous Stiles Stilinski, Accidental Knotting, Manipulative Stiles Stilinski, Dubious Consent, Kanima Venom (Teen Wolf), also acts like viagra because fuck it it's smut, Dubiously Consensual Blow Jobs, spell for instant lube/prep, Topping from the Bottom, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Bondage

Summary: "You're awake." Hazel eyes bore into him as he cursed his luck. Stiles frowned, heaving his head up to rest against the back of the chair. He must be getting sloppy. "So," he eyed the man, took in the classic posture and subtle nostril flaring that lay beneath all that leather and gratuitous muscle. He cracked out a brittle laugh, playing the victim. "big bad wolf thought he could waltz in and steal the weakest link, eh?" The man eyeing him scoffed. "Bullshit. You're the linchpin." In which Laura and Derek return after Scott's pack is well established and they're stupid enough to kidnap Stiles as a test. Little do they realize that the guy they thought was the cowardly human strategist is actually a terrifying magical enigma. He's also disturbingly horny, which may be the key to avoiding Derek's impending demise.

Wolf Kissed by Gia279 E | 69,565 words | 38 chapters | tags: Mates, Mates by Choice, Werewolf Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski Gets Bitten, Original Characters - Freeform, Scarification, Stiles Stilinski-centric, animal consumption, werewolf violence, Werewolf Culture, Gore, Violence, Biting, Full Shift Werewolves, Alternate Universe, Pack Dynamics, Hunters, BAMF Stiles Stilinski, Torture, scars are important in werewolf culture, Explicit Sexual Content, Serious Injuries

Summary: Stiles has been smothered under the weight of running his dead mother's tavern for years. When the wolves return from the mountain, when Derek Hale strolls into his tavern and offers him a way out, he leaps at the chance. His abrupt departure fractures his town and turns everyone against his new pack. He's determined to set things to rights after he discovers that the Argents have twisted his choice to leave into something more sinister.

Bring Your Hunger by lanalua M | 2110 words | tags: Magical Stiles Stilinski, BAMF Stiles Stilinski, Getting Together, Nemeton Stiles Stilnski

Summary: Derek was used to tragedy. Used to waiting for the other shoe to drop. He was tired. This, he decided to enjoy.

#sterek #unhinged boyfriends event 2024 #bamf sterek #masterlist #teen wolf #stiles stilinski #derek hale

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blindmagdalena · 2 years

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Say It

18+ 5.2k homelander x f!reader, second person (no y/n), possessive behavior, dubious consent, mild torture (not of the reader), canon typical violence, psychological warfare, unhealthy relationship. AO3 link

Homelander finds you in an empty hall with a man he doesn't recognize.

You don’t know the man either, and he doesn’t know who you are. That doesn’t stop him cornering you against a wall to ask your name and tell you about what good money he makes, about how good he’d treat you if you would just let him make use of that pretty mouth of yours.

If he knew who you were, he wouldn’t have done that in Vought Tower, even if the floor is supposedly empty, under construction. You certainly hadn’t thought anyone would be here.

“Well, hey there.” The sound of Homelander’s voice sends a sharp chill down your spine. Anyone else would hear the smile in his voice, but you know better. His jovial tone is a veneer, his smile is thin and stretched too wide. Your heart races. You want to be relieved, but you don’t know what he’s going to do. “What’s goin’ on here?”

“Nothing,” you race to say. The man leaning over you simultaneously stands up straight. His smile looks sincere, maybe even a little awed.

“Wow! Homelander, wow. Big fan!” He says, and you want to shake him. Yell at him to stay away. How does he not see it? Looking at Homelander, you don’t see America’s favorite hero. You see a wild animal without bars, shoulders squared, hands folded behind his back.

“Doesn’t look like nothing,” Homelander throws right back at you, his stare piercing. He hasn’t even acknowledged the man standing next to you. “Sure didn’t sound like nothing,” he says, and that’s when something begins to click with the man who’d cornered you.

Of course he heard everything. He’s The Homelander, and you belong to him.

“Nothing happened,” you correct yourself. You take solace in the idea that if he truly heard everything, he knows that. He heard your rebuffs. You haven’t done anything wrong.

Looking between you and where Homelander is blocking the hallway exit, the man gives a nervous chuckle. He’s finally picked up on the miasma-thick tension in the air. “Hey, listen, I don’t want to—“

“What were you going to do with it?” Homelander cuts in, the weight of his stare leaving you and landing squarely on the man. This man has no idea that he’s fighting for his life right now.

“What?”

“Her mouth,” Homelander answers, his smile still broad, teeth pearly white and sharp. “Let me guess. You wanna fuck it?”

The man’s own mouth hangs open, and he begins to fumble up a response, but Homelander lifts a finger, and starts closing the distance between them with slow steps, like a stalking tiger. “Ah, ah. C’mon. Let’s be real,” he says, voice low. “You wanted to fuck her mouth, right? I mean, I get it,” he says, voice fading off into a mirthless laugh. “I do it all the time.”

You feel your cheeks turn hot, your stomach churning. Beyond the humiliation, it’s like you aren’t even here. Just a useful object to be discussed.

“I didn’t know,” the man says, lifting his hands placatingly. “I didn’t touch her, I swear to god—“

Homelander takes hold of the man’s head and slams him against the wall so close to you, you feel the sleeve of his jacket brush your arm. You throw your hands over your mouth to muffle your own cry of surprise, pulling away from the wall with stumbling steps backwards.

The man looks delirious. His head is sunken back into the perfectly shaped indentation his skull has just made in the wall. “I don’t give a fuck what you swear to god,” Homelander hisses in his face. “You’re talking to me.”

“Don’t!” You plead, horrified. The sound of his skull cracking against that wall is still echoing in your mind. “Oh my god, please don’t kill him!”

“Oh, relax,” Homelander dismisses, laughing airily. It’s frightening how rapidly he can bounce between these moods, looking at you like you’re the one overreacting. “What’s wrong, were you enjoying yourself? Did you want him to fuck you?” He asks, tone remaining perfectly even, despite the way his jaw sets at the thought. His tone drops again, “Is that why you didn’t break his fucking nose?”

“No,” you answer immediately, mortified. “No, no, I didn’t want—“

“Say it. I want to hear you say it,” Homelander cuts you off, his palm pressed over the man’s mouth, muffling the gradually building sounds of distress. “Say ‘I wanted him to fuck me.‘“

You can hear the wall strain with the pressure Homelander is applying. The skin around where those red leather gloves press in has already begun to darken.

“Stop it!” You’re not above begging, but you know what he’s asking you to do. He’s setting you up for punishment. He will use this to justify whatever he deems necessary to keep you under his thumb. “Homelander, please—“

“Tick tock, tick tock,” he taunts, his smile curled up like a snarl. The man’s screams are dulled behind Homelander’s palm, but they’re loud in your ears. Veins are straining in his neck. His nose is covered, he can’t breathe. You’re not sure if he’s turning purple from that, or because of the building force Homelander is pressing against his face with. Homelander practically sings your name, dragging out each syllable. “You gonna let him die?”

A bone somewhere in the man’s face cracks, and it shatters something inside you.

“I wanted him to fuck me!” You sob, covering your ears, screwing your eyes shut. You don’t want to hear this man die. “I wanted him to fuck me! I wanted him to—“

Gloved hands close over top of yours. It’s not until you feel how steady and unyielding Homelander is that you realize how badly you’re shaking, each sob tearing through you. When you open your eyes, vision bleary through tears, Homelander’s expression is serene. Amused, even. His golden hair is backlit by the fluorescent bulb above, giving him an artificial halo. He’s beautiful, a perfectly manufactured angel.

Homelander gently pries your hands away from your ears. Even when he’s careful with you, his hands feel like thousand pound machines. Resistance is a joke. He makes that clear every day.

With your hands down, you hear now that he’s hushing you, his lips pursed slightly. He brings your hands down to your sides, and then places his hands on your shoulders. Your ears are ringing. The man is limp on the floor, but you can’t bring yourself to look at his face.

“Well…” Homelander begins, thoughtful. “No more wandering around empty floors, hmm? Next time you want some attention, you can just ask, you silly-billy,” he says, giving your shoulders a subtle little shake. His smile isn’t so thin anymore. He looks delighted.

You’re doing everything in your power just to breathe. You hear him purr a soft ’awwww’ as he pulls you in against his chest, the textured fabric of his suit pressed to your cheek. You know he likes you best like this. Tormented, fully at his mercy. He’s made it clear that you’re a plaything, but what’s important is that you’re his plaything.

Homelander strokes your hair. It’s gotten longer. He prefers it that way. His other hand is splayed firm against your lower back, but when you don’t reciprocate the affection, hands hanging limply at your sides, he does take a moment to lift each of your arms, wrapping them around his own middle before he returns his hands to their positions.

“You made a mistake, didn’t you?” He prompts, giving you an opening. You know that it’s a baited trap, but you nod anyway. You even hug him a little tighter, and you feel him lean into you when you do.

“And you’re gonna make it up to me, aren’t you?” He pushes further. You feel like there’s a giant knot in your stomach, balling up and getting heavier with each word he speaks. Your throat is too tight. You just nod again.

“Good,” he says. You can hear his grin. “There’s my good girl.”

Chapter 2

The first thing Homelander tells you to do is take a shower.

“I can still smell him on you,” he says derisively. “Make it snappy. And don’t bother getting dressed.”

This in and of itself isn’t uncommon. Homelander’s not exactly a germaphobe, but he is sensitive. He always wrinkles his nose when you’ve been around cigarette smoke or alcohol too long. You’ve started bathing daily, sometimes twice, just to abate his temper. He’s significantly more pleasant with you when you only smell of your clean vanilla soap and him. Almost kind. Sometimes you can lose yourself in those moments, and forget everything else. You can pretend he really is the hero, and that you’re both in love. Those are the times that you hold onto.

You keep the shower short for your own sake as much as his. You’re beginning to dread what’s waiting for you on the other side of the bathroom door, worrying that every moment you spend away, he’s making it worse. Beyond some incidental bruising, Homelander has never hurt you, he doesn’t need to do that. He even likes to make a point about calling men who beat their women cowardly.

You think that he also likes pretending he’s the hero.

Stepping out of the shower, you wrap a fluffy white towel around yourself. Even now, you swear you can feel the weight of his stare through the walls. He’s never been shy about the fact he watches you through the walls, sometimes through several floors of Vought Tower. It’s left you with a perpetual paranoia, making your every move careful and hyper aware. You brush your teeth for good measure, but otherwise don’t dally long.

When you open the bathroom door, he’s seated on the bed, hands on his knees, his gaze already perfectly at your eye level. You were right, he was watching. His lips spread slowly into a cheshire cat grin, the kind that highlights the lines at the corners of his eyes. He sniffs in a deep breath, and then exhales from his mouth. “That’s better,” he says, lifting a gloved hand to beckon you to him with two curling fingers. “C’mere.” You approach him steadily. The marble floors are cool beneath your feet, a stark contrast to the cozy rug that encircles Homelander’s bed. He stands once you’re within arms reach, putting his gloved hands on your hips to swap places with you, the backs of your legs brushing up against the edge of the bed.

Your hair is still dripping wet from the shower, droplets of water streaking down your arms. Homelander extends his hand out to you, palm facing up, and you already know what to do. You pull the glove off for him, watching briefly the way he flexes his bared fingers before you move to the other side, sliding off that glove as well. You turn around to set the gloves on the nightstand, but before you can turn back to face him, Homelander presses in behind you, bare hands curling around your upper arms.

Homelander blows faintly on your neck to change the trajectory of a drop of water, rolling it down your chest, where it disappears into the towel. You can hear the amusement in his little huff afterwards. You’ve noticed that it’s the little things for him; quiet moments of intimacy, of complete comfort in another person’s body.

You lean back against him, tilting your head out of his way. You feel his nose graze from the shell of your ear to the side of your throat as he breathes you in. “What was his name?” Homelander asks, his voice a low rumble in your ear.

“I don’t know,” you answer, closing your eyes. You hear Homelander sigh like he’s disappointed, and he turns you around to face him. You open your eyes, but the expression you’re met with isn’t what you expected. Homelander’s eyes are half-lidded, pupils dilated, his lips slightly parted. Where you had expected to see impatience or irritation, there is only heat. Homelander gives a thoughtful hum, moving his hands from your arms. He untucks where you have fastened your towel, and peels it away from your body, exposing you properly. The towel falls to the ground in a heap, and his gaze drifts slowly down, evaluating you. You can hear the dry click of his mouth opening as he says, “You really oughta know the names of the guys you’re fuckin’."

Your lips part, words delayed by bewilderment. “I do. I never fucked that man. I’ve never even—” “Sssshhhh.” Homelander lifts a hand and uses his thumb to caress your nipple in slow circles, coaxing it erect. Goosebumps erupt across your chest, all the way down your legs. He brings his opposite hand up to do the same on the other side, watching with rapt attention. He’s always had a fascination with your more involuntary reactions, teasing your body into responding to him. It’s working. You can already feel a faint pulse between your legs. You keep your focus on his face, your lips pressed tightly together.

Homelander cups both breasts, stroking his thumbs along the tops of them, massaging lightly. There’s something almost clinical about it, despite the intimate familiarity, as if he’s examining you. You make a noise before you can stop yourself, a tight little whimper that escapes the back of your throat.

Predatorily, his gaze snaps up sharp to your face. The corner of his mouth twitches in several almost-smiles, like he can’t quite decide, before settling back into a neutral line. He looks back down at your breasts, and his hands move further down, along your ribs. He pauses there, squeezing in a way that makes your breath hitch. The gesture feels like a reminder that he could break you in half if he wanted to. “Alright. Go ahead,” he prompts, smoothing his hands further down your body. They settle on your hips, where his thumbs press in right at your hip bones, anchoring his grip. He looks back up at you, expectant. “Name them.” You swallow the lump in your throat. “You.”

“I said name them ,” he snaps, voice dropping to a near growl. His thumbs dig hard into your hips and you gasp at the sudden pain, grabbing reflexively at his wrists. His grip on you is infuriatingly gentle, and yet the power in just the press of his thumbs is enough to have you keeling into him. “Say it.” “Homelander!” You cry out, pushing down as hard as you can on his wrists. You might as well be trying to pry a steel vice away. “Just you, it’s only you, Homel–” Homelander swallows the word right off your tongue, kissing you with a fervency that steals the air from your lungs. His thumbs ease up and you suck in a breath of relief through your nose, your grip on his wrists becoming less desperate in turn. Finally, you understand fully what he wants from you. He lets go of your hips so that he can grab hold of your face, leaving a dull ache pulsing where his thumbs had dug in.

“You’re the only one,” you manage to say, slipping in each word between the hungry presses of his lips. Your words only spur him on, make his kisses more feverish. He wants assurance, you realize. To be wanted. “The only one I want.” You’re right. Homelander makes a sound like you’ve wounded him, exhaling a sharp breath against your lips through his gritted teeth. There’s a neediness to the way he holds you, his fingers tangling in your wet hair, pressing his forehead to yours. “More.” Your heart is racing. “I want you. I need you,” you tell him, stressing each word. He groans low in the back of his throat and relinquishes his hold on your face, dropping his hands down to hurriedly unclasp his golden belt. He lets the accessory hit the ground with a thud.

“Don’t stop,” he grits out. You hear the harsh hiss of him yank down the zipper of his pants, and then he’s taking hold of your hand, wrapping it firmly around the length of his cock, closing his own hand over top of yours. He sets the pace immediately, practically using your hand to jerk himself off.

“I–I want you,” you fumble, trying to focus on what he wants to hear from you, and not the way you can feel his cock growing harder in your hand. You wrack your brain for something, anything. “No one makes me– makes me feel the way you do.” “No one,” he rasps, his hand coming up to the back of your neck, pulling you in for another bruising kiss. You open easily when he pushes his tongue into your mouth, licking up the fresh mint taste of you. “I’d rip out their fucking spine.”

With every stroke of your hand, you feel more wetness spread from the head of his cock. He’s fully hard now. You yelp when he abruptly pulls your hand away and pushes you back onto the bed, your legs hanging off the edge. You get up on your elbows and try to move yourself backwards, but he snatches hold of your ankle and effortlessly pulls you right back to the edge of the bed, back to him. “Keep talking.” It sounds equal parts like a warning and a plea, like he’s barely keeping himself together. “You want me to fuck you.”

“I want you to fuck me,” you echo without hesitation, wide-eyed and breathless. “I want you to be mine. You be mine, I’ll be yours.” The corners of his mouth twitch, and you see his tongue roll along his top teeth, over those pronounced canines, like the fangs of a wolf. He moves in between your legs and descends over you, kissing you while grabbing hold of both of your legs, hiking them up around his waist. In your addled mind, you wonder for a moment how he’s managing this, before you remember he can fly . He starts kissing your neck, trailing a line down to your collarbone.

“Mine,” he murmurs. “Yours,” you answer. “Yours.” “Mine.” He’s at your chest now, brushing his lips along the swell of your breasts. Almost tentatively, he flicks his tongue out along your nipple, making you jump. His eyes flicker up to yours, devilish, and he holds your stare as he sucks you into his mouth, swirling his tongue in rhythmic patterns. You bring both hands up to grab hold of his hair, exhaling a harsh breath, the heat of his mouth intense. His eyes eventually flutter closed. Between your legs, you feel his cock prod, eventually settling in the crease of your thigh, where he begins to rock back and forth, smearing his precome.

You gasp when he grazes you with his teeth, and reflexively yank his hair. That earns you a sharp look up through his lashes, though his pupils are blown black, and he doesn’t actually seem to mind much. He just nuzzles back in against you, minding his teeth and sucking like you might develop something to yield. You reward his gentleness by pushing your hand through his hair, scratching along his scalp with your nails. He rumbles at that, and you take that as encouragement to keep going, watching as his eyes fall shut. You’re just starting to get sore when he switches breasts, leaving you cold on one side and swallowed by a sudden heat on the other. Meanwhile, two fingers press in between your legs without warning. Your whole body jolts, and you feel him smile against your chest. His index and middle finger are swirling circles on your clit, his hands softer than any you’ve ever known, impervious to scars or calluses.

Homelander uses his middle finger first, breaching you in a smooth, albeit impatient glide all the way down to his knuckle. Even the way he fingers you is needy, thrusting his hand back and forth to open you up as quickly as possible, demanding you make the space for him. He adds a second finger and you start rolling your hips, meeting each thrust of his hand. He makes another pleased noise at that. “Feels good,” you tell him. If he likes when you talk, you're going to talk. “ You feel good inside me.”

His eyes open at that, and he lifts off your breast with a wet noise, withdrawing his fingers. You think for a second that he’s done with that, but instead you watch as he lifts those slick fingers to his lips, and sucks three of them knuckle-deep into his mouth, wetting them generously with his tongue. Your stomach flips at the sight, at the shameless way he laps up the taste of you. You can smell yourself on his fingers, and now on his lips. Homelander pulls his fingers out with an obscene slurp, and immediately returns them to your cunt, pushing all three inside. You moan with it, a chill shocking up your spine. Without thinking, you fist your hand tight in his hair and kiss him hard, wringing a noise from his throat that sounds suspiciously close to a whimper. He reciprocates readily, fucking his tongue into your mouth in time with his fingers pumping in and out of you.

You suck the taste of yourself from his tongue. He curls his fingers and gives you his thumb to grind your clit against. You wonder briefly who taught him to finger like this, but the thought disappears as quickly as it had appeared. He shifts his fingers just right and hits a spot inside you that makes you moan loud against his lips. “There, right there, don’t stop,” you keen, feeling an exquisite pressure building low in your belly, stemming from where his thumb is slipping wetly against your clit. He obeys effortlessly, maintaining the exact same pace without so much as a stutter. He’s relentless, his endurance inhuman. When you meet his stare, the intensity in his eyes borders on terrifying. He’s not even grinding against you anymore, focused wholly on taking you apart, feeling you dissolve around his fingers.

“I’m going to make you come,” he breathes, barely above a whisper. You nod fervently, lips parted on shallow breaths, but that’s not enough for him. “ I’m going to make you come,” he says again, voice sharper now, words pushed through gritted teeth. “You’re going to make me come!” You assure him, remembering yourself through the haze of your steadily building climax. “Homelander, I’m going to– you’re making me come! Homelander! Homelander! ” Your voice crescendos into a scream as your orgasm hits. Your eyes shut, but you snap them back open when you feel a hand on your throat, strong fingers giving a brief squeeze.

“Look at me,” Homelander snarls, teeth bared. “You fucking look at me.” You do. Every breath you take sounds like a whimper, wave after wave of pleasure rolling through you. His fingers feel bigger, heavier inside you, but it’s just the way your cunt tightens around them, quivering. Your hips are still, but he hasn’t stopped moving his fingers. Your pleasure dissolves into sensitivity.

“T-too much,” you tell him, squeezing your knees in on either side of him. That finally snaps him out of it, and his hand stops abruptly. His eyes flicker back and forth between rapid blinks, examining your face. His jaw is tight. You can still feel his hard cock throbbing against your thigh. He withdraws his hand, and you keenly feel the emptiness he leaves in his wake. Homelander takes his hand from your throat and settles it on the bed next to your head. You finally feel his weight sink the mattress down around you as he drops fully from his hover, landing on his shins. He puts his hands on your knees as he sits upright and spreads your legs wide, staring down at his own handiwork. When he glances up at you, his expression is expectant.

Breathing hard, you already know what he wants. You know that he’s not seeking permission, he doesn’t need that. He needs you to want him. Say it. “I want you to fuck me,” you tell him, slipping your hand down between your legs. Spreading two fingers, you open yourself to him. Your heart is thudding wildly in your chest, your body still coming down from the high of your orgasm. His eyes drop to your presentation, and his lips draw back around his teeth like he’s ready to devour you. “Please. Please f–” The ‘please’ must hit him particularly hard. You don’t even get the chance to finish your sentence. You choke on your own words when the fat, slick head of his cock pushes into you with ease. It’s free of friction, but no less a shock, splitting you wide open.

You throw your head back with a breathy cry, grounding yourself by pressing your feet to the bed. He grabs you by the hips, and pulls your lower half slowly into his lap. He enters you now the same way he did with his fingers– a single unrelenting slide until you feel him bottom out. The thatch of hair at his groin presses firmly to yours. He’s girthy, and long enough to touch the deepest parts of you. You try to breathe deeply, but you feel stuffed too full of him to get in a proper breath.

You’re not the only one affected. Homelander’s brows are knitted tightly together, eyes screwed shut, and if you didn’t know better, you’d think him angry. He’s exhaling each breath through his teeth, inhaling through his nose. You can see the strain in his expression, but you know it isn’t from exertion. It’s restraint. He wants to fuck you, not shatter your pelvis. You reach out to gently touch the side of his face, thumb caressing the wrinkles at the corners of his eye. When his eyes open, you’re shocked to see they’re glassy.

He looks stricken, leaning his weight into your palm. His expression is vulnerable enough that he triggers in you an overwhelming urge to comfort him. You hush him softly, thumb delicately stroking the high of his cheek. “It’s okay,” you say, immediately bringing your other hand up to the opposite side of his face, cradling him between your palms. “Good. You’re doing good. Feels so good,” you praise, unsure if you’re helping or hurting his cause. He lets go a frayed breath, pushing into both of your hands now. Luckily for your pelvis, you think it’s helping. He begins to move in earnest, grinding into you with slow, shallow rolls of his hips. Gradually, he begins to build momentum, thrusts becoming longer, deeper. He never takes his eyes off you, instead looking at you like you’re the only thing holding him together.

As Homelander moves, pleasure begins building back up in you. He moves in close to kiss you, and you welcome him. You push your hands up into his hair and cradle him against your lips, coaxing him to move his mouth more freely against yours. You try to ease the tension from him, but you can still hear in his breathing how he’s struggling. “Homelander,” you murmur, nails soothing along his scalp. “That’s it. That’s so good… You fuck me so good. You’re gonna make me come again,” you tell him, voice hitching precariously. He groans against your lips, and suddenly he’s pulling away from you, lifting himself upright, leaving your hands empty.

Taking hold of your legs, Homelander hikes them up over his shoulders. He practically bends you in half when he pushes back close to you, hands falling to the bed on either side of you, just above your shoulders. The position brings him even deeper, and the shift in angle makes you see stars. “Oh, fuck!” You gasp, dropping your hands to twist them up in the bedding below. You know he’s still holding back, but that doesn’t change the fact that he’s fucking you better than any purely human man could hope to. The sound of flesh hitting flesh is loud in your ears. The pressure that had begun building back up is suddenly spiking, each snap of his hips like the strike of a match.

Homelander hisses your name like it’s an expletive. He’s unraveling inside you, moving with speed in place of force to keep himself from breaking you. “Touch me,” he says, but all the bite is gone from his bark. He sounds wrecked, desperate for it. You oblige him, bringing your hand back to his face, tangling the other in his disheveled hair. You touch his bottom lip with your thumb, and he surprises you again when he immediately takes it into his mouth, sucking fiercely at it. It makes your stomach flip. You lick your own lips, fixated on the way his are closed around your thumb while his eyes remain focused solely on you. Each thrust punches these breathy little sounds from you. You know in the morning you’ll be battered and sore from your hips to your cervix, but you can’t bring yourself to care. You’re at his mercy, and for once, he’s at yours. Still sensitive from your first orgasm, you can’t catch your breath. Every grind of his hips hurls you closer to another eruption.

“Yes, yes , fuck yes, fuck me. Make me come on your cock, you’re so good, good boy, fuck me so fucking–” You don’t get the chance to finish the thought. Your mouth falls open on a silent scream, your whole body seizing on an orgasm that hits you harder than any you’ve felt before. Your vision goes to white. Homelander isn’t far behind you. He thrusts a handful more times before he’s lost to the vice-like grip of your orgasm, your cunt milking him for absolutely everything he’s worth. You only vaguely feel him relinquish your thumb and bury his face into the crook of your neck. You’re far more keenly aware of the spill of him inside you, liquid heat that borders on burning. It spreads through you like molten metal, harboring the same heaviness. The two of you stay like that for what could be hours or seconds, you don’t know. Homelander has at least enough thought to lower your legs. He lays himself right back down against you, resting his head on your chest, between your breasts. He’s a solid weight atop you, and each breath feels hard fought.

You feel like you’ve just run a marathon. He moves again, but only to snake his arms around your waist, nuzzling against your breastbone. You muster the energy to move your hand to his face, where you can feel a wet streak down his cheek. Tears?

Shaken, you move your other hand to the back of his head, cradling him against your chest. You stare dazedly at the ceiling, unable to properly process everything that just happened. Embracing him like this, you think you better understand the story of Icarus, and why he was so compelled to fly to the sun, even as it scorched him.

There is an inexplicable feeling that comes along with holding close something that burns so hot.

“I love you,” Homelander murmurs against your skin, words slightly slurred in the hazy afterglow of his pleasure. He doesn’t need to prompt you this time. “I love you, too.”

Chapter 3

#homelander x reader #homelander x you #homelander fic #homelander fanfiction #homelander x ofc #the homelander #uhhh hello everyone this is my first homelander fic #and my first published fic in UHHH 7 years??#also only my second time with reader/second person pov #i have an idea for a smutty sequel but lets see how this one does first #enjoy!#my writing #say it verse

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wangxianficfinder · 11 months

Text

In the mood for a fic...

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1. I'm kind of in the mood for jiang free wangxian fics, where the the extent of jiangs involvement in the plot are just brief mentions / For ITMF, a longer canonverse wangxian fic that doesn't heavily feature Jiang Cheng on page. Canon divergence is very welcome but not mandatory.

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2. hi! do you have any fics where lwj struggles with his sadism? canonverse please and bonus points if they are E rated ;) @chellsky

still waters by piggybo (E, 3k, WangXian, Consensual Kink, Light Sadism, Light Masochism, Outdoor Sex, Painful Sex, Spit As Lube, Kink Discovery, Light Bondage, Internal Conflict, CQL!verse, Post-Canon, not as explicit as the tags make it sound, but still pretty explicit)

bb!Sadist by Betty (T, 3k, WangXian, Non-Sexual Kink, Sadism, Modern AU) not canon but a good read cause it's abt the Struggle

💖 Magical Marriage Ribbons series by starandrea (M, 1M, WIP, wangxian, ongoing, animal transformations, weddings) in the Magical Marriage Ribbons series, Teen!Wangxian continuously need to discuss around LWJ's reluctance to admit what he wants sexually in earlier parts that's very lovely!

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3. Hii!!! Im back for another ITMF! I've been seeing a lot of art of spider-man aus for wangxian and I was wondering if you knew of any fics with either one or both of them having spider-man powers? Thanks so much! @loveshinesbrightly

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4. hiiiii it's me again for the next ITMF I was reading a fiction and lqr said that : "He could definitely picture an alternate reality wherein he didn’t overhear their conversation, and Wangji ended up impulsively withdrawing his entire trust fund to elope cross-country with Wei Wuxian and start a new life together - all to avoid having to face the disapproval of their families." do you know any story where it actually happens ????? thanks✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨ @ihaveasoftspotfora-yuan

keep your electric eye on me, babe by ilip13 (M, 6k, WangXian, Modern AU, Fluff, Falling In Love) is mostly a meet-cute fic but does involve lwj running off with wwx at the end

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5. Hey, I'm looking for some Daemon AU fics. @the-dolphin-queen

🧡 like speaking to my heart by SnowshadowAO3 (T, 613k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Daemons, Slow Burn, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canonical Character Death, Some people live!, additional warnings in specific chapters, if you don't know what daemons are that's ok because I explain it in the author's note, also by slow burn I VERY much mean slow burn)

Daemons and Sentient Swords Comp

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6. hi! i was wondering if you knew of any mafia au fics? 💖

🧡 Rule Number One: Never get attached. by KizuKatana (E, 130k, WangXian, Modern AU, A/B/O, Criminal underworld AU, Fluff and angst, Crime boss LWJ, Rouge criminal genius WWX, Explicit Sex)

Miscalculated Misreckoning by LadyVamp (E, 5k, WangXian, Modern AU, Organized Crime, Attempted Kidnapping, Murder Husbands, Blood and Violence, Violent Sex, Married WangXian, BAMF LWJ, BAMF WWX, YLLZ WWX, Hair-pulling, Office Sex, Desk Sex, Dark LWJ, Protective LWJ, Dark WWX, Partners in Crime, Gun Violence, Gun Kink, Crime Syndicate Qíshān Wēn Sect, Arranged Marriage, Crime Lord LWJ, Crime Lord WWX)

of demons and the good they bring by mimi123meg (M, 1k, WangXian, Modern AU, Mob, Crime Boss LWJ, BAMF WWX, BAMF LWJ, BAMF JC, Slight Violence, not too graphic, but definitely there, Established Relationship)

Take Some Advice Paesano by FeelsForBreakfast (M, 8k, wangxian, modern, mob au, mafia the 🤡 version, humor, mistaken identity, getting together)

You & Me Baby, We'll Eclipse The Sun Series by 2501987 (M/E, 130k, WangXian, XiCheng, MIND THE TAGS, Modern AU, Mafia, Murder husbands, Torture, Possessive Behavior, Blood and Violence, Older JC, Younger WWX, Hurt/Comfort, Dark)

The Damage You Do by stiricide (E, 87k, WIP, WangXian, Modern AU, Dom/Sub, Dark LWJ, Mobster LWJ, Possessive LWJ, Sex Worker WWX, Sugar Baby WWX, WWX adopts LSZ, Dubious Consent, each chapter has sex tag notes on it, BDSM, Sounding, Panic Attacks, Angst with a Happy Ending)

Due Process by Kytrin, Mslead (E, 279k, WangXian, XiSangCheng, ZhuiLingZhen, Modern AU, Canon-Typical Violence, Foxxian, dragonji, Genderfluid WWX, Wwx identifies as male, Organized Crime, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, mentions of child abuse, Angst with a Happy Ending, Found Family, Reincarnation)

Naughty Kitty Go Meow Meow: An Urban Romance From The City of Dragons by Hinu (E, 160k, WangXian, NieLan, RuoXian, Modern AU, Mafia, A/B/O Dynamics, Alpha LWJ, Omega WWX, Dragon LWJ, Cat Hybrid WWX, Porn with Plot, Organized Crime, Pole dancing, Possessive LWJ, WWX has a Vulva, Omegas have a vagina, GNC WWX, Good Person WZL, Dark LWJ, Sexual harassment, Non-Consensual Bondage, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Eventual Fluff)

Beautiful Nightmare (Sweet Dreams) by Cy_an_Blue (E, 79k, WangXian, Modern AU, explicit depictions of torture, explicit depictions of violence, Dark LWJ, Possessive LWJ, Crime Boss LWJ, Mafia AU, Kidnapping, Stockholm Syndrome, (Kinda but not really), Implied Sexual Content, Sexual Harassment, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Not by WangXian, Dubious Consent, Age Difference, Kid Fic, Heavy/Dark Themes, Cheating, not wangxian, 365 days (2020) inspired, Angst with a Happy Ending, Falling In Love, Past QingXian, Minor LWJ/Other(s), Homophobic Language, Derogatory Language)

To Protect My Family I'll Give You Anything by stiricide (E, 4k, WangXian, Modern AU, Alpha WWX, Omega LWJ, Bottom LWJ, Gangsters, Gangbang, Fisting, Public Sex, Public Humiliation, Knotting, Mating Bites, Happy Ending, Dark LWJ, Dark WWX, Spanking, Dubious Consent, Top WWX, Threats of Violence, but not between wangxian)

there is a mafia au comp !!

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7. A) In the mood for wen Ning and Wei Ying being close

B) Is there any wangxian book which is like omniscient reader's viewpoint? Fusion or similar. I just plain and simple love it to the end of the world. @whateverweilanlovechild

7A)

Truth Will Out (when caught on video) - End_OTW_Racism! by KizuKatana (E, 63k, wangxian, WN & WWX & WQ, graphic depictions of violence, modern cultivation, canon divergence, YZY abuses WWX , caught on camera, partial core removal, WWX kicked out of Jiang sect, livestreamer WWX, meet ugly, dual cultivation, smut, no war, WIP)

All Things Belong by kuroi_atropos (M, 65k, WRH & WWX, wangxian, WN & WWX, Wen WWX, abuse, whipping, manipulations, smart WWX, possessive behavior, implied/Referenced rape/non-con, past rape/non-con, WIP)

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8. ITMF superhero wangxian!! i’m not too particular on the context, be it only one of them, or both of them, or hero/villain. the more explicit the better, though 🌝

mission report by bosbie (T, 13k, WangXian, Modern AU, Superheroes/Superpowers, Fluff, Humor, First Meetings, Falling In Love, Getting Together)

a wild heart to tame mine by theroyalsavage (G, 10k, WangXian, Superheroes/Superpowers, Strangers to Lovers, bookshop owner lwj/superhero wwx, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Wangxian-typical tenderness)

Tired of the Sunset by julomaiboulomai (M, 55k, WangXian, NieLan, Modern AU, Superheroes/Superpowers, Identity Porn, Secret Identity, Parent-Child Relationship, Grief/Mourning, Canonical Character Death, Also Canonical 'He Gets Better', Unreliable Narrator, superhero fights, Major Character Injury, Major Character Undeath, Slow Burn, But also somehow, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, JC-LWJ Mutual Hate Society, Domestic Fluff, Co-Parenting, Making Out, well slowish burn, Fade to Black, Brief mentions of suicide, Angst with a Happy Ending, Art Embedded)

🧡 Of Ghosts and Heroes by The Silverfish (ZephyrAndTheSilverfish) (T, 51k, AS & WWX, AS/YH, WangXian, BNHA/MHA Crossover, Dimension Travel, POV Outsider, Found Family, Hurt/Comfort, Angst) Sort of? It's a crossover with bnha and I think a few mdzs characters become heroes in it

Free Wifi for Heroes by JJSparrow (E, 50k, WangXian, XuanLi, Modern AU, Pro Heroes (MHA), Switching, Engineer!WWX, Hero!LWJ, CEO!WWX, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Inventor!WWX, Top/Bottom Switch WangXian, Explicit Sexual Content, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Fluff and Smut, First Kiss, First Time)

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9. Hi, thanks for doing these recs!

For the next itmf, I'd like wangxian in the Cloud Recesses Study Arc, kinda like Stunted, Starving Juvenility. Preferably long, like 50k+, but any length is fine!

Thank you! @moonlightflora-101

Silenced With A Kiss by NinjaKK (E, 88k, wangxian, cloud recesses study arc, flirting, fluff, teen romance, happy ending, secret relationship, falling in love, first kiss, first dates, inventor WWX, genius WWX, protective WWX; protective LWJ, happy ending, ripple effect, first time, fluff & smut, supportive LWJ, BAMF WWX, WIP)

The initial parts of 💖 Magical Marriage Ribbons series by starandrea (M, 1M, WIP, wangxian, ongoing, animal transformations, weddings, link in #2) also fits for 9, I think

O, What Learning Is! by Comfect (T, 60k, WangXian, XiCheng, Canon Divergence, No Fall of Lotus Pier, No Golden Core Transfer, Fix-It, Butterfly Effect, Fluff, Cultivation Theory, Cultivation Sect Politics, JZX Lives, JYL Lives, WWX-Typical Obliviousness, Unreliable Narrator WWX, The Undeniable Romance of Quests, Good Student WWX (for a given value of good student), Canon-typical treatment of children, Bad Parent YZY, Bad Parent JFM, Good Uncle LQR)

Three changes. by orange_crushed (M, 18k, WangXian, Fluff, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Cloud Recesses Shenanigans, Friends to Lovers, Romantic Comedy, Fade to Black, Mild Sexual Content, Canon Divergence, No Sunshot No War AU, Falling In Love, Non-Graphic Violence, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Sparring, Harm to Animals, Don't Worry The Animal is Fine Wangji Makes Sure of That, Developing Friendships, teenagers in love, Hurt/Comfort, Mild Blood, First Time)

Unstoppable by Netrixie (T, 149k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Eventual Happy Ending, Unreliable Narrator, Slow Burn, Minor OC's, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Wolf-shifter WWX, Resolved Sexual Tension, Resolved Romantic Tension, Fix-It, Shapeshifters, Sunshot Campaign)

In Walls of Glass by Comfect (T, 43k, WangXian, XiCheng, Good Uncle LQR, Teacher LQR, Canon Divergence, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Yet Another Butterfly Effect Fix-It, JC friendly, Family Feels, Demonic Cultivation, Cultivation Theory, Tagged CQL not MDZS, POV LQR)

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10. Hello! ITMF where WWX is super duper Mary Sue. I just read “The Darkness Before Dawn” by PsycheStellata707, and I loved how WWX was just the most beautiful, the most powerful, the most smart, the most loved, the richest, the super bamf. It was indulgent and fun. Any other fics like this?

leave all your love and your longing behind by ScarlettStorm (E, 143k, WangXian, Modern AU, no magic, Meet-Ugly, Panic Attacks, autistic lwj, neurodivergent wwx, the neighborhood asshole dog, if you’ve met one then you know, Hurt/Comfort, Pining, Minor Angst, major shenanigans, Happy Ending, for everyone including the asshole dog, Eventual Smut, switch rights, Sex Toys, horny yearning, Masturbation) (link in #14)

🧡 Rule Number One: Never get attached. by KizuKatana (E, 130k, WangXian, Modern AU, A/B/O, Criminal underworld AU, Fluff and angst, Crime boss LWJ, Rouge criminal genius WWX, Explicit Sex) (link in #6)

Whatever you do by apathyinreverie (T, 8k, WangXian, somewhat darker cultivation world, BAMF WWX, BAMF LWJ, BAMF LXC, not Jiang friendly, YZY Bashing, wwx is appreciated, genius wwx, everyone is a little darker in this, except for wwx, Fluff, Possessive LWJ, Fix-It)

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11. Hi hi, hope everything is going well :) Sorry if this has been asked before, but for either ITMF or Fic Finder are there any good fics with Yunmeng trio shenanigans/slice of life?

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12. hello! sorry to bother you, but theres any new wangxian fic with mpreg? especially (only) pregnant wei wuxian, please and thanks! 💖🙏🏽

Hello, can you suggest any fluffy wangxian fic where wei Wuxian is pregnant. Would love it if it is long. Thank you 😊😊 @mayavsworld

In which Lan Qiren eavesdrops and gets a new nephew (and grandnephew) out of it by h0peless_oblivion (M, 64k, WIP, WangXian, Modern AU, High School, A/B/O Dynamics, Alpha LWJ, Omega WWX, Mpreg, Teen Pregnancy, Shotgun Wedding, Good Uncle LQR, Madam Yu's A+ Parenting, Fluff and Angst, Family Feels, Unspecified Setting, Probably ooc, WWX Has ADHD, A-Yuan is Wangxian's son, Pregnant WWX, Humor, non-graphic birth, Family Drama, The Lans love wwx, Male Lactation, Mild Smut in later chapters, wangxian's canonical breeding kink, Tooth-Rotting Fluff) it's marked as a WIP but the main story is over the rest are sides stories

My Heart is a Cavern of Longing, Please come home? by LadyVamp (E, 28k, WangXian, Non-Traditional A/B/O Dynamics, Omega WWX, Alpha LWJ, Bitch WWX, Forced Marriage, Accidental Baby Acquisition, YLLZ WWX, Oblivious WWX, Módào Zǔshī & The Untamed Combination, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, Forced Bonding, Forced Pregnancy, Depressed WWX, Sex In A Cave, Uncontrolled heats, JZX Lives, Arranged Marriage, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Pining LWJ, Pining WWX, Child LJY, LJY is WangXian's son, Unplanned Pregnancy, Pregnant WWX, Mpreg)

Bonded Fate by Missty0foxx (E, 19k, WangXian, A/B/O Dynamics, Alpha LWJ, Omega WWX, Canon Divergence, Dubious Consent, Mating, Mating Bites, Knotting, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Angst with a Happy Ending, Self-Lubrication, LWJ Has a Big Dick, Teenage WangXian, Time Skips, Mpreg, Caring LWJ, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, Pregnant Sex, Pregnant WWX, Mating Cycles/In Heat, WangXian Have a Breeding Kink, LWJ Has a Biting Kink)

The Beautiful and the Damned by Anonymous (M, 15k, WangXian, Wingfic, Immortal LWJ, Demon WWX, Mpreg, Pregnant WWX, Wing Kink, Human JC, mmortal LXC, Immortal LSZ, Immortal LJY, Crow WWX, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, WangXian Are LSZ's Parents, Gambling, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Spanking, CNC and Dubcon elements, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Unplanned Pregnancy)

Pregxian & Pregji Comp

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13. Hey guys hope all is well , I’m in the mood for a fix with bodyguard Lan Zhan just out here protecting wei ying idk if anything like this exists but I’m intrigued.

Thank you for all your hard work x @red-spacekitten

Bodyguard king by 74243 (E, 8k, Female WangXian, Modern AU, Idol WWX, Bodyguard LWJ, Female NHS, Platonic D/s, Loss of Virginity)

lightning in a bottle by nighimpossible (E, 12k, WangXian, Modern AU, Bodyguard LWJ, Scientist WWX, Mutual Pining, Blow Jobs, (light) Rope Bondage, Kitchen Sex, Anal Fingering)

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14. Itmf for fics where LWJ has friends!! Who teases him!! And are there for him!! I've often seen Mianmian with him and I've enjoyed those fics alot!! Preferably canonverse but modern au's are fun too!!

❤️ save a sword, ride a socialist by sysrae (E, 33k, wangxian, modern w magic, college/university au, fake/pretend relationship, single parent WWX, homophobia, light angst w/ happy ending, idiots to lovers, fluff) is really good

mating rituals by detectorist (E, 16k, WangXian, XuanLi, JZX & LWJ, Modern AU, College/University, Humour, Pining, Getting Together, Idiots in Love)

correspondence of two fools madly in love by serenedebeautea (G, 2k, WangXian, XuanLi, LWJ & JZX)

forget-me-not by mellowflicker (E, 31k, WIP, WangXian, Modern AU, Sugar Daddy WWX, Sugar Baby LWJ, Professor WWX, Student LWJ, Bottom LWJ/Top WWX, Secret Relationship, Age Difference, Hurt/Comfort, Chronic Pain, JZX & LWJ Friendship, Family Issues, WWX Isn't Adopted by the Jiāngs)

Orchids in Lotus Pier by Vamillepudding (G, 21k, WangXian, JC & LWJ, Canon Divergence, Romantic Comedy, Mutual Pining, Protective JC, Friends to Lovers, Misunderstandings)

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15. Hi there! Hope you day is going good!!! I need your help to find me a(lot) fan fiction with dragon lan wangji/human wei wuxian please 🙇‍♀️🥺 @mahamhere

Coil Tightly by Thunderstruck (Blueyed_Impala) (T, 50k, WangXian, Dragon LWJ, Shifters, Modern with Magic, WWX is oblivious to magic, Slow Burn, Fluff, Attempt at Humor, References to Animal Abuse but the animal is LWJ, Hurt/Comfort, WWX Has Self-Esteem Issues, WWX has abandonment issues, Possessive LWJ, Clueless Flirting, OC Lan disciples for plot reasons)

These Mortal Treasures by ChilianXianzi (T, 9k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Fantasy, Dragon LWJ, Rogue Cultivator WWX, Possessive LWJ, Domestic Fluff, implied eggpreg, The Cultivation World's canonical fuckery, eggyuan!, Gift Giving)

Love at first bite by luckymoonly (M, 14k, WangXian, NieLan, Modern setting with dragons, Falling In Love, NMJ and JYL own a bakery together, Interspecies Romance, Crossdressing, Everyone lives in the same building, First Time, Fluff and Humor, Mpreg, LWJ's canonical big dick, Horny lwj, Smut, LXC and LWJ are dragon princes, Lingerie, Dating, Medium Burn, Possessive LWJ)

wind and rain by hauntedotamatone (E, 15k, WangXian, Dragon LWJ, Porn With Plot, Size Difference, Mildly Dubious Consent, Spit As Lube, Fairy Tale Elements, Double Penetration in One Hole, Rough Sex, Biting, Curse Breaking, Teratophilia, Fuck Or Die, but not for who you'd think, Meet-Ugly, Rimming, Past physical abuse, consensual and sane but not 100 percent safe, Non-Human Genitalia, Come as Lube, Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation, Copious Amounts of Come)

Jaws of the Dragon by celerydragon (Not Rated, 7k, WangXian, dubcon, Exhibitionism, Nonconsensual Exhibitionism, Bestiality, Belly Bulge, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Breeding Kink, dragonji, LWJHas a Big Dick, lwj can transform into a human)

other earths and skies by binghecarer (T, 53k, WangXian, Modern with Magic, (but not in the typical way?), Slow Burn, Canon-Typical Scars and Injuries, Curses, Hurt/Comfort)

fell by you by Vrishchika (E, 44k, Dragon LWJ, Fantasy, Explicit Smut in Last Chapter, Pining, POV LWJ, Canon Divergence, Immortals, Deities, Canon-Typical Violence, Dragon WWX, Angst with a Happy Ending)

this river runs to you Series by aubreyli, sundiscus (T/E, 66k, WangXian, Modern with Magic, Mutual Pining, Dragons, Literal Sleeping Together, Tender wound tending, First Time, Oral Sex, Coming Untouched, Porn with Feelings, Established Relationship)

Making Mouths at Dragons by athena_crikey (E, 10k, WangXian, Modern with Magic, Mpreg, baby fever, near PWP, Dragon sex, also human sex, Rimming, Size Kink, Egg Laying, Family, Feel-good, hints of self-worth issues, Dragon LWJ)

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16. hello!! for the next itmf, any fanfics where they elaborate on wei changze and/or cangse sanren? secret families, they survive, even pre canon, just some wei family feels. thank youu <33

I Will Call You By Name by DisasterMages (T, 73k, WangXian, WWX raised by XXC, Canon Divergence, Family Feels) does ´I will call you by name’ by DisasterMages count they’re a few flashbacks about them

tall as the mountains that sheltered us by thelastdboy (M, 4k, CSSR/WCZ, CSSR & WWX & WCZ, wangxian, canon divergence, CSSR & WCZ live, crack treated seriously, childhood friends to lovers, genius WWX, inventor WWX, bg character death, happy ending, WCZ pov) wcz & cssr are saved by the lan.

The Long Winding Road Home by Admiranda (T, 12k, CSSR/WCZ, wangxian, time travel, post-canon, not JC friendly, fluff, family reunion, mocking LQR to his face, mocking JC to his face, wild rumours) wcz & cssr return after 30 years trapped.

Silver (Bloodshot) Eyes by GeminiWillow (T, 15k, WangXian, WCZ & WWX, WCZ & JL, Not Jiāng Chéng Friendly, JC Bashing, YZY Bashing, Yúnmèng Jiāng Sect Bashing, BAMF WCZ, Ghost WCZ, JC Canon Characteristics, Mentions of WWX's Canonical Child Abuse, Child JL, JL Needs a Hug, Revenge) vengeful ghost wcz torments jc during the timeskip. jiang bashing.

The Wei of family by HikariNoHimeWriter (E, 46k, WangXian, WCZ/CSSR, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, CSSR and WCZ Live, Rogue Cultivator WWX, A/B/O Dynamics, Alpha LWJ, Omega WWX, Male omega with vagina, Vaginal Fingering, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Vaginal Sex, First Time, Falling In Love, some violence, Genius WWX, WWX Has ADHD, CSSR Has ADHD, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Eventual Smut, Love Confessions, Mating Bond, WangXian Elope, Kinda, Not JC Friendly, not yzy friendly, Mpreg) omega wwx grows up with his family and finds love

a burden of figs by spookykingdomstarlight (T, 16k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, No Sunshot Campaign, CSSR and WCZ Live, Rogue Cultivator WWX, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Breaking Up & Making Up, Getting Back Together, Hurt/Comfort, Injured WWX, caretaker LWJ, Mutual Pining) rogue cultivator wwx dating to breakup to makeup.

somehow, someway, we all get to someday by Stratisphyre (T, 75k, WangXian, CSSR/LQR/WCZ, MDM Lan/OFC, Canon Divergence, Role Reversal, Canon-Typical Violence, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Parenthood, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Threesome - F/M/M, Family Feels, Not JFM Friendly, Not Lan Sect Friendly, past emotional abuse, Demisexual Character, Inclusive discussions of reproductive rights) jfm & yzy die on a nighthunt and wcz & cssr run the jiang as regents for jc.

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17. Hi!! ITMF for submissive LWJ with a praise kink. Whether he's top or bottom doesn't matter.

Shatter All Barriers by YunmengLotus (E, 11k, WangXian, Modern AU, Painplay, Light Dom/sub, very brief subdrop, Praise Kink, Wax Play, Temperature Play, Sex Toys, Communication, light blood play (really light but there is blood), BDSM, Intercrural Sex, thigh fucking, Non-Penetrative Sex, Coming Untouched, Piercings, Needles, Sub LWJ, dom WWX, kind of, Getting Together, piercer wwx)

Maybe You're the Reason by Clearpearls (E, 67k, WangXian, College/University, Phone Sex, slight D/s, Secret Identity, Praise Kink, Phone Sex Operator WWX, slight internalized sexual repression, Fluff, Light Angst, Dirty Talk, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Slow Burn, Sub LWJ, Bottom LWJ, Vibrators, Aftercare, Introspection)

old wounds by BloodRedCarnation (E, 23k, WangXianYu, Established WangXian, PWP, Kink Negotiation, Switch WangXian, Age Difference, Power Dynamics, Threesome, healing through sex, Breathplay, Light exhibitionism kink, Praise Kink, Dom/sub, Virgin MXY, Post-Canon, Fix-It of Sorts, Double Penetration)

Caffeine, Small Talk by mistergoblin (E, 144k, WangXian, Modern AU, Friends With Benefits, Enemies to Lovers, or more accurately: frenemies to fuck, buddies to lovers, Angst and Fluff and Smut, touch-starved lwj, Slow Burn, high levels of sexual tension, Misunderstandings, Getting to Know Each Other, Switching, Bottom LWJ, bottom WWX, slight D/s, Happy Ending, side yanqing, lwj's patented horny grip, Sub LWJ)

Here Comes The Heat (Before We Meet) by mistergoblin (E, 15k, WangXian, Fluff and Smut, Getting Together, D/s elements, Sub LWJ, Bottom LWJ, but they switch wbk, Collars, Praise Kink, Rough Sex, Spanking, Explicit Consent)

a new kind of silence by deliciousblizzardshark (E, 11k, WangXian, Modern AU, Autistic LWJ, Communication Disorder, Trans LWJ, Protective WWX, Pregnant LWJ, Panic Attacks, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Happy Ending, Getting Together, Oral Sex, Vaginal Sex, Soft WangXian, POV WWX)

~*~

If you didn’t get an answer to your ask here, don’t forget to make use of @mdzs-kinkmeme and MDZS KINK MEME on Dreamwidth. Authors actually do use them for ideas. You may get what you order!***Your prompt doesn’t have to be kink! Fluff, crack, whatever - it’s all good!***

#wangxian #mdzs #wangxian fic recs #i'm in the mood for a fic #the untamed #wangxian fic search #wangxianficfinder #long post

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ebiemidnightlibrarian · 9 months

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𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖙𝖎𝖙𝖑𝖊 𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕭𝖑𝖔𝖔𝖉 𝖄𝖔𝖚 𝕾𝖕𝖎𝖑𝖑 𝖎𝖓 𝕸𝖞 𝕲𝖆𝖗𝖉𝖊𝖓

𝔖𝔞𝔫𝔠𝔱𝔲𝔰 𝔖𝔞𝔫𝔤𝔲𝔦𝔰

𝖕𝖆𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌 Dark! Father Paul x Fem! Reader (OFC)

𝖘𝖎𝖓𝖔𝖕𝖊 When Erin leaves Crockett to have her baby, the teaching position becomes vacant in the dominical school, so the Town Council decides to call in someone from the mainland to fill in the vacancy left behind.

Lydia Hatcher accepts the proposal without thinking twice, when she catches the Breeze she meets a mischievously handsome man to which she feels immediate attraction. The same happens to him, but what she doesn't realise is that he has way more planned for her than she might conceive.

𝖌𝖊𝖓𝖗𝖊𝖘 AU — Canon Divergence; Dark fic; Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.

𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘 Rape/Non-con Elements, Gaslighting, Angst, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Catholic Guilt, Canon-Typical Violence, Mild Gore, Non-canon Character Death, Use of Biblical passages as a way of gaslighting, Attempted Murder, Poisoning, Extremely Dubious Consent, Suicidal Thoughts, Stalking, Dom/sub Undertones, Smut, Distorted Ideals of Romance, Obsessive Behaviour, Horror, Non-Consensual Blood Drinking, Blood Kink, Religious Fanaticism.

𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖙𝖚𝖘 WIP

𝔈𝔵𝔦𝔩𝔦𝔲𝔪 ℭ𝔞𝔯𝔪𝔢𝔫

𝖕𝖆𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌 Dark! Father Paul x Fem! Reader (OFC)

𝖘𝖎𝖓𝖔𝖕𝖊 Nothing here yet :)

𝖌𝖊𝖓𝖗𝖊𝖘 AU — Canon Divergence; Dark fic; Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.

𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘 Rape/Non-con Elements, Past Rape/Non-con, Distorted Ideals of Romance, Non-Canonical Character Death, Mild Gore, Animal Death, Blood Drinking, Murder, Coercion, Stockholm Syndrome, Catholic Guilt, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Canon-Typical Violence, Gaslighting, Dubious Consent, Dom/sub Undertones, Horror, Pregnancy Kink, Smut, Angst.

𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖙𝖚𝖘 TBA

𝔑𝔬𝔩𝔦 𝔗𝔦𝔪𝔢𝔯𝔢

𝖕𝖆𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌 Dark! Father Paul x Fem! Reader (OFC)

𝖘𝖎𝖓𝖔𝖕𝖊 Nothing here yet :)

𝖌𝖊𝖓𝖗𝖊𝖘 AU — Canon Divergence; Dark fic; Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.

𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘 Rape/Non-con Elements, Past Rape/Non-con, Distorted Ideals of Justice, Non-Canonical Character Death, Mild Gore, Blood Drinking, Murder, Coercion, Stockholm Syndrome, Religious Fanaticism, Cult, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Canon-Typical Violence, Gaslighting, Dubious Consent, Dom/sub Undertones, Horror, Attempted Murder, Smut, Angst, Major Character Death.

𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖙𝖚𝖘 TBA

More notices to be added if needed. Let me know when something requires to be added to the warnings/tags, I’ll probably forget something.

𝕬𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗'𝖘 𝖓𝖔𝖙𝖊

First of all, I feel that I require to warn you that English isn’t my first language, so might happen you find some writing mistakes, I also don’t have a beta reader, again I’m sorry for any errors. If you feel comfortable, you can tell me about them, so I can fix it.

Initially, this story was planned to be a 2nd person reader fic, but I turned into a 'character x OFC'. However, don’t worry, dear grasshopper, as everything has been handled as vague as possible so that everything can be read as a reader fic.

If you desire to be tagged use this Google form to inform me, please, so I can keep it organized =)

This series has a playlist on Spotify, you can find it here, or just by searching for ‘the blood you spill in my garden’ in the search bar.

THIS IS A DARK FANFICTION! Be aware that you will find descriptions at least unpleasant for the more sensitive, if these obscure topics are not your thing man, don’t read, seriously DON’T READ!

If you, dear reader, have decided to ignore all warnings about this story, you are on your own, I am not responsible for anything you find. By the way, minors, this is obviously not for you!

𝖙𝖆𝖌𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

@stardustandgunpowder, @liesandghosts, @pruitts-tight-fucking-jeans, @girlwiththenegantattoo, @dreams-madeof-strawberrylemonade, @sterwild, @thegardenarcher, @snapessecretdiary, @judarspeach, @hungrhay, @midnight-mess, @ledzeppelindeanmon, @novywhere @un-kiss-de-breakfast @vivi-venus

If your name is striped, it’s because Tumblr don’t let me tag you for some reason. =(

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lackablazeical · 2 years

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I'm kinda new to this au (I first saw it on ao3), do you have like a rundown of what exactly it is? lore and such? I'm super interested in this au jut i have 0 idea what the story is lmao

Since the masterpost is taking so long I'm editing a previously made post as a placeholder until the ACTUAL masterpost is finished enough to post

As for what the AU is, it's meant to be a horror/comedy but that also tackles dark themes in a (hopefully) well-written way. It's meant to take rottmnt and twist it much darker, and just to be something enjoyable to those who like spooky and disturbing things!

With that disturbing things mentioned, this AU also has a lot of TWs, including (but not limited to): underage drinking/smoking, violence, experimentation/abuse of animals and humanoid beings, dubious/no consent to activities such as kissing or cuddling, disassociation, toxic relationships, stalking, self harm, slut-shaming, useage of queer slurs, and more. Be careful with this one!

Also with that: this AU is not meant to glorify, romanticize, or endorse any of these relationships, warnings, or characters behavior. I do not want anyone finding the relationships cute, thinking they are redeemable, etc. None of my content is meant to be taken that way, it is not created to be sexual/suggestive, etc etc. These are MINORS. In ABUSIVE RELATIONSHIPS. don't be gross.

Lore is iffy in this AU, especially future canon. So good luck and I am sorry lol

Basically, for the Hamatos:

Splinters backstory goes the same, just he was also involved in the yakuza. Him and BM reconnected and ended up together when the boys were young (Raph was 11, L & D were 10, Mike was 9). Mikey starts going/working at the Nexus around this time, and drinking too. I Want to say the gang met April when she was 9 (so R8, LD7, M6) and they do shenanigans for a while. Leo meets Usagi at 16, goes wild.

The foot/kraang in this world are not exactly a threat, as the Hamatos themselves own the key and a large part of the Armour. None of them know what it is or does.

Usagis backstory:

READ USAGI'S BACKSTORY HERE.

Leo and Usagi are a 'romantic' relationship of the dynamic of stalker and victim. Usagi is a victim to Leo, who is obsessive, can't understand 'no', etc etc. Usagi is codependent further into their relationship. They are forever toxic, this will not change.

Donnie and Ishida aren't romantic, but still a toxic dynamic of sadist and masochist. Ishida wants to feel pain to 'prove' himself, Donnie provides and studies. I may use the term Donnida for these too, but again, not romantic. They are close friends.

Mikey and Kenichi ('Michi') are probably the most functional of the 3 dynamics. They are friends by circumstance, but find they both bond over their hatred of 'Leosagi' and often enjoy gossiping/shit talking together. They also play fight occasionally.

Characters such as Draxum, Evil league of mutants, Cassandra, and Mona Lisa all exist as well!!!!@ tumblr just has a FUCKING IMAGE LIMIT.

Draxum isn't close with the boys, and he works with BM closely. Only Mikey and Don are aware of the fact he made them.

Cassandra is still with the Foot, crushing on April hard, etc etc.

I promise I'm working on the masterpost, I'm just slow and. A little stupid

#addams! tmnt au #rottmnt au #addams! usagi #addams! leosagi #addams! leo #addams! mikey #addams! donnie #addams! raph #addams! april #addams! ishida #addams! chizu #addams! kenichi #addams! miyamotos #addams! lore post

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distort-opia · 5 months

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you know i often see people throwing around the claim "joker r*ped/sa'd barbara in tkj" (mainly to shame people for liking the joker or batjokes) even though alan moore has dedunked it at some point. like the only piece of media i can think of with joker as a rapist is the azzarello graphic novel which is shit and doesn't need to be accepted as canon. i know it's kinda of a touchy subject but i'd be interested to hear your thoughts

Well. You've pretty much said it, to be honest.

Even a cursory Google search will reveal that Azzarello's Joker (2008) is a one-off, non-canon story. The just as much stand-alone sequel, Batman: Damned has a grieving Harley Quinn almost force herself on Bruce, and yet I haven't heard people say Harley is a rapist. Hell, didn't Batman and Harley Quinn (2017) have Harley and Nightwing sleep together... with pretty dubious consent on Dick's side? And yet fans are able to acknowledge that these are not canon storylines and that the writer matters a lot-- in the case of the latter, it's co-written by Bruce Timm, who is infamous for his shitty portrayal of female characters (also see the animation Batman: The Killing Joke, in which Barbara very assertively has sex with Batman, because that's of course the only way a woman can exercise power). Actually, Barbara's character has suffered so much... there's even Batman Beyond 2.0 #28, in which Bruce apparently got Barbara pregnant, Dick's girlfriend at the time.

But we all dismiss these storytelling choices because we know they're idiotic. They go against the core of the characters, simple as that. Why is Joker not allowed the same? While what he canonically did to Barbara in TKJ was horrible, rape did not happen, and that's a fact. Any other implications of sexual assault can only be connected to Frank Miller's writing in the TDKR series (not canon), or that horrible (and again, not canon) book adaptation of TKJ by Christa Faust and Gary Phillips. Unfortunately, there are always some writers who think that it's just darker and grittier and cooler, more shocking to have Joker attempt rape or resort to sexual means of intimidation; though it's funny how it happens that these are also generally controversial writers for their sexist depictions of women.

But we do know why Joker is not afforded the same kind of treatment as other characters who got butchered by out-of-character stories, canon or otherwise. He's become the punching bag of the DC fandom; it's so easy to proclaim loud and proud these days how much you hate the Joker and want him dead. If you're an anti and looking to feel morally righteous and signal to your echo chamber how good and pure you are, it's a low hanging fruit to latch onto Joker and criticize him for all he's done. The problem, of course, is when these people start attacking actual, real-life fans over their fictional preferences, shipping or otherwise.

But to give a more general conclusion, and my actual opinion on the matter: Joker is a master manipulator. His main schtick is literally getting Batman to kill him by orchestrating all manner of situations; he manipulates his doctors, his henchmen, he manipulates Gotham itself through the media on countless occasions. The very reason why he did what he did to Barbara in TKJ was to manipulate her father into having a mental breakdown. Joker picks people to break and then breaks them psychologically, that is his MO. What he wants is to expose the people around him, he wants to show that deep down, everyone is rotten.

It probably becomes obvious why rape is inconsistent with this mindset. Joker isn't the kind of monster to make things happen by brute force, he's the kind of monster to manipulate people into the worst versions of themselves and then laugh at them as they hate themselves for it. He'll murder and torture and imply any manner of atrocity to make that happen, but the source of his glee is seeing people fall into the same dark pit, devoid of humanity, he's chosen to live in. (And don't even get me started on the fact that Joker was canonically shown to have been a victim of sexual assault himself as a child, in Batman: Streets of Gotham. As an adult, he's depicted as gruesomely taking revenge on the man who did it. Something tells me there's more than one reason why Joker would not resort to rape, and it goes beyond MOs or agendas.)

#I got a bit long but alas #this was prompted by whatever twitter meltdown is currently happening wasn't it #heard about it and heaved a long sigh. this is why I stay away from that hell hole #asks #long post #joker #rape mention #discussion of rape #fandom negativity

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cxyotl · 3 months

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animal behaviors and the dsmp characters:

(under the read more bc i feel like this is gonna be long)

Starting off with the most populated group of animals of the server: sheep. i’m going based off of canon/dubious canon here. all sheep characters are highly territorial or otherwise highly protective of their “herd” (the people they view as friends and allies). additionally, they are seen as intelligent, and are placed in leadership positions most often. the sheep character is often mistaken for weak or otherwise “unfit.”

c!puffy is the prime example of this character. her greatest virtue is her kindness, but she doesnt hesitate to stand up for those weaker than her by getting violent. she expects respect back when she gives respect, and is fiercely loyal to those she cares about. puffy clearly takes charge when it comes down to business. her role as a therapist and leader of a revolution is proof of her emotional and tactical intelligence. truly she is what other sheep characters wish they were.

the other sheep characters, of course, being schlatt and tubbo. they’re smart (schlatt knows how to manipulate his way out of trouble a little too easily, and tubbo built a straight up nuclear missile), are territorial (tubbo to snowchester and his family, schlatt to manburg), and are leaders (schlatt is obvious but do i have to list every instance where tubbo has taken charge? there are so many examples)

c!ant is usually pretty solitary but will follow more powerful people to get what he wants. he’s quiet, sneaky, but truly motivated by love. exemplary cat character, no notes.

c!pk and fundy are great fox characters for one reason alone: their playful, silly nature overshadows their struggles. no one takes them seriously, and theyre seen as tricky or even malevolent people, when honestly all theyre trying to do is survive in a hostile environment.

foolish is the perfect shark. big, scary, powerful.. but not mean. he kills when he has to, but more often than not, he’s the one getting beat.

geez who else is there. i think thats all.

#dream smp #idk what else to tag this i havent written meta in a hot minute

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kit-williams · 3 months

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non Khorne canon

thank you @callme-cursed for inspiring me with this:

Khorne - Your father's astartes only got more temperamental with age. Small things seemed to become the greatest slight one could make against him. You left for your own safety quietly in the night. It was unfortunate to realize so late you were his favorite. Now he is on a war path to find you again.

And letting me write something that no matter how hard I tried just keeps turning lewd. I'm keeping him legion/chapter-less so that anyone can insert their favorite legion/chapter. (Since its lewd its why I'm tagging my usual people)

Normal taglist: @bispecsual @egrets-not-regrets @moodymisty @bleedingichorhearts @liar-anubiass-blog @thevoidscreams

tw: dubious consent? maybe noncon? Can read either way I suppose but either way you're getting dicked down. Written in 1st person because I have a problem

I get a notification on my phone about a break in at my apartment and the pictures show your family's astartis breaking in and looking around most likely barking for your name. He had started to act odder and odder... getting angry and aggressive with everyone especially with everyone around myself... getting far too affectionate and starting to bring me home trophies. I decided to stay at my apartment more it's why it's there because I am a big girl... but he wanted me at home where he could watch me.

I decided it was time for one of my hiking trips. I call dad just telling him what he's done and just that I decided to take a hiking trip for a few weeks. I've been doing it since I was sixteen... and even then sure I'd be hiking with him. I swallow as I have to keep going to get to that dry spot as the rain picks up.

I'll probably take a different trail then I normally do to throw him off my trail but I'm certain dad can wrangle him in... he's always been a stubborn astartis but just him being a big bully and him... I don't even know what to call it? Online people called it courtship behaviors... others said it was just being overly affectionate and showing which person is their favorite... the internet was no help in dealing with his recent mood swings and it scared me.

Sure he was grumpy when I was younger but now he was getting straight up violent and it made me feel so unsafe even if it never was directed at me or the parents; I just had to get out of there so fast. I've always hated confrontation and just I was always a coward. It would be fine....

But it was not fine... I run my fingers through my long hair as I read the text in the morning... Dad: ... hasn't come home. He might be going to look for you. I close your flip phone as I quickly pack up my camp knowing I have less and less time to get to the trail split and if I'm lucky he'll just keep going looking for me and then go home.

It was always so pretty the morning after a rain... the way raindrops clung to leaves, to moss, hanging suspended in spider webs... just a breeze shaking those drops free from their perches giving me another mini shower under a canopy. But I didn't have time to enjoy the relaxing bit of nature as I headed quickly to the split and when I finally got there I made sure I didn't stop powerwalking down the path until lunch.

The rain was threatening to come back as I was upset at how much rain there seemed to be typical weather people lying... I hold my breath as I suddenly hear a humming as the forest goes quiet and I turn my head and see the bloody visage of him... the family astartis... freshly harvested skulls on his hip both animal and human. His breath comes out hot and heavy as he pants and I can see it in the air as he leans his head back just grinning like a madman to the sky as it suddenly unloads.

My legs get cuts as I sprint through the underbrush just running blindly as he calls my name rushing after me. My lungs burn as I run tempted to throw away my bag to run faster but he'd certainly use it as leverage if I do get away. I hear water as I realize I'm near that cute spot... with the little pond and the waterfall. I stop above the pond as the water is coming down... a jump into the water from this height would hurt, I would know the memory of me doing it one summer hike with him.

"Sweetheart..." He brays softly as he walks out of the woods looking at you as I stay near the edge of the rocks, "come on take a step away... you look so cold. I can help with that." I can hear the layered meaning in his voice no longer hiding it. I remember admitting it once that I had a small crush on him but that was when I was young and hormonal and crazy for anything man shaped. How he just laughed at that and found it cute... that was a decade ago it seems he's changed his mind on that.

"Just leave me alone." I say threatening to take another step back.

"Get over here now." He snarls and I nearly rush over to him in obedience but I just shake my head as he looks so angry at me it causes my eyes to water as I feel so scared.

He takes a step forward and I jump back and the look on his face is surprise before I know it he's right there jumping after me having to jump somewhere else to avoid crushing me. He wasn't the best swimmer so I think I have time... I think I have time... I crawl out of the water coughing slightly just taking a moment to rest my limbs. Its in that moment I feel a hand thread through my hair and grip my hair by the scalp.

I scream and claw his hand as its hard not to know who is dragging me by my hair given how his nails dig into my forehead causing me to bleed. The rain seems to drown my begging and screaming as he drags me to the "lovers cove". Rain hits a tarp hidden by leaves and vines as I remember finding this place as it was nice to camp here in the summer with the firepit roaring. Of course you couldn't stay here long having to explain to him why... because it was really only used for sex.

I'm too tired to move as jumping in my full gear was exhausting. I feel the flash of heat as he starts to pull on my clothes and I struggle as he snarls and fights me out of my soaking wet clothes. I'm trembling both from how wet and cold I am but also so afraid of being alone with him right now.

He seems to visibly relax as he pets my head and starts to dry my skin by rubbing a dry fur pelt against my flesh as he mutters and nuzzles my face just trilling as he continues to dry me off. His lips brushing against my cheek and temple as his thumb roughly swipes away my now flowing tears. Trying to calm me down as he rummages through my wet bag trying to heat up a ration for me. His eyes nervously darting over to me as if he is worried that I'll try to take off into the dark raining forest fully naked. I look over at him... the large two headed eagle tattoo on his back is still there though now holding what looks like a crown of thorns. It looks like a large back piece has been outlined in one of those chaos shapes... for Khorne you think.

He puts the ration in my lap and nuzzles me as he has me in his lap... and I realize he's naked too... I can feel his excitement against my back as he maneuvers my hand to pick up my spoon and I start to eat. I whimper and let out a soft sob as he hugs me tightly trying to soothe me. I rub my eyes as his hands move up and down my sides... trying to calm me down but it only riles me up and I try to move out of his lap.

His arms flex as he puts me in a headlock and his leg wraps around my own to keep me in place as he is snarling and barking at me in his tongue and I can't help but burst out into tears as he lets me go and I cower just afraid... I hate it when people yell at me... especially men... so loud so scary. He croons apologetically his body covering mind but then his breathing hitches as he starts to throb more as I realize his cock is against my sex... and to my horror... I'm not physically repulsed by the action.

I can't even say his name to try and stop him as he's already pulling your hips up as you manage to slip between his fingers to scramble away and he pounces on you. Your lungs hurt as you wheeze out the air feeling him rut against you licking the side of your head and you can't help but burst into tears as you moan out shamefully. You beg with a hiccupped sob for him to stop and he does... for a moment.

"Need... need to mark... need... need to keep." He hisses through clenched teeth. "No more separation... " He says before turning my head and shoving his tongue down my throat it feels. His fingers fumble against my sex before one slips so easily inside of me... roughly preparing me but there is not much to prepare... I'm so wet. "So sad... so helpless... " He moans into my neck pushing another finger into my sex as he does his best to prepare me for the burn of the stretch. He pulls his fingers out and shoves them into his own mouth tasting me. "Need me... need me to protect... I protect. Always protect." He says in stilted English as he pulls me off the ground before putting me on a shitty "bed" with a pelt he brought with him most likely thrown over it.

I try to beg for him to stop but he pushes his thumb against my tongue to stop me. He tilts my head up and I see several skulls around the bed. He practically purrs as I start shaking as they are all human skulls... some still stained red, "I protect... scared little sweetheart."

He says just hooking his hands under my knees tilting me up before sliding into me. He has to stop and close his eyes to not start pummeling his hips into mine but his pace is still just a bit to fast and little too hard and I can't help but cry up at him. But now I whimper and whine... he leans in and kisses me hard and passionately. I arch feeling the fur of the pelt against my back only leave ghosts of an impression on my skin... the skulls watching him fuck me hard are a ghost of a memory...I feel that pleasure course through my veins as he presses himself against me as deeply as he can as I orgasm and the clenching flesh around him causes him to spill over the edge.

We tumble over that edge as the rain picks up, lightning lights the forest, and thunder shakes the trees. Tears roll down my cheeks as he holds me close cooing at me. "Don't cry... I'm here... you're safe." He says between pants. Warmth is still spilling out between my legs and I feel confused about what's happened... but I feel so tired and will... I'll worry about it later. I sniffle softly and nod my head as I close my eyes and pass out feeling his warm body around my own and the fire... I'll deal with it all tomorrow.

#khornite #chaos space marine #space marine #non canon #non canon husbandry #warhammer 40k #inspired #mating press march #tw: dubious consent #tw: noncon

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corazondebeskar-reads · 4 months

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save your tears

Joel Miller x f!reader

originally for Febuwhump 2024 Day 18 - too weak to move | Febuwhump masterlist

words: 1.1k

summary: What would have happened if you went with Joel and Ellie instead of staying in Jackson?

-- I cheated a little for this one but this is an alternate universe scene from "you know you never stood a chance" (spoiler warning). BUT this can be read as a standalone.

warnings: established situationship, canon-compliant-ish, canon-typical violence, description of wound, description of bodily fluids related to a wound, realistic thoughts about a survival situation, hunting and eating of animals

dividers by @saradika-graphics

A/N: this is what I call the silver lake alternate version. in my very early draft of the story, you did not stay in jackson. you got mad at Joel for abandoning Ellie and went to the stables in the morning, planning to go with Ellie and Tommy. The rest of the events happened as per canon. However, as I was writing this scene, it became quickly apparent that it was the wrong narrative choice. but just for fun, here's a snippet after Joel is wounded. (stay tuned in the end notes for the one single David line I wrote).

“You can’t shoot,” Ellie says. She won’t look at you. It’s not mean; it’s just another way you’re failing them.

“I’m sorry.”

“I’ll be back,” she promises.

You hate this. But there’s no time for self-loathing. What you can do instead is boil snow.

You creep up to the main level of the house. When you’re sure it’s clear, you crawl through, trying to stay out of sight through any windows. You’re able to scrounge up a few containers of dubious origin and cleanliness but better than your two canteens.

You light a fire in an old ration tin and prop a steel mixing bowl (the best find of the lot) on top. The first round of snow goes to scrubbing out the containers with an unfortunately large sliver from your bar of soap.

It’s a loss, but you can’t risk putting dirty water on Joel’s wound.

Once you have one clean bowl of water, you set another to boil and pull back his shirt and bandages.

It’s bad. You know it, Ellie knows it, Joel knows it. But you have to try. You have to, or all three of you are dead.

Well. Maybe not Ellie. She’s tough and capable. Maybe she could make it back to Tommy without you slowing her down.

You have nothing remotely sterile, so you mentally set aside the next bowl of water for cleaning a scrap of fabric. For now, you try to flush the wound with a slow stream of warm water.

You’ve been talking to him quietly, explaining to him what you were doing, though his consciousness is dubious at best today. But when you start to pour, his eyes snap open, and his hand flashes out to squeeze at the bones of your wrist.

“Joel, it’s me, it’s just me,” you say quickly. His grip is grinding, and things are not going to be helped by a broken wrist. And you know it never really healed right, that breaking it a second time would mean it possibly never working the same again. You try not to panic.

“Joel, please,” you whimper, and he seems to finally recognize you. His fingers loosen, but don’t let go.

“I’m just trying to help,” you say. You feel like the basement is getting smaller, darker, like it might swallow you up. Someone is breathing shakily, and you’re humiliated to find out it’s you.

His thumb rubs against your pulse for a moment. “Take Ellie and go,” he whispers, voice hoarse and cracking.

Instead of responding, you bring the canteen up to his mouth and let a little water drip into his mouth. His eyes close for a moment.

He purses his lips too soon, a tiny shake to his head.

“It��s okay, I’m boiling more, please drink.”

But he’s already passing back out. You reach up and stroke your fingers through his hair. It’s damp with sweat despite the crystalline spread of ice inside the windowpanes.

Sweat is good, right? It means his body is burning the infection. At least, you think so.

You pause to switch the water so you can get a clean rag. Maybe when Ellie gets back, you can try to ransack the other houses for anything of use.

You wait until you have a full slate of clean water before you drink any. When it hits your tongue, you think you might cry. Pacing yourself is so hard.

He wakes up again when you try to clean the wound with the fabric you’d torn from your ragged t-shirt. Every breath draws bile you have to swallow again and again, a fruitless endeavor that ends with you scrambling to throw up outside, terrified of introducing any other contaminants to his environment.

When you scrub at the wound, he’s awake enough to struggle with the pain but not awake enough to be aware of what’s happening. So he tries to move away, to fight you off.

It’s worth it, you tell yourself over and over. You’re able to get some of the dirt away with some soap, and some of the pus flows, but not enough. You don’t put pressure on it, afraid to push the infection deeper.

The skin around his stitches is puffy, red, and oozing. Dread settles deep. You’re probably going to need to cut them and clean the wound. But not now; you can’t force yourself to at this moment. Plus, you might need Ellie to help in case he tries to fight it.

Instead, you use a clean corner of the rag to wipe dirt from his face and another to try and drip a little more water into his mouth. Suppressing a sob, you press your lips to the burning skin of his forehead.

Ellie comes back a few hours later and a few rabbits richer. She’s skinned and prepped them when she comes inside, and you set to boiling the meat and bones.

The two of you eat the meat, and you spend the rest of the evening trying to drip broth into Joel’s mouth.

It turns into a rhythm. Joel doesn’t get worse, but he doesn’t get better. Sometimes, he wakes and tries to convince you to leave again, to take Ellie and abandon him. Neither of you are very tolerant of his arguments.

Once, when you’re alone, he seems a little lucid. Ellie is out checking traps, and you’re sitting helplessly next to Joel, sniffling. You’ve got squirrel boiling in the little can fire, but it takes a long time, leaving you with little to do but wait.

“Why’re ya cryin’, sweetheart?” His voice cracks from disuse, and he tries to clear his throat.

You’re up on your knees with the canteen to his lips in an instant. He drinks a little and swats it away, reaching a shaky hand to cup your cheek and brush away a tear with his thumb.

“I know y’ain’t cryin’ over me,” he scolds.

It only makes you cry harder, though you scramble to choke it back. You peel his hand from you, holding it for a moment in both of yours before giving it a gentle squeeze and placing it back on the mattress.

“Let me get you some broth,” you mumble, wiping your eyes on your dusty sleeves.

He lets you feed him a little.

“C’mere,” he says when you’ve reluctantly stowed the broth. He tugs you to his uninjured side, and you have to squeeze your eyes tight as you gently curl to him. “Remember when you used to be a good girl and do whatever I’d tell ya?”

“We’re not leaving you, Joel.” You’re so tired of this conversation. Actually, you realize as his heat seeps through your clothes, you’re just so tired.

“Even though I was gonna leave you?”

“Shit, you’re right,” you say and watch exasperatedly as he has the nerve to look a little hopeful. “You nearly leavin’ me behind in the safest place you know is the same thing as leavin’ you to rot in a random filthy basement.”

“Stubborn brat,” he grumbles before he falls back into a fitful sleep.

BONUS — The one line I wrote for a scene with David:

“something rude,” says David.

*title from "Save Your Tears" by The Weeknd

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fic #the last of us fic #febuwhump #fic: you know you never stood a chance

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ironunderstands · 2 months

Text

help I have been afflicted by Boothill brainrot time to share some shitty angst bulletpoints with the class (that I’ll probably turn into a fic later)

I don’t think I have to tag anything specific but be warned there’s probably something bad in here so if you understandably don’t wanna read that then scroll. Expect cyborg related angst (and minor spoilers)

Also I hc Boothill as nonbinary (using he/they and occasionally she) so if you’re wondering about the use of multiple pronouns that’s why, it’s not related to the angst, I just don’t want people to be confused.

-has a sensation of touch on the metal parts of his body, but it’s visibly muted compared to his skin and it drives them nuts

-despises hot/cold temperatures due to how they interact with the metal parts of their body, on especially hot days

-very vulnerable to hacking and it scares the shit out of him (thanks past obsession with Genji for giving me this one, the amount of “Sombra hacks Genji and he has a bad time” stuff I have read is unhealthy, even if she would only do it for the shits and giggles or a mission, a character losing control of their body is unfortunately very compelling please don’t cancel me)

-can’t remember their past life or how he died but still has nightmares of it

-phantom pain is a bitch and her name is Boothill

-won’t be seen as human by most people (even actual people write him this way which is a little weird to me, like I know the Robot/Human tag w Boothill serving as a Robot is probably just for reach, but like, he’s still human, he’s not a robot, he’s a cyborg, idk it’s just a pet peeve of mine)

-has to go to the scientist who made him to get “upgrades” (aka whatever they feel like fucking with this week) against their will

-he can’t remember his old life, but they can remember how their body felt back then and the cyborg one distinctly Doesn’t Feel The Same

-Boothill’s synesthesia beacon doesn’t just prevent Boothill from cursing, it prevents her from saying certain things entirely which makes it very hard for him to express his feelings

-charging induces sleep for them, something which Boothill tries to hide as it could be used against him

-debating between making Boothill unreasonable heavy (because metal) or unreasonably light (because high tech) both scenarios cause problems for him, feel free to torture yourself for as to why

-animals (especially dogs) don’t like them as Boothill doesn’t have as strong a scent nor the flesh of other humans which is why it’s hard for them to trust him, which sucks for Boothill because he loves animals

-doesn’t even know the planet they were originally from or how old he was when he died, Boothill doesn’t even know their birthday, so it ended up becoming the day he was brought back to life against his will

-gets called “it” by people who don’t like cyborgs or people that are non-organic/have nonorganic parts of their body/existence, I also share this for the trailblazer because of their dubious origins, I’d like to believe transphobia isn’t a thing in Star rail because it’s already tiring enough irl and there’s no proof for it unlike other real world problems, so the misgendering happens for other horrible reasons! Horrible reasons that are close to canon considering the whole organic/inorganic war thing depicted by the Sim Uni, I’d imagine a lot of people are still bitter about that (honestly I don’t know the details I was there for the jades) and/or ignorant enough to believe that only fleshy beings have a monopoly on personhood (it/its pronouns are cool but not on people who don’t want to use them!)

-constantly pushes the limits of their body (aka self destructive behavior), I doubt Boothill would be trying to hurt herself but it’s more of a “it will get fixed anyway” kinda thing, any injuries sustained still hurt like a bitch but Boothill forces himself to not care because well “it’s his job and he will get healed anyways” (also it’s implied from their LC that he’s a Galaxy ranger against his will from the whole “never living for themself again” thing, so Boothill probably has to get injured for the job and is just forced to grin and bear it

alright that’s all the angst my sleep deprived brain could cook up for now if I did something wrong or missed a tag pls tell me

#honkai star rail #hsr #hsr boothill #boothill hsr #angst #tw body dysmorphia #tw medical trauma #tw self h4rm #tw self destructive behavior #hopefully that covers everything if I missed a tag please tell me

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rosanna-writer · 28 days

Text

we said hello and your eyes look like coming home (20/?)

Summary: A canon-divergent AU where the bond snaps for Rhys on Calanmai, Feyre unwittingly accepts it, and Fire Night magic proves to be more transformative than anyone bargained for. Feyre drags a mate she hardly knows out from Under the Mountain, then puts him back together as war with Hybern approaches. Warnings: dubious consent, canon-typical sexual violence, canon-typical violence Rating: Explicit Chapter Word Count: ~5k

Content warning for canon-typical violence and animal death. Some text in this chapter is taken directly from A Court of Mist and Fury.

Read on AO3 or you can find the twentieth chapter below the readmore.

Mud didn't seep through Illyrian leathers. A small mercy, perhaps, but after sitting in it for a few hours, the cold was infinitely more tolerable when I stayed dry. I couldn't move, not without scaring away the ducks that were finally beginning to forget that I was sitting on the edge of the pond.

And I'd been dispatched to find dinner.

We'd fanned out to cover more ground—someone in Windhaven must have tipped the rogue war-bands off, and they'd retreated deeper into the forest. Rhys, Cassian, and Azriel took turns flying circles overhead, looking for signs of movement.

We'd likely be out here several days, too long to carry enough food to last the whole time. Though I knew it was to put some distance between me and an initial confrontation with hotheaded warriors with a hatred for humans, I didn't mind. The work needed to get done anyway.

I still hated hunting, but being out in the woods alone cleared my head. There was a quiet and stillness that was impossible to find in a city, even one as lovely as Velaris. I let my mind wander, and I considered how to best capture the dappled sunlight on the water if I ever painted this view. Filling a full canvas still felt like a long way off, but…perhaps a landscape would be the way to ease back into it. Maybe I'd paint a mountain before I tackled everything that had happened under one.

But I could only think of painting for so long, and the ducks were still flitting about too nervously for my liking. I sat a bit longer, and my mind drifted to other things.

Rhys never told me if he was proposing or not. I hadn't asked again. In truth, I had no idea what I was supposed to do after recovering the ring—return it to him? I couldn't wear it openly, at least not without inviting questions we weren't ready to answer. But I hadn't seen a faerie wear a wedding band or use a surname or even known someone else with a mate.

And if faerie funerals were so different from mortal ones, then I supposed weddings would be, too. Especially when a High Lord was involved. Gods, the only person I'd talked to about the difference between marriage and mating had been Tamlin—there was no reason to believe anything he'd told me was accurate.

I was out of my depth. But the ducks had finally settled, so I did the one thing I was good for and let an arrow fly. It speared a bird through the neck, killing it instantly.

The rest of the flock alighted—I had to move quickly. Half on instinct, I aimed, accounting for their speed and direction as I shot down three more, one right after the other. Every arrow found its mark, and the unlucky ducks dropped to the ground as the rest soared away.

My hips and knees barked in protest as I stood; crouching in the mud for so long had left me stiff. At least nothing had gone numb this time.

I felt better, though, even with the tedious task of retrieving, cleaning, and cooking the game ahead of me. In the Spring Court, I'd gotten comfortable and let my guard down far too easily. I'd never felt safer or more taken care of in my life than I had in these last two weeks with Rhys in Velaris, but…I'd worried, on some level, that I'd gotten soft or lost my skills because of it. Bagging those ducks proved I hadn't.

Being loved didn't make me any less a wolf.

I gathered the birds and made my way to the place we'd agreed to meet up at sunset. Without wax or even a large pot of water, I'd either have to breast them out—which would waste some of the meat—or pluck the feathers one by one to roast them whole. And we needed to get a fire started.

I was still plucking the first bird when Azriel arrived. There was a smear of blood on his leathers, and that told me enough—whatever had happened resulted in no survivors. Wordlessly, he grabbed a carcass, sat down next to me, and began ripping the feathers off, too.

No one had ever done that for me. Not my sisters or my father, not even when I'd asked for help.

Cassian landed not long after that, grim-faced and slightly bloodied. He nodded a greeting, then crouched and began coaxing a fire to life. "We're lucky to have a professional around," he said, indicating the carcasses with a jerk of his head.

"Did I catch enough?" I said.

"More than enough to ensure we don't have to listen to Cassian's stomach growl all night," Azriel said.

Knowing that none of us would go hungry set me at ease. The duck in my hand felt like even more of a tangible contribution, proof that it hadn't been a mistake to bring me to Illyria. I smiled to myself and kept ripping out feathers.

I hadn't heard him winnow in, but I felt the familiar darkness of Rhys's power reaching for me again. I turned to see him walking towards us through the trees. As he got closer, my eyes drifted to a scratch on his cheek. Then all my attention locked onto it.

Hardly a scrape—whoever had done it hadn't even broken the skin, and his magic was already halfway done healing it. My blood boiled anyway. Someone had gotten close enough to get a talon or a weapon on him.

"Who," I said, though the word was more growl than speech.

"They're dead," Rhys said.

I was on my feet without even realizing it, closing the distance between us in long strides. "Good. Did you—"

"Yes. All by my hand."

The scratch had faded completely, but I reached for the place it had been. Rhys caught my wrist and tugged me to him. The momentum made my greeting more collision than kiss. I nearly knocked us both over, but Rhys was solid and steady as his other arm twined around my waist to crush me against him.

We'd only been apart a few hours, but someone had almost drawn blood from my mate; an utterly irrational wave of guilt that I hadn't been there to stop it and relief that he was fine had swept away my good sense. I was already pawing at him with my free hand.

The pointed clearing of a throat cut through the mating-bond-induced madness. Without looking up from the bird he was still plucking, Azriel said, "I'd like to remind everyone that we agreed no sharing bedrolls on this mission."

I didn't have it in me to feel embarrassed. Perhaps I couldn't feel ashamed of anything when Rhys had an arm around me. I interlaced our fingers and pulled him back towards the fire.

We sat down, and Cassian dug a rag out of his pack and tossed it in our direction. I reached up to catch it, but it snagged on one of Rhys's talons.

Cassian grinned. "That's for Feyre. I can tell she's dying to clean you off."

Rhys narrowed his eyes, flicking a finger towards the rag, and it dissolved into mist. "I'm not an invalid," he grumbled. On my other side, Azriel chuckled.

Cassian took over the rest of the cooking after that, and one knowing look we shared across the fire was enough to tell me he'd made do with unseasoned game and campfires plenty of times before. Roasted whole, the duck wasn't half-bad.

Before long, night fell, and we were divvying up shifts to keep watch. I took the first, then had no trouble falling asleep—not in the open air, underneath the stars. The next day was more of the same as we tracked the rogue war-bands deeper into the forest.

On the third day of hunting, I was crouched up a tree when a glint of something bright green tore my attention away from the forest floor. I'd assumed the shape circling above had been a bird, perhaps a hawk or a vulture, and hadn't thought much about it.

But birds didn't sparkle. That was an emerald-colored siphon.

The path the Illyrian was taking brought him closer, but I didn't think he'd spotted me. I froze. He flew closer, almost in range of my bow.

I didn't dare even breathe too loudly. Keen faerie senses were difficult to hide from, and even if I stayed hidden, his looping flight pattern would send him back in the opposite direction and I'd miss an opportunity.

He came closer. And closer. There was no time to run.

I grabbed an ash arrow and took the shot.

The arrow ripped a hole in one of his wings, and the Illyrian plummeted to the ground like a stone in water. I scrambled down from my perch and barreled through the trees. As I ran, I pulled another ash arrow from my quiver—a fall from that height could have been deadly, but if not, an injured Illyrian warrior could still find a way to bury a dagger in my belly.

I heard him moaning in pain before I stepped into the clearing where he'd fallen. He'd landed on his back, torso twisted and his legs bent at unnatural angles. A shattered pelvis at the least, maybe even a snapped spine. Healing magic was the only thing keeping him alive. The siphon on his chest flickered weakly, like a heart struggling to beat.

At the sound of my footsteps, his head turned. His eyes burned with hate as he reached for a knife strapped to his belt. I nocked the ash arrow, aiming directly for his face as I took a step closer. His hand stilled.

"Tell me where the others are hiding," I said. "Don't bother lying. The High Lord is on his way."

"I won't take orders from Rhysand's human whore," he spat.

"The best outcome you can hope for is a mercy kill before he arrives. Give up their locations, and I'll consider it."

For a long moment, he said nothing. My arm began to ache from keeping the bowstring pulled back, and I prayed my fingers wouldn't start shaking. I said nothing either, just tried to emulate Azriel's deadly, stone-faced resolve.

The Illyrian's hand twitched, but his fingers never closed around the hilt of the knife. Instead, through clenched teeth, he recited the litany of names and locations I was after. I believed him—I doubted he was in a state to lie convincingly.

As I listened, I gave one insistent tug on the bond and dropped my shields so Rhys could hear it all, too. The beast that had once rested in my mind became a furious thing growling and snapping its jaws.

The clearing plunged into darkness. I couldn't see where Rhys was, but I felt his power sliding along my skin all the same.

"Is that all?" I said, my voice so cold I hardly recognized it as my own.

The Illyrian whimpered something that might have been "yes." I loosed the arrow; even under the cover of Rhys's darkness, my aim stayed true. The point landed in the Illyrian's eye, buried deep enough in his skull to render him still and silent forever.

Just like Andras.

Even with the threat gone, the darkness didn't clear. I glanced up, and my vision had adjusted enough to make out Rhys's silhouette, his wings flared and hands shaking.

"You should have called me the moment you spotted him," Rhys said, voice ragged.

"I handled it," I said simply.

Rhys growled. At me. And the fact that I was too human to properly bare my teeth and return the favor—rage bubbled under my skin. If he'd been closer, I would have shoved him.

"Then why bring me here?" I hissed. "Just to humor me?"

I felt like such a fool for not having realized it sooner. Killing a few ducks was hardly a real contribution—they might as well have patted me on the head and told the High Lord's little human mate she'd done such a good job. Shame made my cheeks go hot.

"Don't be stupid, Feyre," Rhys snapped.

The darkness rippled and churned around us, like a storm at sea. The tendrils seemed to lap at me, pressing close then retreating, even as they skittered down my spine. Magic thrummed in the air.

I crossed my arms. "I'm not."

"You could have gotten yourself killed. Even Cassian won't run into a fight without backup if it's available. There were three of us who could have gone with you, but for reasons I can't even begin to fathom, you waited until the very last second."

I'd never seen Rhys this…undone. Not even when I'd first gone Under the Mountain. His breathing was ragged, and there was a note of panic in his voice I'd never heard before.

"I…I didn't think to ask. At least not at first. I called for you as soon as I remembered." As ridiculous as it sounded when I said it aloud, it was true. But the habit of doing everything on my own was a difficult one to break.

Rhys sighed, his shoulders slumping as the fight went out of him. The darkness seemed to lift, but before I could be sure, he'd winnowed closer and pulled me against his chest. I couldn't see much other than his wings cocooning me.

He pressed a kiss to the top of my head. "I love your fearlessness just as much as every other part of you, but please remember that you're not alone anymore. I can't lose you, Feyre."

"I love you too," I said, voice thick. I set my bow down and hugged him back.

Both ends of the bond seemed to settle as we held each other. I savored it—the heat of him against me, the sun shining through his wings, the soft scrape of the scales of his leathers against my cheek.

"You are your own person, and I will not dictate your choices. Ever." Rhys picked a twig out of my hair; it must have gotten lodged in my braid when I'd climbed down from the tree. "If you'd told me what you were doing, I would only have asked you to allow me to come with for my own peace of mind."

I'd never asked why he'd gone alone to that cursed party fifty years ago. Maybe he'd insisted on it; maybe he'd also forgotten to ask for backup, then paid a terrible price. It seemed better not to bring it up.

"You aren't alone either," was all I said.

There was a pulse of something down the bond that I couldn't quite identify, then he stepped back, tucking his wings in tight. His expression was unreadable—a wall had gone back up.

"I've passed all the information on to Azriel, and his shadows are scouting out the locations we were given. Will you be able to keep going? It's alright if you're rattled—you did just kill someone."

There was nothing but a howling void where my guilt should have been. Perhaps I'd lost that piece of myself when I'd killed Andras. If anything, I just felt…numb. "He deserved it."

"I don't disagree."

Rhys let me into his mind as he conferred with the others. I relaxed when Azriel's shadows confirmed that the information I'd gathered was correct—at the very least, I'd saved us time trekking through the woods. I wasn't useless, hadn't been brought here for nothing after all.

Once the first war-band had been hauled back to Windhaven, Rhys wanted me to stay there. I didn't mind. Another set of eyes and ears on the camp was prudent, and I was still technically his emissary.

It was barely even noon when we returned. On Rhys's orders, Devlon's men had set up a line of wooden poles at the center of the camp, the area used for public gatherings. A small crowd had already begun to form. Among them, I spotted Devlon and the warriors who'd been flanking him earlier.

Cassian had wanted those poles burned. And after this, they would be. For the last fifty years, females had been tied to them when their wings had been clipped. The sight of them alone turned my stomach.

Rhys loosened his grip on his power, and from my place next to him, I could feel the magic radiating off him like heat. A gust of night-kissed wind had every member of the rebel war-band silent and tied to the posts.

"There is no tolerance for treason in the Night Court," Rhys said. His voice cut like a knife through the murmuring of the crowd. Pure command—the voice of the High Lord of the Night Court. "And to bow before an invading general who would butcher and enslave humans is particularly heinous. It spits on the graves of the soldiers who died for the mortals' freedom during the War. I'll leave your fate up to the human in our midst, Feyre Cursebreaker."

Every single set of eyes slid to me. The attention had my heart hammering in my chest, but I forced myself to mimic the small, cold smile I'd seen on Amren's face from time to time. When I'd yanked the ash arrow out of the dead warrior's eye, I hadn't bothered to clean it off, just returned it to my quiver.

The gore peeking over my shoulder was message enough.

"I'll make a final decision when the rest are captured. Flaying their skin from their bones seems merciful, but perhaps there's some creature in the Middle that might enjoy hunting them for sport," I said, making myself sound bored and aloof.

The spark of Rhys's approval down the bond bolstered my confidence for what I'd planned to do next. I stepped closer to one of the bound Illyrians and circled my hand around the thin, delicate bone at the edge of his wing, then snapped it in two.

I'd know that cracking sound anywhere. The air reeked of Wyrm shit again, mud clung to my skin, and the slithering behind me was getting closer and closer.

I was running, and—

It's over, Feyre. We got out.

Rhys's voice in my head jolted me out of the memory. I gripped one of his talons and pulled myself back to the present.

I'd survived. And no matter how much of a monster it made me, I'd ensure that no one, not even the most powerful faerie, would hurt me or anyone I loved. Not again.

Before Rhys could fuss, I was breaking the bones in the next Illyrian's wings. I gritted my teeth and ignored their cries of pain until I'd rendered every single one of them incapable of flight.

We locked eyes when it was done, but Rhys's beautiful face was an impenetrable mask I still hadn't learned to see past. "I'll be waiting here for you to bring me the rest," I said. No title or honorific—I'd let them all wonder why he hadn't misted me for speaking to him like that.

Rhys nodded once. He said nothing, but there was a question in the hesitant brush against my shields.

I'm fine. Really. Just bring me the rest so we can finish this quickly.

For a moment, the bond thrummed with wicked delight. Try not to burn down Windhaven while I'm gone.

He took to the sky. Without carrying a passenger, the movement was all perfect, lethal grace, and sometimes I wondered how I could possibly forget that Rhys was anything but an absurdly beautiful predator. I watched until he was out of sight, marveling that he was mine.

The crowd dispersed, and for a moment, I just stood there, unsure what to do with myself. Perhaps I'd spend the rest of the day being ignored by Illyrians. I wouldn't blame them for that—as faeries went about their business, I caught a few wary glances in my direction.

But I supposed I should probably clean off the bloodied arrows in my quiver. And my hands were badly in need of washing.

I made my way to the water pump at the center of the camp. An Illyrian female—around my age, if I had to guess, though it was impossible to be sure with immortals—had just started using using it. Large, brutal scars ran down both of her wings.

"I'll be a while. You can go first," she said, sliding her empty bucket out of the way with her foot. Now that I was closer, I spotted a bruise darkening her cheek, too.

"There's no need. I wouldn't want to waste your time if there are chores to be done," I said.

"You'd be doing me a favor—I'll take any excuse to be out of the house for a little while longer."

I understood—there had been countless days I'd dragged my feet because I hadn't wanted to face Nesta's barbed insults, my father's sad eyes, or Elain's clueless whining. And none of them had even raised a hand to me.

I gave the female a nod, pulled the bloody arrow from my quiver, and rinsed it off under the stream. Silence fell. The female said nothing else, and perhaps it would have been best to let the quiet stay unbroken. The chances were high a trip to gather water was a rare respite for her.

But I could feel her assessing gaze, and I struggled not to squirm under it. "Illyria is very beautiful," I blurted out awkwardly.

"It's a shithole."

"My shithole across the Wall didn't have mountains. It's prettier here, at least," I shook the excess water off the newly-clean arrow and slid it back into the quiver.

She snorted, lips tugging upward at the corners. "I'm Emerie."

"Feyre."

"I know. You're the Cursebreaker." Not awed, just matter-of-fact, which was a bit of a relief.

I scrubbed away the last of the dirt, dried off as best I could, then offered a hand to shake. Emerie took it, and I wasn't surprised that her grip was like iron, not with that straight-backed posture and sharp stare of hers.

I stayed while Emerie filled up her bucket, just talking a bit about Windhaven. She didn't offer up much about herself, and I didn't pry. But by the time she returned home, I'd learned what spices were in the Illyrian dish Cassian had brought to the townhouse the day I'd first trained with Rhys. Emerie had barked a laugh when I told her not to bother with advice on preparing it because I was an utterly hopeless cook.

Maybe I'd made a friend. But I'd also thought Lucien was a friend and he'd turned out to be assisting my kidnapper—I wasn't sure I trusted my judgement on that front anymore.

By the end of the day, Rhys, Cassian, and Azriel, had rounded up the rest of the rogue war-bands, and I'd broken the wings of the survivors. And as much as I wanted to go straight to the Weaver's cottage, I knew it was foolish to go so close to dark. Cassian planned to stay in Illyria, and Devlon was loyal enough not to release the prisoners under his nose in the dead of night or allow anyone else to manage it.

Rhys and I returned to the townhouse in need of a bath, so we took one together. We were both utterly exhausted—his eyes roved over me as I shucked off my leathers, but for once, he was silent.

I'd still snatched the long-handled sponge out of his hands and washed his wings for him. Even drained of energy, I wasn't about to forgo an opportunity to get my hands all over them. I took my time, appreciating the way the powerful muscles in his back rippled with every brush of my fingertips.

And once we were clean, he laid me out on his bed and licked until he'd wrung so much pleasure from me that I drifted into an easy sleep in his arms.

It had been exactly what we both needed. I could guess how he was feeling about a trip to Illyria with still-healing wings, and my mind was unable to keep replaying the sound of bones cracking when Rhys's tongue was sliding inside me.

My dreams were still horrifying—a bone-spear lancing through Rhys's eye, my hands covered in his blood—but I slept through the night and kept my dinner down. I woke alone in Rhys's bed that morning, which meant he'd probably slipped out once I'd drifted off. I suspected he'd had nightmares of his own, too.

I was pulling the belt of knives from my dresser when he winnowed behind me. "Allow me," he purred, right into my ear.

"I can do it myself," I said. After I'd mentioned chucking that knife at Tamlin, Azriel had showed me how to strap it on as part of my training to go Under the Mountain.

"I'm aware. That doesn't mean you have to."

He had a point, so I let him take it from me. I turned, and for a moment, we were chest-to-chest. He inhaled, drinking in my scent, and I lifted a hand to touch him.

But he dropped to his knees before I could. Flashing me a roguish grin, he spread open the web of leather and steel. My toes curled in my boots.

"Remind me of what you've been briefed on," he said as I stepped through the loops.

I did my best to ignore the steady brush of his hands as he set about adjusting and buckling and tightening things. "Knives only—no sword or bow or arrows. Don't touch anything that doesn't belong to me. Take my time to think about loopholes before agreeing on a bargain. Call for help if I need it. And stay alive before everything else," I recited.

"Precisely." He braced those strong, capable hands on my thighs and looked up at me. "You are more valuable than any treasure the Weaver could ever posses. If you need to leave the ring behind to come home to me, then that's what you do."

"I won't let it come to that."

Rhys got to his feet and kissed my cheek. "I believe you."

He winnowed us into a wood that was older, more aware, than any place I’d been.

The gnarled beech trees were tightly woven together, splattered and draped so thoroughly with moss and lichen that it was nearly impossible to see the bark beneath. The trees groaned—though there was no breeze to shift them. No, the air here was tight and stale.

So this was the Middle.

I followed Rhys through the trees, and the only sound was our footsteps. No birdsong or the snapping of twigs, nothing I was used to hearing in a forest. Just unnatural, ancient stillness.

We stopped before a clearing. A small, whitewashed cottage with a thatched roof and half-crumbling chimney sat in the center. Ordinary—almost mortal. There was even a well, its bucket perched on the stone lip, and a wood pile beneath one of the round windows of the cottage. No sound or light within—not even smoke puffed from the chimney.

I could hear faint, pretty humming coming from the cottage. Soothing, almost mesmerizing—it would have set me at ease if I didn't already know it was coming from the monster within. The sort of thing that might lure quarry into a snare.

But I was not prey. No—I was a huntress. A wolf. It took much more than that to fool me.

I started down the mossy earth path that paved the way to the door and didn't look back once. When I reached the threshold, I could hear her voice through the door. The Weaver's voice was sweet, clear, and beautiful.

“There were two sisters, they went playing, To see their father’s ships come sailing… And when they came unto the sea-brim The elder did push the younger in.”

I'd heard the song before, from humans. It was a favorite of the traveling musicians who sometimes passed through our village. And perhaps…she knew that, and the familiarity was intended to lull me, too.

I stayed perfectly still on the threshold for a long moment, the same freeze-watch-listen pattern I fell into as I hunted in the woods. Along with her voice, I could only hear the clatter of some device. So she was alone, then.

“Sometimes she sank, and sometimes she swam, Til her corpse came to the miller’s dam.”

I raised a hand to knock, but the door swung open on silent hinges, as if she'd rolled out a welcome mat just for me. I didn't move, just peered inside. My chest went tight, and I forced myself to keep my breathing even.

A large main room, with a small, shut door in the back. Floor-to-ceiling shelves lined the walls, crammed with bric-a-brac: books, shells, dolls, herbs, pottery, shoes, crystals, more books, jewels…From the ceiling and wood rafters hung all manner of chains, dead birds, dresses, ribbons, gnarled bits of wood, strands of pearls…

A junk shop—of some immortal hoarder.

I waited to feel power calling out to me, but…nothing happened. Perhaps, as part of the bargain, I'd need to ask her to hand the ring to me directly. If she even remembered where it was.

The Weaver of the Wood herself sat with her back to me. In the gloom of the cottage, I could just make out the ancient, cracked spinning wheel I'd heard along with her singing. In the cottage, it was far too dim to make out the thin white thread she was spinning. Was she blind, like the Wyrm….or could she see in the dark?

My eyes drifted to the soft fiber she was feeding into the wheel. It looked like wool, but some deep-seated instinct in the back of my brain told me it was not. The question wasn't what she was spinning, but who.

The shelf above her head was filled with cones upon cones of thread, and large bolts of woven fabric filled up the space next to her. Mother above, she must have made it from entire cities, whole armies or even nations. A handful of rebel Illyrians suddenly seemed like a pitiful offering.

But I still, I had to try. And if there really were some power for me to detect, perhaps I needed to be a bit closer. Out here, nothing was pulling me towards one object in particular.

As silently as I could, I took a step into the cottage. I froze, waited, breathed. Nothing. I took another, and then the door slammed shut.

The Weaver turned her face toward me.

Above her young, supple body, beneath her black, beautiful hair, her skin was gray—wrinkled and sagging and dry. And where eyes should have gleamed instead lay rotting black pits. Her lips had withered to nothing but deep, dark lines around a hole full of jagged stumps of teeth—like she had gnawed on too many bones.

Her nose—perhaps once pert and pretty, now half-caved in—flared as she sniffed in my direction. "Well met, High Lady."

#feysand #feyre archeron #we said hello and your eyes look like coming home

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