#like i want to keep watching but every episode is so dark now

[lyxchen]

I really do love the 11th doctor but why are so many of his episodes just horror and darkness? Like I know that Doctor Who also often has an element of horror but I don't remember it being that much. Where are the fun silly filler episodes? Why are all the filler episodes so scary now?

#and they're not even fun scary #or interesting to think about scary #they're really just scaring me #and that makes it hard to keep watching #like i want to keep watching but every episode is so dark now #abd the constantly do these mind twists and tricks that are very emotionally hard to watch #like that episode with the two amys? #i can't keep doing the 'which one is the right one? which one should i pick?' #but #i do Adore river song!!!!!! #i wish there was more of her tho :(( #lea's random thoughts #doctor who

[wandamaximoffsbadgirl]

My Missing Piece

616!Wanda x 199999!Fem!Reader

Summary: You've lost your wife Wanda. Leaving you alone with your twin boys to try and pick up the pieces. What happens when the Scarlet Witch comes looking for her boys?

Word Count: 10.4K

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, R calls W Mommy, W uses pet names, enchanted strap use, Dom!Wanda, sub!reader, overstimulation, magic restraints, depressive thoughts/episodes.

A/N: Made this forever ago and forgot about it until like two days ago lol. I really liked the idea of this so I hope you guys enjoy~ Also I decided that world 199999 (which was the original MCU world number before MoM turned it to 616) is just a parallel world where no one died :)

Every night after tucking my boys, Billy and Tommy in to bed, I have a bit of me time. Sometimes I watch TV, sometimes I'll scroll through social media on my phone, sometimes I'll write because I was told that was supposed to help with grief, it hasn't so far, what helps the most is when I talk to her before bed, "I miss you Wands...our boys miss you too...of course they love their Mama, but you're their Mommy. You carried them for nine months, you were in labor for just over a day." Tommy was born first 12 minutes ahead of his brother Billy. "You gave so much for our boys and our life here and I wish you had never said yes to that mission after all these years..." I break down, quiet sobs wrack me as I curl up on her side of the bed. It still smells like her.

I let sleep take me as I have the same dream I do every night. Wanda, but not Wanda...some twisted version of her with black fingers, and she just seems off, but she's searching, as if she can see me? She's looking for our boys. Every morning just as she finds me, us, I wake up. Dried tears on my cheeks and my eyes red. The bags under my eyes have never been darker, but I cover them up as I get out of bed to start yet another day without my wife.

The alarm blares through the quiet of the room, jolting me awake from my restless slumber. With a heavy sigh, I reach over to silence it, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. Another day begins, much like every other since she left us.

I stumble out of bed, the weight of grief still heavy on my shoulders as I move through the motions of the morning routine. It's a struggle to keep it together, but I have to be strong for Billy and Tommy. They need me, even though every fiber of my being aches for her presence.

As I make my way downstairs, the memories flood back, hitting me like a tidal wave. Wanda was always the light in our lives, her laughter echoing through the halls, her warmth enveloping us like a comforting embrace. But now, there's only emptiness.

I try to push the thoughts aside as I prepare breakfast for the boys, forcing a smile as they bound into the kitchen, their youthful energy a stark contrast to my own weariness. They chatter excitedly about school and friends, oblivious to the pain that lingers beneath the surface.

After they've eaten and headed off to catch the bus, I sink into the solitude of the empty house once more. It's in these quiet moments that the ache is most palpable, the absence of her presence a constant reminder of all that we've lost.

I find myself drawn to her belongings, unable to resist the pull of her memory. Running my fingers over the familiar objects, I'm transported back to happier times, when our love felt invincible, untouchable by the darkness that now threatens to consume me.

But amidst the despair, there's a flicker of something else. A determination, a resolve to keep going, if not for myself then for her. She wouldn't want me to wallow in sorrow, to let the grief consume me. She'd want me to live, to cherish the memories we shared and find solace in the love that still remains.

With a deep breath, I push myself to my feet, wiping away the tears that threaten to fall. Today may be another struggle, another battle against the pain, but I refuse to let it defeat me. For Wanda, for our boys, I'll find the strength to carry on, one day at a time.

The day went by quickly and soon enough the boys were home filling up our home with noise once more,

"Boys homework first or no ice cream!" I call from the kitchen when I hear them start to fight over player one controller.

"Awww but Mama!" They whined.

"So you boys don't want ice cream tomorrow night either I see." I hear them grumble and then the TV go off, the sound of the dining room chairs scraping as I look over my shoulder to see they're working. "There are my good boys." I turn back smiling as I carry on with prepping dinner. Suddenly something feels off. A pit in my stomach starts forming and I feel eyes on me, not the boys though these feel predatory.

I look up and through the window I don't see my own reflection, I see Wanda, the same one I see in my dreams.

My heart leaps into my throat as I freeze, the knife in my hand forgotten as I stare wide-eyed at the impossible sight before me. It's her, but it's not. The twisted version from my nightmares, black fingers reaching out like tendrils of darkness, eyes filled with a hunger I can't comprehend.

I feel a chill run down my spine as her gaze locks onto mine, a shiver of fear coursing through my veins. Instinctively, I reach for the pendant hanging around my neck, fingers brushing against the smooth surface of the purple power stone embedded within. It's a comforting weight, a reminder of the power that pulses through me, but even it feels insignificant in the face of this apparition.

"What do you want?" I manage to choke out, my voice barely above a whisper. But she doesn't answer, only continues to stare, her presence suffocating in its intensity.

Desperation claws at the edges of my mind as I struggle to make sense of the situation. Is this some kind of illusion, a trick of the mind brought on by grief and exhaustion? Or is she truly here, some twisted echo of the woman I loved?

Before I can gather my thoughts, a sudden crash from the dining room snaps me back to reality. The boys, my precious boys, oblivious to the danger that lurks just beyond our walls. With a surge of adrenaline, I lunge forward, grabbing the nearest weapon within reach.

But as I turn back to face the window, she's gone, vanished into thin air like a wisp of smoke. The only evidence of her presence is the lingering sense of unease that hangs heavy in the air.

I rush to the dining room, relief flooding through me as I find the boys unharmed, their laughter filling the room once more. But even as I hold them close, a sense of dread lingers, a silent reminder that darkness still lurks just beyond the edges of our reality.

"Mama is everything okay?" Billy asks as I hold them, kissing the top of their heads.

"I just thought one of you got hurt. I'm happy you boys aren't." I lie to them as to not worry them, but Billy looks at me trying to search my thoughts. "Hey no mind reading little man." I ruffle his hair. "Everything is fine. If you boys are finished you can play one game, dinner will be ready in 15 minutes." The minutes tick by slowly as I finish preparing dinner, the aroma of comfort food filling the air. I glance at the clock, realizing that my boys are engrossed in their game, blissfully unaware of the turmoil swirling within me.

With a heavy sigh, I take a moment to compose myself before calling them to the table. As we gather for the meal, laughter and chatter resuming, I try to push the unsettling encounter out of my mind. But deep down, I know it's not over.

As we eat, the boys share stories from their day, their infectious joy momentarily easing the ache in my heart. I force a smile, savoring these small moments of normalcy in our fractured world.

After dinner, as the boys retreat to their rooms for the night, I find myself once again standing by the window, staring into the darkness beyond. The pit in my stomach returns, the unease settling in as I feel a presence lingering just out of sight.

The room is silent, save for the hum of the refrigerator and the distant sounds of the night. I close my eyes, summoning the courage to speak the words that linger on the tip of my tongue.

"Wanda, if you're out there, if you can hear me, please... don't hide. I don't know what's happening, but I can't face it alone. I need you, now more than ever." My voice trembles with a mix of desperation and longing.

The air remains still, the response elusive. I wait in silence, hoping for some sign, some reassurance that I'm not losing my mind. But the universe remains silent, withholding its secrets.

"Gods I feel like I'm going crazy Wands...how am I supposed to do this without you?" I feel the hot tears in my eyes, streak down my cheeks then suddenly a loud bang from the living room, the sound of a portal. "Stephan? Is that you?" It wasn't uncommon for Stephan Strange to pop in and check on me and the boys. Stephan had lost his love many years ago. Before I reach the living room, I hear the familiar sound of heels clicking on my hard wood flooring. Suddenly I'm standing face to face with the Wanda I've seen in my dreams...."W-Wands?" I questioned,

"A version. I've lost something precious to me and I've come to get it back." I look her over. It's Wanda, but not mine. As I get closer, Her hair is a different shade, her eyes are a little less of an emerald green and more of a sea green, this Wanda has a scar on her forehead, just above her left eyebrow.

"Oh...what has your universe done to you Detka?" I ask softly reaching out and she grabs my wrist with a force.

"It took everything from me." She seethed. "I want my boys back. I'm taking them." She tosses me aside like I'm nothing. Luckily with the power stone embedded in my chest. I push back, barreling back into her. Tackling her to the ground until I'm on top of her and it's then that she notices my stone, "You have the power stone...how? That's impossible. I've seen it kill people that touch it.

"I'm tough that's why my Wanda loved me." I had her pinned and used my own magic to subdue her. "I've been called the Violet Witch here for years. It became my code name."

"That can't be..." I give her a questioning look. "I'm the Scarlet Witch." She tells me, the scarlet witch? Wanda never said anything...? I stumble back off of her, reeling, "The Scarlet Witch." I let out a dry chuckle, "It makes sense, but I can't let you take my boys. If I loose them then That means I've lost my Wanda and them. I might as well die." I tell her,

"Wait so your Wanda is gone?" She asks. I nod,

"She was needed for a mission. I begged her not to go, we had retired from being Avengers 10 years ago when we found out she was pregnant. She told me everything would be fine. She promised me...and then suddenly I have Strange and Parker on my doorstep with Bucky and Sam behind them carry the casket." I feel my eyes blur as I walk over to the scarlet witch, "If you are another her then," I take her hands putting them up to my temples and ease my forehead onto her, letting my memories over the past ten years flood through her mind.

As our minds intertwine, I feel a rush of memories flooding into her consciousness. The love, the loss, the moments of joy and heartache that have shaped my existence since Wanda's departure. It's a whirlwind of emotions, a bittersweet symphony of love and grief that binds us together in ways I never thought possible.

For a moment, there's a flicker of recognition in her eyes, a glimmer of understanding amidst the chaos of her own turmoil. She sees the depth of my pain, the desperation to hold onto the fragments of a life that's slipping through my fingers.

But as quickly as it came, the moment passes, and she pulls away, her expression hardening once more. "I'm sorry for your loss," she says, her voice tinged with a hint of sympathy. "But my pain is just as real. I've lost everything too, and I'll do whatever it takes to reclaim what's mine."

I feel a pang of empathy for her, a shared sense of anguish that transcends the boundaries of our separate worlds. But beneath it all, there's a primal instinct, a fierce determination to protect my boys at all costs.

"I understand your pain," I reply, my voice steady despite the turmoil raging within. "But my boys are not yours to take. They belong here, with me, with their family."

She narrows her eyes, her resolve unwavering. "Then we're at an impasse," she says, her tone final. "I won't leave without them."

I take a step forward, meeting her gaze with steely determination. "Then I guess we'll just have to see who's stronger," I say, my voice echoing with a newfound resolve.

With that, the battle lines are drawn, two versions of Wanda Maximoff facing off against each other in a clash of wills and power. But amidst the chaos and uncertainty, one thing remains clear: no matter the outcome, I'll do whatever it takes to protect my boys and honor the memory of the woman I loved.

Her eyes meet mine, a mixture of pain and longing mirrored in their depths. The tear I wiped away lingers on her cheek, a testament to the shared sorrow we both carry. The silence stretches between us, heavy with unspoken emotions, and for a moment, time seems to hang suspended.

"I... I don't know if I can stay," she whispers, her voice choked with emotion. "But the offer, it means more than you can imagine. In my world, everything has crumbled, and I'm left with nothing but ashes and echoes of what once was."

I can feel the weight of her words, the burden of her grief, and I tighten my grip on her cheek, desperate to convey the sincerity of my plea. "Wanda, you don't have to face this alone. You're not just a version of her; you're your own person, with your own pain. But here, in this universe, you have a chance to rebuild, to find a new kind of family."

She opens her eyes, the sea-green gaze locking onto mine. There's a vulnerability in her expression, a crack in the stoic facade she wears. "I'm so tired," she admits, a raw honesty in her voice. "Tired of loss, tired of fighting. Maybe... maybe it's time for a different path."

A tentative smile plays on her lips, and my heart skips a beat. I wipe away another tear, this time a tear of relief. "You don't have to decide now," I say softly. "Take the time you need. But know that here, you have people who care, people who understand loss and are willing to help you carry the burden."

The room seems to brighten, as if the weight of the universe has lifted, if only for a moment. And in that moment, I see a glimmer of hope, a possibility for healing and connection that transcends the boundaries of our fractured worlds.

"I need to know one thing." She speaks, "Is Vision alive?" my brows furrow together.

"Vision? Who is that?" I ask genuinely confused.

"Wait...how did we meet here?" She asks.

"Oh well we met in Sokovia. We were protesting Stark together at a rally. Your brother flirted with me first and I never let him live that down especially when I married you and he was my best man." I smile at the memory. "Anyways, we were approached by Hydra and experimented on. They had the mind stone and the power stone. You and Pietro were exposed to the mind stone and I was too, but nothing happened unlike you two so they put me in a room with the power stone. It decided my chest was it's forever home. I ended up breaking us out from the Hydra base with the help of the Avengers who had caught word of the base. The three of us joined the Avengers and the rest is history." I tell her.

"So no Ultron? Sokovia didn't fly in the air? What about the Sokovia accords?" She throws question after question.

"No idea what you're talking about love. We carried on doing small missions, taking down hydra and radicals, but the three of us spent a long time training before they let us out doing field work." I tell her.

"Three? Is...is Pietro..?" Her voice breaks.

"Alive? Yeah of course." She falls to her knees and starts sobbing.

"Mommy?" Billy is at the middle of the stairs and the look in Wanda's eyes.

"Yeah baby it's Mommy." Wanda opened her arms and the little speedster found his way into her arms." Her eyes spilling over tears.

"Mama said you weren't coming back." Billy whispered.

"Mama didn't think I was, but Mommy always finds a way back to her boys." Wanda pulls back and looks up at me. "I'm staying...how could I say no when this is just about the most perfect version I could ask for?" I smile and start crying again as Tommy joins us before I can even blink. "Our little quick silver." Wanda smiles hugging the boys, her boys.

Tears of relief blur my vision as I watch Wanda embrace our boys, her boys, with a tenderness that speaks volumes. Billy and Tommy cling to her, their small arms wrapping around her tightly as if afraid she'll disappear again if they let go. And in that moment, I realize that this is where she belongs, with us, her family.

I join them on the floor, wrapping my arms around them all, unable to contain the overwhelming flood of emotions that threatens to consume me. "Welcome home, Wanda," I whisper, my voice choked with tears.

She looks up at me, her eyes shining with gratitude and love. "Thank you," she says softly, her voice trembling with emotion. "For everything."

Together, we sit in the warmth of our embrace, a makeshift family forged from the ashes of our shared past. And as the night stretches on, I can't help but feel a glimmer of hope amidst the darkness, a belief that no matter what trials may come, as long as we have each other, we can weather any storm.

========================

The days blurred together in a haze of longing and uncertainty, each moment tinged with the ache of what could have been. Wanda's presence in our home was both a blessing and a curse, a constant reminder of the love I had lost and the impossibility of reclaiming what was once mine.

I watched her interact with the boys, her smile forced but genuine, her laughter a melody that echoed through the halls. And yet, beneath the surface, I could sense the weight of her own grief, the burden of a past that refused to let her go.

I tried to be strong, to be there for her and the boys, but every smile felt like a lie, every laugh a hollow echo of the joy we once shared. And in the darkness of the night, when sleep eluded me and the silence pressed in like a vice, I found myself haunted by memories of another Wanda, a version of her that existed only in my dreams.

She was so close, yet so far away, a phantom presence that taunted me with what could have been. I longed to reach out to her, to hold her close and whisper words of love and comfort. But she was gone, lost to me in a reality that no longer existed.

And so I forced myself out of bed each morning, steeling myself against the pain that threatened to consume me. I buried myself in the routines of daily life, seeking solace in the mundane tasks that kept me tethered to reality.

But no matter how hard I tried to push her memory away, she lingered in the shadows of my mind, a ghostly specter that refused to be forgotten. And as the days turned into weeks, I began to wonder if I would ever find peace, if I would ever be able to let go of the love that still bound me to her, even across the vast expanse of the multiverse.

My Wanda and I had always had a policy of no mind reading since we could both do it, but this Wanda pokes at my thoughts constantly. Reminds me to smile through telepathy. One morning after a really good dream with another Wanda I can't get myself out of bed. Everything is too much. I know I had told her I'd be fine, but I'm not.

"Come on Y/N. Time to get up." I turn away from her, curling up into a ball further. "Y/N? What's wrong?" She asks.

"Nothing just tired. Just tell the boys I don't feel good. I need a Mama's day. So they can have a Mommy day. Take them out, get them ice cream. Do whatever you want." I grumble.

"Okay..." I close my eyes, letting myself drift back off just needed to see her again.

I don't know how much time has past when I'm being woken up, "Detka...come on wake up." My eyes blink into focus as I look at Wanda sitting above me and smile, forgetting my reality for a moment before my smile drops.

"What?" I ask.

"I dropped the boys off with their uncle for the weekend." I sit up straight,

"You did what!?" I screech.

"I left them with Pietro for the weekend. He was more than happy to have a boys weekend. Something about taking them to the lake?" Wanda mentions.

"He takes them every summer, usually it's a family thing and we all go." I tell Wanda.

"Well I figured you needed a Mommy and me weekend. I want to take you out. I want to get to know you. I already know my boys, but you. You're different, new, you aren't like Vision. You're human." She cups my cheek, smiling and I know it's a genuine smile. "I'm sure you've been feeling neglected and I wanted to try and do this sooner, but the boys were too excited to have me back." She says as I lean into her touch, Gods how I missed her touch. Though her fingers were no longer black her nails seemed to permanently stay black which made me laugh as I compared it to her emo phase which apparently this Wanda had one too.

"Thank you," I whisper, my voice catching in my throat. "For understanding."

She smiles, a warmth in her eyes that belies the weight of her own pain. "We're in this together. You don't have to carry the burden alone."

With her words echoing in my mind, I find the strength to push myself out of bed, to face the day with renewed determination. Wanda's offer of a Mommy and me weekend is a lifeline, a chance to rediscover myself amidst the chaos of grief and longing.

As we spend the day together, exploring the city and sharing stories of our pasts, I feel a sense of peace settle over me, a reassurance that maybe, just maybe, there's still hope for a future filled with love and laughter.

And as the sun sets on our day together, I realize that while Wanda may not be my Wanda, she's still a beacon of light in the darkness, a reminder that even in our darkest moments, there's always someone willing to stand by our side, to offer a hand to hold and a shoulder to lean on.

With her by my side, I know that no matter what the future may hold, I'll never have to face it alone. And as we head home, the weight of grief feels a little lighter, the shadows a little less daunting, as we embrace the possibility of a new beginning, together.

When we got back home, I pulled her to the couch, "Time to watch sitcoms." I tell her and her face lights up.

"Dick Van Dyke?" She asks.

"No Detka. I want to show you my favorite this time. It's a more modern one. It's an animated sitcom though is that okay?" I ask, realizing this Wanda maybe never experienced animated and only enjoyed live action ones.

"Of course dorogoya." Her accent popping out sent a wave through me that landed between my legs.

"O-okay good." I say and get 'Bob's Burgers' playing. As the show starts I settle in with a slight distance between us, but she pulls me in against her side.

"Is this okay dorogoya?" She asks looking down at me.

"Y-yeah...of course." I move slight, readjusting to get comfortable as we fit together like two missing puzzle pieces and I let out a sigh of relief, that feels like so much weight is taken off my shoulders.

As the episodes of "Bob's Burgers" played on, I found myself relaxing into Wanda's embrace, the tension that had been coiled tight within me slowly unraveling with each passing moment. Her warmth seeped into my bones, a comforting presence that chased away the lingering shadows of doubt and fear.

With her by my side, the laughter that bubbled up from the screen felt genuine, a reflection of the newfound camaraderie we shared. And as I stole glances at her profile, illuminated by the soft glow of the television, I couldn't help but marvel at the beauty of the moment, the simplicity of just being together.

Her laughter mingled with mine, the sound music to my ears, a symphony of joy that filled the room with warmth and light. And as the credits rolled on the final episode, I turned to her, a smile playing at the corners of my lips.

"Thank you," I said softly, my voice barely above a whisper. "For today. For everything."

She returned my smile, her eyes shimmering with affection. "Anytime. I'm here for you, always."

I sat there staring at her, getting lost in her eyes so much that I don't even realize that she's leaning in until she's inches from my lips, she stops and I can feel her breath on me, my own hitching,

"Is this okay dorogoya?" She whispers in a husk against my lips.

"Y-yes." I manage out as she kisses me softly at first, testing the waters, but soon enough she's kissing hungrily, like she's starving for my taste now that's she's had a nibble. My fingers find their way into her hair, getting tangled in her auburn locks. One of her hands is on the back of my neck and the other is on my hip, gripping tightly, I can feel her nails digging in.

The world falls away as our lips meet in a fiery embrace, a collision of passion and longing that ignites every nerve ending in my body. Her kiss is intoxicating, a whirlwind of desire and need that sweeps me away in a tide of sensation.

I lose myself in the taste of her, the feel of her lips moving against mine with a hunger that mirrors my own. Our breath mingles in the space between us, hot and heavy with unspoken desire, as the intensity of our embrace grows with each passing moment.

Her hands are everywhere at once, trailing fire along my skin as she pulls me closer, her touch igniting a wildfire of sensation within me. I cling to her desperately, losing myself in the dizzying whirl of pleasure that consumes us both.

Time loses all meaning as we surrender to the passion that binds us together, lost in a world of our own making where nothing else matters but the fiery connection that burns between us.

And as we finally break apart, breathless and trembling, I find myself drowning in the depths of her gaze, a silent promise of more to come lingering in the air between us.

In that moment, I know that this is just the beginning of our journey together, a journey filled with love, passion, and endless possibility. And as we cling to each other in the aftermath of our shared passion, I can't help but feel a sense of gratitude for the unexpected twist of fate that brought us together.

User

"Bed. Now." Her eyes lit up red for a moment. My Wanda had never been dominate, but this Wanda before me exuded dominance. I didn't waste any time getting up the stairs with her hot on my tail as we crashed into the bedroom, stumbling to the bed in a heat of kisses as she took the leading role.

The air crackled with electricity as we stumbled into the bedroom, our lips locked in a frenzy of passion and desire. Wanda's presence was intoxicating, her aura radiating power and dominance in a way I had never experienced before. And as she took the lead, pushing me onto the bed with a hunger that sent shivers down my spine, I felt myself surrendering to the raw intensity of the moment.

Her kisses were demanding, igniting a fire within me that burned hotter with each passing second. I moaned against her lips, my fingers tangling in her hair as I lost myself in the heat of the moment. Her touch was electric, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through my body as she explored every inch of my skin with a hunger that left me breathless.

With each caress, each whispered word of desire, I felt myself falling deeper under her spell, my body responding eagerly to her every touch. And as she claimed me as her own, I surrendered to the overwhelming tide of sensation, losing myself in the ecstasy of our shared passion.

In that moment, there was only her, only us, lost in a world of pleasure and desire where nothing else mattered but the intoxicating connection that bound us together. And as we moved as one, bodies entwined in a symphony of passion, I knew that this was just the beginning of our journey together, a journey filled with love, lust, and endless possibility.

The sensation of relinquishing control, of surrendering completely to someone else's will, was both exhilarating and liberating. As I basked in the warmth of Wanda's dominance, I found myself embracing a side of myself that I had long suppressed, a side that craved the thrill of submission and surrender.

With each touch, each whispered command, I felt myself sinking deeper into the abyss of pleasure, my mind consumed by a haze of ecstasy that left me breathless and yearning for more. And as Wanda took the lead, guiding me with a firm yet gentle hand, I found myself surrendering to the overwhelming tide of sensation, losing myself in the intoxicating dance of pleasure and desire.

In her arms, I felt safe, cherished, and utterly alive, my body responding eagerly to her every touch and caress. And as we moved together in a symphony of passion and desire, I embraced the freedom that came with letting go, allowing myself to be swept away by the currents of our shared passion.

For in that moment, there was only her, only us, lost in a world of blissful surrender where nothing else mattered but the exquisite pleasure of our connection. And as we surrendered to the ecstasy of our shared desire, I knew that this was just the beginning of our journey together, a journey filled with exploration, discovery, and boundless pleasure.

"Ah...Wands..." A smack hit my thigh making me jolt and yelp.

"That's not my name Detka." I feel my stomach flip. I call her this all the time. I have for years now, but never in this setting. Another smack and then her teeth find my skin, biting and sucking harshly, marking me.

"Mommy!" I can feel the smirk against my thigh.

"Good girl. Go on. Show me how needy you are baby girl." Her fingers find themselves between my folds as I move my hips against them.

The sensation of her touch sent shivers of pleasure coursing through me, igniting a fire that burned hotter with each passing moment. I arched my back, pressing against her fingers as they explored the depths of my desire, teasing and tantalizing with a skill that left me trembling with need.

"Please," I whimpered, the word spilling from my lips in a desperate plea for more. Her touch was electric, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through my body as she pushed me to the brink of ecstasy.

With each caress, each stroke, I felt myself teetering on the edge of oblivion, my senses overwhelmed by the intensity of our shared passion. And as she whispered words of encouragement, urging me to let go and surrender to the pleasure that awaited, I felt myself surrendering completely to the overwhelming tide of sensation.

In that moment, there was only her, only us, lost in a world of blissful abandon where nothing else mattered but the exquisite pleasure of our connection. And as I succumbed to the ecstasy of our shared desire, I knew that this was just the beginning of our journey together, a journey filled with passion, intensity, and boundless pleasure.

The sensation of Wanda's magic enveloping my wrists sent a thrill of anticipation coursing through me, a tangible reminder of her power and dominance. I tested the restraints, feeling the firm hold of her magic as it kept me securely in place, my heart pounding with a mixture of excitement and arousal.

"Safe word. Green, yellow, red. Green is keep going, yellow slow down, red is stop." Wanda husked.

"Green, yellow, red," I echoed, committing the safe words to memory as a reassurance of our mutual trust and consent. With each breath, each whispered command, I felt myself sinking deeper into the heady haze of pleasure, surrendering completely to the overwhelming tide of sensation.

As Wanda continued to explore my body with a skillful touch that left me trembling with need, I surrendered myself to the ecstasy of our shared desire, knowing that in her arms, I was safe, cherished, and utterly alive.

And as the intensity of our passion grew with each passing moment, I found myself teetering on the edge of oblivion, my senses overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of our connection. In that moment, there was only her, only us, lost in a world of blissful abandon where nothing else mattered but the exquisite pleasure of our shared desire.

I don't think there is a place she hasn't marked on me in some way and after hours of edging until I couldn't form sentences she finally let me release. A string of moans ripping through me as the most intense waves roll over me as I drown in them, covered in sweat and her marks.

As the waves of pleasure washed over me, leaving me trembling and spent, I basked in the afterglow of our shared passion, my body still tingling with the echoes of our ecstasy. But just when I thought the intensity had peaked, I felt something pressing against my entrance, a sensation that sent a jolt of anticipation coursing through me.

I gasped, my body instinctively tensing as Wanda's touch ignited a new wave of desire within me. Her fingers teased and tantalized, exploring the depths of my desire with a skill that left me breathless and eager for more.

With each gentle thrust, I felt myself opening up to her, surrendering completely to the overwhelming tide of sensation. The pleasure was exquisite, a symphony of ecstasy that echoed through every fiber of my being as I lost myself in the blissful abandon of our shared desire.

And as Wanda continued to guide me with a firm yet gentle hand, I surrendered myself to the pleasure of our connection, knowing that in her arms, I was safe, cherished, and utterly alive. In that moment, there was only her, only us, lost in a world of blissful abandon where nothing else mattered but the exquisite pleasure of our shared desire.

Wanda soon enough needed more and so did I, "Faster...ha-ah...harder..." My breath hot against her, panting like a dog and that gave her the perfect opportunity to place her fingers in my mouth, gaging me with them, but I loved every second as I sucked on them, moaning against them as I tasted myself on them from earlier.

The sensation of Wanda's fingers in my mouth sent a thrill of arousal coursing through me, a heady mixture of pleasure and desire that left me panting and eager for more. With each thrust, each gasp of pleasure, I eagerly sucked on her fingers, tasting myself on them from earlier.

The taste was intoxicating, a symphony of desire that heightened the intensity of our connection as we moved together in perfect harmony. And as Wanda responded to my pleas with a fervor that mirrored my own, I surrendered myself to the pleasure of our shared desire, knowing that in her arms, I was safe, cherished, and utterly alive.

With each thrust, I felt myself teetering on the edge of oblivion, my senses overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of our passion. And as we reached the peak of ecstasy together, I knew that this was just the beginning of our journey, a journey filled with passion, intensity, and boundless pleasure.

In that moment, there was only her, only us, lost in a world of blissful abandon where nothing else mattered but the exquisite pleasure of our shared desire. And as we surrendered ourselves to the ecstasy of our connection, I knew that this was just the beginning of our journey together, a journey filled with love, lust, and endless possibility.

As I slowly regained my senses, the cool towel on the back of my neck and Wanda's comforting presence helped anchor me in reality. Her magic gently caressed my mind, offering reassurance and care as I took in the aftermath of our intense encounter.

"Easy, Detka. You're okay," she murmured, and I found solace in the warmth of her embrace. I took the offered water bottle, sipping slowly as she continued to tend to my well-being. The realization that I had passed out from pleasure left me both surprised and amused.

"Never happened before," I admitted with a chuckle. "The other Wanda was more of a sub, so I was usually the one in control. Not that I didn't enjoy it, but being on the receiving end is a whole different experience."

Wanda's magic fetched a baggy shirt, and as I recognized it, a wave of nostalgia washed over me. It was a shirt from a concert we attended when we were sixteen, a tangible link to our shared past.

"It's good to know not everything is different," I remarked, smiling as she kissed my temple.

In the warmth of our makeshift cocoon, surrounded by blankets and pillows, Wanda's magic weaving a protective barrier around us, we continued to watch 'Bob's Burgers.' However, my focus was no longer on the show; instead, I found myself captivated by the woman holding me close.

A sudden wave of fear and doubt crashed over me as I wondered if this intimate encounter was just a one-time gesture to alleviate my grief. The fear of being tossed aside after a momentary respite haunted my thoughts, threatening to overshadow the joy we had just shared.

Wanda, sensing my internal struggle, gently addressed my concerns. "Hey, woah, Detka. Those thoughts of yours are the farthest thing from the truth. Do not listen to them. I would never do that to my soulmate," she reassured me, her forehead finding mine in a tender gesture of connection.

"I love you, Y/N," she confessed, her words washing away my fears and opening the floodgates to a cascade of happy tears. "I love you, Wands! I didn't think I'd ever get to hear you say those words to me again," I admitted, clinging to her shirt as I sobbed into her.

Wanda's promises echoed in my heart, a vow to cherish and reaffirm our love every day. She kissed away my tears, each tender touch a testament to the depth of her commitment. "I promise I'm going to say it every chance I get. I'm never going to stop. I'm going to remind you every day how beautiful you are and how much I love you, and I promise I'm never going to leave. No missions. Nothing like that. I'll always be by your side," she declared, her own tears mingling with mine.

In that moment, as we drowned in each other's love, I knew that this second chance at happiness was a gift we would both cherish. And as Wanda whispered, "I love you," over and over, I felt the weight of my grief lifting, replaced by the warmth of a love that transcended time and space.

========

In the midst of my peaceful dream, I found myself enveloped in a sense of tranquility unlike any I had experienced in well over a year. Waking up with a smile on my face I turn my head, looking over I gazed upon the sleeping form of Wanda, her features softened by the gentle embrace of slumber, I felt a rush of overwhelming love and affection welling up within me.

With a playful smile tugging at the corners of my lips, I leaned in closer, pressing gentle kisses along the curve of her neck. Each tender touch elicited a soft moan from her lips, a melody of pleasure that echoed through the stillness of the night.

Lost in the intoxicating embrace of our shared intimacy, I continued to shower her with affection, reveling in the warmth of her presence and the depth of our connection. And as I whispered her name, a soft murmur of adoration, I knew that this moment, this fleeting glimpse of happiness, was a treasure to be cherished for all eternity.

As Wanda began to stir awake, her voice still heavy with sleep, I couldn't help but feel a surge of affection for her. Her words, though tinged with a hint of warning, only served to deepen the bond between us.

"You're playing a dangerous game, kotenok," she murmured, her voice laced with sleepiness.

"Shchenok," I corrected gently, a small smile playing on my lips.

Her eyes snapped open at the correction, surprise evident in her expression. "When did you learn that?" she asked, her curiosity piqued.

I shrugged, the memories of our shared past flooding back to me. "I was with her for like 20 years of our lives. I learned most Russian. Also Natasha, she..." My voice trailed off as Wanda's expression shifted, a wave of sadness washing over her.

"Oh my god, I forgot about Natasha. Is... is she alive here?" she asked, tears welling up in her eyes.

I nodded solemnly, feeling a pang of empathy for the pain she must be feeling. Crawling into her lap, I wrapped my arms around her, offering what comfort I could. "You really lost a lot there, dorogoya," I whispered, my voice soft with compassion. "But don't worry, everyone here is safe. We've apparently had it relatively easy here, it seems."

I pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, my heart overflowing with love and gratitude for this woman who had endured so much. "Now you have your loved ones back. You aren't alone anymore, and you won't ever be again. I promise."

==============

As the weekend unfolded, Wanda and I remained entwined in each other's arms, our connection deepening with each passing moment. When the boys returned home with their uncle Pietro, the atmosphere was filled with warmth and affection, a tangible sense of family that enveloped us all.

Pietro's hug was tight, filled with an unspoken understanding that transcended words. In his whispered question, "Did you guys finally connect?" I detected a mixture of curiosity and genuine concern.

With a small nod and a soft "Mmhmm," I confirmed what he already knew. This Wanda wasn't his real sister, just as she wasn't the Wanda I had known and loved for decades. But she was here, she was special, and in her embrace, I found a sense of solace and belonging that I had thought lost forever.

==============

As the following Friday arrived, Wanda and I made the decision to gather our friends and family together to share the details of our new lives. It was a momentous occasion, filled with a mix of anticipation and apprehension as we prepared to unveil the truth about our extraordinary circumstances.

Gathering our loved ones in a familiar setting, we began to recount the events that had led us to this moment, explaining the complexities of our intertwined destinies and the newfound connections we had forged. With each word, we sought to convey the depth of our emotions, the challenges we had overcome, and the hope that now burned bright within our hearts.

As our gathering unfolded, the emotions in the room were palpable, each hug and embrace a testament to the depth of our shared experiences and the bonds that bound us together.

Wanda's first instinct was to embrace Natasha tightly, their bodies trembling with sobs as they clung to each other. For both of them, it was a moment of overwhelming relief and joy, the realization that they had been given a second chance to be reunited with someone they had feared lost forever.

Next was Clint, the stalwart friend and ally who had saved Wanda countless times in her timeline, offering comfort and support when she needed it most. As they embraced, the weight of their shared history hung heavy in the air, a reminder of the trials they had faced and the strength they had found in each other's presence.

In that moment, surrounded by friends and family who had become like kin, Wanda and I felt a profound sense of gratitude for the bonds that had been forged through adversity. And as we shared stories and memories, laughter mingling with tears, we knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, we would face them together, drawing strength from the love and support that surrounded us.

As our friends and family listened intently, their expressions shifting from surprise to understanding, we felt a sense of relief wash over us. To have our loved ones by our side, supporting us through this journey, was a gift beyond measure.

And as we concluded our explanation, surrounded by the warmth and love of those closest to us, we knew that no matter what the future held, we would face it together, united in our shared bond and unwavering commitment to one another.

As the night wore on and the festivities continued, Stephen pulled me aside, his expression grave with concern. "You know what she's done in her universe, right?" he asked, his voice tinged with urgency.

I bristled at his question, feeling a surge of defensiveness rise within me. "Do not start this, Strange," I warned, jabbing a finger in his direction. "If I had gone through what she had, this universe wouldn't even exist. What she did, in my eyes, is child's play compared to the horrors she endured."

My words carried a weight of conviction, a steadfast belief in Wanda's resilience and the sacrifices she had made to protect those she loved. And as I met Stephen's gaze, I saw a flicker of understanding in his eyes, a silent acknowledgment of the depth of Wanda's strength and the magnitude of her courage.

"She threw a tantrum essentially. Took over a town for a bit and then went on a killing spree to get here. I saw it through her eyes. I know if it had been me, you'd be lucky if America had still been standing," I asserted, a hint of steel in my voice as I tapped the power stone embedded in my chest.

The reminder of the immense power at my disposal served as both a warning and a declaration. Wanda's actions in her universe were a testament to the depths of her grief and the consequences of unchecked power. In contrast, I recognized the responsibility that came with wielding such force, a responsibility I vowed to use wisely to protect those I loved.

As the weight of our conversation lingered, Stephen nodded in acknowledgment, a silent understanding passing between us. The night continued, but the specter of the past and the potential for the future hung in the air, a reminder that even in moments of celebration, the shadows of our pasts were never truly far behind.

"I don't think you understand, my strength isn't superhuman, it's otherworldly. The precision it requires to ensure I don't break everything around me at any given moment is a delicate balance. With one punch, I wouldn't just put a crater in the earth, I'd break it in half," I emphasized, underscoring the magnitude of the power I possessed.

The distinction between superhuman strength and the cosmic force I wielded was crucial to grasp. While others might possess extraordinary abilities, mine was on a different scale altogether, capable of reshaping the very fabric of reality itself. It was a responsibility that weighed heavily on me, requiring a level of control and restraint beyond what most could comprehend.

As I spoke, I could sense the gravity of my words sinking in, the realization dawning on Stephen of the immense power at my command. It was a sobering reminder of the delicate balance between strength and responsibility, a balance that I vowed to uphold no matter the cost.

"I'm sorry, Y/N, I just wanted to remind you-" Stephen began, but I swiftly cut him off, my tone firm yet understanding. "Don't, Stephen. I know you're just trying to help. I don't need the reminder though," I assured him, acknowledging his concern while asserting my own understanding of the situation.

With a nod of acceptance, Stephen backed off, respecting my boundaries and allowing me to return to the comforting embrace of Wanda, who had been engaged in conversation with Natasha and Clint. As I settled back into her arms, the warmth of her presence enveloped me, a reassuring reminder of the love and support that surrounded me.

In that moment, surrounded by friends and family, I felt a sense of peace wash over me, a quiet reassurance that no matter the challenges we faced, we would face them together, united in our shared bonds and unwavering commitment to one another.

As Wanda continued her conversation with Natasha and Clint, her fingers traced delicate patterns on my hip, their touch a gentle caress that spoke volumes of the journey she had undertaken. Once stained with blood, those same hands now exuded a tenderness and compassion that belied the darkness of the past.

Feeling the soothing rhythm of her touch, I couldn't help but marvel at the transformation Wanda had undergone, the evolution from a place of pain and turmoil to one of healing and redemption. It was a testament to her resilience and strength, a reminder that even in the face of adversity, it was possible to find light amidst the shadows.

In that moment, as her touch danced across my skin, I felt a profound sense of gratitude for the woman before me, for the love and forgiveness she had extended, and for the hope that now blossomed within our hearts. And as our conversation continued, I knew that no matter what trials lay ahead, we would face them together, bound by the unbreakable bond of love and understanding that had brought us to this moment.

As the room suddenly filled with the energetic presence of our children, along with Clint's youngest and Kate close behind, my boys bounded into mine and Wanda's arms with cries for help. "Moms! Save us from the monster!" they pleaded, their laughter filling the air.

I chuckled as I gathered them close, feeling their warmth and energy envelop me in a comforting embrace. Glancing over, I caught sight of Kate playfully tickling Nathaniel, the mischievous grin on her face confirming my suspicions.

With a smile, I joined Wanda in rescuing our boys from the clutches of the imaginary monster, enveloping them in hugs and laughter as we reveled in the joy of family and friendship. In that moment, surrounded by the ones we loved most, I couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude for the blessings that filled our lives, each smile and laugh a reminder of the happiness that awaited us in the days to come.

As the boys began to drift off to sleep in my arms, I couldn't help but smile at the sight. "I think it's time to go, my love," I murmured to Wanda, gesturing towards our sleeping sons. Despite their ten years, I scooped them up effortlessly, their weight feeling light in my arms.

A momentary look of surprise flickered across Wanda's face, her gaze lingering on me as she seemed to momentarily forget about my strength. At just 4'11, I was indeed petite for someone with such power, a fact that often caught others off guard.

With a soft chuckle, I gently adjusted the boys in my arms, their peaceful expressions a testament to the love and security they felt in our embrace. As we prepared to leave, I felt a surge of gratitude for the family we had become, bound together by love and the unbreakable bond of kinship. With Wanda by my side, I knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, we would face them together, united in our shared love and determination to protect those we held dear.

As I glanced over at Wanda, watching the tender expression on her face as she looked upon our sleeping sons, my heart swelled with love and gratitude. The depth of emotion reflected in her eyes filled me with a sense of warmth and contentment, knowing that our family was complete and our bond unbreakable.

In that moment, as we stood together, surrounded by the quiet stillness of the night, I felt a profound sense of peace wash over me. The love that radiated between us and enveloped our children was a testament to the strength of our connection, a bond forged in the fires of adversity and tempered by the trials we had faced together.

As we prepared to depart, I reached out to take Wanda's hand, intertwining our fingers in a silent gesture of unity and love. With a shared smile, we turned and made our way home, our hearts full and our spirits lifted by the knowledge that no matter what challenges lay ahead, we would face them together, as a family.

===========

Wanda and I are on the couch when she asks, "Do you have photo albums of the boys?" I look at her, peeling my eyes from the TV as I pause it.

"Of course." I get up grabbing several albums of almost everything of their lives. "After we left the Avengers I took solace in capturing moments so we have a lot." I tell her as she starts through her pregnancy photos one of every month. Then the hospital photos of her giving birth. The look of pure happiness and bliss on both our faces as we held the boys. Both of us having skin to skin contact with them. As Wanda goes through the albums she starts crying.

"I missed out on so much because of my magic..." she whispered solemnly. "They went from babies, to 5, to 10 all because of words I said...Y/N...I missed everything." Knowing that Wanda had used her magic to create our boys in her universe and not anything like how we had here made her incredibly sad. I hate seeing her like this.

"How about I show you. Their first words, their first steps, everything." With a gentle touch, I leaned in closer to her, resting my forehead against hers as I offered her a silent gesture of comfort and solidarity. Feeling her fingers against my temples, I closed my eyes and allowed the memories to flow, every precious moment from the joyous announcement of her pregnancy to the bittersweet final days we shared together playing out before her.

As the memories unfolded like a vivid tapestry, I watched as Wanda's tears began to subside, replaced by a sense of wonder and awe. Through the magic of our shared recollections, she was able to witness the milestones she had missed, the laughter and love that had filled our home in her absence.

In that moment, as we shared in the memories of our past, I felt a renewed sense of hope blossom within me. Though Wanda may have missed out on so much, I was determined to make every moment from this point forward count, to cherish the time we had together and to create new memories that would fill the void left by the past.

With a gentle smile, I wrapped my arms around her, holding her close as we basked in the warmth of our shared love. And as the echoes of our memories faded into the night, I knew that no matter what trials lay ahead, we would face them together, united in our unwavering commitment to one another and to our family.

As I looked into Wanda's eyes, feeling the weight of her sadness and longing, I knew that I had to do everything in my power to ease her pain and make up for the lost time. With a gentle touch, I cupped her cheek in my hand, my thumb brushing away the tears that lingered there.

"Everything with them feels too quick and also a lifetime," I whispered softly, my heart swelling with love and determination. "But now that you're here with us, you'll get to experience it all with me. Together."

In that moment, as we shared in our shared resolve to embrace the present and forge ahead as a family, I felt a sense of peace wash over me. No matter what challenges lay ahead, we would face them together, united in our love and commitment to one another.

With a tender smile, I leaned in to press a gentle kiss against Wanda's forehead, silently promising to cherish every moment we shared and to make up for the lost time in any way I could. Together, we would build a future filled with love, laughter, and endless memories, united in our bond as a family.

Once we put the albums away, shut the TV off for the night we headed upstairs. Stopping to look in at the boys sleeping peacefully before heading to our own room, getting ourselves ready for bed. As I climb in, stretching out, Wanda climbs on top of me. I bite my bottom lip, looking up at her. I can see the look she has. I wrap my arms around her neck, gently trying to pull her down. She doesn't budge.

"Did you want something, shchenok?" Between the look in her eyes, the sound of her voice, and her in just a tank top of sleep shorts I'm weak to her completely under her not just physically.

"Want you. Need you." I tell her trying again to pull and when she still doesn't budge. I pout and whine. "Wands...please.."

As Wanda's hands worked their magic, binding mine above my head with a delicate yet firm touch, I felt a rush of excitement and anticipation coursing through me. With each tug of her magic, I was rendered powerless, completely at her mercy as she explored my body with a hunger that ignited a fire within me.

"Behave and we'll see where it goes," she husked, her words sending shivers down my spine as she pushed up my shirt, her lips finding purchase on my chest with an intensity that left me breathless. The sensation of her teeth grazing my skin, her tongue tracing patterns across my flesh, sent waves of pleasure radiating through me, making me squirm and writhe beneath her touch.

As I felt myself slipping deeper into subspace, surrendering to the heady mix of pleasure and vulnerability, I couldn't help but lose myself in the moment, giving in completely to the sensations that engulfed me. With each kiss, each caress, I felt myself unraveling, consumed by the overwhelming desire that burned between us.

In that moment, as I surrendered myself to Wanda's tender ministrations, I felt a profound sense of connection and intimacy that transcended the physical realm. With her by my side, I knew that I was safe, cherished, and loved beyond measure, and as I surrendered to the ecstasy of the moment, I knew that our bond would only grow stronger with each passing day.

Wanda plays with me and teases me for hours and I can't even remember how many times she's pushed me over the edge of ecstasy. As she brought me to another one as she slammed into me with a magic strap-on she'd conjured up, my mind already drowning in subspace, barely able to form words, but one slips out and then a few more,

"Mommy...gonna...ah-ha...ah..." After my words she sped up leaning down to whisper in my ear,

"That's right cum for Mommy like a good girl. Mommy's gonna cum with you. Gonna fill you up and breed you baby girl." As she whispered those final words in my ear, her voice a husky growl of lust and desire, I felt myself shattering into a million pieces, my entire being consumed by the ecstasy of release. With a cry of pure ecstasy, I let myself fall over the edge, my body trembling with the force of my climax as I surrendered myself entirely to the pleasure that engulfed me. Feeling her fill me up completely made my eyes roll back and the only word I could comprehend was, “Mommy.”

In that moment, as I basked in the afterglow of our shared ecstasy, I knew that I was exactly where I belonged, wrapped in the arms of the woman I loved more than anything in the world.

Taglist: @dorabledewdroop

#ley writes #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff smut #wanda x you #wanda x y/n #wanda maxmoff x y/n #wanda maximommy #wanda maximoff x fem!reader #wanda maximoff x female reader #the scarlet witch x fem!reader #the scarlet witch #scarlet witch x you #scarlet witch x reader #scarlet witch

[dragonmuse]

Keep It In The Box : An Essay on OFMD Season 2 and the Failure to Heal

(here in is my season two reaction. It contains many many spoilers. It's also about 3k words long so you know what you're getting into.)

“See, I have a system for dealing with all the terrible things I've seen. There's a box in my mind, and I put the things in the box..” -Frenchie, Season 2 of Our Flag Means Death

…..and then he never opens it. Chekov’s locked box has no key in season two.

On first watch, it seemed clear to me that Frenchie’s declaration was a narrative plant. Clearly the whole season would be about that box of pain and trauma being opened, sorted through and at least the beginning of healing. The show had developed a reputation after season one of being kind and focused on queer narratives of healing from childhood. Ed and Stede’s parallels in their childhood traumas were frequently on display through season one and were repeated in flashback throughout season two. Jim’s season one arc about becoming someone who doesn’t think just of revenge and can now forge meaningful connections was profound, beautiful and often funny. Izzy is an antagonist because he doesn’t want Ed to move on or stop acting like the trauma-response version of himself. The antagonist wants to stop healing. The point is to grow, to change, to learn how to love. It’s one of the things that made season one work for me at the time, despite reservations about pacing and tone.

So naturally season two should follow suit. It’s a kind show! About healing and falling in love!

For the first several episodes, the remaining crew on the Revenge go through a gauntlet of trauma, forced to do and receive violence at Ed’s whims as he careens from self-destructive behavior to self-destructive behavior. This is the wounding setup. It was dark, but it seemed like it would have a payoff and at first it did.

Perhaps one of the most beautiful moments of the season comes in one of the small respites in those early episodes as Jim recounts Pinnochio to Fang to soothe him through his grief. That was the show that I expected. The kindness of that moment struck me very deeply. It gave me some understanding of Archie too, who seems to fall for Jim right at that moment.

That scene is the show season one promised. Season two led with packing Frenchie’s box full to bursting. Here is the fight to the death between lovers, there is a first mate who is mutilated and rotting in the very walls (the rot of the Revenge itself), and there is the storm of Ed’s rage and pain that threatens to consume all of them.

So surely these remaining episodes would concentrate on finding the humor in healing from those moments. That is the setup. Frenchie has a box. The box must eventually open.

Except time and again, all the characters who suffered are told that the only way to deal with what they’ve been through is to stick it in the box and never open it again.

Pete tells Lucius that he’s unable to move on and needs to let it go. Izzy has a story about a shark. Ed’s apology to the crew which doesn’t even contain the words ‘I’m sorry’ is just…accepted. I kept waiting and waiting for a meaningful apology to the people Ed had hurt the worst with his actions, but it seems all we get is Fang saying ‘eh, no problem, I got to hit you back so I feel better’.

The playful theme of ‘pirates are just violent sometimes’ from season one becomes a grinding horror machine in season two when every atrocity visited on someone is forgiven because the narrative needs it to be. Ed and Stede spend more time making amends with each other over the bloodless night on the beach than either of them spend trying to repent for their actions towards anyone else.

And let’s talk about Ed. Arguably this season pivots on his narrative, on his path to healing and growth. A path that starts at a very low point. His moment in the gravy basket, deciding he wants to live because there are still things to live for is so great! So one might assume that what would follow would be him pursuing those things, making amends, making connections. He and Stede have a wonderful moment, talking about being whim prone and how they’ll work to avoid that, build a relationship by going slower.

Yet, at no point do either of them stop following whims. They never heal or learn from what’s happened to them. They both keep running from thing to thing, particularly Ed. It’s a whim to sleep with Stede, it’s a whim to run off to fish, and the finale gives us just more of their whims. Ed drops fishing as fast as he picked it up. He finds those leathers in the ocean, murdering the symbolism of leaving them behind. Even the inn is a whim, one of those things Ed decided he’d be good at without evidence. And Stede joins him in that without a single on screen conversation about it ahead of the moment.

Ed needs to heal himself and to do that he needs to confront what he’s done and do the work to heal the wound. Instead, he doesn’t meaningfully apologize to anyone, besides Stede and Fang. Despite Izzy’s dying words (we’ll get to that), not only do we never see the crew caring about Ed, working to make him family in the same way they do with Fang and even Izzy, he also doesn’t choose to stay with them. So what is the point? Where is the healing? Or does even Ed, beloved main character, have to live with it all stuffed in a box?

He ends the season in the leathers he threw away, in a relationship that’s barely stabilized, going to live in a house which we are told by the narrative (in that they are very very clearly paralleling Anne and Mary with Ed and Stede or why do we even get that whole Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? episode) will only end in them setting fire to each other to stay warm.

But Vee, I hear you cry, it’s a ROM-COM. This is all meant to be ha-ha funny and you are taking it so seriously!

Cool beans. Then why the hell isn’t it funny? Healing is often filled with comedy because people deal with pain with humor. You can heal and laugh at the same time. The finale especially is almost entirely devoid of laughs, almost entirely devoid of joy until the last minute for that matter. The episode that should show off with a flourish how far everyone’s come, mostly serves to show that no one has grown.

Okay that’s Ed. I want to talk about Lucius next. Our former audience surrogate (that’s taken away in season two when he doesn’t get enough screen time to perform that role and no one takes his place) really goes through the wringer. He experiences many many terrible things, including sexual assault (which is made into a grimace-laugh line that doesn’t take away from it’s seriousness because oh hey, that can be done as it turns out). He’s nervous, he’s smoking, it’s clear he’s suffering.

There’s a beautiful moment where Pete tells him ‘hey, I was also in pain. I grieved’ and that’s great. It’s good that Pete sets a boundary about Lucius not obsessing over the past to the point of occluding their future.

We even get our comedic moment where Lucius pushes Ed off the boat (still not apology, but I’d lost hope for that by then) and that doesn’t help enough. So Izzy comes in with a shark and the advice that you just have to move on.

Just…you know. Play pretend. Forget.

Shove it in a box. Ed didn’t take my leg, a shark did. Ed didn’t kill you, a shark did. Live with the person that tried to murder you because it’s your fault you dangled your leg over the side of a boat. That is the show’s message. I thought on first watch, that surely this would also come back up and be explained that you can’t live that way, that that is no way to heal. That it would become clear that this was no way through. You cannot make everything into sharks.

Lucius can move forward and still carry pain. He can still want a meaningful apology and still want to talk to his lover about what he’s dealing with while moving forward toward a brighter future.

And what of the flirtatious promise of relationships and connections being the way to heal? Look to Oluwande and Jim, whose heartfelt romance from season one was relegated to the bins of history in favor of a narrative that made him a brother Jim once had sex with. They could have had Archie AND Oluwande, who in turn could also have Zheng, but that never seems to be an option. With a single short conversation, they are broken up with, despite a brief tease at the birthday that they still ‘dance’ together, it never actually manifests. Jim and Archie never talk about what they went through. It’s swept under the rug as fast as knives are lowered.

Lucius also no longer flirts with other people, the solution to his pain is to propose and get married (but not too married, lest we forget that they’re two men, they don’t even get to be husbands or even the more respectful mates, no. They’re mateys.) This season proposes that the only happy endings are monogamous ones, where no one talks about anything painful that went before.

To ensure that message, beyond assuring the success of Oluwande and Zheng’s relationship, Jim and Archie almost entirely disappear from the narrative. Sorry you guys were given layers of trauma and no growth and not even much to do this season, we need to make sure that everyone remembers Oluwande is the break in Zheng’s day so when he says that to her five minutes later we know exactly what he’s referencing. No time for Archie to learn what an apology is or for Jim to get one line in with Oluwande that isn’t affirming their newfound broship. Must do more flashbacks to things we just did two episodes ago!

The show even dangles the conversation of the Revenge being a safe space. Why would any of them ever feel safe when the man who tortured them is allowed to walk among them and they are expected to forgive and forget? What’s safe about that? The ship is never made safe for any of them, but that’s never addressed.

And Zheng! Amazing, hysterically funny Zheng! She loses her ships, her entire way of life, the kingdom she built for herself and then…she doesn’t even get to captain the Revenge. We don’t know what becomes of her fleet, of her plans, her ambitions. Don’t worry about it, she has a romantic partner and isn’t that what every lady wants in the end?

(But Vee, I hear you cry again, there will be a season three! Maybe it will be All About Zheng! To which I say: then why did they present us with the most series finale feeling episode ever? If there’s more, I have no idea where it’s going. BUT VEE: BUTTONS AS SEAGULL ON THE GR- Fine. It’s time.)

Let’s talk about Izzy Hands.

Izzy manages more healing than anyone else this season. He reaches his lowest point, suicidal in the bowels of a ship that’s become a prison (very much in contrast to Ed’s suicidal low). The person he loves most in the world has shredded him physically and emotionally (and if you’re in the camp that thinks Izzy deserves the abuse that Ed gave to him, I would really like you to sit quietly with yourself and ask why you think there is ever anything anyone can do to deserve that treatment). He’s low, he shoots Ed to protect everyone, and then seems to plan to drink himself to death, mourning his losses.

And then another beautiful moment! The crew move past their own pain to help him. They work together for the first time and it’s to give Izzy mobility back. He treasures it. He cries over it. He uses that kindness extended to him to reach a new understanding of Stede and help him succeed, doing the work to make real amends. He sings in drag, he’s vulnerable and beautiful, celebrating the side of himself that he must’ve loathed in the first season. He’s an elder queer man, coming into himself.

He never gets an apology though. (‘Sorry about your leg’ without eye contact is not an apology. There is no responsibility taking, no acknowledgement of the weeks of torture that came with it.) Izzy also never really has an honest conversation with anyone about what it means that the man he loves punished him so severely for the crime of trying to protect the crew (yes, lest we forget, Izzy lost his leg because he was trying to keep Ed from re-traumatizing the crew and himself).

Izzy does all this work, but even he’s not allowed to take it out of the box. It’s a shark, not Ed. Ed is just ‘complicated’ (the language of abuse here is so upsetting and I think not even intentional).

And then he dies. His last act? To apologize to the man who tortured him and shot at him. To have done all this work, to take on all the blame. And then die.

In a rom com.

This show ends in a profoundly unfunny moment of telling the audience: this is the one character that did the work, that made amends, that tried his hardest to accept the parts of himself that he had a hard time embracing and formerly embittered him. He’s fully accepted his queerness and turned it into beautiful music. He’s disabled, and he worked hard to accept that. The man he loves will never love him back, so he worked hard to make Stede able to meet Ed on an even playing field. The Giving Tree gave up its limbs and its trunk, and it’s not even allowed to be a stump to sit on.

Kill the queer elder, who has managed to figure out how to live and in his own way how to heal. Kill him before he manages to teach anyone else how to meaningfully move forward (he almost gets it with Lucius, almost, but it’s meant to be rule of three, you know. Cigarette..shark…and then…and then fuck it, Lucius doesn’t even get to say a word at his funeral).

The message of this season again and again is that there is no healing, just moving forward. Like a shark. Like a bird that never lands.

That is not a kind show.

Season two is not a kind season.

It splinters people up and jams them back together without purpose or reason. It tells everyone who experiences pain that they should shove it in a box and not deal with it. No one who really needs one gets an apology of any sincerity. No one puts in the work to gain forgiveness. (Ed wearing a onesie is not The Work. Ed fixing a door is not The Work. Ed broke people that the show wants us to care about. Ed never does the work of making those amends. He fires off a Notes app apology at best. After all, it’s what he told himself via Hornigold in the gravy basket: you move on or you blow your brains out! Good thing he took his own advice and therefore had to change nothing to get his just rewards.

I would’ve taken just fifteen minutes of Ed trying to actually make amends. It could’ve been hilarious! Imagine awkward Ed trying to dance around what he’s doing with Jim and the two of them having a knife throwing competition about it. Or him and Frenchie attempting to make music together, writing a song about the raids they went on! It’s not just the crew robbed of their healing because of this, it’s Ed himself. He never meaningfully changes or makes amends. How is he any different at the end of the finale then he is standing on the edge of that cliff with Hornigold? He hasn’t moved on, he hasn’t healed. He tried one thing (fishing) that doesn’t fucking work and then he runs right back.

No one leaves this season better than they went into it. They’ve lost an elder queer, they’ve lost their joyous and queer polyamory, they’ve lost a chance for meaningful reconciliation with Ed and Ed lost any chance of looking like he gave shit if they did. Stede grows enough to accept the crew’s beliefs as important and then leaves them behind without a care.

Izzy gets a beautiful speech about piracy being larger than yourself. Ed and Stede, within twenty minutes of that speech, leave piracy. They are incapable of giving themselves to something bigger, apparently. They haven’t learned to be a part of a community. They haven’t healed from their childhood trauma or their fresher wounds. They are still just following their own whims.

Zheng’s life work is in tatters, but it’s fine, she has love. Oluwande and Jim aren’t together, but it's fine because they both have dedicated monogamous partners. Lucius was deeply scarred by what happened, never recovers much of his first season personality, but hey he got-well it’s not married exactly- but you know good enough!

Frenchie, who has a box forever locked in his head, is captain. Because the key to success is to lock it all in a box and never open it. What a message. What a show. Conceal, don’t feel. Smile because it’s a happy ending. Don’t mourn the dead, don’t try to tell people what happened to you (they will literally run away or cry too hard to listen and really you’re just bumming them out), and any meaningful change you make is only rewarded with death.

Frenchie is now a pirate captain with a box in his head full of trauma that’s never been opened, leading a crew with more wounds than scars. Wonder how that could turn out? Wonder how many years before he might want to retire and then happen to run across a gentleman pirate. As if no one learned anything at all.

#our flag means death #ofmd #ofmd spoilers #the strangest message sent #and no idea if it was on purpose #I kind of think it wasn't somehow #but boy howedy did it come across

[bibluebutterfly]

It is truthfully so impressive to watch how we've watched Stolas grow as a seemingly asshole character to a genuine person who truly does want the best for the person we love. (HEADS UP: This is LONG)

Now, and we're only going to lightly touch on this because the Pilot isn't cannon, but it still contributed to the public opinion on Stolas. In other words, he was borderline predatory in a way that made EVERYONE uncomfortable. (It makes sense though since he was innitially supposed to be the villain. Which thank goodness that was changed because we already see enough bisexual predators in media as it is. Yes, I'm headcannoning that Pilot Stolas was bi.)

Then we get official episode 1. Stolas is... not much better. Although to his credit, he's not as bad or as creepish. The unfair power dynamic is very there, and he definitely talks down to Blitz, but at least he waits until Blitz agrees before getting to the pilot level of sexual.

And then we kind of just keep this up until episode 7. Stolas is VERY sexual and VERY horny with Blitz, and you either like it or you don't. It was consensual, nobody forced anything, and even Blitz says that he doesn't fuss about banging Stolas, but that power imbalance is very much there.

Stolas is calling him by pet names like "my little imp" and is baby talking him, which really comes off like his fetish is sleeping with the lower class. Again, you either like Stolas at this point or you don't.

HOWEVER, despite all his baby talk and just generally inappropriate behavior, we are shown very early on that Stolas has a loving side, mainly in the form of his daughter. "You Will Be Okay" was the thing that got most people from hating him to actually liking him. It was the thing that separated him from just being a horny owl.

Then Ozzies. Hooo boy. This is where we finally get to see Stolas apart from Blitz's POV and as it turns out... he's kind of a pathetic dork more than anything else. We see him go very low. Like the man is alone in his big house eating cereal for breakfast in his bathrobe and watching telenovelas. It's hard to go lower than that. More importantly, it's a stark contrast from how we saw him just one episode ago.

Not just that, but when he's asked out on the date he is genuinely so excited and awkward that you just can't help but feel bad for the guy.

And then we have Hells healthiest couple have their dick moment which leads to Stolas covering his face, validating every and anything Blitz had feared, which lead to him calling out Stolas which leads to them both crying at home.

AND THEN WE GET THE THING THAT MAKES EVERYONE EITHER LOVE STOLAS OR THINK THAT HE'S RUINED.... THE CIRCUS.

Yeah, so it turns out the arranged marriage theory was true, and that Stella has been verbally abusive for who knows how long. But the real kicker is how much it explains Stolas's behavior from season 1. As it turns out, Blitz coming on so strong that night resulted in Stolas trying (badly) to copy that energy. And it turns out that when Blitz told him to stop that first night, he still ended up tying Stolas up and banging him. So... understandable. It turns out that Stolas never wanted to be malicious with his intentions, but genuinely thought that the arrangement was something that they both wanted.

But at the same time, he realizes that misunderstanding or no, a part of him did recognize that Blitz wasn't as happy as he was, and that he can't gaslight himself into thinking otherwise anymore.

Now the big thing about season 2 we all need to talk about, is how hard and fast it took Stolas off the regal and powerful pedestal that I think we all subconsciously put him on. Whatever mystery and darkness that surrounded him in season 1 went completely out the window in season 2. But personally I believe that this fits as season 1 was mostly told from Blitz's POV while season 2 takes place in Stolas's when he's there.

Stolas does not see himself as something regal and powerful. Stolas, as it turns out, is a romantic as well as a MASSIVE dork. Like he's disney princess levels of dorkiness. The man even gets his own slapstick moment for crying out loud.

But aside from that, he's highly intelligent and a genuinely good person who will put others before him if he can recognize the benefit.

Also, while we're on the topic, I don't think that Stolas is as powerful as we or Blitz were led to believe. Like yes, he's got immense power to those who have none.

But at the same time, put him next to Asmodeus, and this demon who seemed so strong before is actually tiny in comparison. Especially when noted that Ozzie was still holding back in this scene.

Now we have the "Look My Way" MV. By now, any dark mystery is gone, we know who Stolas is, but what we didn't expect to see was how blatantly Stolas realized his mistakes and took responsibility. This whole season we saw him be sad over his relationship with Blitz, but we never expected him to realize just how badly he messed up.

But he did. And it was glorious. And again, we realize how much he truly cares for Blitz, this isn't just him saying "I care about him" then doing nothing. This is him realizing he cares about Blitz, and wanting to do something to make it right. Even if that means Blitz will never want to see him again.

Anyway. If you made it this far, I'm impressed. As I've said before, I'm proud of the owl boy and how far he's come as a character. Tell me if you think I missed anything.

#long post #helluva boss #stolas helluva boss #stolas #helluva stolas #helluva boss stolas #stolas goetia #stoliz #stolitz #blitz helluva boss #helluva boss blitzo #helluva blitz #helluva boss blitz #blitzo #blitzø #helluva boss asmodeus #helluva asmodeus #asmodeus helluva boss #helluva ozzie #ozzie helluva boss #helluva boss ozzie #ozzie #hellava boss

[vizslasaber]

UNDERSTANDING ──── echo.

summary: in the middle of the night, echo finds you, hurt and exhausted and in need of an apology.

pairing: arc trooper echo x reader

word count: 1.6k

warnings: none! just a sprinkling of angst and grief.

a/n: i love echo so much & im so glad he’s okay as of the finale!! this takes place sometime around the early seasons, but after the season 1 episode “cornered.” also, i listened to waves by chloe moriondo while writing this!

You’re not sure what to think of Echo.

Most of the time, he’s quiet. When he does speak, it’s usually to enforce a rule, remind the group of their current plan, or to keep Wrecker in check. You’ve seen his softer side, with Omega and occasionally his brothers, and it’s rare but honestly endearing.

The thing about him that most irks you, however, is that he never wants to seem to interact with you.

Officially, Hunter is the group leader; ever since Clone Force 99 accepted you into their squad, that much has been clear. You’re the only non-clone—or “natborn” as the others refer to you—living on the Marauder. It’s been several months since you saved Omega from bounty hunters on your home planet of Pantora, and now, you’re as much a part of the Bad Batch as anyone else.

Except, you’re not a batcher. Not really.

Despite how much you care for your squadmates, it’s easy to feel separated from them at times. Easy to feel different. Most of the others have picked up on this by now, and often go to great lengths to make you feel like one of them.

Not Echo, though. He seems—wary of you, almost, and you’re not sure why. Once, you brought it up to Tech, who simply waved you off with one of his shrewd, knowledge-filled comments. “You are new here, you know. Some people are simply slower to open up than others.”

You, however, know that’s not the case. You’ve seen Echo with his brothers, and with Omega. He can be kind, and funny, and even angry. But to you… to you, he’s nothing but quiet.

For some time, you tried your hardest to be yourself around him—to crack your usual sarcastic jokes at his expense, to be friendly, like you are with the others. But the constant avoidance and clipped answers leave you increasingly confused and hurt.

So you withdrew from him, too.

It still bothers you, sometimes. But you’ve learned to brush it off.

Now, you sit in the cockpit, feet resting against the control panel. A ration bar—one of the good ones—rests in your hand. Every so often, as you watch the blue glow of hyperspace streak past the viewport, you take a bite of the ration bar.

You’re on first watch. Someone has to stay in the cockpit to oversee the ship’s journey back to Ord Mantell—and, since you still can’t fall asleep in hyperspace, you keep volunteering for the job. The cockpit is mostly dark. All the lights are off, and the viewport is dimmed. Anything brighter reminds you of how sleep-deprived you are, and so you’re content to sit in the blue gloom.

Leaning your head against the headrest of the pilot’s chair, you close your eyes. Your entire body feels heavy with exhaustion, but every time you try to drift off, the rumbling of the ship’s hyperdrive jerks you awake.

The sound of footsteps startles you. You open your eyes, leaning around the back of the chair to inspect what little part of the ship’s corridor you can see. You can hear the sounds of someone moving around by the small common area, but you can’t tell who it is.

Tech’s probably experimenting again, you think wryly, and settle back into your comfortable position.

Soon, though, the footsteps grow closer. Someone enters the cockpit with a tired sigh, placing something on one of the chairs nearer to the door. It sort of sounds like Hunter, but with the similarity between everyone’s voices, you can’t be sure.

The footsteps halt suddenly. You look up to find honey-coloured eyes surveying you with apprehension. In the dim light, awash with blue, you register the glint of a cybernetic headpiece.

“Oh,” you say, blinking up at Echo, “hi.”

Echo only grunts.

You frown, looking down at your hands, at your half-eaten ration bar. “It’s late,” you say quietly. “You, um—you should get some rest.”

When Echo answers, you don’t look up. He says, voice low and gravelly with sleep, “I slept for a couple hours.”

Slowly, you nod, fiddling with the foil wrapper of the ration bar. The cockpit falls silent; you wait for Echo to leave, but he stays still, his shadow falling over your tired frame.

You want to ask why he’s still here. You want to be rude, to ask him to leave so you can have some peace and quiet. But truthfully, he isn’t saying anything, or causing any disturbances, so instead you hold up your unfinished ration bar. “You want a bite?”

Echo blinks. It seems to take him a moment to process your question. Then, to your faint surprise, he nods. “Thank you,” he says as you hand him the ration bar wordlessly.

It’s a peace offering, of sorts.

He sits in the co-pilot’s chair and takes a hesitant bite, chewing slowly. You see his expression brighten—probably at the realization that this is one of the good ration bars, the kind that Hunter always says not to hog—then return to his usual neutral one.

You watch as he swallows. He hands you back the bar, holding out his hand, but you don’t take it.

“Why… why are you here?” you ask quietly.

As soon as the words leave your mouth, Echo drops his arm and breaks eye contact, looking almost embarrassed. Or maybe even ashamed.

Still, you wait for his answer. Several long, painful seconds pass before he says anything. When he speaks, it’s like he’s forcing out the words.

“I wanted to—” he pauses. His flesh hand fiddles with his metal one. “I wanted to apologize.”

You feel your breath hitch. Staring, you try not to gape. “What?” you say, whispering without meaning to. “I don’t—”

“I’ve been horrible to you,” Echo continues, voice steadier. “I didn’t mean to be so… withdrawn. I didn’t realize I was doing it. I… I hope you can forgive me.”

Instead of acknowledging his apology, you bite the inside of your cheek with uncertainty, then cross your arms over your chest. One of the others must have put him up to this. Probably Omega, or perhaps Hunter. Raising an eyebrow, you ask, “Who sent you?”

“No one!” Echo replies hurriedly, then presses his lips into a thin line. “I mean, Hunter told me that you—he said that—” He sighs. “I didn’t realize it on my own. But I came because I wanted to.”

You blink, cursing yourself when you feel your eyes sting. With a start, you realize that this is the most Echo has said to you since you joined the squad.

Taking in a breath, you wring your hands anxiously. “I just… I just don’t understand why.” You shrug. “You’re not the same with me. Not like how you are with the others.”

Echo swallows. “It’s not—”

“I just want to know what I did wrong.”

At that, Echo falls silent. Guilt permeates the air, enough that you can feel it.

“Hey,” Echo says, kinder than you’ve ever heard him. “Look at me.”

You do. His eyes, like lava, or maybe liquid gold, bore into you. It almost hurts to look.

“This,” he continues, gesturing to the space between you, “is not your fault.”

Against your will, a lone tear slips down your cheek. “So whose fault is it?” you whisper, barely loud enough to be heard over the ship’s engine

It’s obvious from the look on Echo’s face that he’s thinking of something—or someone—specific. Despite how much you want to, you don’t push.

You just wait.

“It’s my brother,” Echo finally murmurs, and you raise your eyebrows, quickly cycling through the rest of your squad. Hunter, Wrecker, Tech… maybe Crosshair? You can’t think what any of them, even the one who’s no longer a member of your group, have to do with you.

“Your... brother,” you repeat dumbly.

“Yes.” Echo nods. “Fives.”

Oh. A fellow soldier, then. Probably from before the war ended… and probably long dead.

Drawing in a shaky breath, you hastily wipe your cheek with your sleeve. “What—what about him?”

“You…” Echo shakes his head, then lets out a humourless chuckle as he turns to look at the viewport, at the swirling blues and whites and greys of hyperspace. When he speaks again, his voice is barely above a whisper. “You remind me of him.”

You blink.

Truthfully, you have no idea what to say to that. Luckily, Echo continues, saving you from having to come up with an answer.

“Your sense of humour, I mean. The sarcasm, the jokes.” He shrugs, and the light from the viewport catches on his cybernetic headpiece, glinting in the otherwise dim cockpit. “And… and the way you know people.”

“‘Know people’?” you echo, confused. “I’m not following.”

“You understand people,” Echo says, and finally looks at you again, eyes impossibly sad. “Somehow, without ever having experienced what others have gone through, you understand their pain—and you feel it with them.” He closes his eyes for a brief moment, then opens them again. “Fives used to do that too.”

And suddenly, as though a switch inside you has been flipped, it all makes sense. “And that’s why you’ve been avoiding me,” you realize, and Echo winces. “Because I remind you of him.”

“See?” The barest hint of a smile graces his lips. “You’re doing it now. And you’re not even trying.”

“I guess I never thought about it like that.”

“I’m sorry for everything,” Echo says. “I am. It just…”

“Hurts,” you finish, and Echo blinks, surprised. You smile softly. “I know you too, you know.” Reaching out, you take his flesh hand, gently prying it open and taking the ration bar. As Echo watches, you split the remaining piece in half and hand one to him. “And for what it’s worth—I forgive you.”

The shadows colouring Echo’s face suddenly seem lighter. He smiles, then—really smiles.

You take a bite of the ration bar and smile back.

Taglist | Navigation

TAGS | @sweetsunflowerkisses @sarasxe @buckethead-over-heels @frietiemeloen @leotatombs @revengeisaconfesionofpain @hoeneyhoeney @idoubleswearimawriter @burningfieldof-clover @captain-rexs-babygirl @living-that-best-life @readeity @itspauvr @my-own-oracle @xlovingheartsx @seriowan @leotatombs @blueberry-9-pancakes @lucyysthings @idoubleswearimawriter @burningfieldof-clover @captain-rexs-babygirl

#star wars #tbb echo #tbb echo x reader #tbb echo x you #arc trooper echo #bad batch echo #the bad batch #the bad batch x reader #star wars the clone wars #arc trooper echo x reader #arc trooper fives #sw tcw #sw tbb

[oepionie]

—"MY DUMBASS SOPPING WET CAT" leona kingscholar

🎸masterlist | 💬ao3 link

synopsis: "are you insane?! look at you! you're soaking wet!" "i don't care. i had to come see you." in the middle of a stormy night, you hear knocking at your door and find leona standing outside your dorm in the pouring rain. it seems that he has a question for you.

⊹ [ cw ] — passing mention of freezing◞

⊹ [ tags ] — FLUFF.GN! READER | soft leona agenda, mutual pining, kissin◞

⊹ [ w.c ] — 800+◞

Thunder rattles the ground as a bright white flare lights up the dreary dark halls of Ramshackle. The rain pattered against the roof while you and Grim huddled in a blanket. Both of you were watching a soap opera on TV, waiting for the storm to pass.

Grim had long since dozed off to dreamland, snoring quietly, but you stayed up, far too engrossed in the family drama on TV.

As you grabbed the remote to play the next episode, the last thing you expected was to hear a knock on the door.

Now, cats were notorious for hating water, you were pretty sure of that. Those furry little balls of fluff loathed being hit by even a single drop of rain.

So, why in the Twisted Wonderland was Leona Kingscholar standing outside your dorm in the middle of a pouring storm?

Leona's hands were buried in the jacket he somehow had managed to grab in his haste. He kept his attention fixed to his feet as he rubbed the back of his neck. "Bout time you opened the door, herbivore."

"Are you insane?! Look at you! You're soaking wet!" Dumbfounded, you pulled Leona into your dorm and ran to fetch him a towel. The lion followed your retreating form with a paralyzed gaze, uncharacteristically silent.

Was running through the rain really worth it just to see you? He debated just making a run for it. The entire thing had been a spur-of-the-moment decision, anyway. However, before he could do anything, you returned and tossed a fluffy towel over his head. Leona took it into his hands, draping it over his shoulders.

"C'mon. You're making my doormat soggy." You grumbled, nose scrunching up as you pulled the lion into your dorm.

Leona slams the door shut behind him. He pulls you back by the collar of your shirt, dragging you to stagger back until your back was pressed up against the wall. He rests one hand beside your head and uses the other to lift your chin up towards him.

"What are we?" Leona mutters whilst staring at you, taking his merry time to take in every little feature on your face. His expression was contemplative, apprehension swimming in his eyes.

"I dont know-Rivals?" You snort, laying a head on his shoulder. Leona looks down at you with an annoyed expression. Chuckling, you peer up at him through your lashes. "What do you want us to be?"

He stays silent and stares at your lips, glancing back up at you for permission. You nod and he wraps a muscular arm around your waist. Your hands grip the fabric of his shirt, tugging on it slightly as you lean up to reach him. Leona cranes his neck and meets you halfway. He kisses you sensually, moving his hand down to rest around your neck and holding your hand with the other. You pull back and Leona chases after your lips. Giggling, you press the back of your hand against his mouth.

"Woah there, tiger. You're still cold and drenched. Let's go to the living room."

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"That really all you have? Crowley didn't have anythin' better to give you?" Plopping down on the couch, Leona scoffed as he watched you drag a bulky heater over. Sighing, you pat the rusty metal. "Deadbeat crow-dad, remember?"

While you fumbled with the old switches, he took a mental note to gift you a new one soon. Old-fashioned tech like that isn't reliable enough to keep you warm during the winter - you could end up freezing to death. It was a situation he wanted to avoid at all costs, especially now that you've wormed your way into his heart.

Finally, after some tinkering, the heater buzzed to life. You clapped your hands, the giddy grin on your face making Leona's lips curve into a small smile. Cute.

"Anyways. Look at you. How much of a dumbass do you have to be to run through a storm like that?" You huffed, hands on your hips as you looked down at him.

The creaky worn down couch was already starting to darken and soak up the rainwater on his clothes. Leona fumbled with his hands, gaze moving to his feet.

"I don't care. I just-" He rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. "I had to come see you." 

"Why's that?" You questioned, raising an eyebrow at him. Leona blinked. Even he wasn't sure. 

He hadn't expected to feel as strongly about you as he did. These were the kinds of things he thought a person like him was too rough around the edges for. It drove him wild and caused him to daydream about mushy lovey-dovey things he'd never considered before. Despite that, he wasn't ready to fully admit it yet, and somehow, he thinks you knew.

"You always have to ask dumb questions. I just fucking wanted to." Leona scoffed, wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his face into your stomach. His eyes fluttered shut as you stroked your deft fingers over his damp hair, undoing the knots and tangles with care. Snorting at the lion, you poked his cheek and jeered at him.

"Dumbass."

"Your dumbass, at least."

Likes and Reblogs are greatly appreciated and really motivating on my end!

Taglist: @keedas @spadecentral @crypticbibliophile @pastellepastary @cassidycampfire @cocomollo @poisoniousheart @anonima-2 @kawaiipotatoghost ↳ want to be added?

#twstnexus #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland fanfic #leona kingscholar x reader #leona kingscholar #twst leona

[peterparkersnose]

Give In

pairing: Joel Miller x reader

word count: 2.3k

warnings: suicidal thoughts, pining possibly one sided, ANGST (just a large angst piece, i wanted some joel angst so I made it), description of depression, emotional dependency on a person, arguing, fluff sprinkled in, implied age gap not specified, reference to pregnancy, mentions of substance and alcohol abuse, joel is lowkey toxic and uses reader

a/n hi loves I wrote this after the first episode aired, so if anything contradicts anything in the future in this story that is why. also, i didnt know how to end it so im sorry if the ending is a bit choppy. happy last of us sunday!

summary Y/N has feelings for Joel that she can’t control anymore

Part 2 here

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read time: 8 min 33 seconds

The harsh chill of the autumn afternoon swept your hair off your shoulders. The ration line was as long as ever, but seemed to be moving quickly. A stray dog barked as others murmured on the street. Staring down at your boots, you bit at your chapped lips.

“You’ve been avoiding me,”

His voice sent chills up your spine. He was behind you, must have slipped in line without the other person noticing. Of course now was the time he decided to confront you. And he wasn’t wrong.

Straightening your back, you turn towards him.

“Have I?” you asked, raising your eyebrows slightly. The line moved forward and so did you.

“Tess said you weren’t feeling well.”

She was partially right. It was the blatant lie you were telling the very few who were close to you. You were physically fine.

“I’m fine, Joel.” you said promptly, turning a cold shoulder to the older man.

“If you need any meds or anything…” he began. You knew Joel had anything you needed. Quite literally.

“Next!” The FEDRA soldier called, motioning for you to get in the final line. You gave Joel a tight lipped smile before disappearing in the crowd.

Back at your sad excuse for an apartment, you poked your fork at your stale meal. You tried to think about todays’s job but the thought of Joel Miller consumed you.

How his hands felt on your skin, how soft his hair could be, how much he respected you in private. Flashbacks of previous nights where he had snuck over and stayed with you burned in your brain.

You never thought the hookup would turn in to feelings. Especially in this world. Feelings you were sure he wouldn’t reciprocate. Joel wasn’t a very emotionally available man. And he had Tess- rumors of them being together had been going on for years. Sure, they deny it. But you see the way he looks at her sometimes. His eyes burn with the lust you want from him, but there staring at her.

Tess was friendly and all, you got along quite well with her in fact. Jobs worked with Tess usually went better than others. But the knowledge that she goes home to him every night almost ate you alive. You felt used every time you would watch her turn the alleyway to their apartment.

Roommates my ass.

It had been over a month since the last time you saw Joel.

He was right, you were avoiding him. Taking the jobs you knew he wouldn’t dare go by such as childcare. Taking a different route home to avoid any run ins. Leaving your lights off and sitting in the dark to possibly deter him away from your place. All your little queues worked.

And the pain grew day by day.

You layed in your mattress with your face buried in your pillow. It stopped smelling like him weeks ago, but you liked to pretend it still did.

You couldn’t live like this anymore.

Pills weren’t numbing enough. Alcohol wasn’t as fun as it used to be. The constant state of depression in this damned district was enough to make you want to end it.

But seeing him across the alleyway talking to a group of people or in the line for rations was enough to keep that tiny spark lit inside of you.

There wasn’t much else to look forward to in this world besides others. Living the same day your whole life is miserable without your spark of joy in it.

Sleep was close, you could feel it. Your thin blankets were just cutting it for the night. As the dreams began to dance in your head, you were awoken by a quiet knock on your door.

“For fucks sake,” you groaned, flipping over in bed. You ignored the knocks. They became more persistent.

The old doorknob then dropped to the floor, startling you awake. You didn’t even have to guess who it was. The door slowly creaked open as you heard him curse to himself.

“I’ll fix it later,” he sighed, picking it off your floor and placing it on your countertop. He pushed one of your folding chairs next to your table up against the door to keep it sturdy.

“So your just breaking into apartments now?” you snapped, sitting up right in bed. “I needed to see you.” he protested.

“I never knew Joel Miller to need anything.”

He sighed and rested against your countertop. “I need to know,”

“Know what?” you asked, wrapping a blanket around your exposed shoulders. A tank top wasn’t ideal to sleep in, in these conditions.

“What’s wrong.” he said bluntly. “I said there’s nothing wrong. What the hell are you doing walking around freely at night?” you yelled, realizing the time was way past midnight. The sounds of soldiers a few floors down outside your apartment began to yell. How did he move past them?

“You sick?” he asked in a more hushed tone, walking towards you. “Respiratory? Head pain? Joints? You pregnant?” he somewhat joked, looking over you in bed.

“Shut up.” you said coldly. “Can you please just go?”

You knew Joel wasn’t a good listener. “What is it?” he said sternly, sitting down next to your body in bed. He grabbed your wrist ever so slightly. Your pulse was shaking in his grasp.

“I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

You looked at the other side of your apartment, out the window. Rain had began to slowly plague the window. Ignoring Joel’s touch, you watched as the few drops raced to the bottom of the window.

“After everything I’ve done for you?” Joel sighed, not letting go of you.

“Stop, please. J-just stop talking to me.” you said, lying through your teeth. He could sense the pain hiding behind those eyes. “I’m not leaving.” he protested.

“Look at me.”

You turned to face him. His eyes were locked on yours. A genuine worried look was on his face. He looked softer, nothing like you had ever seen before.

It was almost as if someone asked you if you were okay when you were very obviously not. Silent tears rolled down your face as you tried to catch your breathe.

The man who you couldn’t love was staring in to your soul. There was no way you ever could love him. He was too mean, too stern, too old, too angry for you. The two of you were polar opposites. But as the saying goes, ‘opposites attract’.

Joel was unsure on what to do. Tess never cried. Hell, you never cried. He racked his brain for something, just something to soothe you.

He offered out a hand. Against your better judgement you took it. Connecting his other hand to your cheek, he tried to wipe away the streak of tears silently leaving your eyes. He held you tightly in your bed, stroking your hair as your head quickly made contact with the crook of his neck.

“I wish I didn’t have these feelings,” you cried into his embrace. Joel was confused on what you were getting at, but he ignored it. He tried to shush you in a soothing way.

“No, please. I wish I didn’t have these feelings… but I do.”

Joel froze. “What?” he asked, holding you in place.

You pulled back and looked at him. It felt like the first time over again. “Look at me and tell me you don’t feel a thing.” you hiccupped.

“I…” Joel sighed, closing his eyes for a moment and letting a breathe of air go.

“Say it.” you demanded.

The silence in the room was deafening.

“I can’t.” Joel said quickly. He looked down at his knees on your mattress.

“I think you should go.” you sighed, laying back on your side and facing the opposite wall.

He listened. Finally, Joel caught a hint. The sound of him walking away made you long for him more than ever. But it was good. The feeling of him leaving, knowing you were right. Joel Miller wasn’t a man who could love. At least not anymore.

Your sudden pride stopped when you heard his boots thud against the floor. Then the all familiar zip of his jeans followed by the hit of him placing them on your wooden chair next to your bed.

He rested a hand on your thigh as he peeled up the blanket that was stuck to your legs. Slowly, he moved down next to you in the tiny space you were leaving him.

“You don’t listen.” you huffed, still not giving him enough space on the bed.

“When do I ever?” he chuckled, wrapping his arm around your waist.

Fuck it. You gave in.

You allowed his arm to move closer to the underside of your breasts. Scooting over in bed, you gave him more space for his legs to entwine with you. His boxer’s material rubbed against the back of your thigh. It smelt like him; Wet grass and expired generic soap scent had never smelt better.

Sleep kindly greeted you once you felt his breathing slow. Trying to match his, you fell into the deep sleep you had been yearning for, for what seemed like weeks.

-

The absence in the morning was startling.

You struggled to move, hoping that the previous night was just a horrifying dream. A sigh escaped from your lips when you saw his boots sitting against the wall where he placed them last night.

The clanking sound of tools made you turn. On the other side of your small studio apartment, there he sat at your doorframe attempting to fix your door handle.

The overcast sky stayed, but you could tell it was early morning by the chatter outside.

“Shit!” Joel hissed, grabbing his finger in pain. “Damn fucking…”

He looked up and noticed you watching him.

“You alright?” you asked, watching him in amusement as he attempted to fix your door.

“Yeah,” he mumbled, sucking the tip of his finger. “Haven’t fixed a door in a good twenty years.” he muttered, wiping off the excess blood on his already dirtied jeans.

“Go back to bed, It’s still early.” he suggested, going through the tiny tool kit he had given you as a previous gift.

“This is more entertaining than sleep,” you chuckled, placing your feet on the cold ground and getting out of bed. “You want any breakfast? I don’t know if I have anything good here but…”

“Nah. Tess’l be expecting me.”

The sheer thought of Tess waiting at their home for him was enough to ruin the whole night you had before.

Joel looked up to you after your lack of a response. He noticed the demeanor change in your face. “Everything okay?” he asked, turning back to the doorknob he was almost finished fixing.

“You seem to go sour every time I mention Tess.”

“I wonder why,” you muttered under your breathe, attempting to open a tuna can for breakfast. You tried not to dry heave as the scent of the old fish met your nose. Tuna was never a favorite meal, especially for breakfast. But, it’s all you had.

Joel pretended like he didn’t hear you, but he heard you loud and clear. “We have a run to do today. You understand that, right?”

A bitter ‘mhm’ came from your lips as you shook the prepackaged coffee in your hand before ripping off the seal.

Joel sighed and placed the screw driver down dramatically. Joel’s knees cracked as he got up from his position. “You always gotta fucking act jealous. Don’t you? Ruinin’ a nice morning.”

“Jealous?” you said, raising your voice.

“What the hell do you even want from me?” you scorned, on the brink of tears. He could see through you like glass. You hated to admit it, but he knew you like the back of his hand.

Joel wished he could shout out the answer, but his ego kept it in.

You froze with your back turned to him and set down the brittle coffee mug. “Your always leaving me to go to her…”

“Because we’re business partners, Y/N. Don’t you get it? Don’t you hate livin’ the same damn day over and over again? It’s why I come to see you.”

“Stop,” you whispered, now face to face with him. “Stop yelling. Please, it’s too fucking early to get into that shit.”

“Really? Tell me you don’t loose your mind living the same day, same drama for years!” he yelled. “Always you being jealous. Don’t you ever get sick of it?”

Anger consumed you. Proof that the two of you would never work. He’s just a bitter old man.

“You know I would give anything to leave this damn QZ! To live a normal life, not fucking be here.” you yelled, with a finger now pointed at his face. You were avoiding the original accusation. Jealousy.

“Tell me.” you said, with a quieter but angrier tone. “Am I really just your fuck toy?”

Joel stepped back for a moment, stunned at what you just said. Guilt seemed to wrack his nerves as the realization hit him.

You were in love with him.

“Is that what you think?” he asked, approaching you with a sorrowful more soft look. “What else am I supposed to think? You come here, use me, and leave and go back to her.”

The feeling of letting go of all that emotion felt healing. The sudden aftermath of realizing what you just had accused him of made you feel somewhat guilty.

“No,” he sighed, grabbing your hand. “That- no. Absolutely not Y/N.”

His other hand reached for your chin, and brought your face up to his gaze. You could feel his heat on your skin.

“Understand…” he began to say. “Understand what?” you whispered back. A sly smile came to his lips.

“Give in,” he whispered, dropping your hand and wrapping his around your waist.

You melted into his grasp as he kissed you. Joel hadn’t kissed anyone in years. The hesitation from him only brought out the dominance in you.

As the two of you mutually pulled away, you wanted nothing more as to be back where you were just seconds ago.

“Understand that it’s hard.” he said, still holding you close. “I…”

“I know.” you said, cutting off his words.

You were an anxious, sorrowful over-thinker and he was the bitter, closed off introvert.

“I’ll be back,” he said, with a slighter more chipper tone. “Tonight. We have to get this damn car battery and…”

“Stay safe,”

“I promise.” Joel said. He really did not want to leave you. The thought of the two of you spending today lazily in bed was very tempting.

“But please believe me Y/N when I say, you are and never have been just a ‘fuck toy’.”

He squeezed your hand once more and then dropped it. Silence filled the apartment after he left.

The thought of how you tasted haunted Joel Miller’s mind the whole day.

Part 2

tag list: @dani5216 @uwiuwi @alohastyles-x @samanthacookieone @maddieinnit0 @alexxavicry @scoliobean @avengersfan25

#peterparkersnose #pedro pascal #joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x female reader #joel miller angst #joel miller fluff #joel miller imagine #joel miller fan fiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller the last of us #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller pedro pascal #the last of us #the last of us hbo #joel miller headcanon #joel miller one shot #peterparkersnosework

[freedomfireflies]

Soooo, do you wanna give me a Harry that gives Joe Goldberg vibes 🤪 please and thank you!

ALSJFS you know what, I'm on a Joe kick right now since reading the books...why don't we do a little crossover 😗 (but maybe if we want we can do one where Harry is Joe Goldberg hehe)

The edges of the cage are dark. Untouched by the cool, dim light of Mooney’s basement. Empty and cold.

But this does little to offend the man trapped inside, who sits back against the glass with his knees propped up. Staring at the floor, just as he has for the last three days. 

He doesn’t mind the quiet. The endless nothing. He thrives in it. He spends each waking moment with the voice inside his head and you find yourself increasingly fascinated.

You’ve been watching him for hours as you sit in the shadows of the bookstore basement. Taking notes, counting seconds. You’re not sure if he can see you but you imagine he can feel your presence. Sense it. After all, he always can.

You don’t attempt to reach him. Speak to him. Call him back into his right mind. You want to but you can’t. Not when he’s like this. So, you merely observe. Learn.

He seems indifferent to the conditions he’s trapped in. He doesn’t flinch when you or Joe attempt to speak to him. He doesn’t bite when he’s baited. He doesn’t charge the edges of the cage or beg for his freedom. He’s a good guest. Obedient. Well behaved.

Everything you know him not to be. 

Hours go by before Joe returns down the steps to join you below. Sandwich in hand, which he gives to you.

You thank him quietly and warily make your way into the light, allowing the familiar stranger a better look at your face.

“Here,” you call softly. You place the sandwich in the box and shut the door. “Eat. And then maybe we can talk.”

Your guest smirks. He’s not tempted by the meal trying to lure him out. He doesn’t move from his spot on the floor. He is calm. Steady.

Joe steps closer.  “Harry,” he says firmly. “We can’t let you out until you talk to us.”

Harry lifts his head. He meets Joe’s eye, and then yours, and he’s more lucid than he has been in days. “And what if I don’t want to be let out?”

A question without a real answer. You study him and you wonder, not for the first time, who you’re really speaking to.

“Then we won’t,” you say. “Not until we're sure you aren’t gonna hurt anyone.”

Harry hums and rests his head back against the wall. 

Joe looks down at you. “Ethan is bringing Blythe by tomorrow. She wants a tour of the basement, and he can’t be here.”

You nod and your heart jumps to your throat. “Harry said it shouldn’t be longer than three days.”

“Does he know that for sure?”

“I…I don’t know,” you admit. “Last time it wasn’t longer than a day and a half. But it’s different every time.”

Joe sighs and you feel your stomach sink.

You hate to see him like this. You hate to see them both like this. Harry insisted it was the only way—back when he was still your Harry—but now you’re not so sure.

You don’t like to leave him here for days at a time. You don’t like that you have to keep him from harming himself or others by locking him in a glass cage until the episode passes. You love him. He shouldn’t be in a goddamn cage. He should be with you.

You straighten your shoulders and dare to dance with the devil. “Are you asking me or telling me?”

Harry lifts a brow.

You nod toward the letters smeared in blood across the glass, just above Harry’s head. Miss me. He painted it hours ago. A cruel taunt. “Are you asking me…” you repeat. “…or telling me?”

Harry looks up as well. His smile returns, wicked and pleased, and he leans forward, resting his arms over his propped knees. “You tell me,” he says and Joe scoffs quietly.

You move closer to the wall and press your palm flat to the edge. Attempting to play on an emotional, weathering string. “You need to let him go,” you whisper, and you notice his expression fall. “This isn’t a game anymore. He can’t help you. Not in here.”

Harry—or rather, the dark presence inside his head—tsks. “Are you sure?”

You feel your pulse stutter while Joe murmurs, “Come on, let’s go. We can come back tomorrow. He’ll be better then.”

But you don’t move from your spot. Instead, you stare at the obvious wound on Harry’s leg. His source of ink for the ominous message. “I’ll need to clean that,” you say.

The darker Harry laughs. It’s a humorless laugh. Cold. Cunning. “What for? I can’t imagine it’ll help much.”

You frown. “I’m not doing it for you. I’m doing it for him.”

“And it would be a wasted effort. As is this.”

“I don’t think so.”

“No?”

You shake your head. “You try to win his favor every time,” you remind the creature. “You try to break him, try to bribe him. But when it’s all over, Harry will remain, and you will be nothing but a parasite inside his mind. Snuffed out like a flame.”

He leans back. Regarding you with what you could confuse with respect, but you know he’s not that generous. “And does he know the truth, little fox?” 

You blink. “What truth?”

The dark, alter ego smiles. “Does your darling Harry know that when you look at him…you’re really thinking of me?”

The blood drains from your face and you step back. 

“That when you fuck yourself…you imagine me?” He steadies his gaze and your insides twist. “That when you fuck him…it’s my name on your pretty tongue? Not his?”

You shake your head. “That’s ridiculous—”

“Is it?” He laughs again and it sends sharp chills down your spine. “Why else do you stay, little fox? Why else do you choose to be with a man you know has taken someone’s life with his own hands? Who’s dangerous enough to keep locked in a cage?”

You take another step back. “That wasn’t him. It was you—"

“Us,” he whispers, and the basement falls eerily silent. “We are one, him and I. My thoughts are his, and his are mine. Do you really believe I don’t know what he thinks of you?”

“Stop—”

“He tries. I know he tries but he’ll never know how to treat you the way I do,” the darker voice purrs. “The night on the roof. When he fucked you and you saw two kinds of stars that night. It wasn’t his cock you were riding, little fox—”

“Stop—”

“It was mine.” He smirks. “And you knew it. Didn’t you? Knew who you were really coming for and instead of trying to save your sweet, little boyfriend…you begged me to fuck you again. Isn’t that right—”

Joe grabs your arm and begins to lead you toward the stairs. “Fuck this. Let’s go—”

“Bet you wanna fuck me now, don’t you?” continues the cruel taunt. “Why don’t you, hm? Why don’t you unlock the door and I’ll let him watch. I’ll let them both watch—"

You aren’t afforded the chance to answer as you’re dragged out of the soundproof basement, but his laugh follows you all the way up.

Your ears are ringing and your hands are trembling and the worst part is…you know he’s right. Maybe there is a part of you that’s attracted to the darker parts of the same man you already know. And maybe…you don’t mind. Because is it really cheating if he’s not real? 

The question follows you all the way home and into bed that night. You know better than to tempt fate. To entertain the idea and allow yourself to wonder what it would be like. The whole point of keeping Harry in the cage during an episode is to keep him from harming himself or others. So that one day, there won’t be another voice inside his head. It’ll just be…him.

It would defeat the purpose to make friends with the enemy. And you imagine it would be rather hard to explain to the real Harry if he ever found out how you felt about his darker and far more sadistic alter ego.

Which is why you find it quite odd that you’ve returned to Mooney’s bookstore and crept your way down to the cage, key in hand.

He, however…is not surprised in the slightest.

“Welcome back, little fox,” he calls, hands pressed to the glass.

You swallow.

He grins.

“Miss me?”

Yes this was inspired by Void Stiles...Void Styles *slaps knee* and I need all three of these men biblically thank you goodnight!!!

Also I actually would totally do a part 2 where Harry is cray cray for real HAHAH

~ Main Masterlist

Taglist (I'm so sorry if this isn't something you wanted to be tagged in, it is a lot weirder HAHAH): @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgf @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @vane28282 @lukesaprince @closureesny @lc-fics @0nlythrowharrybeaux @hannahdressedasabanana @iguessyourejustwhatineeded @dylanobandposts21 @butdaddyilovehim-hs @samanddeaninatrenchcoat

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[naomihatake]

In search of freedom (Ch. 2)

2. The wheel of death

Chapter 1 ; Chapter 2 ; Chapter 3

⠀⠀⠀⠀She's been searching for freedom her entire life and everytime she thought it was laying right in front of her eyes, she was mistaken. She was running around the East Blue, seeking herself and her dreams, meeting people she never forgot. No matter how much she traveled, she could only catch a glimpse of peace before realizing everything would crumble at her feet.

⠀⠀⠀⠀Maybe it was destiny that brought her on that ship with three strangers — foolishly, that's what she tried to believe when the moon shined beautifully and hope settled in her chest, squeezed by the same ribcage where feelings were blooming.

Pairing: female!reader x OPLA Zoro Roronoa. This chapter follows the events of the second episode.

Warnings for this chapter: canon typical violence, kidnapping

Word count: 3,1k

Theme song: “Haunted Isles” by Derek Fiechter (click on the link)

A/N: I almost didn't believe I wrote so much considering the process felt so slow and kind of annoying. Not the best chapter I've written so far, not something I'm necessarily proud of, but I wanted to follow OPLA's plot. I know 3k words isn't much, but I already prepared pieces of the next chapters that I'm genuinely excited to share with you. Half of this part is filled with action, meanwhile, the next chapter will be full of psychological analysis and a lot of thoughts + more interactions between the reader and Zoro.

The reader will be referred to as "Witch" from now on, because I have no intentions of using "Y/N".

I'm open for comments and opinions <3

The view made her smile as she looked at the dark blue nuance of the sea, her eyes sparkling just like the moon that was hidden by the gray clouds at that time. Her heart beat so peacefully, in sync with the waves of the water, and with every inhale she could feel that sensation taking over her senses. Everytime she got on a ship, the feeling grew stronger and stronger and she doubted there was a limit.

Freedom had no limit and she wondered if that's what it felt like.

"We're not a crew," Zoro and Nami — the woman with orange hair — said in unison.

Luffy was dead set on calling four people a crew, despite the fact that it was a decision he kind of made on his own.

Zoro's tall figure disappeared inside the cabin, where he intended to nap. She was intrigued; it was the same man who made a fool of those marines back at the tavern. The witch was confused about the soft clinck sounds coming from him, until she realized it was just his three golden earrings hitting one another at each move.

Luffy's last crewmate smiled, endeared by the unfaltering enthusiasm their supposed captain was radiating. He was like a ball of energy since they got on Nami's ship and sailed away with help from Koby.

"So, you're a witch," Luffy excitedly turned towards her.

"You could call me that, I think," she shrugged.

"Do you do magic? Like, potions in a cauldron and spells with candles—"

"I think you know too many stereotypes," she let out a long sigh.

Nami was on her knees in front of the safe box, ear glued to the locker as she rolled it between her fingers.

"So you won't chop us into pieces and boil us?" She arched her eyebrow, unintentionally feeding Luffy's crazy ideas.

"You—!"

"No, I don't."

She rubbed at the bridge of her nose with her thumb and pointer finger.

"What about you two talking after I finish unlocking this? I need silence."

The witch sat down, resting her body against a barrel as she watched Nami's careful actions. Now that she thinks about it, she never saw someone so sure of themselves while opening up this kind of locker, which meant it wasn't the first time she did it either. She presented herself as a thief.

Luffy was agitated, roaming around and stretching, a big smile on his lips. He was holding back from babbling until he forgot he had to keep his mouth shut.

"I almost can't believe I already have a crew and we got our hands on the Grand Line map."

"Luffy," the witch whispered so she wouldn't disturb Nami. "You do know none of us promised to take part in this adventure, right?"

She was trying her best to be gentle about the topic, especially since he seemed so happy he couldn't hold back at all. Luffy had no filter anymore, saying whatever came to mind, but she supposed he's always like that.

"Maybe you'll change your mind," he beamed.

"I appreciate your help a lot, kid, and I'll try my best to help you if I get the chance until we get to the next destination, but I don't know about that," she shook her head.

"You said the same thing at the tavern: that it's dangerous."

"And I still didn't change my mind. It is dangerous."

"Can you be silent?" Nami accentuated her words in annoyance.

"Sorry," the witch muttered.

The orange haired woman glued her ear to the lock again, eyes narrowed and brows pulled together in concentration. One strand of hair fell over her blue eyes but she didn't mind it while she continued opening the locker up.

A small click vibrated shyly through the air and Nami snapped up.

"It's open!" she shouted.

From inside the box, Nami took a long cylinder and opened it. The witch moved behind her and looked at the map of the Grand Line, inspecting it with the eye of someone who wasn't an expert at all. She was focusing on the navigator's explanations so intensely, she didn't notice when the other two approached. Zoro's swords brushed by her leg, moving her entire attention to him.

The sound of fireworks filled the air.

"The marines? When did they find us?" Nami furrowed her eyebrows.

"What's with the red smoke?" the witch found herself asking right after she started seeing in nuances.

"It smells weird," Luffy muttered.

She found out it was true only after she inhaled it and her vision was getting blurry. Everything happened so fast: Nami falling first, then Zoro saying something she couldn't hear. Her body got soft and in less than a few seconds, she fell unconscious after she caught a glimpse of a pirate ship.

•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈

The witch rubbed her wrists together, but her attempt to escape from the rope digging into her skin was futile. She was sitting in an open chest, her knees pulled close to her chest; both her legs and wrists were tied and she was growing tired of it.

They were kidnapped by some pirate clowns and thrown into what he called the Green Room. Luffy was still in the main tent, and what was happening to him was a secret between the clowns and the dozens of people who had their legs chained like animals.

The Green Room was filled with strange things and old furniture and cushions. Golden bulbs shined and reflected into some square mirrors and another large one with skulls as ornaments. There was a chair in front of a desk, where cups were placed next to some photos. A creepy white mannequin stood right next to the chest she was sitting in, wearing an elegant purple scarf. Something that imitated a chandelier was hanging in the middle of the roof, made out of big flower cups of white thin material. Zoro's swords were left against one of the cushions, where her two identical guns were.

A barely audible groan left the swordsman's lips as he struggled against the rope that glued his wrists to a big wheel.

"They're too strong even for you," Nami commented in a shallow tone.

Both of her hands clutched at the metal bars of the wide bird cage she was stuck in.

"I need to get out of here and kill some clowns," he muttered, focused on escaping. "I've got out of worse."

"With that I have to agree," the witch sighed.

"I saw a town when I got out of the tent… what was left of it after Buggy destroyed it."

"You mean, when you tried to leave us for dead?" Zoro grimaced after pulling at the ropes again.

The witch was like a bystander, her eyes running from one to the other. They were seriously insane, ready to argue in a life-or-death situation.

"You were picking up a fight you couldn't win," Nami snapped her head towards the swordsman.

"I know your type: if there's nothing to gain, you're out."

"Says the one who runs after Berries—"

"Shut it, you two," the witch intervened, letting out a groan. "We can argue and throw venom at each other after we get out of here."

"If we get out of here," Nami retorted.

"We do because I have too much of an ego to play in a circus created by a maniac," the witch mumbled.

After a few moments of silence, no sounds coming from outside the room they were left in, Nami got a lock pin out of her boot.

"Didn't they take all of them?" Zoro asked.

"They only took three," she smirked for a brief moment.

The witch leaned her torso forward and, despite the painful tug of the rope, she tried to raise them to the belt of her pants. She snuck her fingers between the two pieces of clothing and bit at her bottom lip when her skin started stinging painfully.

Finally, she got a small pocket knife out and grinned.

"I thought you were a witch," the swordsman gazed at her.

"You'll see magic once I get out of here," she joked.

A loud scream ripped through the air and it made all of them snap their heads towards the door.

Was that Luffy?

The witch's blood froze in her veins.

"You better hurry," Zoro whispered.

The witch gulped and wielded the knife between her fingers until the sharp edge grazed the rope around her wrists. She moved the knife up and down, putting as much pressure as the position allowed her. Nami, on the other hand, continued rolling the lock pick into the padlock.

Now that the woman stared intently at the mannequin while cutting the rope — even if way too slowly —, the doll had a scary smile painted in black on its porcelain face. Why was it looking back at her?

Minutes of unsuccessful cutting ropes and rolling lock picks, after another groan coming out of Zoro's mouth, he spoke:

"Someone's coming."

"Keep them talking, I need more time," Nami turned her head.

"Same here."

"I don't talk, I hit things," he grunted.

"Then change your hobby," the witch huffed.

The witch's eyes widened and she leaned back against the chest, so her arms and pocket knife would be hidden. Her heart was beating painfully fast in between her ribs and it was almost ridiculous, how she was sweating and the clothes started getting uncomfortable.

A monocycle creaked under the man who just got inside the room. He passed right by her when he came in, which sent her into an inner crisis. Wearing dark colored clothes and an unbuttoned coat without sleeves, the man hopped off and let the object fall to the floor.

She had no clue why the pirate chose to get close to the swordsman, who looked at him dead in the eye.

"Remember me?" the pirate spoke.

"No. Must be some other homicidal, unicycle-riding clown."

The witch was reminded you pay for the audacity of speaking up to your enemy when you're locked up; Zoro got instantly hit by the pirate's fist into the stomach. However, he didn't give that clown any satisfaction, his lips glued.

She eyed Nami, who was turned with her back at the lock of her cage, trying to open it without even looking at it. Damn, it wasn't good.

The witch couldn't hear whatever the fuck that clown was muttering at Zoro's ear, her fingers moving the knife faster, a tight knot settling in her throat as adrenaline pumped through her.

Nami made eye contact with the swordsman and the pirate who called himself Cabaji turned towards her.

"I've never met a clown. I thought they're supposed to be funny. Do some acrobatics on your monocycle, maybe it can help the time pass."

The witch shouldn't have opened her mouth in the first place, but if Nami was caught, it could've ended badly. Maybe it was the fault of the adrenaline, but pissing off that idiot with three strands of mint green hair made her smirk victoriously.

People who get angry when you step on their ego have always been the funniest creatures alive.

Of course, the reaction she received wasn't a good one. The pirate took two knives from his belt and stepped closer. She refused to look away and nothing could erase that grin off her face.

"Still doesn't ring a bell," Zoro caught his attention again.

Bad move. One of Cabaji's knives cut through the air and sunk into the wood the swordsman was glued to. Any other sounds have immediately been silenced.

"You followed us day and night for weeks through the Goa kingdom, never relenting, like some kind of demon."

Oh, so that's who Roronoa Zoro really was; the witch dared to allow her curiosity to act like a sponge about the new information. Interesting. The swordsman was a demon and a bounty hunter. Amazing combo.

He was probably hated by every pirate on the sea.

The woman tried her best to focus on the pocket knife between her fingers, but she couldn't help the fear crawling up into her skin. They had to get out of there alive and, preferably, with their limbs attached to their body.

After a few heavy steps, Cabaji gripped at the edge of the wooden wheel and in less than two seconds, the swordsman was rotating like a toy. The pirate walked roughly two meters away and then continued tossing knives, each time managing to avoid Zoro's flesh.

Nami and the witch looked at each other for a brief moment and then continued with their previous work.

When the rope finally got cut, she looked at the maniac pirate who didn't stop with his play yet. She held back her reactions, instead choosing to look at the swordsman who was rotating in the air and it made her pale. Time passed by too slowly and she slowly let out a long sigh when the wheel stopped from moving.

"You really don't fear death, do you?" Cabaji huffed.

He wasn't satisfied by the lack of reaction he received from Zoro who looked like he's gone through that three times a day for years. How did he manage to keep such a poker face?

"No, I just don't fear you."

Good, make him corner you.

The pirate didn't think twice before he threw a knife that aimed right above the swordsman's wrist. Their enemy wasn't careful enough, since the rope could now be easily cut.

Cabaji walked towards Zoro — another mistake. Nami already opened her cage and she was silently getting out. The witch didn't hesitate when she stopped pretending like she still had her wrists tied together. Clutching at the knife between her fingers, she raised her hand and tossed the sharp object through the air, aiming at the man's back.

"Thinking you're the only one who can play with knives, clown?" she huffed.

Cabaji turned and it was Nami's opportunity to kick his stomach with her foot, which made him fall on his back, the knife digging further into his flesh, cutting through his ribs and lung.

Finally, the witch's anxiety lowered now that one of their men was down. Now, who knows how many more they had to defeat.

"I didn't take you for a criminal."

Nami took one of the knives stuck in the wheel and cut Zoro's rope and then came to her other crewmate, helping with the rope around her ankles.

"I was desperate and he was annoying," the witch shrugged while she rubbed at her aching wrists.

When she found the freedom of moving again, she got out of the chest and took all the knives she found, including the ones from the wheel.

"What's the plan?" Zoro asked as he arranged his swords back at his hip.

"I say we beat the shit out of every clown we see," Nami grinned.

The witch smiled after she put each knife at her belt, rolling another one between her fingers. With her guns sitting at each side of her hip and the bonus of adrenaline, it felt like nothing could stop her.

•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈

The sharp edge of the weapon broke the glass after she threw it right in the middle of Luffy's aquarium — or whatever that thing was supposed to be.

"Luffy!" she shouted his name.

The glass wall of his cage shattered and the water splashed around, the straw hat coughing, his face pale. He was on the floor, soaked to the bone. His straw hat was so close to him,yet so far away. Luffy vomited the cylinder with the map and despite the nausea he was experiencing, he crawled to his hat.

He put himself in danger this entire time and chose not to let go of the Grand Line map, but that object held much more importance to him. The witch froze for a mere moment, confused, but when she wanted to get closer and get the map away from Buggy, a pirate with a sword came sprinting towards her.

"Witch!" she heard a gruff voice.

She dodged it before her head could get cut off and sank a knife into his stomach, only to raise the agony after she hit the man in the same spot, blood gushing out of his wound and soaking his clothes.

With a swift motion, her fingers grabbed at one of her revolvers. She fired at Buggy who was a breath away from touching the map, but didn't pay enough attention to another attack towards her.

A sword's edge shone in the corner of her eye and no matter how fast she was, she couldn't dodge that. Her eyes widened and she waited for the pain to inflict into her body. The pirate froze in place and his sword slipped between his fingers. When he fell to his knees, from behind him there was Zoro who was using a three-sword style.

Definitely a demon; but in a good way.

The witch nodded at him. She didn't train properly in the past year and she lost some speed on the way. She hasn't been in such a situation for a long time.

With other two pirates attacking them from the sides, she protected his blind spot while he killed another enemy with a mere flick of his swords. Another loud shot rang through the air and another man fell down, the center of his heart pierced.

"Buggy needs to have a weakness," the witch said.

"And what is it?"

The answer was right before their eyes: Luffy managed to get back to his feet while they were busy. He used his ability to elongate his arm and grabbed at the leg who was moving in the air, only to throw it in a chest. Nami closed it and grinned mischievously.

That was it.

The witch rolled another knife between her fingers and analyzed the detached hand that was rotating around her. At the perfect time, she threw it in the middle of its palm with enough force to send it into another chest, Nami locking it.

They focused on getting each part of Buggy's body stuck in any suitable place, be it a chest, a barrel or under a bucket. For as long as they got rid of that maniac, everything was fine.

She let out a sigh when only the clown's head remained intact, now laughing pitifully. Zoro bent down and grabbed the head, locking it into a box and putting a rock on top of it.

"Let's get the hell out of here."

A/N: Thank you so much for the comments and the support <3

Tag list: @emelia07 @dimplewonie @tfamidoingwithmylife @murnsondock @the-skys-musical-echo @conspiracy-crows @hallow33nz @ramae17 @gaslysainz @bunntsu @katt58

#naomiwrites #in search of freedom #zoro #ronoroa zoro #zoro roronoa #opla zoro #one piece zoro #one piece #opla #one piece live action #opla zoro x reader #zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x reader #zoro x you #zoro x y/n #roronoa zoro x you #roronoa zoro x y/n #one piece live action x reader #one piece x reader #one piece x you #one piece x y/n

[feelbokkie]

그동안 숨겨둔 Silent Cry

☀️Feelbokkie M.list☀️

**Requested**

hey, how are you? I wanted to ask for prompt 26, 27 and 30 with chan, from your hurt/comfort prompt list. maybe reader is struggling with SH, if it's too much or it makes you uncomfortable you can ignore this request.bye🩶

genre: angst, hurt/comfort, a smidge of fluff at the end as a treat

pov: 2nd person

description: You've been struggling with your mental health in silence for years. You've done well to keep your depression at bay while dating Chan, but the darkness suddenly and rapidly consumes you. (Title is a lyric from Silent Cry (Korean ver.))

pairing: bf!chan x reader

warnings: swearing, self harm (DNI if you might get triggered)

word count: 1,714

©feelbokkie (2023) — all rights reserved. reposting/modification of any kind is not tolerated.

You’re not sure what set you off this time, but you’ve been spiraling for the better part of a week. None of your normal methods of pulling yourself out of a depressive episode seemed to work this time. Doom scrolling lead to you reading hate comments about yourself, pushing you further down into your spiral. None of the comfort shows you normally watch when you start feeling low could distract you from the thoughts inside your head. Your boyfriend Chan was busy with work all week and you didn’t want to bother him.

Chan knows you have depression. He just doesn’t know how bad it can get. Not that you want him to. It’s better for everyone involved if he only thinks I get a little bit sad every once in a while and bounce back immediately. He has his own problems to worry about without adding you to the list.

Desperate to relieve yourself from the feeling of drowning, you relapsed. You just wanted to feel something, anything, other than the overwhelming feelings that were taking over your entire body. And it worked. The pain from adding a new tally mark to your arms and thighs was enough to draw your attention elsewhere for a bit until the pain subsided, causing you to fall into an all too familiar pattern. Trying to not cause too many new marks, you would put pressure on the fresh cuts to make them sting again, only adding new ones when even that didn't work anymore. New marks littered your thighs and arms in places you knew would be easy to hide so Chan wouldn't notice.

Feeling overwhelmed again, you found yourself in your bathroom, adding a new cut. Not too deep, never too deep to actually do any real damage.

“Y/N! I’m home! Are you here?” Chan’s voice ripped through your apartment, making you jump and forcing you to cut deeper than you intended.

“Fuck…” You whisper to yourself, dropping the blade. An alarming amount of blood floods out of the fresh wound.

What is he doing here? He should be at the company, working. Or at the very least, at his dorm. Why does he have to be here right now?

Hot tears start flowing down your face faster as you begin crying again, cleaning up the mess that you made and running your arm under running water. You could hear Chan shuffling around your apartment looking for you on the other side of the door. You just need him to leave. The second he leaves, you’ll call 119. You just don’t want him to see you like this. Why won’t he leave?

“Oh, you’re in the bathroom. I’ll wait for you on your bed.” Chan’s voice calls from the other side of the door. Damnit.

Arm still under the water, you grab your phone from the counter. You open your text messages with Chan to try to tell him to go home. Feeling dizzy, you drop your phone instead and clutch the bathroom counter to try to keep yourself upright.

“Y/N? Are you okay?” Chan's worried voice could be heard loud and clear from the other side of the door.

“G…go…go home…” You try to shout.

“What? I'm coming in.” You silently curse yourself for not locking the door earlier when you're met with Chan's panicked eyes.

Moving almost robotically, Chan shuts off the sinking and grabs a towel from the rack behind you, wrapping it around your arm and applying pressure. 

“Go home, Channie. I’ll take care of this.” You choke out, sobbing harder because the one thing you never wanted to happen is, unfortunately, happening.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Chan doesn’t even look at you as he pulls out his phone and types something into his phone before pressing it to his ear.

Your legs finally start to give under you. You brace yourself to hit the floor hard but instead fall on something soft. You turn your head to meet your boyfriend’s tearful eyes. Both of you were now sitting on the floor, Chan still holding the towel to your arm and talking on the phone.

“I…I’m so sorry, Channie…I…tried…I tried to be stronger…but I couldn’t…I didn’t mean to…” You take your free hand and stroke Chan's cheek.

“You didn’t do anything wrong. This isn’t you, okay?” He says something into the phone before placing it on the counter.

“I fucked up…” Your eyes trail to your arm. Chan still has a firm grip on it, but the towel is now soaked with your blood.

“Hey, don’t look at it. Look at me,” His hand quickly moves from your side and tilts your head towards him. The tears he tried to hold back, finally fell down his face in rapid succession.

“I’m sorry…I just wanted to stop hurting…But now I’m so cold…” Your eyes flutter and Chan panics.

“Hey, let me see those pretty eyes, yeah? I know you’re tired but stay awake. Help is almost here and then I promise you can take a nap.” His voice gets farther and farther away like he's walking away from you.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, but I need you to stay awake. Let’s…let’s sing that one song you like. The mirror’s image, it tells me it’s home time. C'mon Y/N, sing with me.”

“I…can’t…”

“Sing the next line. Please, Y/N…”

“But…I’m not finished…’cause you’re not…by my…side…”

“Good, good. And as I arrived I thought I saw you leavin’, carryin’ your shoes… Hey, Y/N, just a little longer… Y/N?”

***

You wake up to the sounds of a heart monitor beeping. Slowly, you open your eyes to see that you're in a dimly lit hospital room. You take in your surroundings, remembering what happened to get you here. Looking down at your left hand, you see Chan fast asleep in the chair next you you, clutching your hand. You take a deep breath, trying not to cry while thinking about all you put Chan through earlier.

Chan stirs awake at your sudden movement. Rubbing his eyes with his free hand before looking at you and giving you a small smile.

“You’re awake.” He says softly.

“I'm so sorry…” You choke out, no longer being able to hold it in.

“Hey, hey, hey, don't start that now.” He pulls himself closer to the bed and takes his other hand to stroke your thigh.

“But you…” You bite your lip, unable to continue what you wanted to say.

“It’s fine, relatively speaking. I’m just glad I came when I did. I don’t even want to think about what could have happened.” Chan slightly squeezes your hand reliving what happened earlier in his head.

“I didn’t mean to go that deep, I swear. I just…wanted to stop hurting. It was helping and I would have stopped eventually. I always do…”

“How long did you think you could hide that?” Chan asks softly, gesturing to your bandaged arms. You could tell by the lack of light in his eyes that he was beating himself up for not noticing sooner.

“Probably forever if possible. Besides, it hasn’t been this bad in a long time so I thought I was in the clear.”

“Why didn’t you call me if you were suffering so much?”

“I didn’t—I don't want you looking at me differently or treating me like a burden. You already have so much to handle, I don't want to be one of them.”

“You’re not a burden. You could never be a burden.”

“Tell that to my defective brain.”

“Your brain isn’t defective.”

“Chan, stop.”

“What?”

“Trying to make me feel better when everything is shit. I nearly died in your arms earlier. Most of me hates that I did that to you but a small part of me wishes I did.”

“You don’t mean that.” He sits up straighter.

“If you could see the look on your face right now, you would know that I do.”

You sit in silence for a few minutes, neither of you knowing what to say next. Scared of what the other might say.

“I took a few weeks off so I can stay with you while you get better,” Chan says, finally breaking the silence.

“I can’t let you do that.” You sit up.

“Everything’s already been set. Minho’s in charge and an announcement has been made. Hopefully, the boys don’t self-destruct while I’m gone. If they do, oh well.”

“Christopher…"

“Let me take care of you, damnit!” He whispers, not wanting to yell at you.

“This isn’t your fault.”

“I know it’s not.”

“I know that you know it’s not. But I need you to understand that I didn’t lose my shit because you were too busy to notice. It was bound to happen eventually.”

“...I understand…” 

Silence falls in the room again.

“You know,” Chan adjust himself in his seat, careful to not let go of your hand, “I leave my ringer on for you.”

“What?”

“My phone ringer, I leave it on for you. I put everyone else on do not disturb but I leave your notifications on. I always want to make sure I’m there for you when you need me. I’ve done it since before we started dating.”

“What about when you have live streams or interviews?”

“I either put it on silent and leave the vibration on or I give it to a staff member who knows to tell me if you’re having an emergency.”

“But what about when you’re asleep—”

“My point is that I’m always there for you. I don’t view you as a burden, in fact, I wish you would lean on me more. I need you to understand that you can come to me whenever no matter what is going on. You need me, I’m there. If I’m on the other side of the world, I’ll move heaven and Earth to get back to you. You don’t have to suffer in silence or alone, I’m right here.”

“God, I love you.”

“I love you too. Promise you’ll come to me the next time you feel like this.” He presses a kiss into you hand.

“I promise I’ll try.”

—

Buy me a coffee?

#skz reactions #skz imagines #chan x reader #reader x chan #bang chan x reader #reader x bang chan #chan imagine #chan imagines #chan reaction #bang chan reactions #chan reactions #bang chan reaction #bang chan imagine #bang chan imagines

[goodday-goodmorn]

Alright! Starting this shitshow of a blog off strong with a platonic yandere Bruce Wayne fic!

Heavily inspired by- @blughxreader and their batman stuff! Go check ‘em out- (specifically the one with poor reader and the rooftop escape, those are my fav’s <3)

———————————————-

Also inspired by this qoute:

'They can't do that,' she said finally. 'It's the one thing they can't do. They can make you say anything -- anything -- but they can't make you believe it. They can't get inside you.' (Gorge Orwells, 1984)

“You know, i’m pretty sure that you helping me right now would be going against natural selection.”

Bruce sent you a look, something dark in his eyes. You knew it was coming however and shamelessly avoided looking at him for that exact reason. Under normal circumstances you wouldn’t have said that, he never was one for jabs or jokes that hinted in any way about you dying.

“You’re kind of a mother hen ya know that? I mean, i knew before but this is really solidifying it ya know?”

It was a deflection and you both knew it, usally Bruce wouldn’t let you get away with those. But once again, these were not the usual circumstances. Truth be told he was probably just glad you were talking again, that you had some life back in your eyes, albeit only a small amount.

“Your soup is getting cold.”

Ah damn it. You were hoping he wouldn’t notice. A stupid hope, consdiering he notices fucking everything.

“So it is.”

…

A sigh, “Kid, you need to eat.” You knew what it meant. It was a silent question, ‘are we gonna do this the easy way or the hard way?’, because either way, you would be eating.

You swallowed, truth be told, you didn’t have the motivation to eat. Nor the appetite, but the alternative was him talking you through every bite and you really didn’t want that right now.

So with a sigh of your own you picked up the spoon, at least you didn’t have to cook anything, all you had to do was eat what was in front of you. You could do that. Barely any effort. It was simple.

So simple.

The spoon stays in the bowl, your hand resting on it as you stare at the soup.

It’s delicious, you know it is, Alfred's food always is, and he’d made one of your favorites too. Something nice and hearty so you would be full for a while and wouldn’t have to go through the effort of eating again too soon.

Bruce was watching you when you looked up, ever watchful, ever observant, waiting to see if he had to intervene.

You swallowed, you never liked it when he stared too hard. His gaze was always so intense. With heavy limbs, you scoop a spoonful of soup and start eating.

Bruce’s gaze softens and he lets out a soft, “Thank you.” He ruffles your hair and you don’t have the will to stop yourself from leaning into it right now.

Give and take, give and take…

You eat in silence, you’re propped up on some pillows on the bed, Bruce is sitting next to the bed on a chair.

Maybe it had been a stupid idea to ask for him, a very stupid idea but at the time you couldn’t help it. You couldn’t deal with the boy’s clinging, not like this. Not when you woke up feeling like anything but a person.

See, a few hours ago, you woke up and felt fatigued, and apathetic. Two oncoming signs of a depressive episode.

It only got worse as the day went on, you tried to be alright- you really did but, you just couldn’t do it. This whole act of playing house with the Wayne’s was already tiring enough, but for your own sanity you had to keep it up.

After all, if you fought hard against all their afflictions they would only dig their heels in and make your situation a lot worse so- you always figured from the beginning it was better to give in early.

At least, on the surface anyway. Not resist their affections, hell you hadn't even once pulled any sort of escape attempt, or tried anything. You’d barely even argued either.

Your lack of resistance was met with open arms and eagerness. Of course- they knew you were only pretending, that you didn’t view them as family, but they knew it was only a matter of time until you came around.

After all, if you act for something long enough, your brain will eventually start to believe it.

Alas, you were a stubborn little shit, and giving in voluntarily had only seemed to help you keep up this mentality longer.

Until this morning anyway.

When you woke up, feeling like shit and simply couldn’t deal with playing house with your ‘brothers’. So, in your moment of weakness, when you didn’t want to do anything or let them drag you around or cuddle or watch movies, you had done something rather unexpected.

Which of course, was to simply shut down.

They were worried as shit, but when they finally did manage to get you to talk, your shaky whisper of, “I want dad.” -Had been shocking, worrying and exciting all at once.

(It had also been a touch too real, your voice had sounded so small, so far away, and in that moment you really did just want the comforting presence of Bruce.)

So now you were here, so deep into the throws of not being a person you barely felt like moving; sitting in your bed with none other than Bruce Wayne by your bedside, stroking your hair lovingly.

You were done with the soup now, as much as you could eat anyway, before Bruce could even say anything you reasoned with him, “I’ll eat more later. Promise.”

Promises held a lot of weight here. Something practically unbreakable, Especially with Bruce. Especially with you, maybe that’s just because you liked when they had weight. It was nice; To have a concrete thing to swear on that you knew would not be broken.

Bruce probably used them to build trust in his words or something, you didn’t know, and quite frankly you didn’t care right now because well- you got to use them too so…

He thinks for a moment, and then nods, agreeing easily, “Okay.” And with that he takes the bowl from you. He’s… he’s rather agreeable right now, usually he would confirm or try and fight you more on that.

Maybe he was being more lenient because you willingly came to him? Or because you were being open right now, or maybe because he felt bad for what you were going through or-

Gods you don’t have enough energy to ponder this.

You nod and lay back down, he guides you down most of the way. Now you’re back like before, lying in bed, cheek smushed against your pillow, starting at him blankly.

You break the silence as he pulls the blanket over you.

“What type of bird do you think everyone would be?”

He looks back to you, a small upturn of his lips and eyes crinkled slightly in an amused manner. “Why do you ask?”

You shrug, “Bored.”

A partial truth. In reality you were thinking about all that poetic shit about you being like a bird in a fancy golden cage. A very very well cared for bird with access to some deep fucking pockets but you know, still in a cage. Even if the cage is real fancy and has amazing food, even better wifi, and a home movie theater.

(You think Bruce would let you install an indoor pool? Or a jacuzzi. …He probably would. You should ask sometime, ah- you’re getting off track here.)

So anyway- fancy bird poems and then you started thinking about what type of bird you would be and then it kinda spiraled from there.

“Hm. Well, that depends, who do you wanna start with?”

“Mmm… Alfred, cause i think he’s the easiest.”

A little amused quirk of his brow, “What bird is he then?”

“Penguin. Cause he’s always dressed all fancy, and penguins got that sleek fancy vibe about them. They are kinda short for Alfred though…”

Bruce nods, as if taking your words into consideration, “Emperor penguin then. They’re the biggest penguin species.”

Contuiting on just to have something to blabber about you confidently say, “Jason is an emu.”

——————

After a very engaging deep dive into what types of birds everyone was-

(Tim was a woodpecker on account of all the times you’ve seen him slam his head into his desk while working; Dick was an ostrich because if Jason was an Emu then those two had to match; Cassandra got the honor of being a crow; Damien was a kinglet, a ruby crowned kinglet, purely because they are small and for some reason you only recall pictures of seeing those bird look annoyed, Bruce was a harpy eagle because they look big and grumpy, And finally you were a pigeon.)

-You were now half asleep as Bruce read to you like you were a little kid.

It was… nice. Like all the other times you were forced to hang out with the Wayne family. (Only this time you hadn’t been forced, you had called for him.) Nice but with that ever present little weight in the back of your mind, reminding you of just how much these people had taken from you.

Right now though, that little weight was… it was a lot easier to ignore.

You let Bruce’s calming voice wash over you, you were barely listening at this point but he paid no kind to your lack of attention.

This was nice.

No one had ever taken care of you when you went into one of your episodes before. Usually you had to suck it up and work yourself up to go get some food and water before laying in bed until the feeling went away.

It was a terrible feeling, a staggering sensation just on the edge of emptiness. But not there enough for you to not feel anything, it was almost as if everything was muted. All sensations dull, your thoughts weren't but you were apathetic to them.

In short, it sucked. Majorly.

But now, here you were, tucked into bed, fed a warm hearty meal, and being read to with such tenderness and care.

You didn’t even notice that your eyes started to water. But Bruce did. He noticed everything.

Gently, so gently, he wiped away the tear about to fall from your eye. His own were soft as they stared at you. Soft and filled with a look you couldn’t decipher, a look you didn’t want to decipher because the closest thing you could even begin to compare it to was- …was love.

Love.

Fuck- love.

You knew there was something wrong with this family, of course you did- they kidnapped you for pete’s sake, but- but they also had been unconditionally kind to you didn’t they?

You… You couldn’t-

“-do this anymore.”

Your voice was soft, just barely above a whisper. A quiet confession.

‘I can’t do this anymore.’

Bruce sighed, his voice level, but quiet, fitting of the atmosphere. “You don’t have to, it’ll be so much easier if you just give in kiddo.”

He cupped your face in his hand. His own skin was scarred, rough, callous, and yet he held you with such care. It was almost reverent. He gazed at you with an almost sad look, as if your passive struggle hurt you more than him.

(It probably did. He didn’t have anything to worry about after all, you would break eventually. You could only keep telling yourself this was pretend for so long.)

“…”

Stubborn. Always so stubborn in the most muted way; silence. You weren't one to make large outbursts, or outwardly resist, but even so, passive stubbornness. It was something Bruce was fond of; how resilient you were.

You look away from his gaze, not meeting his eyes. His eyes, always so intense, always so much behind those icy blue scaleras.

“Is it-“ You start, the chemical imbalance in your brain making you honest right now.

You realize suddenly that this is the first real conversation you’ve had in months. There was no keeping up the act here. No holding your tongue or dancing with your words, no overthinking about what response would make you the perfect sibling, the perfect child. No catering, no push and pull of deciding how much of you you want to put into your words.

This was honest. The most honest you’ve been since you were kidnapped.

Bruce tilts his head slightly, patiently waiting for you to continue. He could sense a breakthrough, and he always did know when it was better to hold his tongue.

“…Is it worth it?” You say, eyes filled with so much emotion simmering just under the surface.

Bruce has a good idea as to what you’re asking. He knows you. Knows the way you think, the way you come to conclusions, your speech patterns, he knows you well.

(And yet it’s not nearly as much as he wants to. He wants to know more, to know everything, he wants for you to share such details about yourself willingly. He wants you to come to him after a rough day and listen to you rant. He wants to hear you laugh as you discover a new interest. He wants-)

“Yes.”

He strokes your hair gently, voice impossibly soft.

“It’s worth it.”

He answers your asked, unasked questions without a moment's hesitation.

‘Is it worth it to do all this? To keep me here against my will? To have me locked away like some canary in a gilded cage?’

“If it means you are safe and happy.”

“Is this really happiness?”

“It can be if you let it.”

“…”

“Don’t you like it here? You have a loving family, a nice house, you never have to worry about food or safety ever again.”

“…”

He cups your face with both his hands now, making you meet his gaze. Always intense. Too intense. You can’t handle the weight of his love for you.

Flicking your eyes to the wall you mumble, “There’s a saying. If you love something, let it go.” It’s weak, half hearted, you aren’t even sure you really mean it. (You aren’t even sure if you want to be let go anymore… you can’t imagine returning to a life before all this.)

(And Bruce knows this.)

You look back at him, meeting his eyes because you- you just- you know it’s stupid to ask but you can’t stop yourself-

“Why?”

You don’t need to explain any further. Bruce always seems to know what you’re asking.

‘Why me? Why do any of this? Why go through all the trouble just to keep some random kid?’

“Because I love you.”

He says it so easily. So simply, so calmly, as if it is undeniable fact, so once more you ask with more feeling this time,

“Why?”

You can’t stop yourself from leaning into his hold as he gently presses a kiss to your forehead. It’s childish, it’s stupid, it’s dumb, it’s humiliating-

He wipes away new forming tears, still cupping your face, “Because you’re precious.”

You choke out, “You don’t even know me.”

“So then, let me know you.”

Weakly, you shake your head, his hands fall from your face as you choke out, “I- I don’t- i can’t.”

“Hey, look at me sweetheart.”

You do, looking up at him and seeing only the love of a father. You don’t know how to handle such a sight. It’s foreign and it burns and yet, you are drawn in like a moth to a flame.

“We already love you kid. Nothing could change that.”

“You love the idea of me.” You counter, shuffling to prop yourself up a bit because laying down for this just seems too- too vulnerable.

He sighs, “If you think that then we seriously should have had this talk sooner.” He mentally tsk’s, he knows he’s been putting it off for so long because well- you’ve been good. And the family was happy and you were adjusting better than anyone expected you to.

It seems his negligence has resulting in this problem growing however.

He says your name, folds his hands and looks at you calmly, “-If the family wanted another child, then we would have gone to an orphanage.”

You swallow, he continues, “But, we didn’t want just any old person. We wanted you.”

You try to deny his words, no one’s ever wanted that before, and yet you can’t. Because it’s the only thing that even begins to make sense in your head. The only logical reason any of this would have happened.

You can’t deny it.

They love you.

They’re insane, they kidnapped you and yet- yet they- it doesn’t-

“-make sense.” You whisper, even though it’s the only thing that makes any semblance of sense.

“I know, you’re confused and not used to this and scared, but you’re the only thing holding yourself back. If you just let yourself believe we’re a family, you’ll feel so much better. This mindset is only hurting you sweetheart, you need to let it go.”

You look at him, eyes wet and so vulnerable as you whisper in a small voice, “I don’t know how to.”

And he pulls you close now, into a hug, it’s a bit of an awkward angle because he’s on a chair next to the bed and you’re on the bed, but you barely even notice with the way he’s pressing you to his chest. He’s warm as he wraps his arms around you and gently strokes your hair, consisting, comforting.

“We’ll be there every step of the way, start small.”

You shudder. The weight in the back of your mind is back in full force. He's asking you to give up your last bit of resistance. Your last act defiance. He’s asking you to give yourself up voluntarily. To fully endorse the idea that they are your family.

The worst part is, you don’t find yourself all that horrified with the idea.

If anything, you’re more scared that you’ll mess up somehow and piss them off with the real you and end up locked in a basement or something.

You don’t- you don’t know how to have a family. How to have siblings, a father- you don’t know how to interact or what to say and what to do- what if you fuck it up? what if you aren’t acting enough like a family and-

“-breathe with me kid. Com’on, in for 5.” He’s stroking your hair still, talking with you as he counts. You find yourself unconsciously following the deep rumble of his words.

“That’s it… hold for 4. One, two-“ It’s actually really nice to listen to him. Pressed so close like this you can hear the purr and rumble of his words in his chest. You can feel his chest expand with his own steadying breaths.

“Exhale for 6. One, two, three-“ You repeat his number sequence until you find your breathing is back to normal. Not that you had noticed how frantic it got to begin with.

Bruce hums, you feel the vibrations. You can hear his heartbeat like this. It’s nice, being held in his arms. “Good job kid, better?” His voice is a smooth rumble.

You nod weakly against him.

The two of you stay like that for a bit, him holding you as you listen to each other's heartbeats. You ground yourself with his and find your eyes drooping once more with sleep.

You make a noise; a hum of sorts and he sends you his own in return, soft, questioning.

“I-“ You clamp your mouth shut, thinking about what you’re about to say, thinking about if this is what you really want.

In the end you settle on this being the best choice, “I’ll try.” You swallow, mouth suddenly feeling dry, Bruce doesn’t give you any time to regret it though. He presses his face to your hair, affectionate.

“I’ll make the transition as comfortable as possible.” He promises against your hair, not being able to hide the smile in his voice.

You swallow again, starting up with slight nerves clear in your voice, “B-but i told you i’m not exactly very likable s-so don't regret it when i start speaking my mind and-“

That gets a laugh out of him, an amused kid huff, “You can’t possibly be any worse than Jason or Damein.”

You give a weak smile, “I dunno old man, think I could give ‘em a run for their money in bluntless.”

Bruce is smiling, you see it when he pulls away and looks down at you with such adoration. “We’ll have to see then.”

He’s happy, more than happy at finally hearing you be you. As much as he wants to keep you in his arms and listen to you for the rest of eternity however, that was a rather exhausting conversation. You look more than ready for some rest.

Gently, (always so gentle with you, as if you were somthing to be treasured), he laid you back down on the bed.

You let yourself be tucked in. You let him press a kiss to the top of your head. You let him turn off the lights.

“Um hey B- D-Dad?”

Bruce notices the slip up, but he lets it go. You’ve just made a lot of progress, and you’re clearly trying.

“Yes?”

“Do you uh- can i call you something else? Dad just feels really weird and kinda artificial at times so I was thinking maybe something more natural like maybe Pops? Or something like that i don’t know i just-“

“Of course you can.” He cuts off your nervous ramble easily, “You can call me whatever feels most natural, kid.”

You suck in a breath, soothed by his clam tone.

“O-okay. Cool… cool cool cool. Uh well then, could you maybe- maybe er- read to me? If that’s- if that’s alright..?”

Bruce was so proud of you. So much progress was made not too long ago and you were already trying to push yourself out of your comfort zone. You were trying so hard, bless you, you precious darling child.

He turned on the bedside lamp and took his seat on the chair once more, picking up the abandoned book.

Truth be told, Bruce was a busy man and he should be leaving because he has patrol in an hour, but he’ll be damned if he can’t carve out time for you. Especially when you asked to see him today.

(Especially when you were finally willing to view him as a father.)

“Would you like me to continue this one or do you want a different book?”

You jerkily nod, “That one’s fine.”

So, he begins to read once more, his voice a calming drawl that washes over you. Your eyelids grow heavier and heavier, and soon you are yawning and drifting off.

Once Bruce is sure you’re asleep he closes the book. With such a soft gaze he gently brushes the hair out of your face, smiling to himself. Then he gets up and turns the light off, walking out of your room and letting the door close with a soft click.

He isn’t surprised to find all of his boys camping out at the door.

He sighs, looking over the lot of them. From the looks of it they’ve been camping out here all day, or have been continuously coming back.

The only one who even has the decency to act sheepish that he’d been caught is Dick, and even then, he barely looks sorry.

Bruce shakes his head fondly at his boys, ushering them all out of the hallway to your room to let you sleep in peace

#reader insert #fanfic of a fanfic #fiction #bruce wayne #platonic yandere #Dad Bruce wayne #i can’t believe i’m posting this #this is very self indulgent #inspiration #Wrote this after reading some of Blugh’s stuff late one night #fanfic #Erm- Blugh if ur seeing this hi? #platonic yandere batfam #Darker undertones #(?) kinda #dark themes #not super tho

[sleepiexx]

I Still Love You

Valeria Garza x fem!Reader

Link to Pt.1

Note: I’m not even going to tell u the excuse for why this took so long, terribly sorry for that, more stuff is coming I love y’all 🫶

Summary: How can you expect to get the woman you’ve loved for such a long time out of your mind?

Warnings: small mention of blood, someone threatens someone w a knife

Word count: 1463

A familiar scene was spread across the prison floors, the deep crimson that Valeria knew all too well along with its pungent metallic smell and the unmoving bodies of prison guards. Carnage.

Valeria could be a philosopher with how often she thought poetic thoughts of carnage. It followed her around— or rather, she created it— how could it not take president in her mind? Be it guilt, or justification of her actions, or even past traumatic events she had witnessed, carnage was always there. But during her time behind bars, the time it seemed the most fitting to reflect, she found that something else took up her every waking thought.

This led her not to one of her many safe houses, as she had planned in the event of her capture and prompt escape, but to an apartment she’d only narrowly been able to discover through research she had her lawyer conduct. Fourth floor, number eleven. She repeated it over and over, until it may as well have been etched into the tough bone of her skull. Y/n’s place. All she wanted was y/n.

At night, in her cell, it wasn’t the stiff mattress, or the freezing cold air which was barely combatted by the all-too-thin blanket that kept her awake. No. It was the constant replay of y/n walking away from her that had her staring at the concrete ceiling. She could still feel her lips, as if they had only just parted despite the months they spent apart. You can never just forget the woman who ran through your mind rent free for years, especially not when she makes an exit like that after you see her for the first time since you left the army to start a cartel.

So she followed her gut, followed it all the way to the fourth floor, and all the way to number eleven.

The room was dark, but cozy, sleepiness seeped from every pore in y/n’s body as she sat nearly fused to the couch, yet despite that, she continued to raise the tv remote and click “play next episode” on the series she had been watching on Netflix. It was mindless, truly, she hated it. The show was lame with it’s bland plot lines mashed between mediocre sex scenes, but y/n would not dare consider the alternative. Sleeping ever since she had left Valeria in that shipping container was not an option. When she tried, all she was met with was a gut wrenching guilt which left her staring at the ceiling like her eyelids were stapled open.

She wondered what Valeria was up to. If she was getting any sleep in prison, y/n guessed not so she rationalized her own insomnia by saying she did not deserve sleep as long as Valeria could not. In the beginning, she almost hoped Valeria would break out. It was wrong, sure, but y/n couldn’t force herself to want the woman to rot in prison. Now, though, as the months dragged on, her hope seemed to dissipate and what had happened felt all too real. Valeria was stuck in a cell now, all because of her. The guilt ate away at her spirit like acid.

So, yeah, maybe she did really need sleep, but no she would not turn off the trashy Netflix series because it was the only thing keeping her mind off of it all. Until her attention was caught by a slight noise in the kitchen. Nothing loud, in fact it would have gone undetected to the untrained ear, but y/n was anything but. She left the tv on, so as not to alert any possible intruder to the fact that she knew they were there. Ever so carefully, she crept into the kitchen, grabbing a pocket knife she left on the coffee table after opening a package earlier in the day.

A figure stood in front of the window which led to the fire escape outside, closing it quietly. Y/n let it close all the way before shoving them into the wall, knife pressed against their neck. The lack of fight that the opposing party put up was a shock, that is until y/n got a good look into their deep brown eyes.

“Valeria?” Shocked, y/n pulled away. She dropped the knife on the dinner table, in favor of walking a few paces backwards away from the woman.

“Did you miss me?” She smirked, that same smirk y/n had seen time and time again.

Y/n scrunched her brows in disbelief, “Christ, what are you doing here? And why did you come through the window?”

“I thought you would be asleep, and isn’t it obvious why I’m here?” Valeria stretched out a hand.

Y/n shook her head and turned away, furious, attempting to walk away. Maybe she could just crawl back under her blanket on the couch and everything would all just go away. But that couldn’t happen with Valeria chasing after her, grabbing onto her shoulder and spinning her around.

“I told you this couldn’t happen again.” Y/n fumed.

“Yeah, well, we both know you didn’t mean that.”

Valeria pushed y/n up against the wall of her apartment, breaking the tension without hesitation by kissing her. Where the prior kiss had been tender and loving, this one was rough. Fast paced and dirty, with Valeria digging her teeth into y/n’s bottom lip. The girl let out a yelp from the pain, only giving Valeria further access to her mouth.

The kiss was reciprocated, as y/n threw all coherent thought and caution to the wind, grabbing onto Valeria’s shirt and pulling her closer.

All at once it was like she was taken back to years ago when all she knew was her love for the spitfire lieutenant who saved her like she were nothing more than a damsel in distress.

She stood in her own apartment and yet the walls seemed to morph into the one Valeria used to own. She felt younger, as though her sergeant patches and all of her ribbons had been ripped off in exchange for her old private ones. Years of separation and the passion had not changed.

They parted for air, y/n still clutching Valeria’s shirt. She stepped forward, closing the space between them as she wrapped her arms around Valeria and buried her face in her neck, inhaling the scent that was so uniquely hers.

“As much as I don’t want to admit it, it’s so good to see you.” Y/n whispered.

Valeria pushed away, only so that she could stare at y/n’s face, “what, didn’t think I’d come back?”

Y/n shook her head, scratching the nape of her neck awkwardly, “I didn’t know if you wanted to.”

“Do you want me here?”

The abrupt silence that followed was overwhelming. The answer was yes, god, yes y/n wanted her there, but how could she ever admit that?

She worked hard to get to where she was, trained tirelessly, and fought tooth and nail for her rank. It was not an easy feat, not from how she had started, and especially not from the major set back Valeria’s disappearance had caused her. But she persevered through it all, reigning victorious, claiming the rank she proudly wore against her chest every day; with no help from the woman who stood before her, mind you.

So how could she cave in that moment? How could she give it all up for someone who was not even there for support? Neither without great internal struggle.

“I shouldn’t.” Y/n muttered, beginning to pace around, “fuck, I really shouldn’t, everyone- everyone would be so mad at me but, damn it, I can’t help it.”

Valeria made her way closer and closer, until y/n was up against the wall again, unable to focus on anything but her. No more pacing, no more fighting with herself, just Valeria. Valeria pressed the palm of her hand to the side of y/n’s face, running her thumb over the girl’s lips, mesmerized, “no one else is here. Just you and me.”

“Just- just you ‘n me.” Y/n whispered, “you gonna leave me again?”

Valeria shook her head, “never meant to the first time.”

Y/n nodded and tilted her head so she could press a kiss to the heel of Valeria’s hand, content with her answer, allowing herself a moment of respite in her old flame’s grasp.

“‘M tired, and I bet you are too. Come to bed with me?”

Valeria agreed, following her into her bed and shortly thereafter into a deep sleep. It wasn’t much, it certainly wasn’t perfect, but they were right where they belonged: together.

#valeria garza x fem!reader #valeria garza #valeria garza x reader #valeria x reader #valeria cod #valeria garza cod #call of duty valeria #valeria x fem!reader #call of duty x reader #call of duty fanfic

[juleswrites223]

The Good, The Bad, and the Undead

Season 1: Episode 3

Context: The truth is out. You have to leave your humble abode behind. You run into a figure of your past, who was thought to be long dead.

1k

F1 apocalypse masterlist

"FERNANDO" You call out as you walk towards the man who has just arrived on his motorcycle, "We need to talk."

He all but grunts, he knows this conversation is inevitable, it must happen. After all, Fernando knows that you deserve to know the truth, he knows that even though you're young, you are smart and capable.

"Alright, can't keep you in the dark forever. Vayamos adentro (Let's go inside)." Fernando says.

Carlos and Charles are also called inside, as their sparring lesson comes to an end. You are all seated on the dining table, a thick air of tension is in the atmosphere, just waiting to be cut by someone. Fernando takes that step and begins,

"I have been telling you all the half truth." He pauses then continues, "Every time I go out, there have been more and more of these monsters, around our perimeter. We may need to leave soon or we'll be overrun."

You did have a rising suspicion that this may be the case but hearing it, you felt your stomach drop and disappointment seep in. You finally thought you wouldn't have to move anymore, finally a place you could call home. Should've known that in this world, home is nothing but a distant dream, you thought to yourself.

"Carlos, llévalos y sal a hacer compras, yo empacaré todas las municiones y cosas necesarias para el camino y será mejor que nos pongamos en marcha pronto (Carlos, take them and go out for a grocery run, i'll pack all ammo and stuff needed for the road and we better get moving soon)." Fernando instructs Carlos as you sit still thinking, mentally preparing yourself for the exhaustion that is to come in these days of travelling, reminiscing the horrifying memories of when you were on your own, fighting to survive and barely making it, if the two spanish men hadn't found you.

A tap on your arm gets you back to reality, it's Charles. He seems to notice your mood and the anxious look on your face. While Carlos goes to prepare the car and Fernando gone to pack all essentials for the road, you two are the only ones left at the table.

"You okay?" Charles asks you tentatively.

"I..." You are at a loss for words. You honestly don't know if you are okay. "I am just so tired Charles. I was by myself for quite some time moving from place to place in some hope of finding someone alive. I would have died if they had not found me."

"Listening to you, I can't help think of what my little brother is going through. Hell I don't even know if he's alive, I just want to find him." Charles says wearily, putting his head in his hands.

You put your hand on his back soothingly and envelope him in a hug, in hopes of comforting him. Before you can say something, you're interrupted by Carlos, "Get ready. We have to leave so-" He pauses a moment analysing the position you and Charles are in,"Am I interrupting something?" He says through gritted teeth in hopes of hiding his burning jealousy.

You guys part and get up from your chairs. "I'll get my sword." You say as you leave the two men alone, with tension brewing in the air to which you are oblivious to. As you take your katana and come downstairs to see the two men still waiting.

The car is so silent and you can definitely sense the tension between the two men now.

"Soooo..." You begin but you're not sure of what to say.

"So?" They both say at the same time.

"Do you reckon we'll run into someone alive on the road?" You ask.

Carlos speaks up first, "It would be unlikely, if people are alive they would likely be hiding. I mean no one would be stupid enough to be roaming around."

You and Charles silently agree to his words. They're likely dead or zombies, you both think dejectedly to yourselves.

As you arrive to the desolate gas station, while Carlos is keeping watch and filling up gas in the car, you and Charles go inside to scavenge for food items.

When you're done, you suddenly hear a some commotion outside. You guys carefully go outside to find Carlos with a gun pointed towards him, the man, with shoulder length blond hair who is pointing the gun, has his back faced to you. You indicate to Charles to pull out his gun but stay hidden as you quickly pull out your katana, tread lightly towards the man and place the sharp blade right in front of neck, lightly nicking the man's throat.

"If you even attempt to move, I will slice your throat." You threaten the man.

He seems to be muttering something in german and you get a strong sense of familiarity from this man.

You feel as though you know him but how?

"Schatz is that you?" The man says.

Your eyes widen, there's only one man who calls you that, a man you thought was long dead.

"Seb?" That's all you can say as you drop your sword on the ground.

The man, Seb, turns around and you quickly envelop him in a hug. He reciprocates the action. You start to break down and soak his blue shirt with your tears. While Charles comes out of his hiding place, he and Carlos both are staring at you and this Seb.

Who is this man and what is his relation with you?

Taglist: @thefuckwasmyname @sam-f1 @authentiqsunsets @fefa-la-printcessa @ameliashideout @neilakk

#f1 #f1 x reader #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz #carlos sainz jr #f1 imagine #formula 1 #carlos sainz imagine #formula one #charles leclerc drabble #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc au #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc fic #carlos sainz one shot #carlos sainz jr one shot #carlos sainz jr imagines #carlos sainz jr imagine #carlos sainz jr fanfic #carlos sainz x female reader #carlos sainz jr x reader #fernando alonso x reader #fernando alonso x you #f1 apocalypse series #sebastian vettel x reader #formula one x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 fic

[ratboydefenselawyer]

This is my first and probably last post I will ever make. I’m here to consume the content, not necessarily create it.

I see all of you fighting the good fight for Billy and his story. And I wanted to add my thoughts into the ring.

As someone who works with children and adults from abusive backgrounds EVERY SINGLE DAY. I can tell you that Billy checks every single box for being in his survival state 24/7.

I have had extensive trainings about trauma, how to recognize it and the effects it can have on a person and how they act. Personally I have endured a lot of trauma myself and had to unlearn a lot of unhealthy behaviors and ways of thinking because of it.

With that being said: someone who is in a state of survival constantly is not capable of thinking rationally, the only goal is to…survive.

Billy Hargrove was an abused child. A CHILD. Not just physically, but mentally and emotionally as well. Does this forgive his actions? No. But it explains them. Gives us a deeper insight into the “why?”

Neil hit his son, he insulted him, called him a slur and then reminded him that Max, his younger stepsister’s well-being is in his hands. That’s a lot for a 17 year old to go through. Then he goes to the Byers residence where he’s insulted and lied to. His sister (who’s well-being is in his hands) is alone with 5 boys, one of them is his age? THEN to top it all off, Steve punches him? All that built up rage from what just happened with Neil comes spilling out. Oh and to make matters worse, he gets sedated and Max MIRRORS Neil’s abuse by making him repeat himself. Keep this in mind, while all this is going on Billy has absolutely no idea what is going on. He still doesn’t know what Max is doing with all of these boys in this house.

Moving forward- Billy gets possessed by the mind flayer, he still has no idea what is going on and loses control of his own body. He had to watch as his hands take the lives of many people to feed this creature from his worst nightmares. Then this group of children lock him in a sauna, he is FINALLY able to beg for help and sobs. Even then NOBODY tells him what’s going on, no one really makes an effort to help him. It’s only in the final episode of season 3 that El breaks through to him, she see’s his past, his mom leaving, the abuse. Even standing up to the mind flayer Billy has no idea what he’s up against, he’s still in the dark. All he knows is that it’s him or this child that showed him how to come back to himself. It’s him or Max, and as we already know Max’s well-being is in his hands. Nothing is more terrifying than Neil’s wrath. And in his dying breath he apologizes.

For my fellow Billy Stans- Please never let anyone bully you about what characters you can and can’t like. Your ability to see deeper into the characters and push past the hate is needed in this world. Not just in fiction, but in the real world. If you relate to Billy as I do, from past trauma, I am so sorry. I am so very sorry that you have to fight, explain and rationalize your love for him every time. For whatever reason you stand behind Billy Hargrove, it is valid. And unlike Billy’s story, I hope that yours doesn’t end in tragedy. My inbox is always open for those who need to talk.

Now, for the Antis- I want to say, good for you. You managed to take a broken and deeply complex character and reduce him to a heartless villain in your minds. Think what you want about him, it really doesn’t matter. What does matter is how you act to the people who do relate to Billy. The name calling, the hate, the wild assumptions about real people!! It’s so insane to me. I hope that turning into the bully to make a point was worth it. How other people relate to a character doesn’t affect you in any way at all. Somehow many of you have managed to put people down and make them afraid to express their love for a character. It’s not something to be proud of.

I am not willing to argue with anyone on this, this is just my views and my opinion. Dacre Montgomery stated that he worked hard to humanize Billy Hargrove. Seeing his character be dragged through the mud and continuously be turned into the irredeemable monster by the Duffer Brothers and the fans is just really sad.

Billy Hargrove means a lot to me. For a lot of different reasons. He deserved so much more than he was given. He deserved a chance to redeem himself and to tell his side of the story. He deserved a chance to apologize for everything he did in his survival state. He deserved the chance to finally be happy and be surrounded by people who actually cared for him, who wanted to help him.

Just keep going everyone. ❤️

#billy hargrove #billy #harringrove #billy hargrove deserved better #billy hargrove stan #billy hargrove gifs #billy hargrove is alive

[lurkingshan]

Hii, hope you're doing well!! I've been meaning to check out more c-dramas. I've never really watched any, but I keep seeing them on my dash and want to start giving some a shot since I watch every other type of drama (BL or otherwise lol). I saw you post often about c-dramas, so I wanted to ask if you had any other recs besides Tender Light (which I'm planning on watching when it's done)? I'm more curious about c-dramas in general rather than any specific genre, since I'm so new to them

Hello, thank you for the ask! I'm glad my obsessive Tender Light posting has got you curious about cdramas. Some of my all time favorite dramas are from Mainland China, and I would be happy to share some recs! Since you are looking for a general sense, I am just going to give you a sampling of some of my personal favs.

Tender Light

Obviously I will be taking this opportunity to talk up this drama some more, which will be ending its run this weekend. This is, hands down, my favorite drama of the year and easily going on my top 10 dramas of all time list. It's one of the most gorgeous and precise and unflinching pieces of media I have ever seen. This is definitely one for people who love smart mystery writing, dark themes (I mean this for real, if you have a lot of triggers ask for CWs), and explorations of the human condition. It will be staying with me for a long time.

Go Ahead

Another of my all time favs (and with cast crossover from Tender Light), this is a family drama that digs deep on the meaning of family, finding your people, and resilience through intergenerational trauma. I love it so so much (I am actually rewatching it right now).

Lighter & Princess

A fantastic romance and owner of a coveted spot on the ride or die drama couples list. In this story you get to watch these two fall in love twice, first in college and then as adults, and both times it's epic.

Reset

How about a time loop thriller? This is one of the best I have ever seen, and its relatively short run keeps it tight and tense all the way through. There's a romance in this one, too, but kissing is definitely secondary to finding their way out of this death trap.

The Rebel Princess

Let's dip our toe into historicals! Granted, I still have plenty of gaps in my historical cdrama watch list (there are just so many and they're so long, I am doing my best people!) but this remains my all time favorite to date. It's epic, it's shockingly well written and paced for its length, the characters are excellent and compelling all around, and it has one of my all time favorite male leads and drama couples (another from the ride or die list!). Don't let the episode number intimidate you, it will fly by much faster than you think.

The Untamed

You watch bl so I am assuming you already know about Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji, but just in case I will also include this drama as a much watch. It's likely the best live action danmei we will ever get.

Love Between Fairy and Devil

Have you ever wondered what it would be like if a show put all your favorite fanfic tropes in a blender, cast beautiful people to act them out, and put them in lavish costumes? Well, here is your answer.

Love and Redemption

This one's for us angst with a happy ending girlies. An epic love story with lots of pining and struggle and strife, and it's so worth it.

Falling Into You

Back to the modern era, this is a classic sports drama with a noona romance. Very unassuming but full of charm and very well executed.

Fake It Till You Make It

An unusually mature take on adult romance from a cdrama, this one is about two career focused permasingle love skeptics who meet, realize they actually like each other, and try to figure out what the hell to do with that. I love it a lot.

That should be enough to get you started! There are many many more recs to be had, so once you give some of these a try and figure out what you like, feel free to hit me up for more!

#tender light #go ahead #lighter and princess #reset #the rebel princess #the untamed #love between fairy and devil #love and redemption #falling into you #fake it till you make it #cdrama #shan recommends #shan answers

[ordinaryschmuck]

Quick Thoughts on "Remember It" from X-Men '97

So I just now realized that Disney+ has rated X-Men '97 as TV-14 and...it really frickin' SHOWS with this episode.

I don't want to spoil things, mainly because I keep "Quick Thoughts" as spoiler free as possible, but like...FUCK dude. Holy hell, things went down hill quick. And you wouldn't think so, at first. Things start off relatively light enough with good fun like the X-Men getting interviewed and Nightcrawler returning to pal around with Rogue and Gambit. But slowly yet surly, the episode turns up the drama with every second.

It starts off with X-Men's usual standard: Relationship drama. Who's in love with who? Can these two still be in a relationship? How badly will Wolverine get rejected by Jean this time (Turns out, not that badly this week)? The meat of the episode is just this and I'd say MOST of it is engaging. Personally, I find the whole thing between Rogue and Magneto to be...icky. The age gap must be large between those two and feels like it was added in to twist the knife into Rogue and Gambit's tragic love story. Granted, the whole "I can't touch you" thing might not be considered a big deal in this day and age because, well, asexuality is a thing and that specific group of people might think "Oh, get over it. Physical contact isn't needed to make a relationship strong." Still, we don't need Rogue sleeping with Magneto to spice up the drama, it's already spicy.

But one thing I AM okay with is the complicated mess between Jean, Scott, and Madelyne Pryor. THIS is juicy because you can just FEEL how things can't be simple between these three, especially through Scott. The man fell in love with a girl and put a baby in her clone, you can't get more complicated. And I like that there's time dedicated to figuring out WHAT happened and WHERE to go from here. I'm so glad the show didn't just sweep the whole thing under the rug and I REALLY hope they still don't now that Madelyne MIGHT be...uh...Well...

You know how I said things went downhill quick? Well, a certain...event happens in all of this. An event with casualties, lots of blood, and bold sacrifices that left me STUNNED. It was at this specific event did I realize, "Oh, yeah, this probably SHOULD be meant for older audiences." Because, yeah, things get DARK in this event. I wouldn't say it ever gets to Invincible levels, the show NEVER goes that far. But I will say that it DOES go farther than what the original series does as well as anything Marvel has put out in recent years. Again, I won't spoil anything, but trust me when I say things are going to CHANGE with this series. I doubt the emotions would be as strong if you just watched the revival before the original series, but it is still some well-done action and drama that's perfectly executed--Oh, that was a poor choice of words...

In short, "Remember It" is DEFINITELY going to be a memorable episode...

#x men 97 #rogue #magneto #scott summers #jean grey #madelyne pryor #gambit #quick thoughts #what i thought about