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auspicioustidings · 5 months

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The Revelation

Summary: You are pretty happy with the cult you have made for yourself, but when two newcomers show up you can't help but think how far you could go with this.

(this is a one-shot, I stg if your only comment on this is to say 'part 2' I will feed you to the tomato plants! If you like it and have brain worms about it by all means send those to me and we can bounce ideas around)

Words: 6.6k

CWs: Cult shit, dubcon (everyone is manipulating each other here), light petplay (hope you're proud of yourself Bo I am incapable of writing Ghoap without Johnny being a puppy now), smut, murder, slight allusion to cannibalism (in a round about way, just putting it here for safety), Catholicism

The Death of God happened on a gloomy Thursday afternoon. One moment he had been mowing the lawn and the next thing he had an epiphany about hating his suburban life, hating his suburban wife, hating the 2 kids and hating the lawnmower he had spent his last bonus on.

The Revelation happened on a sunny Friday morning when you had popped up on his tiktok feed and told him that you understood him, that you were there for him. He had made his way to the commune, telling his wife it was just a visit to find himself. And he did. Which of course meant he never came home.

Truly you would consider yourself some what of a miracle working taking in this portly, charisma void of a businessman and turning him into some semblance of interesting. Well as interesting as anyone in this little slice of heaven. He had a fascination with growing tomatoes now. Good for him.

The hundreds of little deaths of God had been great for business. When someone had a crisis, when someone thought they were broken, when someone just couldn't fucking take it anymore, that's when they were so desperate to believe in something that you could make them happy with a smile and a kind word every so often. You could keep them happy (well, what they believed was happy and wasn't that all that mattered?) by keeping them a little tired, a little hungry and occasionally a little high. Good for the soul really, that's what you always said.

Surely you deserved to live on a steady diet of champagne, strawberries and decadence for all the good work you did. They all understood how difficult it was to be you. And despite your trials weren't you still so lovely to them? Even when they acted out you were gentle in your reminders that they needed fixing, that you were only ever there to help, that their friends and families would try and convince them otherwise because they didn't understand what it was to be broken. You opened your arms to them always, it was in their nature to err and in yours to forgive.

Honestly you could keep this up for the rest of your life. A small group of people devoted to you, happy in their worship and happy in their toil. No violence needed to keep them compliant, just a soft touch and the occasional psychological torture as necessary. You had no aspirations to go beyond this, you had it good. No need for a death cult or to make yourself an actual God to them. You already had your champagne and strawberries after all, life was good.

–

They were big, these two new men to your little oasis. It would be a tricky thing to half starve them you thought, but then it would also be a shame to have them lose all that bulk that you found you quite enjoyed looking at. Still, it was important for enlightenment and all that.

So you gave them a steady supply of soft smiles and reassuring touches, a diet of “yes this is an eco-living commune!” and “oh I never thought anyone would want to join me out here, I just got very lucky that so many wonderful people share the same morals.” They went easy of course, ex-military, used to structure and relying on someone above them to do the thinking. Perfect for you really, just two attack dogs that were impeccably trained.

They neglected to tell you that they hadn't been regular military, that they had been high ranked special operators in an elite task force. That would have made you suspicious after all and it was better you thought them stupid. Johnny had seen you on tiktok and wanted you and Simon never denied his boy anything, so here they were, playing you completely into their hands.

First it was getting themselves special privileges, unlimited access to food, a home right next to yours, full evenings of rest. Hadn't been hard to make you think it was your idea.

“Och it's alright lass, I ken we're naw military anymore. Dinnae need tae be a lean, mean, killing machine oot here.”

“Of course not Johnny, I'd hope you think you're very safe here.”

“Aye, feel safe with you. Ye look after us. Wish ye would let us look after you more!”

“I don't need anymore than I already have, but it's so wonderful of you to say, truly.”

Then a few days later when there had been time for that little declaration to settle in.

“Simon! How are you, I didn't see you yesterday.”

“Sorry, pulled my shoulder something awful. Felt like a right git not being able to do work properly.”

“Oh that's terrible, how did you pull it?”

“Ah just lack of training is all. Too used to being strong, retirement doesn't really lend itself to that.”

“You're still plenty strong!”

“I hope so. Some of the things I hear about what people's families think of you… if it ever came down to it, I want you to know I'd protect you with my life. Both me and Johnny would, strong or not.”

You had really been given an absolute gift here. That was something that had been making you a little paranoid. If family members escalated to violence there was really nothing you could do. You were a lover (here meaning awful con artist but that was just semantics) not a fighter. And now there was a solution right in your lap.

“How would you and Johnny feel about being security then? I'd hate to think we'd ever need it of course, but it would make people feel safer. Some of their families are terrible people I'm afraid, I don't want anyone to get hurt because someone tries something violent” you said gently, of course concerned for these innocent people being viciously abused by their awful families (these brainwashed people being taken by their loved ones to recover and live meaningful lives again, lives which did not involved maintaining your champagne and strawberry habit).

“If you ask us of course we'd never say no, it's just… would it be ok to have an hour a day to train? It's such an honour to protect this place, not looking to half arse it.”

“Of course! Come to my house with Johnny after supper and we can discuss some accommodations for your new roles.”

–

“How does that sound?” you asked, soft as silk.

You knew how it sounded, it sounded like you were the damn second coming. Giving them unrestricted food and sleep, telling them you'd have a house for them built right by your side? You knew it was working by how Johnny's eyes had went big and wet, projecting puppy-like adoration. And Simon? Oh that big, delicious man stood and walked over to you so he could kneel at your feet. Fuck you had never felt better about yourself.

“We don't deserve so much of your consideration. I-” he said, the first time you had heard him struggle to get words out through his emotion. “I want to thank you properly.”

He said it like it was a revelation and it peaked your interest. You could have squealed with delight when his cheek leant against your knee, your dress pushed by his face to let skin meet skin, eyes locked with yours as he turned to kiss your flesh. You hadn't fucked any of your followers, too messy. But these weren't regular followers anymore right? No, these were special followers. And it had been so long and he was looking at you like he was desperate to give you any pleasure he could.

Oh Simon was desperate all right, had been thinking about getting you sloppy and pathetic for him since Johnny had excitedly shown him that bloody video of you acting like an innocent little lamb. He wanted to just barrel in, bend you over and claim you right away. It was Johnny who insisted it would be more fun to trick you, who had whined like a bitch about it until he got his way. Bloody MacTavish. He really needed to train those puppy dog eyes right out of the boy. Those had got him to indulge in all sort of risks already. Nearly fucked the whole plan right up when you had come dangerously close to catching him balls deep in Johnny in your bed, absolutely ruining him as per his own puppy dog eyed request.

For his part Johnny was positively giddy. He might give away the game if he really got to watch Simon taste you. Would he play gently with you? Oh my God would he pretend he was inexperienced to make you feel superior? Let you think you were guiding him? That might kill him dead. He tried to not fucking salivate and start panting at the thought of it.

“Then thank me properly.”

Fuck the way his eyes lit up at that. This gorgeous man wanted you, he wanted to please you. As a hand squeezed your calf and he started to drag his mouth up your bare leg you felt the sick thrill of wondering how far they would go for you. Already people had given up families, friends, wealth. You had never pushed it beyond, horrified whenever you thought about how delicious it would be if they would die for you, kill for you and so shoving those dark thoughts to the back of your mind.

But you didn't want Simon to die for you. You did want to see how far you could push, how deep his devotion ran. To that end you wove fingers through his hair and pulled him off of your thigh, his eyes flickering from your wet panties sticking to your cunt up to your own eyes in question.

“I want you to kiss Johnny.”

You said it like a woman possessed. Fuck. That's exactly what you wanted. You wanted these big masculine men to fuck against their own desires but do it for you. They were dumb jocks really, probably had never fumbled around with another man before. They'd find it hard, find it wrong. You didn't really consider yourself a bad person before this moment, just a clever one. This was straying into something else, some monstrous part of you that was salivating with the thought of finally being released.

“Will you do that for me?”

You heard a choked sort of noise and looked over to see Johnny hiding his face in his hands. Of course, big Scottish man must be scared of doing such a thing. Or rather having such a thing done to him. You imagined it would be some attack to his sense of self to have a bigger man press a kiss onto him. Fuck maybe he would tear up. Maybe he would fully cry if Simon pushed inside of him. You hoped that God really was dead because if not you were sure They'd have some stern words for you after this.

“Oh I've never…”

Fuuuuuck. Simon's vulnerable eyes darting from Johnny to you were liable to make you cum on the fucking spot. You smiled indulgently down on him, running a hand over his face is a caress.

“You know I only ever do what's best for you don't you? I wouldn't ever ask you to do anything that isn't for the greater good. Do you believe in me Simon?” you said, the years of practice infusing your tone with a cloying sweetness.

“Yes” he replied, barely a breathy whisper of affirmation.

His glazed eyes looked at you with such adoration before he nuzzled his face into your hand and left a kiss there before making his way across to where Johnny was sitting on the sofa, face still hidden in his hands. He went over on his knees, crawled. You pressed your fingers against your throbbing clit, cupping yourself to try and tell your body to calm down because there was so much more to come.

Simon crawled between Johnny’s legs, going up on his knees and grabbing Johnny’s nape to drag his face down. He was whispering something in his ear, maybe trying to settle him, trying to assure him this was what they needed to do for you. Of course had you been aware Simon was hissing at Johnny to keep it together, to stop laughing about how easily you were falling for this, then the whole thing would really have been ruined. Luckily Johnny was still a soldier, Simon still his LT, so when he was ordered to put his game face on he did it. And luckily Johnny was still a good boy, Simon was still his master, so he knew that squeezing at his pup's nape always got that furrow in his brow to relax, got him eager to please and ready to tear up at the first little tease or overstimulation.

It was really destiny that you would be this level of power hungry, this eager to push and see what you could make people do. He had been training Johnny to put all his eager to please energy to good use for years, had turned a feral mutt into a feral mutt with impeccable training. The chance to turn a corrupt fox into a corrupt fox whose only desire was to be stroked and pampered was making him painfully hard. Johnny had been right, tricking you was far more delicious than just forcing you into it.

When he moved Johnny’s hands from his face it was to reveal a man looking ruined, looking liquid eyed and flushed. Simon mouthed a good boy to him before pressing a kiss to his lips. It was calculatedly shy and tentative and he kept a steadying hand on Johnny’s knee, squeezing when he felt he might lose control and start panting and licking his way into his mouth as he usually tried to do. Simon couldn’t very well punish him right now without giving the game away, so he just had to use the suggestion of a future punishment.

After the first peck you watched a slow and decadent slide into forbidden desire. They got a little bolder with each press of lips, seemed to squirm a bit more with the struggle of it feeling good but wrong. When Simon pulled away and Johnny whined despite himself you slid your hand past your waistband, needing to touch yourself or you’d die.

“You’d like it if Simon used his tongue wouldn’t you Johnny? Would be nice to feel it against yours. It’s important that you two are close isn’t it? To do your jobs well that is.”

Johnny would have agreed with full enthusiasm and pounced Simon to get them both on the floor so he could rut his hips down into the cock he was desperate for, but the hand at his bad knee squeezed again and the spark of pain reminded him of the mission. So instead he looked at you, teary and unsure.

“H-his tongue? I… I’m naw…”

“You’re not what Johnny?”

“It’s wrong.”

“Who told you that?”

You watched him play with the thin chain around his neck, the crucifix falling out of his shirt. Catholic. Oh this must be even more torturous for him. No matter, you had killed plenty of Gods already, you could kill his. Watch guilt eat and eat and eat at him until finally he gave in to the desire. Gave in to you. Let any other divine figure die in favour of a new God.

“Oh Johnny, do you think I would lead you into temptation? It’s ok, I would never make you. If you don’t like it that’s fine, you can both call it a night hm? Security is a tough job, I would never think less of you for not being up to the task. My fault really, I must have mistaken the potential I saw in you.”

He surged forward and shoved his tongue past Simon’s teeth and you moaned deeply, fingers so slippery that getting proper friction on your clit was a challenge now. You did not think you had ever been so wet in your life, feeling slick trickle out of you as they clumsily seemed to fight for dominance, saliva dripping down Johnny’s chin from how much he was trying to follow your instructions, how deep he was trying to pull Simon’s tongue with his into his mouth.

When they next pulled away they both seemed dazed, like they couldn't believe they had just done that. Poor Simon turned to look at your pleadingly, legs widening so you could see he was straining against his pants. He was rock solid from making out with Johnny and you were cumming all at once, hips rolling in time with your fingers as you breathed out instructions with your cunt still clenching in waves.

“Good, so good for me. Want you both to cum, get all of that tension out. Wouldn't ever leave you wanting would I?”

They both looked needy, but the fact that they quietly waited for instructions on how to cum was possibly the most erotic thing you had ever seen.

“It's OK, you can help each other. That's what it's all about here isn't it? Helping those in need in the community, and you're both in need. Jerk your cocks together, it'll be bonding for you to cum together like that.”

They fucking did it. Simon shoved his pants down enough to free the absolute monster of a cock he had and dragged Johnny only his lap on the floor. Johnny's cock was thick as anything and just as hard. Fuck the image of Johnny taking Simon’s cock, taking every hard inch of him in his ass. Crying about how it wouldn't fit, how it was wrong. Clutching his crucifix. You needed to make it happen soon. Maybe you could make Johnny wear a plug, say it was part of training. Get him ready to be fucked by his friend and once superior without him ever realising that's what you were doing.

Their precum was already making the slide of it easier as Simon took the lead, big hand wrapping around both of them and slowly pumping, staring at it in fascination. You were slowly overstimulating your clit, feeling that tension start growing again already.

“Spit on it Johnny.”

He did it without hesitation, his saliva making Simon’s jerking squelch. It didn't take long until Johnny was begging, needing to cum. You didn't even register that it wasn't you he was looking at as he begged, you were too lost in sensation, eyes locked on their cocks rubbing together.

“Go on, cum. Both of you.”

Simon sped his hand and his low grunt (the ‘s’ok pup, cum’ so low you hadn’t heard it over your pleasure) combined with Johnny's drooling and panting sent you spiralling over the edge again as they both shot ropes of sticky cum all over each other.

Fuck. What else could you make people do?

–

Over the next few weeks life got even easier for you. Simon and Johnny were excellent right hands, earning respect from all of your followers and taking on almost all of the tasks you had (which you had made sure were as minimal as possible already, the whole point of this endeavour was to live an easy life).

Simon was careful to make sure to be seen with you, start planting the seeds in people's minds that they were an extension of you. Johnny was rapidly losing patience which made him incredibly satisfying to fuck because he got to beat every single complaint out of him. It was him that wanted to go this route so he was going to finish what he started. It had been a long time since he had seen Johnny get so worked up over anything and he forgot how much he enjoyed him when he was like this, biting at every little bit of bait that Simon left with the express purpose of having an excuse to punish him later for it.

Johnny needed putting down when he got this wound up, at this point Simon had taken him over his knee at least once a day, collared and leashed him most nights, fucked him silly so much that he was constantly aching and plugged to keep ready for a quickie when he needed it. Which right now was inhumanly often and with them still in the bunkhouse they were having to get very creative with the venue. Johnny was going especially feral given that you had only been alone with them once more since you had promoted them and you had acted like last time had never happened. Clever actually, Simon had to hand it to you, you were very good at playing with people. He could see the little glimmer in your eye, the delight at seeing how Johnny seemed to be vibrating with anticipation of something that never came. You were setting him up to beg, making sure that when he gave in and went directly against his God that it would be him pleading for you to let him do so.

It wasn’t like you had ever been close enough to tell, but that little cross around Johnny’s neck had SR carved into the back of it. Simon had corrupted the Roman Catholic out of this pup years ago, the cross only came out on special occasions when Johnny wanted to play coy and innocent or when Simon wanted to remind him who he belonged to (because it certainly wasn’t a God, it was his fucking lieutenant). Well and now, when they both knew the sight of it would give you such a power trip that you’d fall right into their trap.

“I was thinking about your house” you said, the three of you standing where the foundations were already being put down.

“Aye?”

“It just seems such a waste when I have extra bedrooms in my home.”

“It would be such an honour to stay in any of them. Would we not be intruding?”

“Of course not Simon, you are my right hand men now. It makes sense for you to stay close to me. To one another.”

You swore you could see Johnny’s ears perk up, a phantom tail flicking quickly behind him in rapt attention at that. Of course their minds would go there, just like you wanted them to. It hadn’t been too difficult for you to be patient, to play with them so that you didn’t push too far too fast. It was something you were very good at.

“Would you… still let us build something here?”

“Oh?”

“I think a temple of sorts would be nice. Somewhere for you to relax. You work so hard for all of us and if you are taking us into your space I’d hate for you to have nowhere to go to meditate alone.”

It only took a few days to wear you down. You had no idea how much influence they already had with your followers, how easy it was for them to plant that idea there and have them be the ones appealing to you to please allow them to do this for you. And while that shred of morality you had left was screaming at you not to do this, not to actually Deify yourself lest it go too far, the adoration inflated your ego and drowned your conscience out.

So they started to build your temple.

–

“Ah! Like that. That’s it, that’s what I need” you moaned out, Simon in between your legs worshipping.

You had moved them into your home, the large house comfortable and spacious in comparison to the bunkhouse the other followers stayed in, and that night Simon had come to your room and gotten on his knees for you. How could you say no to him?

The adoration of your followers was nothing compared to this. They loved you yes, but fuck Simon was reverant, tongue swirling around your cunt so there was more holy water for him to glut himself on. This was decadent, languid on your bed with him focusing entirely on your pleasure, expecting nothing in return. This man who was spending his days by your side, overlooking the building of a temple in your honour. You could not decide in this moment if you wanted him to fuck you on the altar when it was done or if you wanted to fuck him.

It was a good conundrum to have because you felt that you could simply have both. You could have whatever the fuck you wanted with this man by your side. Who could stand against him and Johnny? And who would ever worship you more? You had never actually bought your own bullshit before, but if he kept this up maybe you were some sort of God because how else could you be living this deliciously?

You tugged his hair sharply to get him off of you and pushed at him until he was on his back. You would take what you wanted from him because it was your right to do so. He did not complain as you settled your cunt on his face and rode him, if anything his clever tongue worked harder to please you. You held his head and used him, and he drank you down and thanked you for the privilege after, vanishing out of your room as silently as he had arrived.

–

It only took another few weeks for Johnny to break and oh he broke so perfectly. Simon came to your room every night to pray, and Johnny must know, must have heard how Simon spilled thank yous against your cunt even as you pushed down to deprive him of oxygen, even as you smeared your slick all over his face, moving exactly as you liked with no consideration of him. You never touched him in any way meant for his pleasure, only to use him for yours.

It was not Simon who knocked lightly on the door. Simon didn’t knock at all, he always just let himself in.

“Come in Johnny.”

He was nervous, that much was clear. You did enjoy the sight of him in only his boxers and crucifix, moonlight doing wonders in making him look incredibly edible. You wanted to knead his pecs like they were tits, wanted to sink your teeth into the meat of his neck until you tasted blood and he cried out your name instead of his God’s.

“I want…”

“Hm? You want?”

“Will ye let me please ye? I ken Si… I’m naw good enough for ye, but I want tae be. It’s just, I’ve never uh… I’m a quick study.”

And with perfect timing, in walked Simon. Couldn’t have planned it better yourself (well, actually Johnny had planned it, Simon had laughed and ruffled his hair at how eager he had been to act the part of the blushing virgin before unhooking the leash and getting him out of his collar and into his crucifix).

“Good evening Simon” you purred.

The man didn’t really acknowledge that Johnny was in the room, instead going to his place by the foot of your bed and kneeling. It was always where you started, with him lapping at you until you ordered him onto the bed or the floor so you could take what you needed. Only you pushed him away with your foot when he tried to pull at your shorts, holding him at leg length and looking at Johnny.

“Come sit will you?”

He nervously shuffled over, sitting next to you on the bed with his eyes darting uncomfortably down to Simon kneeling pretty, your foot still holding him away from you. He swallowed and you thought it sweet how he held your gaze to avoid watching as you motioned for Simon to move and he did so without hesitation. Johnny still didn’t look at him even as you put a hand to his knee to make him spread his legs enough for Simon’s broad shoulders to fit between them.

“If you want to learn I’d never stop you Johnny, I want you to be the best at the things you’d like. And I’m sure Simon makes a wonderful teacher.”

Simon didn’t need prompting, obedient and perfect boy that he was. He started licking up Johnny’s thick thigh the same way he would have if you were sitting there. Johnny, bless him, gripped onto your leg like it was a lifeline, fingers digging into the plush flesh hard enough that you imagined it may leave marks. You swallowed his loud whine with your mouth when Simon slipped his boxers down and took his hard cock right to the root. It almost made you laugh, if you tried to take that in your throat you would certainly be gagging and crying.

When you pulled away Johnny was a whining mess, one hand fisted in the sheets and the other still dug into the fat of your thigh. You wondered if he had ever gotten head. Certainly not from another man. Oh wouldn’t his priest be so disappointed in him. You could imagine a severe man in the robes of God, looking with disgust at the whore before him. But you were a kinder creature, letting him indulge in pleasure without telling him he couldn’t.

Well, to a point. You pushed Simon to stop with the frankly immaculate looking blow job when it was clear from Johnny’s hips rutting that he was close. Then you swung your leg around, straddling Johnny and squeezing yourself to him, stopping him from trying to get friction from you.

“Not yet Johnny, you need to be patient hm? Simon, open him up. Tongue first, then fingers.”

Johnny was tearing up, looking at you like he didn’t understand why you were doing this while feeling horribly guilty that he liked it. He howled when Simon’s tongue started playing at his rim, his hands gripping at your hips to try and make you move against him. You put a hand to his throat and squeezed lightly.

“It’s ok, you can take it can’t you?”

“I-I cannae, please bonnie, I’m naw- I dinnae-” he whined before he choked on nothing, eyes blown wide, “h-his tongue is, fuck it’s inside.”

“I know Johnny, I know. Is it too much then? Should I tell him to stop? If you can’t take it, then at least you tried” you said, sweet as anything but putting a tiny edge of disappointment into your tone.

“I can take it! Please, I can! Dinnae make him stop, I can take whatever ye gie me!”

“Good boy.”

Oh, the reaction to those two words was worth exploring. It was like he changed from a man to some pathetic animal, eyes watery and begging, hands pawing at your hips while his own desperately tried to buck up. You felt how he froze, heard how he choked when Simon pressed a finger into him.

“Hmm that’s it, take what you’re given, you’ll be good and hold off for me hm?” you cooed, moving a hand to run fingers under his chain, all the way around until you were behind his neck and could yank, have that crucifix choking him. “Looks better like this Johnny, almost like a pretty collar for you.”

Jackpot. Even with you clamping down to give him as little room for friction as possible you felt the hot gush of his cum, him getting there from being choked, being compared to a dog to be collared. Well if he was going to be a mutt that came without your permission, the permission of his master, then he needed to learn his place no?

“Fuck pet, told you to be patient.”

“Sorry, m’sorry bonnie. Ah! M-make him stop, s’too much!”

“Make him stop? But he’s been good for me, followed everything I’ve asked, You went ahead and finished without permission. Wouldn’t make sense to punish him and reward you, I need to be fair pet.”

He was clearly overstimulated, his hips trying to rut even as he gasped at every bit of friction he got. Oh you wanted to see him fucked out and ruined. You wanted his heart on a fucking platter.

“More Simon. Johnny here is going to let you fuck him tonight, so you need to open him up properly.”

“I-I-” Johnny stuttered, bottom lip quivering and eyes wide and wet. If you weren't so high on the decadence of having these two men at your mercy you’d have questioned just how practised that was.

“Tell me Johnny. Tell me what it is you want.”

Tell me what it is I want to hear that you want. Be a good boy, don’t disappoint me. You’d hate to disappoint me after all I’ve done for you.

“I want Simon tae fuck me tonight.”

“Good boy” you said, hammering that final nail in God’s coffin as you yanked again at the chain so hard it snapped, taking your trophy and tossing it onto your desk without ever having examined it closely.

You watched Simon ruin him at your command. You drank their praise like champagne, bit into their gratitude like strawberries bursting their juice on your chin. You were greedy in how many times you used them for your pleasure, their fingers, their tongues, the sight of them overcome with hedonistic abandon.

You felt like a God.

–

The temple was beautiful, no effort or expense spared. The first floor was a space for everyone, for the brand new community gatherings that you occasionally led but had mostly been letting Simon and Johnny lead. Above that was two glorious floors of space only for you. The only other people permitted to set foot in here were your two right hands. It was something else, being in the luxuriant bed drinking champagne and watching the two of them play with each other for your benefit.

You could not stop thinking about the way Johnny had writhed at the mention of a collar when you had taken his crucifix for yourself (it still sat on the desk right where you had left it). You could not stop imagining how such a thing would look around his thick neck, how your other followers would look at it and be jealous that he got to be so visibly claimed by you.

As always your wish was their command. Simon had presented you with a gorgeous necklace of sorts, almost a choker, the pendant a symbol you didn’t recognise.

“This doesn’t look like a collar for you.”

“It’s for you. The symbol is from the cult of Venus, we thought… well we thought if you could wear it, show people, then when we wore it…”

“You want them to know you are wearing it for me.”

Perfect fucking boys weren’t they. They didn’t just want to show up in a collar, they wanted to show up in a symbol associated with you. It was pretty enough what they had chosen, delicate and clearly made with care and devotion. You turned and lifted your hair so he could put it on you and the very next community gathering was Johnny eagerly explaining the symbol to your followers. It was etched into the temple walls soon after.

–

The realisation happened all at once. You only attended community gatherings for special occasions now and when you did they were all looking at you like you were their God made flesh. Your followers had become something else, something well beyond a little eco-living commune. That had not been your doing.

The door was locked. You could not leave your space in the Temple. Your hand flew to the back of your necklace, realising with a startle that you couldn’t take it off. Simon and Johnny never did have collars made. Why would they? You were rapidly realising they had never intended to. You looked in the mirror, tried to find a clue. The pendant… it was only when you drew it over and over again that you figured it out. This wasn’t some symbol of an old Goddess, it was the letters S R J M twisted around to make a pretty symbol. You sat and stewed, waiting for them to get back. When they did you were sat on the bed, glowering at them.

“Aww ye figure us out bonnie?”

“You played me.”

“Like a fucking violin sweetheart” Simon cooed, walking over to flick the pendant.

You huffed up at him. Everything was completely fucked now. You had all but ordered your followers to treat these two as your spokesmen. You had been slowly vanishing from public life, ingraining in their minds that you were a God who lived in a temple and only graced them with your presence when they had really earned it. All this after years of breaking them down so they thought nothing they ever did was good enough, so of course they would never think they had earned it.

And you had never used violence for anything, you were soft and lived on champagne and strawberries for fuck sake, it wasn’t like you could brute force your way out of this. You were enough of a schemer to know when you had been outplayed.

“So the little shy virginal act?”

Johnny laughed and came over to nuzzle into your hair.

“Ye’d naw believe how many times Si has been in my arse hen, this isnae even the first house of God he’s bent me over in.”

You scowled and pushed his head away, but his eyes only sparkled with excitement as he bullied it right back into nuzzling you like a fucking dog.

“Pup has been so excited about you finally figuring it out. You’ve been teasing him for months now, don’t think it’s time to give him a treat for how well behaved he’s been for you?”

It’s not like you were against the idea, it had been delicious being the dominant one all this time but there was something interesting about the idea of letting Simon take control, letting him get Johnny to fuck you the way you had let him fuck Johnny. Because that would be the case you knew now. It was so obvious knowing what you knew, you really should have figured out way sooner that Simon had always been in control. All the things you had done since he got here that you had thought your ideas weren’t yours at all, he had put them in your head.

“So that’s it then? You keep me here and take over?”

Simon was looking at you with something deranged behind those eyes. It was dreadfully exciting.

“You're coming to tonight's community gathering. You can decide if puppy gets a treat after that.”

–

The Birth of God happened on that brilliant Friday evening. One moment you had been fighting against your conscience, and the next you had let go. You had walked forward, no floated, and pressed a holy kiss to his head. Watching one of your followers plunge a knife into the heart of another on your altar, both with a smile on their faces, was fucking beautiful.

The Revelation happened about the same time. You dipped your fingers in the blood (the same colour as those tomatoes he so loved, the tomatoes that his body would feed and your followers would eat) and marked his murderer with your symbol, the initials of the men that had made you God.

Puppy had more than earned his treat.

#mhairiwrites #cod #fanfic #ghoap x reader #simon riley x reader #john mactavish x reader #simon riley x john mactavish #please read the cws #also please let me exist on champagne and strawberries because I am OVER IT #if I was not a depressed little mess and could actually write smut right now you would have gotten reader getting railed on a bloody altar #would have been great

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stevesbipanic · 2 years

Text

We're back with another soulmate AU cause I'm a sucker for them.

Steve had never known a time when the names of his soulmates weren't on his wrists. One platonic, one romantic. Some people were born with two romantic although rare, some born with two platonic, some with just one and some with none.

Steve couldn't wait to meet his soulmates, as a kid he told his mother that his soulmate was going to be the prettiest girl in the world and that his best friend would be the coolest guy ever.

He knew his parents weren't soulmates, his mother's soulmate had died when she was young and his father didn't have anything in his wrists. It didn't matter to Steve though, they weren't around much now that he was older.

He waited all through high school to meet his soulmates, Tommy and Carol had met each other in middle school and he wanted what they had. As the years went on, his parents grew distant, his world became more about popularity, he slowly forgot about his names. He went through girls with the hopes of filling the void inside of him.

It wasn't until one Nancy Wheeler didn't fall for his charms preferring to wait to meet her soulmate did it feel like a knock to the head. He found a friend in Nancy a friendship he didn't even regret once he was pulled in by proxy to a whole other world under their town. He held Nancy as she cried losing her platonic soulmate Barb and met her romantic soulmate Jonathan.

He felt more like himself now that he was hanging around friends that cared about each other rather than their images. He adopted a gaggle of children who also needed protecting from the monsters on their doorstep and started thinking about soulmates again.

Nancy helped him graduate, barely. He didn't want to leave Hawkins without the kids or Nancy and Jonathan and so he started working at Scoops Ahoy. Where he met his soulmate, finally. Robin Buckley was funny and loud and smart and beautiful. Steve didn't want to rush into anything in case he was wrong and by the time he had gotten up the courage to show her his tattoo there were Russians and blood, so much blood.

High on Russian drugs he confessed to her, told her about how she was everything he'd dreamt of in a soulmate when he was little. How she was funny and amazing and that he loved her. He hadn't expected Robin to start crying, words tumbling out how she's not what Steve wants, not what Steve deserves in a soulmate, that she can never love him the way he wants. That day Steve discovers who his platonic soulmate is. From that day they're inseperable.

Steve doesn't know how he went through life without Robin once she was in it. She got on great with all his friends, called him out on his bullshit, comforted him through nightmares and was always there for him. She taught him that it was ok to like boys and girls and that his romantic soulmate will love him despite his King Steve days because she loves him too.

After already having one soulmate in danger from the Upside Down he never dreamt that the first time he'd hear someone say his other soulmates name it would be attached with "murder". Slammed up against the walls of the boathouse, Steve didn't think he'd ever seen anyone as beautiful as Eddie.

"Soulmates huh?"

"Yeah, sorry."

"Well, I know Dustin's one is definitely platonic, since he's a kid. Wonder what ours is?"

Steve wanted to tell him that he wanted everything with Eddie, but he knew his past, and knew that Eddie knew too. So he let himself hope, let himself laugh with Eddie, let himself be close. Nothing had been harder than leaving Eddie and Dustin there as distractions but he had a job to do.

As he'd held bloody bandages desperately to Eddie's wounds and begged him to stay awake, he wished he'd told Eddie everything he'd been thinking, how he was everything Steve had wanted and more.

"Please, Eddie! Stay awake, just hold on a little longer!"

"I think I figured us out, sweetheart."

And those were the last words Steve heard from his soulmate before Eddie had gone limp in his arms.

Steve held on hope for weeks beside Eddie's hospital bed. He had traced Eddie's name on his wrist over and over, memorising it. The tattoo had stayed dark and clear, Eddie was still there, he was still alive next to Steve.

Steve could've kissed Eddie as soon as he saw his eyes blink open but didn't want to injure him further.

"I figured us out too, Eds."

Little Steve had been right, his best friend was the coolest person he knew, and his soulmate was the most beautiful person he'd ever known.

#stranger things #soulmate au #steddie #steddie soulmate au #stranger things s4 #steve harrington #st4 #eddie munson #robin buckley #stobin #platonic stobin #stranger things season 4 #steddie ficlet #steddie fic #ficlet #fluff

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leclerc-s · 5 months

Text

big reputations - part two

series masterlist // previous // next

AN INTERVIEW WITH DANIEL RICCIARDO (EXCERPT)

comments

user1 nah, the interviewer was so wrong for this. you know he wanted to say himself.

user2 daniel's blushing over this. i just know it.

user3 fernando is probably giggling over all of this. we've all see the tiktoks he's posted.

user4 daniel dragged his best friend along to see his future gf at a concert.

user5 this man is giggling like a schoolgirl over a woman who's not even his girlfriend.

user6 daniel, baby, this isn't like you. what about our farm, our six dogs, 3 kids, 2 goats, 12 chickens, and 4 cows?

↳ user7 babygorl, delulu is not the solulu. not this time.

↳ user8 girl wants to raise a whole ass fucking zoo

↳ user6 i've grown up in the country, i am surrounded by animals

↳ user8 that explains it

user9 the interviewer heard we wanted the tea on what happened at the eras tour and she was not going to stop until she got answers. too bad daniel is good at keeping secrets

user10 oh this man so desperately wanted to say himself but had to stop from doing so.

alex albon i get asked about the eras tour one more time i will lose it!

max verstappen someone's bitter they didn't get a chance to go. alex albon YES! I AM! IT'S ALL LILY WILL TALK ABOUT! WE DESERVED THE RIGHT TO GO!

daniel ricciardo well that's up for debate. i waited ages in line to buy those tickets. did you?

alex albon YOU TOOK MAX AND P?? BUT NOT ME OR LILY?

daniel ricciardo i only had three extra tickets??

lando norris THREE? WHO WAS THE THIRD??

daniel ricciardo kelly? penelope's mom?

lando norris oh. i forgot about that.

charles leclerc you forgot penelope had a mother?

lando norris i plead the fifth

logan sargeant YOU'RE BRITISH?? THAT DOESN'T WORK ON YOU! lando norris I CAN BE WHATEVER I WANT TO BE! logan sargeant OF COURSE YOU CAN YOU'RE A COLONIZER! lando norris AT LEAST WE DON'T HAVE SCHOOL SHOOTINGS! logan sargeant YOU CAN'T USE THE SAME FUCKING COMEBACK EVERY TIME ASSHOLE! oscar piastri okay, we are not doing this again logan sargeant YOU STAY OUT OF THIS KOALA!

lewis hamilton can you three be mature?

logan sargeant in the words of the colonizer, 'i don't wanna mature'

fernando alonso por dios, estan locos. (my god, they're crazy)

sergio perez obvio, no estan nada normal (obviously, they're not normal)

george russell i don't speak spanish but all i understood was normal.

alex albon because it's spelled the same way in spanish and english

carlos sainz they're talking shit about the three stooges.

george russell thank you siri!

kevin magnussen so daniel how's your hand?

daniel ricciardo thanks for asking kevin! at least i know someone here cares about my wellbeing.

daniel ricciardo i'm currently texting with one hand because i have to go into surgery soon. it's only a broken bone. if i don't make it back don't let fernando date daphne jones!

max verstappen glad to know you have your priorities straight.

daniel ricciardo of course.

¡leclerc-s speaks! you cannot convince me that logan and lando haven't had a similar argument at least once and poor oscar was stuck as mediator between them.

¡disclaimer! this is in no way making assumptions about the people involved in this story, this is all fake. it is a fanfiction please don't take any of what is said seriously. this is all for entertainment purposes and as a creative outlet for me. enjoy!

#leclerc-s #big reputations series #daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo x female oc #formula 1 #formula 1 fic #fanfic #fanfiction #f1 #f1 smau #f1 social media au #f1 instagram au #f1 fic

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apocalypseornaw · 7 months

Text

Meant to Be (Pt 5/5)

Dean Winchester x Reader

With Sam's help Dean tracks you down.

@lacilou idea I ran with

Warnings: NSFW happenings

When you left the cabin it had been a split decision kind of thing. A part of you was surprised you'd been able to get out past Sam without waking him up. You'd quickly grabbed your bag of clothes, your gun and knives that weren't in your car along with the green quilt you'd claimed and slid out of the bedroom. Dean was asleep on the couch and you knew you had to be silent to get past him.

The door thankfully didn't creak any when you opened it and stepped out. You pulled it shut behind you then ran for the barn where your car was parked alongside baby.

You just needed some space. You'd decide where you were going once you hit the road and you'd call Bobby to let him know you were ok.

You could hear a knocking at your door as soon as you got out the shower. Who the hell was that? Tavi had hit the road as soon as the bones had gotten salted and burnt, maybe she'd forgotten something in your car?

"GIVE ME A MINUTE!" You hollered, throwing a sports bra then t-shirt on over the shorts you normally slept in. You almost headed right for the door but thought better of that in case it wasn't Tavi. You grabbed your gun from your duffle before moving to the door, gripping it in your hand as you turned the knob.

You would've been better prepared for damn near anything other than Dean standing on the other side of the door. "How the hell did you find me?" You asked, knowing if you tried to shut the door he had you on strength and thanks to purgatory on speed as well.

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

A smirk slipped onto his face "Cmon now Y/N. Think about who your best friend is" you groaned "I'm gonna kill him" "He was worried about you sweetheart, so was I" you closed your eyes at the nickname that had never bothered you before now "I would've answered the phone for him if I would've known you weren't nearby. Look Dean, what happened we can chalk up to cabin fever ok?"

He shook his head "I don't want to chalk it up to cabin fever. I just drove eight hours to get to you, can you let me come in and give me five minutes" you sighed, then stepped to the side to allow him into the room.

He watched you as you shut the door then walked over to lay your gun back onto your duffle "I'm giving you five" he nodded and started to take a step towards you but you stepped back, crossing your arms.

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

Dean knew you pretty well. The moment you'd opened the door you'd wanted to be happy to see him. That half second flash had told him that you really did have feelings for him and that he'd really hurt you. As if Sam bitching him out didn't tell him enough.

You stood about two feet from him with your arms crossed over your chest. The plain black tshirt you had on was a stark contrast to those bright pink sleep shorts but to him? You were the most beautiful woman he'd ever laid eyes on.

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

"I'm an idiot" Dean finally said and you couldn't even attempt to stop the laugh that fell from you "You could say that" he raised an eyebrow at your laugh "I'm being serious, trying to share my feelings here and you're gonna laugh at me?"

"You deserve it Dean! I'm sorry but you do. I have had feelings for you for years! I never asked you to reciprocate those feelings. I know the heart wants what it wants but damn, I got sliced by hellhounds trying not to lose you. I have tried so many times to bury how I feel, to forget it but then your ass comes strutting in with those green eyes and that smile and I lose every train of thought. I want you Dean in every way. I know your past, I know who you truly are. Your scars don't scare me I have plenty of my own. I know you push people away to protect them, I know you're a huge dork. I know Sam is the most important person to you, hell I know you wanted to be a firefighter as a kid because you couldn't save Mary. The only thing I don't know is what I would have to do to ever be good enough for you to see me!"

You hadn't realized tears had started to slip down your face until Dean quickly covered the area between you and when you didn't move away he gently wiped your tears with his fingertips. "Feel better to get that out?" He'd purposely pushed you into admitting your feelings. Damn him.

"Why did you come here? Why do you care if I feel better?" You asked, letting him pull you against his chest. "Because it took me too long to open my damn eyes but I do see you sweetheart. I am so damn sorry for every ounce of pain I've ever caused you" you pulled away from him and he let you. You looked up at him and he smiled "What will it take to prove to you that I'm genuine?"

He motioned between you "Want me on my knees? I'll get on my knees" he started to kneel but you grabbed his arm "Dean, be serious!" He looked at where you were holding his arm "I am. I never would've dreamt of being good enough for you. You're beautiful, an amazing hunter and friend. You're smart, dangerous when you're mad and downright sneaky when you wanna be. You went from that smart mouthed ten year old that wasn't afraid of anything to the amazing woman standing in front of me. If you still want me I am yours"

You shook your head "I don't want a night Dean" "Neither do I" the look in his eyes made your stomach flip. He was being genuine. Dean Winchester felt the same about you as you felt about him. He must have seen the look in your eyes because one of his hands came to rest on your hip, a grin slipping onto his face "Y/N?" You shook your head "and if this doesn't work? What about Sam?" His grin deepened "It'll work"

You couldn't resist any longer, you were in Dean's arms, the way he was looking at you "Kiss me?" "Thought you'd never ask" he pulled you closer to him, crashing his lips against yours.

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

You'd thought about kissing Dean so damn many times but it was nothing like the real thing. The way his lips moved against yours, his grip tightening on your hips and the way he used the small gasp that escaped you to slip his tongue into your mouth, rolling it against yours in a way that made your knees go weak.

You pushed him away after a moment the need for air even greater than your need for him. He pulled back and almost looked disappointed until he saw the look in your eyes then he chuckled lightly before walking you backwards towards the bed "Tell me you want this and I promise you'll be sure come morning that I don't want anyone else"

You were trying to form words when the back of your legs hit the bed. Dean was silent, waiting for your answer with a smirk on his face "Use your words princess" "I want you Dean"

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

"You've got me" He promised before catching your lips in a passionate kiss. Your hands slipped under his shirt and when you tugged at it he broke the kiss long enough to slip the shirt over his head then tossed it behind him.

You moved from his lips to kiss across his jaw then down his neck and was rewarded with a low groan leaving his lips when you found his pulse point on his neck.

"Damn sweetheart" he murmured, reaching for the hem of your shirt. You let him pull it over your head along with the sports bra "Look at you" he whispered in awe before pushing you back gently onto the bed.

You watched as he quickly kicked his boots off then climbed onto the bed. "C'mere Winchester" you reached for his shoulders to pull him down with you. He groaned again as he caught your lips with his, one of his hands moved to cup your breast causing you to moan into his mouth at the feeling of his hands on your sensitive flesh.

He kissed from his lips across your jaw and when he got to your neck you had to stop your hips from bucking up against his. "So eager for me" He spoke into your skin.

He continued kissing down your chest until he got down to your left breast, he licked the nipple into his mouth while his hand worked the right breast. Your fingers found the hair at the nape of his neck, tangling there and when you tugged lightly he bite down just hard enough on your breast to pull a moan of his name from your lips.

He leaned back to look up at you and if you were being honest you damn near came just from the look in his eyes. Dean Winchester looked completely wrecked on top of you and you'd barely done anything yet. "You are so damn beautiful" he praised before continuing his trail of kissing and nipping down your stomach until he got to the waistband of your shorts. He looked up at you for permission and you nodded "Words baby. I want words" "Yes Dean" you breathed and he smiled "I love hearing you say my name like that"

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

He slipped your shorts off your legs and tossed them behind him before settling himself between your thighs. Anyone else on earth you would've felt self conscious, too exposed but with Dean? You felt wanted, like the only woman on earth the way he was looking at you.

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

He slipped one finger into you, watching as your eyes fluttered slightly from such the smallest of touch. He added a second finger, curling it up slightly until he found that small spot inside of you.

"Oh my God, Dean" you moaned, bucking your hips up. He used his other arm to slip over your waist to hold your lower half still as he licked into you, using his tongue to work at your clit while his fingers worked you over the edge. He could tell you were getting close when your thighs started to shake slightly. He changed his angle just slightly and knew he'd hit the right spot when your fingers moved to the back of his head, your grip tight as you moaned his name again.

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

Words couldn't describe the feeling coursing through you. You closed your eyes tightly against the flood of pleasure "Dean" you moaned, trying to hold back and could feel your legs shaking from the effort. He chuckled against your core and you felt that coil inside of you threaten to snap.

He changed his angle just enough that the coil snapped, your vision going soft around the edges as your orgasm washed over you. Your fingers found the hair at the back of his neck, gripping tightly as he worked you through your orgasm.

You pushed at his head weakly when you began to come down off the high "Too much Dean. Too much" he pulled back to look up at you and grinned, wiping his lower lip with his thumb "You taste as good as I thought you would"

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

You moaned just from that "Fuck Dean. That was amazing" you looked down where he still wore his jeans "Can I return the favor?"

He stood up on the side of the bed and reached for your arm, pulling you into a sitting position "Whatever you want baby. I'm yours" you reached for the snap of his jeans, laughing lightly when you realized your hands were shaking a bit. "You ok?" He asked and you smiled "I'm perfect"

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

You unzipped his jeans then he helped you push them down off his hips and kicked them away. Your eyes widened when you saw his hardened cock, straining against his boxers. He was long and thick. You reached for his boxers and he let you push them off his hips.

You looked up at him as you reached for his cock. You held his gaze as you licked a line from the base up to the tip. His eyes fluttered shut just for a moment and a praise of your name fell from his lips.

"God damn" he groaned before you leaned closer taking as much of him as you could into your mouth. You could feel his hips twitch in effort to not thrust so you started to move your head up and down licking and sucking him listening to his breathing to tell what touches he liked. You used your free hand to cup his balls gently massaging them and was rewarded with a moan from him of your name. "Y/N....sweetheart"

You pulled back from him with a wet pop to look up at him "Something wrong?" He shook his head with a smile "Hell no but I don't want to come yet" you smiled slightly "Oh" then grabbed his hand "C'mere Dean"

You laid back onto the pillows, pulling him with you. He crawled up your body, leaving a trail of kisses everywhere his lips could reach until he made it up to your lips. He caught them in a probing kiss, rolling his tongue against yours so you could still taste yourself on him. "Are you sure about this? About me?" He asked and you laughed "I'm sure Dean"

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

You felt him line himself up with your opening before he slowly plunged himself into you, both of you moaning from the feeling. Once he was fully sheathed inside of you, he stilled to let you adjust to his size. He rested his forehead against yours, his breathing ragged as he struggled to not thrust before you were ready "I meant it baby. I only want you. I was an idiot"

You leaned up to kiss him "It's ok Dean. We can make up for loss time" you tapped his shoulders "Move" he gave a tentative roll of his hips and when you moaned he smirked "I could get used to hearing that" you shoved his shoulder "Oh shut up and fuck me already"

He raised an eyebrow "Yes ma'am" he rolled his hips into yours and when your back arched slightly at the movement he groaned "Fuck I was an idiot"

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

Every movement of Dean's hips meant he was hitting that spot deep inside of you. It wasn't long before you felt that coil tightening again. "Fuck Dean. I'm so damn close" You moaned, nails biting into his shoulders slightly. One of his hands slipped between your bodies, nimble fingers working at your clit while he kept his pace pushing you over that edge.

You came with a scream of his name on your lips. He fucked you through your orgasm then you could feel his hips stutter, "you can fuck me harder Dean" you breathed and he nodded "I don't wanna hurt you" you reached up to grab his face forcing him to look at you "You know I'm harder to break than that"

He caught your lips in a frenzied kiss before pulling back. He kissed the tip of your nose then buried his face into your neck. His hips started to snap forward into yours, the angle was the same but the depth he was hitting had you seeing stars again in no time.

You knew he could feel you were close again, his thrusts were starting to get a little sloppy and you knew he had to be close. He kissed your neck then said "You can come again baby. I won't be far behind" that seemed to be all it took for that coil to snap yet again. You could feel your legs shake around Dean as he continued to fuck into you, chasing his own release. "Do I need to pull out?" He asked and you shook your head "I'm covered. Please come in me Dean. Let me feel you"

He thrust a few times before burying himself inside of you. You gasped as you felt him come deep inside of you, coating your walls. He remained still on top of you, bracing his weight on his arms. When he met your eyes you smiled "That was amazing" he smiled in return "Took the words right out of my mouth" he kissed you gently this time as he pulled out causing a small gasp to escape you both.

He collapsed next to you, pulling you over on his chest. "We'll go get a shower in a few minutes" you cut your eyes up at him "You gonna carry me if my legs aren't working by then?" He grinned broadly "Of course sweetheart"

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

You lay there for a while in silence, both of you working to get your breathing back to normal before Dean spoke "I meant what I said Y/N. This, us...it's all I've ever wanted I was just too much of an idiot to realize it. I hope you can forgive me for the past because my future is all yours"

You placed a kiss over his heart before meeting his eyes "I forgive you Dean" he brushed your hair back from your face "How did I ever not see what was right in front of me?" You gave him a small smile before teasing "Well you have called yourself an idiot multiple times tonight" he rolled his eyes before pulling you on top of him.

Your hips straddled his waist and he gripped them tightly "As long as I'm your idiot I don't care" you laughed before leaning down to catch his lips in a kiss. "Of course you're mine" he smiled against your lips "I could damn sure get used to hearing that"

@lacilou

@deans-spinster-witch

@suckitands33

@deans-baby-momma

@jackles010378

@someonewhoisdesperate

@ferrersbiggestfan

@123passwort

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x female!reader #spn fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester fanfiction #meant to be mini series #dean winchester smut

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missezramay · 11 months

Text

ted lasso, post-finale thoughts.

I went into the finale thinking yeah, if the writing serves, I can accept any outcome even if it's not exactly what I want. Instead, I was hit with a plethora of mixed emotions I didn't expect to have. Confusion, anger, hurt, annoyance, small bursts of joy in between, and just deep sadness. Almost 20 hours later and I'm still incredibly dissatisfied and processing. For the most part, finales should provide a feeling of celebration and relief. I... don't feel any of that.

I'm just really trying to pinpoint why I'm so sad.

Of course everything inevitably has to come to an end. Of course Ted was always going to reunite with his kid. Of course it's not about winning or losing. Of course Tedbecca can remain platonic if that was always the plan. Of course that's the way life goes, but...

For a show (and this season particularly) that constantly encouraged us to 'believe' and 'hope' in the idea that 'everything will work out', all those 75 minutes did was take me on an unsettling, emotional journey for no concrete reason other than to mess with the audience (the opening scene was just adding salt in the Tedbecca wound I've had since S2). Because everything in a macro sense, "worked out". But the WAY it "worked out" does not sit well with me?? And it's supposed to? For a lot of people (on Reddit/Facebook, lol), it was enough?? Richmond not technically winning and Ted leaving like that without so much as a tear? What am I missing??

When I tell you I'm trying to embrace the good parts, I'm really trying. Yes to KBPR & the women's team, Yes to Colin kissing his fella, Yes to Rebecca & Mae & the guys owning the club, Yes to Roy becoming Manager.

So... why am I still so upset? Hmm, let's see.

The boys' musical number? The cutest. Ted didn't think so.

Nate's apology? Heartbreaking. Ted didn't bat an eyelash.

Rebecca begging twice for Ted to stay? Ted, absolute silence.

Beard staying/getting married in London to his toxic gf? Comic relief, haha, fine. Except Ted wasn't there as Best Man.

Don't even get me started on the huge disservice to the Roy/Keeley/Jamie triangle.

Now listen, I get that he misses Henry & Henry misses his dad. I'm not that cold. A father/son's love is important. It was always the catalyst for this show; for him to work on himself so he can be a better father unlike the one he grew up with. That's fine.

But on this particular week. His last week with his Richmond family. There was NO sense of him being sad to leave them. He can be sad about missing Henry but he can ALSO be sad about leaving. No, he just completely checked out. He let everyone pour out their hearts (Hannah's getting her third Emmy, mark my words) to him, and he just stone-faced the entire time.

THIS DOES NOT MAKE ANY SENSE TO ME.

The argument is that he was internally processing, he was overwhelmed, he was trying to distance himself so it would hurt less. Fair points, okay. But this is a television show, moreover, A FINALE. TV characters, while relatable, are heightened versions of ourselves, there so we can better process our emotions and learn to handle things better in our real lives. Ted deserved MORE dialogue and displaying MORE emotion than whatever this was.

We're never going to see him again. We're over here crying along with Rebecca, Nate & Beard, but he didn't sob once. Even though he spent three years building a family with them. I even thought, hey at least he left his legacy with Trent's book but newsflash, he wanted his name taken off that too! Complete erasure.

I just feel so robbed of better moments. Like there were nice moments here and there. But they could've been BETTER. Honestly, Nate & Rebecca's breakdowns were close to perfection, so much love there. But the lack of dialogue and Ted not reciprocating? Broke ME.

I just cannot. understand. this. choice.

Massive sigh. I'm just truly baffled by the way everything wrapped up and not getting the satisfied feeling that one half of the viewership got. Maybe I'm in the minority, but that means something. It carries weight. Also, for a "three-season arc" that was planned well in advance, why all the rewrites and parallels and fakeouts... it's just cruel. But as the theme says (and maybe this was a warning all along), yeah, I guess this might well be it.

This show has given us so much and the last season flailed for the most part. I don't want to disrespect the show by being negative and cynical (looks like I failed!!) or cast blame on anyone in particular. The cast/crew are amazing people and I'll be grateful for being a part of the journey but I'm just so sad and this feeling sucks and I will never get over it.

Going to miss them. x

#ted lasso #spoilers #thoughts #finale #text post #tedbecca #roykeeley #jason sudeikis #hannah waddingham

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madwomansapologist · 3 months

Text

i love everybody because i love you

Meet Kind!Druid!Tav | More Weirdos | AO3

synopsis: It doesn't matter what their first impressions of you were, they certainly did not expect you to be so important in their lifes. And as the days passes, each one of your companions need to understand a simple fact: they love you. They all love you.

warnings: a sequel to that (you don't need to read if you don't want to). song "strawberry blond". companions (lae'zel, halsin) x druid!tav. background cast (alfira, mirkon, scratch, owlbear, shadowheart, astarion, wyll, mizora, karlach, minthara). lae'zel love language is pressing a dagger against your throat. i accidentaly made her somewhat a stalker?? there is a high chance minthara doesn't sound like her because i killed her like two onversations in. if you discover which animated character is my biggest inspiration for this tav i will give you a reward.

In a harsh world, people are supossed to shield themselfs from even the possibility of danger. Is the only rational response to the ambiguity of chaos. What those who crave to survive must learn, what those who deserve to survive must do.

You get stronger, so you won't feel pain. Because to feel pain is to remind your soul that one day your body will perish. To get stronger is to forget about the eventual end. Is to get protected from death itself, even if as just a concept.

When not even death can catch you, you're free. When you have nothing to love, nothing to care about, you are free. That's real strength. To be invulnerable. To have nothing to lose, no one close enough to ever hurt you.

Lae'zel lost the count on how many times you bleed. How many times you fell. Burned, drowned, exhausted in pain. Arrows crossed your chest, swords cut your legs, calloused hands stopped you from breathing.

You're somewhat good at hiding it. How much things can hurt you. When someone disrespect one of your companions, when people blame you for their fates, when you did everything you could and it wasn't enough. It hurts you in a different, worst way. She can see it on your face.

Maybe you could've earned a good end, if the world worked in a different way. A peaceful life, one fit for those who don't aspire greatness. But Lae'zel knew it was only a matter of time until the tadpole took control. She felt it on herself. Saw it on you.

No one would save her, no one would save any of you, but perhaps Lae'zel could. It was an merciful act. To end you first. You failed as a leader, but you tried. Then she'll go to the others, knowing she's brave enough to kill herself after.

She thought you had surrendered yourself to her. That you had come to the same conclusion. A wise druid, after all. Then Lae'zel felt. The cold thread against the base of her neck. A dagger she didn't saw coming.

"Step back," you ordered, voice unaffected. Lae'zel never heard you like that before. She had a dagger against your throat, but you spoke as if you rule the entire world.

"Chk, you think that tiny blade of yours will stop me from free..."

"What I think doesn't matter, but what I know does." Your eyes burned her skin. "You're stronger, I'm faster. I propose you a bet. If you kill me, go on with your plan. If I kill you, that's it. I won't kill them. I won't kill myself. Even if I can, even if I must. You would've died for nothing, forever ignorant if it was the right thing to do."

Lae'zel saw you barefoot at the Emerald Grove, applauding Alfira as she sang. Crossing the river by jumping from stone to stone, talking to Mirkon as if he wasn't a kid but a dear friend. How many times did Lae'zel found a bed shaped of you on the grass right next to where Scratch and Owlbear slept?

A sacreed deer, whose even blood is ever so sweet, howled like an wolf.

Would you turn into a mindflayer out of... stubbornness? Would you let the rest of your beloved party turn into something utterly disgusting, putting in danger all those people you swore to protect, just to prove a point?

Maybe you would. Maybe you wouldn't.

No one died that night.

You intrigued Lae'zel. Before you were her supposedly defenseless prey, and now you are the object of her curiosity. Lae'zel didn't understand you. And she craved to.

So she kept a close eye on you.

You bleed. All the fucking time. You bleed, and you wept. But everytime someone crushed you down, you rose up. For every tear that fall from your eyes, you made sure to smile. You survive, and you keep on doing it.

Strength and weakness merged in the warrior's mind. She knew what strength is, she can smell weakness from afar. Lae'zel was taught everything she was supossed to know.

But you were never the one to fit in old impervious notions.

Lae'zel saw you end a hyena's suffering without flinching, and you trying to hold on the wind when you were about to fall. She heard you helping a bird decorate its nest, and the breaking of a skull of someone brave enough to maim Shadowheart when she was near you.

You yelled at Astarion as he tried to stop you from helping gnomes. Helped Wyll with herbs for his pain after Mizora's trick. Helped Gale with dinner, putting a smile to the usually frowed wizard's face. Gave Karlach her first hug in years.

She saw your every movement. Lae'zel heard you laughing, saw you dancing, watched as you helped your new friends. Sometimes it felt as if you made white lines so she could follow you. So Lae'zel could see you being good, nice, decent. Being you in a way that showed her that no, you would've never let your companions turn into mindflayers. You were bluffing, and she fell for it.

At some point, it started to ache. Anytime you laugh at some tiefling's story, something inside Lae'zel burned. At night, she could picture your smile on her eyelids. When you call her name during battle, yelling instructions that somewhat always end in victory. When you look at her.

She can still see that fire. That same flame that stopped her from killing you right then and there. But diluted, controlled. And still, just as able of burning her entire soul. You have a fire contained within your gaze, and Lae'zel doesn't mind getting burned.

Maybe you're not that weak. And maybe she's not that strong.

She's not watching you anymore. Observing your every move so she can understand your mind. Not a prey, not a walking question mark. Lae'zel is purelly admiring.

For some, you came as a tempest. Slowly, without announce your intentions, your way of being embraced them.

A few flinched, scared of what that meant about them. That by admitting you're good despite it all means they could be good too. Some welcomed it, scared of what that meant about the world. If you're good despite everything that happened, then others could be too. Others chose not to.

But you stroke Halsin as a thunderstorm, just as quickly and fiercly. In such a dark time, you were a lighthouse. A shining light that blind at first, but embraces and comforts.

The grove was in danger, his life could end at any given moment, a goblin camp separated him from the world he worked so hard to protect. But your party helped him, and it gave Halsin the right amount of hope.

You asked him to stay behind, and he did so. Halsin wouldn't be able to control himself, and you didn't need all that attention. He was hopeful, not an idiot. But when Halsin heard screams from the room beside... Knowing that Minthara was there, Halsin couldn't help himself.

A wizard focused on the goblins. As he held them in place, a cleric made sure to end them. But at the other side of the room, the only other druid he saw in weeks had a dagger deep on her chest.

Minthara had you on your knees, her nails digging on the skin of your chin. A burning tiefling didn't knew a way to react that wouldn't end within that same blade slicing your throat. She waited for an order, an instruction of any kind, and Minthara realized that you were leading the rebels.

"Is that your leader?" Minthara looked at the tiefling. Her eyes were numb, bored even, but her grin was sharp. She forced to blade deeper. "A weak druid, barely able of helding a sword? Are you that desperate?"

You should've cried. You should've beg for mercy. You should've do anything, instead of laughing. Minthara glared at you, sure that you were reduced to a crazy, desperate animal. But when you bit her hand, blood staining your chin, you were more of a beast.

Minthara stumbled, and you pulled the blade she left on your shoulder. Blood ran down your side, but that didn't stopped you from rising up. Halsin don't think anything would've.

"Maybe you're right," you hissed. With her dagger on your left hand, you took your sword from the ground. "I'm not a fighter. I wasn't educate to control the Weave. I can't heal a thing. When I can't do something, I find someone that can. Without their help, I would be dead by now."

Halsin came here to act. To help, protect, kill. But all he could do, just like everyone else in that room, was to watch you. To look at your beaming smile, to see the blood on your teath, not even trying not to get blind by it.

"Why would anyone follow someone that professes to be so weak?" She looked at the wizard, a dead goblin at his feet, her brain thinking of all the ways she could defeat your party. "What can you do that give you the right to rule them?"

Your smile seemed to grow wider. "I can beat the shit out of you."

And beat the shit out of Minthara you did.

With a first impression like that, ain't no mistery why Halsin couldn't do anything but to stay with your party. But to go on with you, deafeting the Shadowcurse and exploring Baldur's Gate. But to see you shine, feel your warmth, and let it pull a string on his heart.

At the end, it didn't matter how it started. It didn't matter how much they fought the thought back. If they lied to themselfs, made you a villain on their minds, welcomed you with open arms.

You have their hearts. Simply as it can be. You have their hearts.

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

BALDUR'S GATE 3 TAGLIST: @citrusbunnies

@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.

#madwomansapologist #lae'zel #lae'zel bg3 #lae'zel x tav #lae'zel x reader #lae'zel of k'liir #halsin #halsin x reader #halsin bg3 #halsin x tav #halsin baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 tav #bg3 x reader #bg3 x tav #bg3 x you #kind!druid!tav #oc: liliana wilde #tavrem

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yxstxrdrxxm · 6 months

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SYNOPSIS: The wanderer never knew what it feels to finally have a forever home till he met you.

TW/S: Yandere behavior/tendencies, major character death/s, Wan finally learns something but its not the way you'd expect, hurt/no comfort, delusional thinking/mindset, denial is a river in Egypt and he is drowning in it, creative/abstract rep. of Wan's story + traveler! reader is more platonic than a romantic interest with him as a yandere.

NOTE: After college kicked my ass, I am finally back to writing fics. I'm not going to open requests just yet because my schedule is a little (read: very) wack. Also, I'm not used to writing Wanderer's personality/character so forgive me for any errors in advance. I also wanted to try my hand on writing platonic Wanderer, so I hope this is up to everyone's tastes (even if I wanted to NOT make him a platonic Wan and more like unrequited lol).

Wanderer was not a man that can be easily tamed or found.

No one knows how a man like himself can coexist in the world, but to some that knew him, they can summarize it to him being alive to spite the archons known to man. To others, though, it was more of fate playing with his already torn heart.

But to Wanderer himself? His answer is simple.

He's learned the horrors of Teyvat in the worst time possible.

He never held any fondness of those that toyed with his heart, and even more of how he felt with his thirst of bloodlust and anger. He recalled how his 'Mother' had left him— cutting the strings connecting him to her, and letting him suffer the effects without her guidance.

He remembered how his 'home' was her, and how he was simply banished from it. He was too fragile, thus, he never deserved her care; that was what he would tell himself every night, when his sleep is disrupted from the nightmares that plagued him.

In the second time he had a 'home', it was with Niwa and the clan. He considered it his forever home, for those who took him in treated him like he deserved it. He learned how things worked back then, and he understood just how nice it was to have people care.

He learned his second emotion after fear, the first he learned from his mother.

He learned satisfaction.

But things will never last, not when his second home had been ruined by Dottore. He could only watch as the chaos unfolded, with many of his companions dying. It was when he fled, seeking refuge by himself— for he thought that it was because of him that their lives had all been snuffed away.

The fear gnawed at him, its claws sinking into the puppet's fragile psyche and conscience. He found himself having worse nightmares after such an event, plagued with it to the point that he can hardly sleep a wink.

He was a puppet, so sleep wasn't really essential for him, just like breathing. But to him, it was his only comfort.

His solace to the cruel world.

His third home had been with the sickly child. He had never learned from his lesson with Niwa, but it didn't mean he gave up on hope back then. And with such a child that needed his attention, he vowed to protect him with his life if need be.

He still felt that comfort when he was with Niwa back then, but since it was with the kid, he dreaded losing him. He's lost so much, and he didn't want to think about losing the last person he cared for so soon.

Alas, fate was a cruel mistress. She did not spare him a glance, just like his Mother, for when he returned after getting those lavender melons in one winter night...

... The puppet wept at the sight of his lost companion, who died by the sickness.

He never recovered. But maybe it was a good thing, for he can no longer blame it on someone else but himself, or the circumstances he was in.

Because of this, he began to descend to a cruel rabbit hole. All he could think was how much he failed to care and nurture the people he was with, and how cruel they could be to leave him when they took everything from his sleeved heart.

He had given everything to them, all that made the weeping puppet... Himself.

But it seems like fate never wanted him to have an easy life. No, not when he was 'born'.

Losing his third home, he learned the bitter taste of anger. He learned how it felt so hot, so bitter, and he needed to quell it. Immediately.

Although the flames consumed the weeping puppet, in his heart of void, he could feel the pieces being mend with stitches. Being sewn up bit by bit with hatred, he made it his mission to never show his broken heart to anyone.

If he will be left by his companions for being too 'open', then he shall close it. He needn't endure the pain of losing his own home till the day he died.

The fourth home he had was within Snezhnaya's borders, back when he was taken in by Zandik— alias Il Dottore.

He has grown to be cruel to those that tried to get to him, and for the Doctor, he found it intriguing. A puppet made by the Archon of Electro, and yet... He was casted aside like he was nothing. Was there a reason for his existence, if not to be a waste?

Zandik sought to find the answer to it, but he was amused with how the puppet tried to act like he was the boss of him. That a harbinger with a higher position must fear the one who is lower than him— how laughable.

The first few months, the Tsaritsa had kept him as a way to keep the grunts in line. She had a vision, but seeing just how useful the vengeful puppet could be, she sought to tie him in her strings.

But she forgot that the puppet she's taking care of is a feisty one. One that has seen the horrors of the world, and his heart had been torn and mended with hatred.

So, she decided to let Zandik take care of him— make him easier to mend and break, should he find it to be necessary. It was her personal assignment to the Doctor, and one that he took without a single moment of hesitation.

And so, the change began.

The small, single tap of the rock disturbed the tranquil waters, and lightning seem to follow suit. It traveled across the bodies of the liquid, much like how the pain traveled to his limbs, making him cry and grit his teeth in agony.

The sparks of one man can only be alive for so long till it was snuffed, but to Zandik, he saw him as an everlasting, combusting fire. One made of lightning and snow, and sculpted to be of her likeness but riddled with flaws.

The Tsaritsa wanted a puppet, and so did the Shogun. The difference, however, is that one exploits a puppet's weakness for their mistaken strength, while the other abandons them should they lack the qualities needed for perfection.

As more of those changes began to take effect on him, so did those ripples in the tranquil waves grew stronger. Each one of those ripples served as a scar, one that he couldn't forget so easily, no matter how much he tampered with Irminsul.

Each time he felt that lightning strike him, pain would follow him, electrifying him and letting him adapt to the strikes as normal. Every time frost would gnaw deeper into the trenches, all he can do is hold himself steady while it ate at him.

The man made of tranquil waters, of waves that disturb them when it became too intense, had nothing been more than dust. In its wake was the culmination of lightning, of sparks flying and encased in a thick sheet of snow.

When Zandik showed the puppet's state, she found it amusing... And essential. To her, he now became a tool, and not a liability.

His original venture to find himself had long since been forgotten, only leaving with the thirst to seek answers of the world and do the goals that the Tsaritsa wants him to do.

He became the 6th Harbinger that day, and she was the second to bestow him the name he took by heart.

Scaramouche.

As the identity of the Balladeer slips into his fingertips, he wore it like it was made for him. At the time, it felt like... It was. It fits him better than those light robes of Kunikuzushi, the name that was bestowed by Niwa and his clan.

...

The name that held far too bitter thoughts and memories, and that was tied to karma that followed him.

Abandoning the robes and donning the skin of a Fatuu, the wandering man found himself another home: one that he himself knew— in his heart, at least— that wasn't for him.

It was more of a stationary, but truly, he wasn't going to complain.

In his service of the Balladeer, he has done many crimes that can put him under the radar of the court: he had the pleasure to commit mass murder should he find it necessary with his lackeys, manipulate them to do his bidding, and even punish them with the use of his Delusion if he felt that they were going too far.

Back then, all he had as a goal was to learn the truth behind his mere existence. However, what he received at the end was not that, but of the world.

It was, surprisingly enough, when he met... You.

He never found you as pleasant to be around. Just like those he's seen, he saw you as a nuisance— a bumbling buffoon, seeking for answers that will never come your way.

Alas, for the sake of his mission, he must treat you with regard. So, he began to feed your head with lies and false kindness, but your companion, that astrologist, knew what he was up to when she saw him.

Was it because of how he acted? Or was it because of her power?

Still, whatever it could've been, it was pointless for him to dig into. He only saw you and your companions as annoying, and even your goals were nothing but a bitter, laughable reminder of his ignorance as Kunikuzushi.

Truly, you are quite ignorant of the truth. Too ignorant for him to tolerate for even a single moment!

Although, in some part of him, he found it bitter to see your face twist in expressions best regarded to be... Saddening. Perhaps of agony, to be more precise. In some sense, he still cared, but it was difficult to tell why.

... Why did he cared, still? For even a stranger he'd never see again?

...

He didn't knew.

But for the time being, he made it his only vow to never see you. He never wished to see you in his waking lifetime, especially if you were to stop him in his main goal.

To achieve Godhood.

Being a God made by humans is not easy. In actuality, he would much rather not have to go through such a thing again in hindsight.

Still, in the height of his trainwreck of a journey, he decided to give it a try. He wanted to achieve what he had been working for, especially now that he had wrecked his own 'home' that she gave him.

The home she made for him was too fragile, and the body he was in was enough. For the puppet, he wanted nothing more than to ruin those that thought of using him— and what better way than to achieve it by playing the role of God?

Still, in the midst of trying to reach the impossible, he had to sacrifice everything.

He had to endure the worst of the worst: the pain of ice hitting him and causing splinters to his case, the claps of thunder sending him high sparks of agony, and even the fluids used to taint his once peaceful waters, making him into a bomb set to explode should one mishandle him.

It was the Doctor who had managed to get to him and mold him to how he likes it. This, he is also responsible of fixing him to fit the role he wants— a God.

The ones that worked under him, the scribes, all worshipped and revered him. They fed him all the knowledge one needed and more, causing him to develop a complex as big as the world in its entirety.

With the knowledge in his mind and power from the Gnosis, he could confidently say that he reached what any foolish, puny mortal couldn't: he became the archon of the nation of knowledge, snuffing out the two Archons's names and those that opposed him.

However, much like before, his heart remained the state that it was. Amidst the sudden surge of authority, it still felt empty. Hollow. Like a huge part of it is missing.

He thought the Gnosis will take care of that need, that it would be enough for him as he's got the means to an end. Whatever he desires, he will get it without much of a fuss.

... Right?

Well, he found out to be wrong. Very wrong.

To him, being a God isn't enough. He still had things he wanted to achieve as one, and he didn't like how some of them are impossible to attain.

Like removing an existing archon.

Though, maybe he shouldn't have his hopes up, especially when his time is limited when Buer entered the room with you.

Ah, right. He forgot about you— the traveler, who he met time and time again. First in the lands of freedom, then in the land of contracts, and even in the buildings of his first 'home'...

... And now you, who he contacted back when he was in his last stage to become a full fledged archon. One where he is prepared to commence another archon war among them.

Of course, you were not happy to see him. Buer must've told you what was going on, but he wasn't expecting to hear you cry out and try to reason with him.

...

How pathetic. Do you honestly think he'd listen? He'd rather have you killed by his own hands if you weren't so— so interesting to him.

And so the battle commenced.

You were the first to take the stand, and he noticed how quick you were to jump to conclusions. You spouted nonsense at how he couldn't do what he's doing right now, for (in your eyes), it is 'immoral' and 'killing a God to become one is impossible'.

Honestly, what do you even see to think of such a conclusion? He wondered if you ever truly saw the mask underneath their facades, with how you seem to defend the smallest immortal being without a single moment to think of her power.

Still, he couldn't help but humor you, so he let you do as you wished. He let you fight him even if it was pointless, thriving at the idea that you will wear yourself out by the end of it.

You'll lose your footing at some point with how pointless this battle is— that's something he's sure of.

However, as you two fought, he couldn't help but realize with how you two were two different people. Had you two met back then, back where he wasn't tainted by the sights of the world and retained his innocence... Would you two get along?

Would you ever see him the way you do now: with resentment, judgement, and maybe a hint of pity?

He didn't knew the answer to that. If anything, he could hardly know the answer to a possibility that wouldn't happen, and especially with the roads you two took that negated such a thing.

You took the road to the light— as blinding as it may be, you chose that for yourself to achieve your goals of searching for your kin.

He, however, took the road to the abyss— for the roads he took before forsook him, and he couldn't help but shut his eyes from the truth.

That was one thing that separated you both. And for him, it felt like a weight rested on his shoulders.

However, as you two fought for the right to take down the opposition, he could feel the weight rest on him. The longer that you two spent together, he could see flashes of his past memories—

—his time back then with his 'mother,

—the time he spent with Niwa and the clan,

—and even how he spent the rest of his few years with the kid.

Those memories were all but locked in the recesses of his heart, and for him, he couldn't help but recoil at each sight. It made him remember that he, too, is flawed.

It made him realize that he was, and always is, alone in his fight.

The last clang of metal hit steel, and for once, the unthinkable had happened.

He... Lost.

The body of his began to shut down, months and years spent on creating the perfect and ideal vessel laid nothing to waste. The battlefield had long been wasted and ruined, but he couldn't help but ignore it.

For his eyes rest upon you; the one who took him down, who made him remember who he was back then.

And the one aiding him to be rid of his 'heart'.

Looking back at that moment, he never understood your decision to let him go.

Did you knew what his past life had been? Or did you see him as a man that can still be salvaged, no matter the consequences it may bring?

Wanderer never understood that from you, and he knew that maybe, he never will.

Standing before your body before him, he could feel blood drip from his hands. You were too easy to use and manipulate sometimes, but maybe, just maybe... He had felt pity for you.

Was he rash to simply repeat his first mistake? Maybe. But then again, he has done much more atrocities than the world could ever remember.

You asked him what he saw home to be once, but what he answered was it being akin of a house of cards.

It is always meant to be taken down, no matter how strong it is.

Still, he couldn't help but sigh. He's learned so much from you, and yet all he gave you was pain. How pitiful of him, as he simply toyed with your hopes to have him change for the better.

Raising your head by the hair, his lips simply curved itself to a smile.

But maybe, just maybe, he could accept one last lesson from you. You helped him realize one thing, after all.

That he is able to grant you salvation, even when he is nothing but a sham.

Cradling your body, he let the touch of crimson taint the poisoned waters, his previous face and identity all but melted away by your touch. He was sick in the head, but you gave him a new skin to wear.

Yours will do, he thinks. So pretty yet so tainted because of him, one that he had no shame of using for his selfish desires.

He was a man undeserving of a place he called home. He's destined to be alone, especially due to his crimes that deserved it's death row.

But with you in his arms, even if you two were never lovers... He can wear your skin as his new identity. You did chose it for him, did you not?

It's only right for a 'friend' to honor one's memory by using their skin and blood, after all.

And Wanderer will do what it takes to honor your memory in the way he knew best.

"Even now, we're all alone. Just like what we're destined to be."

@.throw-letter-away | do not republish or repost my works anywhere | 2023

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faithrainee · 5 months

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It hurts me so bad to think about Peter B Parker's story. This man lost his parents either at a young age or at an age he could somewhat remember them. Which in itself is traumatic, and painful, and changes a person for the rest of their life. How many birthdays did he go without having his parents with him? How many school events did he have no parent to take with him? "Take your dad to school day" isn't the same when your uncle, who you do love dearly, is the only masculine figure you can take to school. I can't imagine the looks, the conversations with teachers, the, "Is that your grandpa, bud?" questions that he probably was asked for years.

Then he loses his uncle. In ATSV we see its probably a sudden thing. Probably an accident or a crime being committed against him. Something along those lines. No one deserves that. How painful must it be to say you're the man of the house, the only man in the house, at 14, 15, 16+ years of age?

He becomes Spiderman. Its probably amazing, probably freeing and thrilling and- it's probably traumatic, let's be honest here. This is New York, I can only imagine the crimes he witnesses very young, if he got bit young like Miles. But even if he got bit as an older teen like some of the other spidermen, its still trauma. Getting hurt, seeing people die, being practically in charge of saving people. It takes a toll on you.

And then his aunt dies. And in ITSV his reaction to Aunt May's house hurts. He didn't want to even ring the doorbell. Why would he? She's gone. He doesn't want to see his dead aunt now alive, its not even his aunt. It's an interesting parallel to Miles seeing living Uncle Aaron. Miles hugs him and is shocked, rightfully so, but Peter doesn't react that way and its interesting to me.

And Peter has no one. He's actually alone. Besides MJ, and for a while I'm sure its okay. Until they divorce. He seems terrified of settling down, of having kids, of having people to take care of. Because realize, he had so many people that he likely feels he failed. They're gone because he couldn't save them. Why would he want kids? Why would he want to risk losing them? I saw someone post about how in ATSV Peter keeps Mayday close to him even in fights because he doesn't want to lose her. And I agree.

Peter is a clingy person, we see it with Miles. At the beginning of ITSV, Peter wants nothing to do with Miles, he wants to get back home and sulk and cry and be comfortable in his sadness.

And sure, comfort is nice, but he realizes caring for others feels so good. Loving others feels amazing. Being loved feels so warm. Being proud of others, being supported by others, being wanted and needed by others is the best feeling. It's uncomfortable, being so loved because he's afraid of losing it all. And after seeing Miguel lose his daughter, its likely worse. And after Miles feels betrayed by him for not visiting, for giving away his location, for planning not to tell him about his father's death, it's likely more worse.

He does not want to lose people again. He's happy and flippant and jokes around so much its funny on screen, but goddamnit is this man so full of hurt. He loves people so much, you can see it on screen. The way he teaches Miles in ITSV. The way he touches the people he loves, hugging Gwen and Miles close to show them pictures of his baby, holding Mayday close when he's feeling vulnerable, patting Miguel's shoulder to get him to loosen up, standing close to Miles trying to talk him down- he loves people and he loves them so big and he's just so scared to lose them.

#atsv #spiderman atsv #across the spiderverse #across the spider verse #into the spiderverse #spiderman itsv #itsv #peter b my beloved #peter b parker #peterbparker #miles morales #mayday parker #miguel ohara #gwen stacy

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mrsjavierpena · 4 months

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All the roads lead to a jar of pickles | Pickled Peña

summary: Javier keeps finding promises to make every New Year's Eve

pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

warnings: fluff, alusions to smut, mentions of narcos, no use of y/n, just javi being so in love and receiving the love he deserves

word count: 4k (yeah i got carried away

IMPORTANT: English is not my first language, i've done my best with grammar but there will be mistakes (fuck prepositions i hate them), so pls overlook those

an: this is a one shot to the @pickled-pena writing challenge! i was super excited to write this and it was indeed a challenge since tumblr decided to delete what i wrote twice, but i loved to participate. also, i procrastinated and literally wrote this right before posting to no lose tbe deadline (not proud, but i made it

hope you enjoy it!

Javier didn't use to be a man to make many promises. He made a few during the years, promises like quit smoaking, clearing Colombia from cocaine, to take care of himself for his mother on her deathbed; he didn't keep any of them. It wasn't like he didn't try, though, Javier was a man of word, things just went out of his control: he did arrest Los Pepes, but the traffic of coke was at full stem ahead even without them, consuming the country, ruining and taking lives of innocent people; it was logical to imagine that taking care of himself was more under his control, but honestly, Javier didn't even know how to do that anymore, his life going south for so long it felt like changing wasn't a possibility.

He still had his father, and living with him back in the ranch again definitely had Javier in the most healthy state of his life that time. His return to Laredo caused quite the commotion, him abandoning Lorraine in the alter was never forgotten, but being part of the chasing of Escobar got him in Laredo's good grace again, he was a hero after all. He hated all of it: the praises and congratulations he didn't deserve, the back pattings and hugs that invaded his personal space, the audacity the people had to 'forgive' him, as if they were people whose opinion he valued.

It's not like he wasn't used to it, he was born and raised there and small towns had small towns' issues, but that didn't mean it didn't piss him off still. His big, nosy family was a part of it, all over his head asking "what was his plan now that he was back home", about "getting a girlfriend to become a wife and finally have kids", because "he wasn't getting any younger" and "was the only single cousin". It was like all his concerns were thrown in his face. He loved them, they were all he had left, but god, didn't they make him feel like shit. Because he had accomplished nothing in forty years, and it was clear that every person around him could notice that too.

The coming of a new year was another reminder of that. During his years in Colombia, he didn't do much other than a dinner with Steve and Connie, neither of them was in the mood of anything fancy at that time, and when they left the country, he simply worked or, in the best scenario, slept. In Laredo, though, his family wouldn't miss an opportunity to throw a party.

"What are your resolutions for the next year, Javi?" his cousin asked.

They both were in the kitchen, the task to cut pickles in very thin, even slices given to them by one of their aunts. Javi stopped his work with the knife to not lose a finger as he side eyed his cousin.

"Don't look at me like that!" she laughed "I'm asking you a question"

"What do you mean?"

"Resolutions, Javi" she rolled her eyes "Like your wishes for the next year"

"You mean, like, manifesting? Are you into that shit?" he couldn't hide the frown on his face.

"No, Javier, not manifesting, even though there's nothing wrong with that" she gave him an irritated look "You write down what you would like to change in yourself, to be a better person next year"

"Is that your way to say that I'm an asshole, prima?" he narrowed his eyes at her and she laughed loudly.

"Well, not just that" she shrugged "I like to do that every year, helps me to keep focused in what I want. And I see the look in your eyes, Javi" she wore a sympathetic smile as her hands caressed his "You have dreams you want to chase, why not start by that?"

A loud scream made them both jump in their places, a tiny human coming through the kitchen threshold with his hands thrown up in the air.

"Mijo" she laughed at the child's prank and the boy giggled.

His cousin had been married for almost ten years by then, a little boy and one girl on the way. Her being younger than him and having accomplished his dreams made a claw made of jelousy wrap its nails around his throat.

Javier wanted a wife, he wanted to marry someone he loved, he wanted to build a family of his own, he just was focused on the wrong things at the wrong time.

So he decided to start with something that should be simple, only one promise to himself: to meet someone in the coming year.

It should have, didn't mean it was, though. It was scary, he found out, to get to know someone after so long, especially at a small town where he knew almost everyone. Javier never had problems to get laid, but most of the woman he hooked up with didn't really seem interested in more than that, after a while it started to feel like a him problem. That being said, Javier didn't know how to start, so the next time another cousin of his said that he would really get along with a co-worker he had, he finally accepted.

The date was... awkward, to say the least. They went to the most popular restaurant in Laredo, every person there looking at him the whole evening; she didn't seem to mind the attention, but Javier did. He tried to make conversation, to ask about her interests, to compliment her, but he was as rusty as a cheap aluminum pot left in the rain for months, years, in his case. She would ask a lot about him, too, but not his hobbies or what he liked to hear on the radio, she would ask about Escobar, how was it like to catch bad guys, if he still had his gun. Javier tried to change the subject, but she would insist on talking about Colombia. She was curious, it was normal, he was used to it, but what a damn turn off it was. Javier felt like being in an interview, the atmosphere heavier and heavier as the questions were getting more and more personal, and by the first hour of the date, he was wishing he was at home.

Javier had this happening before, during his time chasing Los Pepes, the media would be all over him asking all sorts of questions, work related or not, and he hated it. If she wasn't an acquaintance of his cousin, he would even consider her being a fucking journalist, because it was not normal to act like that with someone you had just met.

So after that, Javier was pretty dismotivated to continue his chasing, but his family had already found out he was giving love a chance and wouldn't leave him alone. Apparently, there were many "young women" interested in Javier, according to his aunts. Javier wasn't really comfortable being putten in that position again, but decided to give it a try - few tries, actually. Blide dates were exhaustive and the most of them very unpleasant. In a blink of eyes, it was New Year's Eve again and Javier was still not in a relationship, another failed promise in his mind.

"Well, your plan was to meet someone, and technically you met, like, twenty new women. I would call it a success" Javier rolled his eyes at his cousin's attempt to cheer him up.

"There must be something very wrong with me" he sighed and she pouted.

"Don't say that, Javi! All of them wanted to go on a date with you, you were the one to reject them"

"I know, but- I don't know" he scratched his chin "They all looked at me as if I saved the world, and it's not like that, you know it's not"

She moved the newborn to her other side and sitted closer to him in the couch settled outside the house where they had been chatting for the last hour. Javier looked at the baby in her arms and felt his throat tighten.

"You think so little of yourself, Javi" all her attention was on him, but his eyes didn't meet hers "I know you didn't "save the world", but you tried to make a difference and gave your best to do so, you can't reject a girl just because she admires you"

Javier had done things terrible enough for the good ones to be irrelevants, had let shit happen when he should have tried to stop them, and he had told her that, not in details, but she was the only person beside him and Steve to know, and still thought he was a good person. And yeah, maybe he wasn't so bad after all, but he imagined letting one of those women inside, their eyes shining with pride, letting himself love her, feeling safe enough to tell her about everything and her never seeing him the same way, giving up on him because of his baggage, he knew he would if he could, so how could he put such a burden upon someone's shoulders? Who would want that?

"But I understand, I think" she spoke again, her free hand patting his shoulder "It must feel strange having someone knowing so much about you and you knowing nothing about them. Maybe you shouldn't go on these shitty arranged dates and find someone on your on"

"Yeah, I think you're right" he took her hand in his and gave her knuckes a light peck "Thank you"

"Mijo" Chucho's head appeared on the frame of the door "Would you do me a favor?"

"Of course, Pops" he stood up.

"Your aunts forg-" he was interrupted by shoutings coming from the kitchen:

"You stand there and accuse me, but where were you at the time?" was the voice of one of his aunts "Strolling through the corridors looking for fruitcakes when it's not even the season anymore!"

"You leave my fruitcakes alone!" another aunt shouted back "I don't hear you complaining when you're eating them!"

Javier looked at his father with his brows raised in curiosity, and the old man sighed "Your aunts forgot the jar of pickles, would you mind driving to the tienda?"

"No, I don't"

Most of the commerces were already closed at that time of the evening, but the tienda was the one place everyone in Laredo could count to be open at any time. The owners greeted him when he passed through the door, trying to small talk, and he turned them down the nicer way he could, wishing them a happy new year and going straight to the aisle he was supposed to. He heard the sound of broken glass followed by cursings coming from further in the store and found you staring miseraly at a burst jar of pickles on the floor, the vinegar smell all over the air and a basket full of groceries supported on your hip.

"You okay?" you looked up at him and he felt the the wind knocked out of him; you were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his life.

"I am, yeah, that isn't" you pointed to the jar and he smiled.

Probably imagining what had happened by the noise, a man quickly showed up with a broom and a cloth to clear it up. You apologized profusely, saying that you could clean it up yourself while the man said it was no problem.

Javier looked at you one more time and left to get what he went there for. He had never seen you in the city before, and it wasn't like he was out of the ranch often - he tried very much not to -, but you should've been new there; the conversation with his cousin still fresh in his head. When he got to the dill pickles aisle, he shouldn't be surprised that you appeared in the other end of it, you had just dropped your jar after all.

"Hi again" you smiled as you walked towards him and he smiled back.

He felt something very similar to shyness creeping in his stomach "Hi"

"Just getting another one of this since mine decided this life just wasn't for him" you raised your hand and said your name.

"Javier" the handshake lingered a little longer than one normally would, your skin soft against his.

He saw the way you looked at him with interest, he should've asked you out. He should've, you were pretty, were his type and, if new in town, probably knew nothing about him. He should've, but he didn't. Thinking once then twice if he could've been reading it wrong, if you were just being nice and in the possibility to make you uncomfortable asking you out after exchanging two sentences in an aisl store. So he just took a jar, said goodbye, and left.

But something inside of him told him that you, with your bright smile and little jokes, could be the one. So he promised to himself to ask you out the next time he saw you.

And he did. After that day, he would go to the city every chance he had. He told his father he would start doing the groceries so he could rest. Chucho didn't buy that, but did nothing about it, he knew his son, so he knew better than to ask, when he wanted to talk to him, he would. It took a couple of months for him to see you again, in the most unexpected place he could think of. He had taken his father to an appointment in Houston, strolling around to pass the time when he saw you inside a café. His eyes widened and he was quick to move out of your sight before you saw him.

He was anxious, but he had been waiting for an opportunity for months and couldn't let it slide away again. Javier took a deep breath and entered the shop, a bell upon his head announcing his entrance. He pretended not to see you, going straight to the counter to ask for a coffee; he didn't want you thinking he was a stalker or something. While waiting for his drink, Javier would take glances in your direction, you sitted three tables away from him, an open book and a mug on the table before you. With his coffee in hands, he looked around and locked eyes with you, who smiled and waved at him. Even though there were plenty of unoccupied tables, Javier took confident steps towards yours.

"Mind if I join?" the smile you gave him made his skin prickle.

"Not at all" you marked a page in the book and closed it as he took a seat in the chair in front of you.

"I haven't seen you in a while" was his subtle attempt to start a conversation.

"Were you looking for me?" you rested your forearms on the table and lightly leaned in his direction.

Javier smirked, was that you flirting, or was he really that rusty? "I was, yeah"

"Good to know" you smiled again "I travel a lot for work, haven't really been in Laredo"

Before he could ask what you did for work, you asked what he was doing in Houston, so he told you about his father's semester appointment that was only available there, and that made you ask about Chucho's health, and then about the trip, since it was a very long one, but he told you he liked driving and used to do that with his parents a lot, which lead to talking about families, you said you weren't really close to yours, the conversation flowing with neither of you seeing the time pass. It was you the one to bring him back to reality, asking which time he was supposed to get Chucho in the hospital and making him realise that he was already late.

"Javier" you said as he quickly stood up to leave "I don't know if I'm reading this wrong, I really hope I'm not and I'm sorry if I am but-"

"Would you like to go out with me sometime?" the words left his mouth before without hesitation.

Your brows raised in surprised, but your smile could have brightened a whole galaxy "God, yes"

He called you the next day, not wanting to wait a minute longer than what he thought wasn't giving desperation. You set the date for the next week, when you would already be back in Laredo. He went to pick you up and got once more mesmerized by the sight of you; you laughed and affectionately squeezed his arm when he told you that. Javier took you to his favorite restaurant in the city, a cozy little place with delicious food his parents used to take him when his mother was still alive. The two of you talked the whole night: he found out that you were a photographer, had moved to Laredo a few months ago planning on settling down "I'm getting too old for all that traveling, and the house's prices are good" was what you told him. Your favorite food was mexican, you weirdly liked the smell of gasoline and wet soil, loved listening to music, still had your grandparents in your hometown so you visited often, wanted to have a dog but couldn't with your schedule, always dreamt of being a mother. You asked so much about him, too. Not the type of questions he was used to being asked, you tried to know him by asking about his childhood, more details about his parents because they seemed to have had such a beautiful love, if he had traveled out of Laredo before, which got him telling you he was a former DEA agent in Colombia, and he saw the curiosity in your eyes, he waited for the questions about that to come, but instead you just said you've had always wanted to visit South America. Years later, when he mentioned tour first date, you would tell him that you knew what was happening in Colombia at that time and that you knew better than to ask what could be invasive questions.

When you couldn't stay in the restaurant anymore because they had to close, Javier still didn't want the night to end, but drove you to your house still. As he took you to your door and wished you a goodnight, ready to leave, you held his upper arm and gave him a light peck on the lips. As if something snapped inside of him, Javier didn't give you the time to even open your eyes before his mouth were against yours again, tongues dancing together as if they already knew one another and had done this before, hands passing through each others bodies. When you asked him to go inside, he hesitated.

"I don't want you to think that's all I want" he vocalized his concerns.

"I don't" you took his face in your hands, brushed your lips on his and smiled "You're a catch, Javier Peña, I'm keeping you to myself"

Javier took his time with you, kissing every inch of your body, having you giggling and moaning and writhing under his touch. Unhurriedly making you his between wet kisses and moans and screams of his name. He would've stayed connected to your body for the rest of his life if he could've, but your agenda was booked for the rest of the year and all he could have was a couple of weeknds a month and long night's phone calls. But Javier took all you gave him without complaints, even though he missed you so much his chest tighted. He missed your smile, your laughter, your body next to his, your fingers through his hair, your kisses to wake him up in the morning, the way his name souded on your lips when he was inside of you, the weight of your head resting on his chest, the way your right leg would twine between his when you slept. The man was head over heels for you and knew you felt the same, all those nights the both of you cried on the phone, sick of being away from each other proved it.

But the both of you survived that tough time like champions, by then, the end of the year was near, and you went to get your grandparents at your hometown to spend the New Year's Eve with Javier's family, the people who raised you obviously being two of the best people he had ever met. His aunts were in love with you, the kids wouldn't leave you alone and his favorite cousin was so thrilled to finally meet you that she dramatically almost passed out. Everyone spent the night laughing and eating and talking, and watching from afar, he couldn't believe how well you fitted on his family, but he hadn't doubted for a second that everyone would love you, how could someone not to? So when he told you he loved you for the first time that night and you said it back without hesitation, Javier promised to be the best version of himself to get you to wear his mother's ring on your finger by the end of the next year.

Not everything was perfect, nothing ever is. You had some fights, you disagreed in a few things, but something you stablished the first time Javier gave in to old habits and tried to run away from the issue was that you wouldn't sleep without talking about it; no hitting doors, no leaving, no fucking the anger out, you talked and made the effort to change what was bothering. Javier had been in only one serious relationship before, with Lorraine, and damn what a difference it was. He couldn't blame neither of them, they were young and didn't know what they wanted; you, on the other hand, knew exactly what you wanted and it still shocked him that it was him. You wanted him, all flaws and errors and baggage included, you didn't let him shut you down when things got tough, and with time he learned to trust you, to count on you, to talk about his feelings, his walls slowly tumbling down. The day he told you everything about Colombia was the hardest he had ever been putten through, years of fighting drug dealers and putting his life at risk, and he had never been more frightened. Tears were shared, you didn't react very well to a few things, but you never dropped his hand, never interrupted, never distanced yourself, even thanked him for trusting you, and at the end he felt as light as a feather. You convinced him to go to therapy, emphasizing that he had to treat the psychological consequences of the terror he confronted back in Colombia.

After that, it seemed like you had reached a goal at your relationship, you spending more time at the ranch than at your own house, a great routine already settled, and you made it very clear you were ready to be asked in marriage when you said those exact words to him. Little did you know he was already planning on it, and one day, after photographing a wedding at a neighbor city, Javier welcomed you in the ranch with candles everywhere, a knee on the floor, tears on his eyes, his mothers ring in a velvet red box and the most heartwarming speech one could ever ask for. The wedding was quick to happen, neither of you wanted a big party, just your families and friends gathered in the ranch with the ceremony realized by a very emotional Chucho. Didn't take you long to get pregnant either, your life settled with you being called to take every photo in Laredo and Javier accepting a job at the Sheriff's Office; the both of you had decided to live with Chucho once he had injured his leg during work, him more than thrilled to have a grandbaby under his roof. Javi fell in love with you a little more every day that passed, more and more mesmerized by you and your growing belly. At the end of that year, he promised to be a father as good as the one he had.

And what a good father he was indeed. He dedicated his life to his family, providing all the love and dedication he had in him, gladly waking up during the nights to comfort his kids; yes, you both got tired as hell, made mistakes, got stressed sometimes, but you got the life of your dreams and the both of you had so much love to give that it didn't matter how hard things could get, you wanted it, all of it. With his one-year-old boy sleeping in his arms as you talked to your grandma on the other side of the room, your ring hand carressing your beautiful round belly that carried your next baby, he saw as his babygirl crossed the room shouting with her hands thrown up in the air to scare you, clearly influenced by her cousin, and you playfully shouted back. The dogs started barking and jumping at the commotion, the three-year-old giggling as you kissed her cheek.

Javier felt like his heart could explode inside of his chest, certain that there was no man alive happier than him, he thought about how lucky he was he went to get those pickles all those years ago. The journy the both of you had wasn't quite easy, the challenges you had to face, the expensive phone bills he got when you were apart, the fears he had to overcome, even those years in Colombia, he would have done it all again and again and again if it meant to be where he was at that very moment, to wake up everyday by your side, to always have you in the passanger seat to rest his hand on your thigh, to have the kids laughing and running around the house, to experiencing the type of love his parents had.

At that New Year's Eve, Javier kept the same promise he had been keeping the last years: to give his all to the family of his own.

"Javi, baby" you called him, your smile as wide as always "I'm craving pickles"

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