#sirens of the silver screen

[cemeterything]

i need to talk about reval more they're such a fun couple of freaks. they're like if keanu reeves was a depressed alcoholic on par with harry du bois at the beginning of disco elysium and marilyn monroe was a mech pilot tgirl whose skin is rotting off her body. they're so codependent that they don't like to shower or sleep apart but they haven't had sex even once because of their various psychological hangups and health conditions. they refuse to label their relationship because they only recently stopped wanting to kill each other and they're still coming to terms with that. also they have commitment issues. the world is actively ending so there's no therapy and no couple's therapist who would take them. technically they're not breaking any anti franternization rules that prohibit romantic and/or sexual relationships between military personnel because it's impossible to define what they have going on, but they're so fucking weird about it that everyone else keeps asking "is this allowed?" regardless.

#🐉 #reval #val does in fact style herself after silver screen sirens #reaver just looks like keanu reeves but unwell because it came to me in a vision

[xtra7s]

𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐘 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋𝐒 ★ 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏

pairing: Renee Rapp x reader

Synopsis: Renee Rapp finds herself being forced to co-write with her popstar enemy, Y/N YL/N.

content: none

word count: 2500+

masterlist

Sunlight, pale and watery, peeked through Renee's eyelids, coaxing them open. She groaned, squinting at the dust motes dancing in the sunbeam, momentarily lost before memory slammed back, a tidal wave of yesterday's chaos. The sold-out show, the encore that bled into the early hours, the post-show whirlwind of sweaty hugs and hoarse thank yous.

She sat up, wincing at the way her muscles protested, stretched languidly like a sun-drenched cat. Her apartment, usually alive with the echoes of guitar strings and her own humming, was blessedly quiet. She savored the stillness, reveling in the luxury of an unscheduled morning.

Coffee first, always coffee. Slipping into a faded black tee and ripped sweatpants, Renee padded into the kitchen, the familiar ritual grounding her. The hiss of the espresso machine, the frothy gurgle of milk, all a symphony of caffeine-fueled peace. She curled up on the window seat, mug cradled in her hands, watching the city wake up beneath a veil of mist.

The day unfurled with the lazy elegance of a catnap. She strummed aimlessly on her guitar, chords bleeding into each other like watercolor paints. A melody hummed beneath her breath, hesitant at first, then soaring with newfound confidence. Words followed, tumbling out like spilled secrets, raw and vulnerable. This one, she knew, wouldn't be for the stage. This one was for her, etched in the quiet of her living room, sunlight painting gold across her notebook pages.

Mid-verse, the phone buzzed, pulling her back from the daydream landscape. It was Adam, her manager, his voice a staccato counterpoint to the slow tempo of her morning. "Hey, sleepyhead. Get that caffeine flowing, you've got a meeting in an hour."

Renee blinked the edges of her daydream blurring. "A meeting? With who?"

"Surprise," Adam purred, a mischievous glint in his voice. "Just be at the office by noon, looking fierce. Trust me, this is good."

The call ended, leaving behind a delicious cocktail of curiosity and apprehension. Adam rarely sprung surprises, preferring the well-worn path of meticulous planning. A quick peek at her calendar confirmed the blankness of the day, a testament to his clandestine maneuver. Renee, intrigued, finished her coffee with newfound urgency.

A quick shower scrubbed away the remnants of sleep and yesterday's glitter. Jeans replaced sweatpants, and a vintage band tee swapped for a sleek silk cropped tank. She threw on a leather jacket, its worn patina contrasting the delicate silver chain around her neck. A flick of mascara, a touch of rouge, and voila, Renee was ready for whatever mystery Max had cooked up.

The subway ride was a whirlwind of crumpled newspapers and hurried goodbyes. The city buzzed outside the windows, a symphony of car horns and sirens that somehow managed to be lullaby familiar. Renee tapped her foot against the worn floor, an impatient rhythm against the steady rumble of the train.

Adam's office, on the top floor of a sleek glass tower, felt as controlled as its occupant. He sat behind a minimalist desk, a tablet gleaming like a black mirror in his hands. "Well, look who graced us with her presence," he drawled, a sharkish grin lighting up his face.

"Alright, spill it," Renee demanded, settling into the plush leather chair opposite him. She took off her jacket and rested it on the chair, "Who's the mystery meeting with?"

Adam smirked, leaning back in his chair. "Ready for the real kicker, Blondie?" He reached for his tablet, tapping the screen with a flourish. "Your writing partner for these demos? None other than the one and only..."

The name that flashed on the screen froze Renee's blood. Y/N YL/N. The girl who seemed to embody everything Renee wasn't – polished, perfect, and seemingly born with a platinum record tucked behind each earlobe.

Their paths had crossed a few times – an awkward introduction at an awards show, a tense exchange at a music industry party – and each encounter had felt like navigating a minefield. Y/N’s icy smile and razor-sharp wit felt like a personal affront, a constant reminder of everything Renee felt insecure about.

The news hit her like a rogue wave. Collaborating with Y/N? Writing songs together? It was like asking a firefly to tango with a scorpion. The very idea sent shivers down her spine, a delicious blend of dread and fascination.

"You're joking, right?" Renee's voice was a tight whisper, her fingers twisting in her lap.

Adam chuckled, but there was a glint of steel in his eyes. "Nope. Word on the street is that Y/N's been looking for a songwriting partner with some... grit. Apparently, her last collaborator couldn't handle the 'diva act.'" He raised an eyebrow, daring her to challenge him.

Renee squared her shoulders, a spark of defiance lighting in her eyes. "Challenge accepted," she declared, her voice steadier than she felt. "Let's see who the real diva is when we're both spitting shit in a recording booth."

The Hollywood dream suddenly felt a lot less glamorous and a lot more like stepping into a coliseum, armed only with a guitar and a stubborn sense of self. Writing songs with Y/N was going to be hell, but maybe, just maybe, it would also be the spark that ignited something extraordinary, both on the record and within herself. 

As Adam slid a glass of champagne into her hand, the city lights outside the window seemed to wink, beckoning her towards a future both terrifying and thrilling. The Renee Rapp show was just getting started, and her first act was facing her demons, head-on and harmony-filled.

"Alright, Renee," he said, pushing himself up from his chair. "Y/N's on her way to the studio right now. Time to go meet your new best friend."

Renee swallowed hard, the champagne suddenly turning to vinegar in her stomach. "Right," she croaked, forcing a smile. "Studio. Collaboration. Teamwork."

Adam raised an eyebrow, his sharkish grin widening. "More like controlled chaos, but hey, that's where the magic happens, right?" He winked, then tossed her black leather jacket to her. "Go get 'em, tiger. Show her what Renee Rapp's made of."

The city stretched out before her, a concrete jungle pulsating with possibility and peril. Grabbing a taxi, Renee sped towards the studio, her thoughts churning like a washing machine on a spin cycle. Would Y/N be the ice queen she always appeared to be, or was there something more beneath the polished surface? Could they possibly navigate the choppy waters of songwriting together, or would their egos collide in a spectacular, public shipwreck?

The studio, nestled in the heart of Hollywood, hummed with creative energy. The air crackled with the sound of guitars being tuned, drumsticks tapping impatiently, and voices warming up scales. Renee took a deep breath, stepping into the dimly lit control room where Angela waited, her music producer, a mischievous glint in her eye.

"She's in booth two," she said, pointing towards a soundproofed glass box.

Renee nodded, her heart pounding a primal rhythm against her ribs. She pushed open the heavy door, stepping into the booth like a gladiator entering the arena. There, bathed in the soft glow of studio lights, sat Y/N YL/N.

For a moment, the world held its breath. The two rivals were locked in a silent standoff, their past encounters casting long shadows across the room. Then, a slow smile spread across Y/N's face, a smirk that was equal parts of challenge and intrigue.

"Renee Rapp," she drawled, her voice like honeyed poison. "Fancy seeing you here."

Renee met her gaze, her own smile steely and determined. "Yeah yeah, Y/N," she replied. "Let's get to work."

And so, the unlikely collaboration began. Two voices, so different yet somehow destined to intertwine, filled the studio with the raw energy of unspoken feelings and unbridled talent. The air crackled with tension, with unspoken words hanging heavy between them. Yet, as their fingers danced across guitars and their voices blended in unexpected harmonies, a spark ignited.

It was a dance on the edge of a volcano, fueled by equal parts animosity and grudging respect. They challenged each other and pushed each other to their limits, their voices soaring and crashing like waves against the rocks. 

Frustration hung heavy in the air, thick enough to cut with a knife. Hours had bled by, filled with discarded melodies and half-written verses, with the tantalizing promise of a song just out of reach. Renee strummed her guitar listlessly, the chords echoing the emptiness in her mind.

Y/N sat across from her, perched on a stool, her usually immaculate hair mussed, dark circles smudging the corners of her eyes. The polished veneer of her persona had peeled away, revealing the vulnerability beneath. For the first time, Renee saw her not as a rival, but as another artist struggling with the same demons.

A sudden change in Renee's strumming caught Y/N's attention. Her head snapped up, eyes locking with Renee's, who seemed unaware of the shift. Her fingers danced across the strings, weaving a melody that was both raw and captivating. Renee's lips moved silently, forming words that hung in the air like wisps of smoke.

"You say that I'm your favorite," she hummed, her voice low and husky, "With your hand between my thighs."

Y/N's breath hitched, a shiver dancing down her spine. The lyrics, raw and unapologetic, cut through the tension like a knife. This wasn't the sugary pop Y/N was known for; this was something darker, something more real.

Renee's eyes fluttered open, meeting Y/N's gaze with a newfound intensity. The air crackled with electricity, a mix of anticipation and trepidation.

"Tell me if you were gonna," Renee continued, her voice gaining strength, "That I would be the one you tried."

Y/N watched, hypnotized, as Renee mumbled a few more lyrics before shaking her head. The raw lyrics, sung with smoky confidence, peeled back layer after layer of the facade Renee typically projected. Y/N noticed things she'd never observed before - the flecks of gold in Renee's blue eyes that sparked with each line, the way her nose crinkled adorably when she concentrated, and the subtle curve of her jaw that spoke of hidden strength.

 The song, a shared confession, had cracked open Y/N's carefully constructed shell, revealing a tangle of emotions she'd kept buried for years. Her gaze traced the line of Renee's neck, the pulse fluttering beneath the delicate skin, and a shiver ran down Y/N's spine.

The air crackled with a charged silence. Y/N's walls, once brick and mortar, were now mere cobblestones, tumbling into disarray. She met Renee's eyes, her own unguarded and vulnerable, a stark contrast to the icy color they usually held.

"That..." Y/N's voice was a mere whisper, "That was something else, Renee."

Renee, sensing the shift, offered a tentative smile. "It was," she agreed, her voice husky.

There, in the dimly lit studio, their rivalry seemed to melt away, replaced by a fragile understanding, a whispered promise of shared vulnerability. They stepped out into the dawn, the first rays of sunlight painting the sky in shades of pink and gold. It was a new beginning, a blank canvas upon which they could paint a masterpiece of collaboration.

But as they left the studio and the magic of the music faded, Y/N's walls began to rebuild, brick by metaphorical brick. The vulnerability 

evaporated, replaced by the familiar mask of cold detachment. Her back straightened, her gaze sharpened, and a familiar smirk played on her lips.

"Alright, Renee," she drawled, her voice tinged with her usual icy edge. "Hit me up tomorrow, I'll come over and we can continue writing."

Renee blinked, startled by the sharp shift. She nodded as the warmth of their shared moment had dissolved, leaving behind a bitter aftertaste. But something had changed. Renee saw a flicker of the woman beneath the ice queen, a glimpse of the vulnerability Y/N had so briefly unveiled.

The game had changed, indeed. Renee knew the road ahead would be paved with challenges, with Y/N's barbed wit and ruthless ambition a constant obstacle. But she also knew that, hidden beneath the layers of frost, there was a fire in Y/N that could be kindled. The melody they had forged together, raw and honest, was proof. And that, in itself, was a victory.

The rivalry was far from over, but now, it danced with a hint of something else, something unspoken and intriguing. Renee met Y/N's gaze, a new challenge glinting in her own eyes. 

Renee stumbled out of the studio, eyelids drooping and nerves buzzing. Sleep, usually a welcome sanctuary, seemed elusive tonight. The image of Y/N's walls rebuilding, brick by icy brick, replayed in her mind, a discordant note against the echo of their raw collaboration.

She drifted into her apartment, the silence pressing against her like a suffocating wave. The ukulele leaned against the wall, untouched, yearning for the warmth of her fingers. Instead, she gravitated towards her trusty guitar, its familiar weight grounding her in the chaos of her emotions.

Her fingers danced across the strings, returning to the notes she played in the studio, a way to translate the tangled mess in her head. The chords came hesitantly at first, a tentative whisper, then gathering momentum like a gathering storm. Her voice, raw and unfiltered, filled the quiet room, weaving a tapestry of unspoken desires and lingering questions.

"In the PM, all the pretty girls," she crooned, "They have a couple drinks, all the pretty girls."

The lyric hung in the air, heavy with both longing and self-awareness. Was it her own reflection she saw in those words, the girl in the mirror seeking solace in the fleeting comfort of company? Or was it Y/N, a glimpse beneath the polished surface, a yearning for something just beyond her reach?

"So now, they wanna kiss all the pretty girls," Renee continued, her voice gaining strength, "They got to have a taste of a pretty girl."

The melody soared, achingly beautiful, and laced with a bittersweet truth. The game they played, the unspoken tension between them, was it just a desperate grasp for connection in a world of curated personas? Or was there something more, something simmering beneath the veneer of rivalry?

She strummed the final chord, letting the silence settle like a soft snowfall. The lyrics etched onto the page in messy scrawl, seemed to hold the answer to a question she hadn't even dared to ask. Tonight, the lines between artist and subject had blurred, Renee revealing not just melodies but a sliver of her own soul.

With a heavy sigh, she slipped into bed, the image of Y/N's eyes, both guarded and curious, dancing behind her eyelids. Sleep, at last, brought its welcome embrace, but within its depths, another song was stirring, waiting to be born. In the morning, with the city streets shimmering beneath the sunrise, Renee knew the game had just begun. 

The melodies they created, confessions hidden in plain sight, would be their currency, their battle cries, their whispered promises. Whether it led to harmony or heartbreak, one thing was certain: the world they were about to create, together, would be unlike anything anyone had ever heard.

#renee rapp x reader #renee rapp #lesbian #wlw #the sex lives of college girls #leighton murray #leighton murray x reader #lgbtq #mean girls

[zaynmirrors]

A/N: I’ll be starting a tag list for this fic. Daryl and reader have been together for a while. I have their whole love story mapped out so I can post that at some point too. Let me know what you guys think!

JUST US

Chapter One: Riders On the Storm

Day Zero

Police sirens sounded as she reached for her phone, dialing her husband. The phone rang and rang, and rang. She cursed to herself putting her phone back into her pocket.

They were far from town, but the sirens blared loud enough to hear miles away. Her heart beat rapidly in her chest as she tried to breathe, confused but also fully aware of what this all meant.

Two hours ago the TV they kept turned on in the living room had gone blank, then displayed an emergency broadcast. Now the phones wouldn’t work.

Her husband was working at the local garage this morning, one of the few odd jobs he did. If she knew her husband well enough he’d be speeding home in that banged-up red pickup.

Just then Daryl walked through the door, clearly rattled. “Pack a bag, we gotta go,” he said hurriedly.

“What’s going on?” He brushes past her opening the hall closet grabbing his crossbow and holding it out to her. “Daryl”

“Y/n we gotta go, now” he looked over his shoulder at her. His eyes were wide like he’d seen something that had shaken him. She said nothing and grabbed the bow setting it on the back of the couch.

She watched as he grabbed their backpacks out of the closet, then began to frantically pack clothing, and canned food into their packs.

Y/n went into their bedroom, grabbing Daryl’s wedding band. One of the few sentimental things she didn’t want to leave behind. He hardly wore the band but it still meant a lot to the both of them. The second thing she grabbed was a necklace chain, placing his wedding band onto the chain, then clasping it around her neck.

She opened their closet door and began digging for the hunting knife Daryl had gifted her one year. It was missing, “I grabbed it” Daryl spoke behind her. Watching her as she stood and turned to look at him.

He noted the worn golden band on the silver chain around her neck. He should’ve known. She stepped closer to him, worry in her eyes. With his free hand, he rubbed her cheek, leaning his forehead against hers. “I love you” he spoke. Hearing those words was a rarity.

She sighed closing her eyes. This was it, the end of the world. Though it’s not how she thought it would happen. She guessed it didn’t matter. “We have to go get Dad” she spoke quietly, he only gave a curt nod.

Daryl jerked away as he heard the screen door creak open. “Stay here,” he told her. Grabbing the hunting knife from her pack. She watched as he walked down the hall, disappearing from her sight.

“Son of a bitch” she heard, albeit muffled, “Merle you can’t just-“ the rest she couldn’t make out. She made her way back out to the living room, where Merle and her husband stood.

“Hey princess” Merle drawled, smirking down at her. She shuddered, hating the nickname he’d chosen to call her over the years.

“You finished packing?” Daryl turned to her, eyes soft and questioning. She simply nodded, even though she wanted to pack the whole house in those two packs. Daryl sighed, knowing what she was thinking. He wished they could too.

Merle whistled, “Alright lovebirds, let’s get on with this shit show” walking to the screen door. It groaned as he opened it, stepping onto their porch.

Y/n followed behind him, turning to watch as Daryl locked and shut the door. He walked past her and down the steps of their porch.

The stairs creaked as she stepped down them one last time and over to the beat-up red Ford truck. Daryl held the door open for her as she stepped up into the truck.

Daryl slammed the door shut as she stared at their home. She barely noticed as he slipped in beside her. The engine of the old truck roared to life. Suddenly their home became smaller and smaller as he backed down their driveway.

The roads twisted as they made their way to her father's. The two sat in silence as he turned down the gravel driveway. Y/n noticed the front door was ajar as the truck came to a stop.

She went to get out but Daryl put an arm over her chest, stopping her. He slid out of the truck, rounding the front of the truck. Y/n watched as he made his way inside. Deciding not to wait she got out and headed inside.

A heavy metallic fragrance sat in the air. Instantly she knew the smell. Blood. “Daryl” She called out quietly, stepping a foot over the threshold of the door. There was a scraping noise, like an end table scuffing against the floor.

Y/n didn’t have a chance to react as she was tackled to the ground. She tried to push the being off of her, but with no luck. Screaming, she tried again as it snarled and lunged at her.

Y/n struggling against the being on top of her for what felt like an eternity. Then suddenly the thing on top of her went slack. She cried out pushing it off of her, scrambling to get far away from it.

“Y/n you alright?” Daryl asked crouching to her level, “did it get you?” She shook her head, gasping for breath as she looked at the person lying limp next to them.

“What the fuck” she breathes out, still unable to comprehend what had just happened. Her dad, they were here for her dad. “Where’s dad?”

“Y/n” he spoke softly, like he was speaking to a wounded animal. Her stomach dropped and she shook her head, tears forming in her eyes.

She scrambled to get up, Daryl stood with her grabbing her as she tried to make her way back into the house. There was no way he’d let her lay eyes on the scene in her father’s bedroom.

“No” she croaked, pushing against Daryl. He only held onto her tighter. “No” was all she could say before sobbing into his chest. He was unsure of what to say, so he just held her.

Neither of them had heard Merle approach the porch until he spoke, “As touching as this is, we need to get on the road” Daryl glared at his brother, though he was right but he wouldn’t admit that out loud.

Y/n sniffled, as Daryl released her from his grip and ushered her back to the truck. She stared down at the floorboard, unsure of how she’d gotten back in the vehicle. Daryl had spoken to her, but she hadn’t paid attention.

She wanted nothing more than to curl in on herself, maybe even wake up cause this had to have been a dream. Right? Y/n rested her head against his shoulder, staring at the road ahead as he drove.

Chapter 2

#daryl dixon fanfiction #twd daryl #daryl dixon x reader #the walking dead daryl #daryl dixon #daryl dixon imagine #daryl smut #daryl dixion smut #daryl twd #daryl x reader #daryl fanfiction #the walking dead #twd #the walking dead fanfiction

[hellsburners]

strain and torment

summary: reader has insane bi panic pairing: matt murdock x male reader x elektra natchios word count: 3.2k warnings: 18+ warning, bi!top matt, bi!male reader, threesomes, p in v sex, anal seggz, reader and elektra do it, dom/sub themes a/n: part 2 of the pain and suffering duo fic!

masterlist | more matt murdock

gif credit

“We’re here,” you said, facing him. His crimson lenses glinted against the porch light, his veiny hands tight around the walking cane. There was a smile on his face, the same face you’ve grown to love and adore, the dimples more prominent.  “Are you sure you could head home alone?” 

“Yes,” he chuckles. “I can manage, you should go rest.” 

“And—that’s it?” you said, teetering. He laughs, that breathy laugh he always makes, the one that also makes you laugh. His hand reaches for your face, calloused fingertips brush your cheek lacing through your hair. You close your eyes, appreciating his warm touch. His other hand wraps around your waist pulling you to him. 

Your chests meet, feeling your heart beat faster and louder, like his alarm in the morning—alerting him. He presses his lips against yours, his stubble prickling a bit. He felt your warmth, your scent, your taste, it was inebriating. You pull back, catching your breath, he pulls you back in. He wants this moment to last, the moments where it was just you and him—happy. 

Matt finally releases you, and a shot of anxiety crashes through him. This won’t last, he thinks. After two weeks of flirting back and forth, he was happy for a time, but he knew the risks. Just a few days ago you found him lumped on the floor unconscious, his eyes sunken in, purple bags around his eyes. He knew how worried you were, the way your breathing would quicken, your heartbeat too fast, and your hands cold and shaking. He hated how it made you feel, that’s why he thought of ending it as soon as possible. Maybe Foggy was right, this lifestyle isn’t suited for a mundane relationship. 

“Goodbye,” he smiled, the guilt eating him up. He turned to walk away, hailing a cab across the street. You head back to your apartment, you notice the way Matt’s mood shifted. It has been bothering you for days. He would always say he fell down the stairs or he slipped, but you’re not dumb, you know how different those bruises are. It worries you too much. 

—

You fumbled to open the door, the keys got caught on some pins. You dragged yourself to the fridge for a drink, you took the box of juice and a glass, pouring yourself a drink. The cold liquid shook your body off of the anxiety, it was soothing in a way. 

“Hello there,” a voice said. Your body jumped, the glass falling from your hand as you turned around. There was a woman in your dining room. She was slim and sharp, she could’ve been a model you thought, with long black hair cascading down her shoulders. She wore a maroon suit, wraps of the red cloth around her waist and hands. Then you saw it, a faint glimmer of silver at her hip, two blades sheathed, fear raised from your chest.

“Who the hell are you?” you shouted, brows furrowed. You could feel the wetness on your feet, under the shards of glass. She stood up from her seat, walking to you in a cat-like manner, slow and precise. 

“I’m no one, especially to you,” she said, her voice low and sultry. Her eyes were dark, like a siren, her red lips sharp as she grinned. 

“So—why are you in my apartment then?” you said, sarcastically. 

“Just to look,” she said, scanning you with her dark gaze, her long lashes batting at you.  

“Okay lady you’re creeping me out,” you said, sweat forming on your forehead. “I need you to leave.”

You inch forward but she quickly grabs the phone on your kitchen counter. She takes a look at your screen, the photo of Matt at Fogwell’s set as your background. “Aww, how cute,” she said. You grabbed the phone from her hand, hiding it away. She had this mischievous look on her face, taunting you. “You must be Matthew’s new boy toy.”

“Boy toy?” you were shocked. “You know Matt? And what’s with this ninja outfit?” 

“Ninja?” she chuckled. “Which part of this get-up says ninja?” You gestured at the blades on her hip. “Ah, smart boy. Matthew’s taste must have improved.”

“Lady, you’re not answering my questions.”

“Because they’re dumb questions,” she said. She inched forward, her long fingers touching your chin. She was beautiful up close, almost otherworldly. Her arm reaches past your shoulder to the fridge to grab the box of juice. She grabs a glass and pours herself a drink as you stand frozen. Your head is riddled with so many questions.

“Fine—I’m Elektra Natchios,” she said, taking a sip of the juice. “And I’m here to save your life.”

—

Matt asked for the cab to stop only a few meters from your apartment. The cab driver was confused, Matt gave the man some money before he left. His senses were off, something was wrong. He could smell it from afar, his head scanned across the street, the smell of the dead. Like rotting corpses. He could also hear metal sliding across each other, like a hundred blades unsheathing. 

He tried to pinpoint where they were coming from and then it hit him, it was coming from your building. He rushed through the people on your street, bumping into shoulders, curses flying around as he hit their bodies a little too strong. Fear inched at his nape, sweat trickling down his skin. 

He reaches the entrance of the building, the door ajar. He ran to the stairs, running to your unit, he was getting tired but soon the adrenaline came over him. He reached the fourth floor, his senses were off, and he couldn’t find your scent. He runs to the last door on the right, a body lumped on the floor the taste of iron on Matt’s lips. 

He tried, he tried to find it—any semblance of your presence but there was none. He could smell the faintest jasmine scent, a familiar scent to Matt, a scent he knew would only signal bad news. 

“Where is he?” he said, entering the room. 

The slender figure, wiping the blood off her face, left a last kick on another man on the floor. The entire room was a mess, tables were broken, vases toppled over, and around twelve men were dead on your apartment floor. “Oh there you are,” she said, taking a glass of juice from the counter. “I haven’t seen you for months and you don’t even say hi.”

“Answer my question Elektra,” he said. 

“He’s safe with me,” dropping the glass on the floor, a thousand shattered pieces littering the already messy room. “He’s on the way to my penthouse with my driver.”

“Who did this?”

“Your little devil adventures pissed off the wrong men,” she said. She reached down to the body on her feet, pulling on the man’s hair. “Tell him who sent you,” her blade placed on his jugular.

“The Rose sends his regards,” the man grunts, blood pooling on his mouth before he passes. 

“Richard Fisk?” Matt said.

“Putting the Kingpin behind bars left the city ripe for the taking,” Elektra said. “Stay with me for a while, we can think of how we can deal with this there—plus he’s there too.”

She noticed the way his hand clenched, knuckling white as his nails dug into his palms. She touches his hand, rubbing her thumb to soothe him. “Elektra—I can’t lose him,” his voice hitches, tears forming. 

“And you won’t,” she whispered. “I swear, I’ll help you.”

“How would I know you’re not deceiving me again,” he said, pulling his hand away from her. “There’s always a price when you’re involved.”

“Richard Fisk is ruining business for me. Help me get rid of him and you’ll never see me again,” her lips graze Matt’s ear. “Plus—you and me fighting criminals, like old times,” she smirked.

Matt bit his lips in contempt.

—

Elektra’s penthouse was big, with high ceilings and massive windows painted gray. It was cold and dark, You sat near the kitchen counter, your hands shaking. The sight from your apartment was frightening. Elektra took down a bunch of armed men, her body moving swiftly with such grace she was like a red sword cutting through the men like nothing. 

She managed to drag you outside the apartment, shoving you inside a black SUV, and told the driver to bring you to her penthouse. You were in so much shock during the car ride. Your home would probably be a crime scene, all your belongings left there for the cops to find, you even left your phone there, with all your precious pictures of Matt. 

The door swung open. You looked to see Elektra enter the room, her clothes soaked in blood. Behind her was Matt, his suit all messy and his hair all tousled. You ran to him, wrapping your arms around his waist. His hands gripped onto you hard. “God, I’m glad you’re safe,” he whispered. 

“What happened?” you asked, Elektra vanished from the scene, her clothes left on the floor trailing to her room. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the truth,” he said, his hands firm on your waist. You saw the duffel bag Matt had left on the doorstep, a billy club protruding from the opening.

“Are you?” you uttered. “The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen?”

He nods, it would explain everything, the bruises, the wounds, the constant pain weighing on his shoulders as if he carried the world. “How?” you said, your brows furrowed as your hands roamed his chest. 

“It’s a lot to explain, but trust me I’ll tell you everything,” he said. “No more secrets.” 

Your hands went to his collar, pulling him into a kiss. His lips, were warm against yours as his arms hugged your waist. His kiss was filled with want, pulling you tighter to take you in. It was feverish like he craved for your taste on his lips. He breathed in, taking in your warm scent into his lungs, the fear from earlier leaving his senses. 

His fingers reached under the hem of your shirt, calloused fingertips warm against your back. Your hands smoothed through his soft hair, his lips falling to your cheek, down to your jaw, to your neck, the roughness of his chin pricking your neck. His lips pressed onto your skin, the tip of his tongue toying with your jugular. He would leave a few marks on your neck, drawing moans out of you, It was lewd, you had forgotten you weren’t in your homes. 

You heard the clinking of glasses, Elektra was setting up three glasses and an expensive bottle of scotch. “You horny boys ready for a drink or what?” she sneered. Matt sighed, letting go of you. 

The three of you shared a drink, the bitterness surely shook the anxiety away. “Care to discuss how you two know each other?” you asked. Matt choked on his drink, and Elektra smirked. 

“Yes Matthew, do tell your boyfriend here how we met.”

“Elektra was my ex in college,” Matt said, his voice hoarse. 

“Ah,” you said, taking another sip of the liquor. You avoided their gazes, swirling your glass around doing anything to distract yourself from imagining Matt on top of Elektra or Elektra on top of Matt or—

“If it’s any consolation for you,” she said. “I broke it off. Not that Matthew wasn’t an excellent lover, he surely is well endowed.”

You choked on your drink. Matt shook his head in disbelief. 

“Especially in the bedroom,” she said. “His skill is unparalleled.” 

“Can we stop this conversation,” Matt broke off, waving his hand around. 

“So, how long are we staying here?” you asked. 

“As long as Fisk’s son is brought to justice,” he said. “We’ll take care of it.”

You downed the drink, the alcohol burning your throat. You noticed Elektra staring at you, her dark eyes piercing through you like she could tell all your secrets just from reading your body language. You look back at her, your brows furrowed in confusion. She smiles, that same devious smile she makes, like a temptress. 

“Does it bother you?” she asked. Matt had left to get your things settled for the night. 

“No,” you answered, bile rising from your stomach. Was it jealousy? Or utter curiosity? That Matt would settle for you after dating someone who looked like a Greek goddess.  “Do you have a problem with me? From the moment you saw me you’ve been taunting me.”

Her smile fades.

“If anything I think the jealous one here is you.”

She chuckles under her breath. “I’m not jealous,” she smiled, inching closer to you. “Matt had spoken to me about you, how much he adores you. And somehow it intrigued me.”

“Intrigued you?”

“How it’ll be like to have you,” she said. “To see what Matthew sees in you.”

She sets her index finger on your chin bringing your face to her. You could smell her lip gloss, a soft cherry scent. You inched closer as well, your breaths meeting. Heat rose to your cheeks painting them red. Her slender hands found your waist, hooking onto a belt loop and pulling you in. 

“What’s going on?” you heard Matt clear his throat. Elektra knew he heard everything, and her stable heart would indicate she was telling the truth. 

She spun you so you were facing Matt, his shirt abandoned leaving him in his trousers. “Just wanted to play. Your boyfriend here seemed eager.”

“Is that true?” he said, his voice stern and commanding. “Do you want to play with Elektra?”

“Only if you allow it,” you said. Matt’s eyebrow raised as if you just said the wrong thing. “I meant, only if you allow it, sir.” 

“Oh, has he been trained well?” Elektra said, her hands finding your hair, tugging. 

“Yeah, always obedient,” he came close to you and Elektra. “You know your safe words right?”

“Yes sir.” 

“Good,” he said, taking his head to your lips. A soft whimper leaves your mouth, you can hear Elektra chuckle. Matt’s large hands find your waist, reaching behind to grasp a handful of your ass. 

You could feel Elektra leave soft kisses on your neck, her hands roaming all over your torso. Your knees buckle from all their touching, your knees almost giving out. She finds the growing erection in your center, her hands palming it. You cry in Matt’s kiss, falling out of balance. 

Elektra grabs the two of you by the wrists, dragging you to her room. It was massive, with big windows overlooking the city skyline, a king-sized bed with maroon sheets, and some gym equipment at the side. 

Matt sits on the bed, palming his erection. He pulls you to his lap, sucking on your neck leaving marks. Elektra comes to join you, standing in between your legs to press a kiss on your lips. She was sweet and her lips soft. 

“Show Elektra how good you are sweetheart,” Matt whispered. 

You knelt in front of Matt taking his cock out. You left soft kisses along his erected shaft, licking the from the base to the leaking tip. Elektra went to sit on the small chair near her vanity. Her hands playing with her sex. 

Your lips pressed on the tip of Matt’s cock, and he shuddered from the contact. You slowly envelop the head with your wet lips, taking him till your nose hit the base of his cock. Matt lets out a guttural moan, his hand gripping your hair. 

Elektra played with her clit, circling her fingers on the sensitive nub. You could hear her moan just from watching you, you start to touch your sex, anything to deal with your aching cock. 

“See? He’s a good slut,” Matt said. You continued to bob your head on his cock going down and sucking up. 

“Let’s see if he can do the same here,” Elektra said. You crawled your way to her, her panties already gone, her sex glistening against the dim lights. You present your tongue to her as you lap on her slit, licking and sucking on her clit while you tease her entrance. She shudders, pulling you in through your hair, her thighs shaking on each side of your face. 

You could feel Matt pull your pants and underwear off, his stubbled face in between your cheeks soon after. You continue to taste her at the same pace Matt was licking your hole, gripping tightly on your ass as he ate you out. 

“Shit—” Elektra moans, her long nails scratching your scalp. 

“Is that good mistress?” you said, looking up at her with tears running down your face, your lips swollen and wet. 

“Very good,” she whimpers once more. 

After Elektra came for the first time you were soon on her bed. Matt lying down, you straddling his dick, while Elektra rode Matt’s face. You and Elektra were moaning from Matt’s actions, his thick cock filling you well while his tongue played with her clit. 

Your hands held onto Matt’s chest for stability, Elektra pulling you in for a kiss, her mouth swollen and drooling as she pressed onto you. She moved her hips forward and back on Matt’s face as she soon came for a second time, an ethereal glow plastered on her face. 

Matt later placed you on the bed, your legs on each side of his waist as he fucked you more vigorously. Elektra lay next to you stroking your cock as Matt riled his hips inside you, his hair all wet and his lips swollen. Precum leaked onto your belly, Elektra took some of it to taste and to use as lube for herself. She later took your cock inside her, straddling you as Matt took his fill inside you. 

Matt’s arms wrapped around Elektra’s waist, fondling her breasts and tweaking her nipples while another hand played with her clit. Sharing a kiss, they looked like a pornographic painting, Matt was big and full of muscle while Elektra was small and delicate. Elektra’s pussy felt so good on your cock, and Matt’s thickness only drove you closer to unraveling. 

“You look so pretty taking us sweetheart,” Matt groans, Elektra agreeing with him. They bent over to share a kiss with you, their tongues meeting yours as you moaned. 

“I’m close—” you said, Elektra smirked. She rolled her hips harder, clenching on your cock as she rode her high. Her body convulsed on your dick she was shaking so hard it sent vibrations on your cock triggering your climax. 

You came inside her and the vibrations from your bodies only aided in Matt’s release. The three of you were moaning messes as you came crashing down on the bed, naked bodies all wet and panting. 

Matt smoothed your hair out before kissing you on the lips, Elektra doing the same. 

You spent the month living with Elektra, the sex continued until the mission was done. The three of you spent the nights researching and fucking all over her loft, like animals.  Sooner or later Matt found out Elektra had an ulterior motive which led her to leave again. Your relationship with Matt never changed but you still thought of those nights whenever you lay with Matt. 

interactions are greatly appreciated btw if u liked this fic and want more send me a prompt and i'd gladly make something from it :>

#matt murdock smut #matt murdock x reader #daredevil smut #daredevil x reader #matt murdock x male reader #daredevil x male reader #matt murdock x male reader smut #daredevil x male reader smut #elektra natchios smut #elektra natchios x reader #matt murdock x reader x elektra natchios

[saradika]

— WASTELAND, BABY

part i. the fear and the fire of the end of the world

[masterlist]

boba fett x f!reader

rated E - 3.4k

tags: fallout au, post-apocalyptic, canon-typical themes, canon-typical violence & death, mentions and use of guns/weapons, death of people and animals, sort of slow-burn

a/n: I’m so excited to share this series with you! Reader is new to the world, so much will be explained (game knowledge not required to enjoy!)

The year is 2297, and your days in Vault 113 are spent among the pages of your books - of fairytale romance, of noble knights and handsome princes. That is, until you venture from your Vault, and are immediately thrust into the harsh and cruel world of the Wasteland.

And when you find yourself being rescued by a man in armor - you can’t help but wonder if those beloved stories might just have come true.

You still dream about the sleep.

In shades of sepia, the perfect days that never seemed to end. That always seemed to be just a little bit familiar, like you had taken each exact step before.

The idyllic neighborhood, slow jazzy notes floating in from open windows. Cars that rolled down the street until they were out of sight, always at the same time. Perfectly behaved dogs, in their neat, square yards.

Now - now that you're out - you don't know why it took you so long to notice.

Maybe you didn't care. Were content to play through that single, perfect day. To ignore - at first - the glitches. The fuzzy part of your brain that said that something wasn't quite right.

The itching memory, that something bad was going to happen. Something you had picked at, until it was raw and aching and oozing.

You wonder if that is why you woke up. That something in your brain triggered the stasis - the reason why on that morning, your eyes opened to shades of green and grey.

A dome of glass overhead, a sick pneumatic hiss when you hand flattened against it. The mask you tore from your mouth and nose as you were born onto the tiled floor, shivering and confused.

It had all come back to you.

The blaring of the siren.

The man, ushering your family into the vault.

The promise, whispered with clasped hands.

It will all be okay.

We'll be together, don't worry.

Climbing into the pod, the slow sleep that came after. Waking up, in your old life.

Never waking up that way, again.

You had sat in silence, for hours. Unsure of what to do, where to even start.

Freezing in place when there was a whirr, the sound of movement - as a robotic being rolling into the room, checking the readouts on the large display.

With thick treaded tires, and a sleek, domed head. A mass that looked like a brain floated inside with one large, fixed mechanical eye. It churned your stomach, as it chirped at you.

You are 1825 days ahead of schedule. Please return to your tranquility lounger.

The pod wouldn't let you back in, though you had tried. The red button pushed flat, the screen unresponsive. Leaving you alone and helpless as you looked at the circle of others.

Of your family and neighbors and friends, still in their perfect dreamland.

You lingered there, a while longer. Too afraid of what was beyond its safe walls. Only nudged into moving when the cramp of hunger became unbearable, until you couldn't take the repeating, robotic lines any longer.

Metal doors had opened into other rooms. Empty and sterile and shades of grey steel. Bits of your memory came back - the hallways you ran through. Glimpses of what lied in them, in your rush to the pods.

Eventually, you found a mess hall. Twin machines lined the walls - white with cherry red accents, rows of cafeteria-style tables in front of them. They were still humming with life when you approached, reading the lettering across the top in blocky, silver print.

VAULT-TEC FOOD SYNTHESIZER

The press of a button dispensed thick, pink paste onto the metal tray beneath. It felt like mush in your mouth, the vaguest flavor of something, but not enough to mask the unpleasant texture.

But, much like everything now - the loneliness, the isolation - you learned to bear it.

There are some things you found, in the days that came after, that were not quite so horrible.

A room full of beds, where you tested each one to find the best. Stripping the pillows and blankets, until yours was as close to cozy as you could get.

There was a device you found, in a room full of bubble-screen computers, with their black screens and green, blinking text. It sat half-out of its box on one of the tables, and you were unable to resist removing it from its casing.

A screen sat in the middle, on top of a thick, leather strap. A booklet fell out - the pages now dog-eared and crinkled from the amount of times you read it. The first lines still seared in your memory.

If you're reading this, a scorching wave of atomic fire has likely turned the surface into a wretched husk of its former self... which means your Vault has been activated! You now have in your own hands one of America's finest, easiest-to-use personal-computational tools: the Pip-Boy.

It becomes one of your prized possessions.

Sitting heavy on your wrist, an endless supply of screens and dials that entertained you for hours. Readouts and documents and even simple, chirping games to fill the empty hours with.

The other thing you came to cherish most was the library.

Well, you called it that - though it barely compared to the ones in your memory. It was a small room - a pair of plastic chairs, beneath a thick, metal shelf lined with books of all shapes and sizes.

You'd read them all, in the months you stayed there. Even ones that made your eyes burn with their dryness; Dean's Mechanics, Infiltration Techniques Vol. 2, Pugilist Quarterly.

Fingering tracing over the thin pages, trying to make sense of things you had never heard of before.

But your favorite were the fairy tales. Just four books, among the two dozen.

Grimm and Perrault. Andersen and Lang.

Their books thick and illustrated, the spines and covers stamped with gold.

The romances were the ones you visited, again and again. Younger you would have loved the macabre - evil witches, plucked out eyes, soul-wrenching betrayal.

But in this new world, you couldn't bear it.

You got lost in the pages. The girl who fell in love with the Beast, who was not so monstrous after all. Another, who risked everything to dance with the Prince, only to abandon him at midnight when the spell was broken.

When you grew bored, you created your own tales. Princesses that were swept off their feet. Knight fighting dragons, a fluttering in your chest when you thought about the romance.

The twisting and twining of limbs and tongues, the slow build that lead into soft, contented sighs.

They became your comfort, as the days passed.

So similar - in ways - to the ones when you had been asleep. The same routines. Paste, read, sleep.

The same clothes - the blue and gold jumpsuit you had woken up in. That the others wore as well, in their sleep. Each one the same, with the vault’s number emblazoned across the back.

On your Pip Boy you read it was to protect you from the elements outside - but here, it only added to the monotony of your day.

Every variation of an afternoon you had done at least once. Poking into every corner of each room. Fingers tracing over the glass screen of the pods, watching your family sleep.

Reading the books again, and again. Using the bits you picked up to learn more about your Vault, what had happened.

It took you a solid month to key into the computer terminal in the main office. Clicking on different words in the scramble of letters that poured across the screen, trying to crack the password protection.

Getting frustrated and giving up - only to come back again the next day.

Finally, the beep as you were let in. Clicking through the files, piecing together a mess of text that was scattered across numerous logs over the years.

That you were in Vault 113. That it was created in partnership with several more, and a copy of the previous, 112.

That some of the Vaults were created to be an experiment. A test to see how humanity would fare, released in key waves after the Great War of 2077.

Held in a cryosleep stasis - the first to be opened at 25 years, and then at 50. Continuing every quarter-century until 225 years has passed. Ending with your vault, scheduled to be released last.

The dread settles in as you started to understand what they had meant when you woke up.

That you were early.

That all you can do is wait.

You don’t even know where you’d even start - no idea if they would fare as well as you did, to be woken up ahead of schedule.

And so, the days ticked by. The marks you scratched on the wall next to your bed slowly increasing. One for each morning you woke up, until there's 182 of them lined up in neat rows.

Finally - coming to the realization that had been nudging at you for days, for weeks. The one that had been keeping you up at night, though you wished for the unconsciousness of sleep.

That you can't sit around for 4 and a half more years, just waiting. That wasn't a life, any way to live.

That you'd go mad, talking to your Pip-Boy, the robots that only had a few lines of verbal programming.

You had to know, to see. To go out.

Into the world. Alone.

You'd watched the videos.

The short animated films. The cartoon boy with the vault suit like yours, as he explained life after the fallout. How it would be different - tips on survival, how to keep sharp, how to use your own experiences and talents to your advantage.

It helped, giving you an idea of what to expect, but you hated them. The little acronyms, the cheesy animation - they seemed to mock the massive loss from nuclear annihilation.

The grainy, black-and-white recordings you find, after.

Prepared and left by the Overseer that no longer stayed there - who passed on the responsibility to the robobrains that still stood watch, when another Vault position opened.

They had made you weep, to think about what happened. Until you chest ached and your eyes stung. You couldn’t watch some parts, thinking about all those who had not been able to get away. Unable to help wondering about your extended family - your friends.

But it still hadn't prepared you for how vast and cruel the Wasteland was.

It had taken you another two weeks to actually open the Vault door. Dragging your feet as you collected supplies. Trying to pack everything you'd need while also trying to leave plenty in case someone else woke as you did.

Canteens of water, extra vault suits. The pink mush spooned into glass jars, clinking in your backpack, as you checked the space another time.

Leaving a note on the terminal, where you hope they'd find it.

But eventually, you had to try. You'd stalled long enough.

And so, after marking the Vault’s location on your Pip-Boy - you left.

You’ve been out for a week now. That alone feels like an accomplishment.

Not expecting how barren the world would feel, even with the preparation. It mirrors the muted browns from your dreams, though there's no hazy edges here.

Just a broken landscape of trees - still standing, stripped bare and bleached by an unforgiving sun. Crumbling roads, and what little grass endured was burnt and brittle. The air dry and thick in your lungs with the dust that kicked up, as you had carefully left the vault.

Misfortune had befell you almost immediately.

Barely out of the crumpled building that held the Vault, down the worn asphalt path, when there had been a scuttling sound. Fear and bile in your throat when a roach the size of a cat crept from the ruins, poised to spring.

Unable to do more than to grasp at the ground, fingers wrapping around a solid bit of wood. You can still hear the crunch of collision when you close your eyes, before you took off running, not wanting to see the aftermath.

The petrified branch still sits by the door, just in case.

In the half-standing farmhouse you've set up base in, until you're brave enough to wander further. That has been unnerving as well - seeing places that were different from your memories.

You had gone home, first.

It had seemed natural, though the fear lingered in your stomach, making your steps heavy. Following the road for three miles, all the while trying to force the puzzle pieces to fit. Broken bridges over dead streams, street signs that lead to crumbling, empty lots.

The road you lived on had been hit hard. It had ached - nothing left but the skeletons of your life before. Tumbling brick and rotting plaster. Chipped tile and broken floors, creaking under your feet as you stood where the kitchen once was. Must like your life before, it was just - gone.

The sentimental part of you had rooted around. Finding a rusting, red bottle cap in the ruins. A silver spoon found in the shattered remains of the counter where you grew up baking cookies.

You took them both, tucking them into your bag.

The farm you had found next, late the first night. You had been there before as a child.

The owners opened their property for apple-picking, hayrides, bonfires with sweet, melting smores. It had been a memory you had forgotten, until the bit of still-standing roof appeared on the horizon, beckoning you to it.

You'd do anything to have more of them. The memories.

The owners are gone now, as is the orchard. Just rows of thin trunks left, the branches dead and brittle.

With the wasteland around you - so very different from the safe, metal walls, the honeycomb of simple rooms - you wish you had stayed.

But much like waking up, you knew you couldn't. That you couldn't undo what happened, or forget the things that haunt you now.

Now - you spend your days wandering out. Poking around the barn to see if there's anything to take with you.

Finding a bit of joy, in some small moments.

In your books, as they soothe you to sleep. The stories are long-memorized but still bringing such comfort.

In the funny, two-head cow that had half-scared you to death when you first found it - that you know think is sort of cute. Almost poetic, in a way.

She wanders the fields behind the barn, and sometimes you go out to sit with her - keeping watch from a distance.

In your Pip-Boy, with the radio that hums out tinny tunes throughout the day - there's only a few of them it picks up, the songs on loop.

Picking through the holotapes of data - finding out that your new friend is called a Brahmin, mutated after years of radiation. It’s not much, but it's something.

It gives you hope that there might be someone else out there. It gives you the strength to think about moving on.

And you do find them - a semblance of civilization - but not in the way you hope.

You’re sleeping when it happens. Curled up in a bedroom on the second story, trying to avoid the holes that litter the hardwood floors.

It’s barely morning, the sunrise a weak, watery yellow as it peeks over the ridge. Though with a start you realize it’s not the light that has woken you. That rarely made a difference, after your time in the Vault.

Too afraid of the dark to turn off the light.

It’s the bellowing.

At first, you don’t know why it makes your skin prickle. After all, Minnie made those sounds when she first saw you - snorting and pawing at the packed earth, both sets of eyes dark and wide. Slowly settling, in the hours after - when all you did was watch from behind the fence.

The pieces click into place.

There was something out there.

You’re just getting up to look, when you hear a wild shout. The sound echoing, followed by a sharp, echoing crack.

The bellowing stops.

Your gasp is loud in the silence. Hand pressing over your mouth as your heart thuds in your chest - aching. The floor beneath you creaking as sink down onto it, trying to make yourself small.

But the voices move closer. Different tones overlapping, arguing - from the open field, then to the barn.

Then, to the house.

Your breath in your throat as the front door bangs open, a sharp voice cracking through the air.

“-lay off the fuckin’ Jet, mate. You’re fuckin’ paranoid as hell.”

The floor creaking as they move through the living room. An annoyed grunt, the rattle as something metallic clatters to the floor, making your stomach flip.

“Told you man, I heard somethin’,” Another voice answers.

Your heart drums so loudly in your ears, you’re certain it has to be audible. Tucked underneath the window, in clear view of the staircase.

If you don’t move, they’ll see you. You’re certain of it. The videos had warned you of the lawlessness, but nothing could have compared you for the fear that paralyzes you.

But, you try to be brave. Three feet to the right and you should be safe - your heart in your throat as you shift your weight, to move just out of sight.

The floor groans.

The voices downstairs stop.

You bolt.

Feet like lead, disconnected from your brain as you make for the stairs - thinking you can make it out. Skipping steps at a time, hoping that you won’t fall and break your neck. Ankles aching as you hit the bottom, sights set on the door the left open.

Almost making it out, when there’s a shout. A sharp “fuckin’ knew it” that sounds entirely too close. A gloved hand that reaches out, snagging your elbow.

Sending you off balance, slamming into the brittle wall. Pain radiates from your hip, the wood splintering from the collision. The hand closing around your ankle, yanking you hard.

The man pulls again - dragging you to the side, through the open doorway.

You’re gasping for breath, trying to yell - though nothing comes out. The air knocked from your lungs as you’re tugged across the porch, one of the steps cracking against your head as you try to grasp onto the railing.

It splinters under your grip, one of the spindles breaking free. He lets go when you reach the bottom, calling up to the second that lingers in the doorway.

“Check inside. See if there’s any more.”

A foot pressing against your shoulder, pinning you to the ground as he leans down, barking out a harsh laugh.

“Thought you could hide?”

He’s even more terrifying up close. Dark paint smeared around his eyes, dripping down his cheeks like tears. Dressed in a mismatch of leather clothes, nails driven up through the fabric at the collar. A spiked shoulder pad made from bent metal, the sharp edges a deep, rusted red.

You take a deep breath… and then swing.

The makeshift weapon collides with the side of his head, and then shatters. With a loud yell he stumbles, and you scramble - pushing yourself onto shaking knees, and then feet.

“Goddamn bitch,” He snarls, and there’s footsteps from the house, calls coming from the barn.

You don’t make it to your feet before you’re looking down the barrel of a gun. Fear and a strangled whimper in your throat as you hover in a half-crouch, hands coming up to shield your face.

A shot fires.

There’s a bright red light that sears through your closed eyelids, the smell of something burning. You open them just in time to see the man pitch to the side, his body glowing with a heat you can feel. Disintegrating as you watch, turning to ash before he hits the ground.

You can barely hear the yell from the others, the sound of your heartbeat drowning the world out. Faintly aware of one cracking shot, and then another, a deep reverb echoing across the flat plane.

Rocks skittering on the ground around you, the tremor of heavy steps and sharp mechanical hisses. Loud cries and shots traded as you cower, unable to look away from the scorched earth where a person just was.

And then, everything goes quiet.

A shadow falls across you, and you’re looking up. Seeing the figure that’s crumpled against the stairs. The unmoving peppering of bodies littering the ground, out near the barn. Never making it any further.

Up, and then up - to where a giant suit of armor towers over you. Painted in shades of green that you thought you had forgotten. A long rifle tucked in the crook of its thick arm, the end a hot, steaming red.

It’s head tilts - as a low, mechanical voice breaks through the silence.

“Its dangerous to wander the wasteland alone, ad’ika.”

ad’ika - little one

thank you for reading! 💚 part ii will be out thursday, the 9th! and if you’d like to get tagged, please fill out the series taglist here!

(0-pressure tagging some friends that liked the sneak peek 💕: @spaceydragons, @luladoll, @obiknights , @wingofshadow , @bobathirstaccount, @reluctant-mandalore, @ohheyitsokay, @floral-force , @valentine-tx, @dreamlandcreations, @vellichormybeloved)

#please mind the tags! #boba fett x reader #boba fett x you #boba fett x f!reader #boba fett imagine #fallout au

[ysljoon]

Whumptober Day 6-Simon 'Ghost' Riley

✲Prompt: “It should have been me.”

✲Warnings: angst, death, car crash, feelings of grief

✲a/n: im having so much fun with whumptober so far buuuuut i think i gotta slow down with the posting after this week its getting really draining to post every day. its not set in stone, but we'll see this is just a heads up that if you see my posts slow down you know why

✲MINORS DNI (have your age in your bio or you're getting blocked)

The days have been devoid of color since your death. It’s been four months since your tragic passing. It was so unexpected. You were on your way home from work and had Simon on speakerphone as you were driving. You were just droning on about your day at work telling him that nothing spectacular or out of the ordinary had happened. He was half listening as he was folding up a fresh load of laundry that was still warm from the dryer. You were less than six minutes away from your home until a car suddenly shot out into the road and despite your fast reflexes you couldn’t brake in time and the two cars collided. Simon heard the commotion and felt his blood run cold. He shouted your name hoping that he would hear your voice call out to him, but it was nothing. He heard the clamor of other people’s voices on the phone, but none of theirs was yours. 

He flung down the clothes, grabbed his keys and sprinted out the door. His eyes quickly scanned the screen of his phone trying to pinpoint your location and started to drive. He was thankful you weren’t too far from home and was able to reach your location in no time. He dissociated the entire ride. He was out of it and just needed to see your face to snap back into reality. The road was already surrounded by police cars and ambulances and the sirens were just a dull buzz in Simon’s ears. None of this was making sense for him. He rushed over to the closest officer to see if he could get any insight on how you were. 

“My wife is in this crash! I need to see her and make sure she’s okay. She drives the silver sedan!” The officer jumped when he turned around and saw Simon’s hulking figure and heard his loud and abrasive voice. “Sir, you need to stand back. Once we retrieve your wife from the wreckage we’ll be able to tell you on how to proceed.” Simon was anxiously waiting trying not to make this harder than it needed to be. He saw the paramedics bring out a gurney towards the car you drove and once he saw your limp and bloody body he lost all control. He sprinted towards the ambulance that you were put in, but the paramedics closed the doors before he could get a better glance at you. 

“Please I need to see my wife let me in!” One of the stockier-built men stepped up to Simon to put space between him and the other paramedics just in case they thought Simon was about to lash out. “Sir we’re taking her to the nearest emergency hospital 3 miles from here but we need to leave now if we want her to have any chance of survival. She needs to be put into surgery now. Just follow the truck and you can wait in the waiting room.” Simon nodded and said nothing in response as he jumped into his car and trailed the ambulance that swerved through traffic with its sirens blaring.

Simon couldn’t relax in the waiting room. This was the only time he’d ever felt so wound up in his life. His feet incessantly tapped the linoleum tile and his hands gripped the edge of the leather seat until his knuckles were white and his veins popped out. He knew your surgery was going to be a while after suffering such a traumatic injury and he would wait lifetimes if that meant that you were going to be okay, but the minutes felt like they were dragging on and it was starting to feel unbearable.  

“Mr. Riley?” His head shot up as he had a doctor's request for him. He stood up and followed the doctor into the hallway. He noticed that the doctor’s facial expression was hard to read, but he tried not to panic. “Sir, I am so sorry to say that the surgery was not a success. Your wife had multiple bones broken and there was too much blood loss despite giving a blood transfusion. Her body went into shock and we could not bring her back.” Simon’s ears were ringing and his body was trembling. He was stuck in place. He couldn’t even process the grief. Everything was numb. 

The doctor gave Simon a pamphlet for cremation and burial services and then led him down to the morgue so he could get one final look. Your body was covered with a pristinely white sheet up to your collarbones and your eyes were closed. You were so much paler than Simon could ever imagine you and it stunned him. He’s seen multiple people die in his life due to his career, but he would never want to see you like them. It was entirely too much. Simon couldn’t do anything but silently cry. He caressed your cheek and pushed back your hair to place a last kiss on your forehead. The coldness of your skin made this whole situation really sink in for him.

“You didn’t deserve this, my love. It should’ve been me.”

#whumptober 2023 #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost cod #ghost call of duty #cod headcanons #cod mw2 #modern warfare 2

[aplaceinthedark]

prologue: JOURNEY to the OAKEN GROVE

Summary: The Appalachian Mountains hide numerous monsters, and it's up to Taylor and the Bad Omens to prevent them from causing any harm.

Word Count: 1,011

CW: supernatural themes, character death, off-screen carnage, mind control, male dominating a woman's will

This is RPF, and thus will contain real people, but names and events will be changed. If this bothers you too much, then please leave this temple without causing harm.

FEATURED CREATURES

@ladyveronikawrites @lilhobgobbler @deathblacksmoke @cookiesupplier @thatchickwiththecamera

Long ago, in ages past, all living things commanded infinite power and roamed unchecked across the land. They were as spirits and could speak and perform strong magic. Though in time, an evil had spread across the land, and it was decided that the world’s magic needed to be protected.

That’s what a lot of children in this part of the Shenandoah Valley was told, as part of some tales told by their Grannies. But not miss Elin Young. When she was a child, she was taught that those were selfish practices.

“Darkness only sought to make all creatures equal,” her granny told her, “and to share their power totally amongst all things…” But still, some creatures wanted to keep their strengths secret, and concealed their divinity, leaving the world lifeless and dull. Only the wise Watcher of the Woods remembered how the world had been, and could guide others to true Enlightenment.

Elin Young had done a lot of things most people would have been ashamed of in her past, but it had all been in the name of that such True Enlightenment, she told herself. She had sacrificed much in the journey, but she had remained strong. There was no way anything would stand in her way.

At least that’s what she tried to tell herself as she bled out into the cold, dark earth.

As that same ancient dirt beneath her leeched the warmth from her bones, she couldn’t help but wonder if it was worth it in the end, if this was the end she was receiving. Lying on a bed of pine needles, her body torn asunder, was not what she envisioned. It was not what the Watcher of the Woods had promised her.

It had been exactly a year and a day since the disastrous summer solstice, when a new Vessel was supposed to be Hollowed and Imbued with the Black Stag’s might. Instead, the Towering Man had stolen that might and kept it for himself, selfishly hoarding it from her Family. Through that year and a day, Elin remained strong, her belief telling her that the Revered Father would return to reclaim his stolen crown.

But earlier this dark night, the Family had tried to summon the Black Stag and instead was met with the form of a beast: a pale, silver-furred Grim whose eyes danced with glee when he saw the meal that had assembled before him. The congregation tried to scatter and she knew that they were being picked off, judging by their screams.

Elin had escaped the Grim only to have a brush with the second of the horrors of the Shenandoah Valley. Luckily, the Drowned had been preoccupied with his own victims, lured to him by his siren song, and then torn apart by his teeth and claws. Elin had pressed on, certain that she would soon find her way out of the woods.

Finally, she had felt certain that she was near the edge of the woods, when she had run into a familiar face. “Nick! Oh my god, thank goodness I found–”

Elin had barely gotten those words out when she felt herself freeze, and before she turned around, she swore she could see Nick’s eyes glow green in his stony face. Against her will, she started moving back into the woods. In horror, she realized that Nicholas was as he trailed behind her, directing her further and further in, until they had reached the place where the old and twisted oak tree grew.

There she was forced to kneel down. She, however, was not forced to plead for mercy, but she did anyway. Her only warning of what was to come was the creaking of trees and the rustling of leaves as the tree… moved.

And one of the people she sacrificed in the name of True Enlightenment came face to face with her.

AFTER ALL YOU’VE DONE TO ME?

said the new Watcher of the Woods.

DID YOU ACTUALLY THINK THE PAIN YOU CAUSED ME WOULD SEND ME TO AN EARLY GRAVE? DID YOU ACTUALLY THINK I COULDN’T BREAK THOSE CHAINS AFTER ALL THE HELL YOU MADE ME OVERCOME?

And then the new Watcher shifted his face into something vaguely familiar, and the young woman wept from fear at last. In front of Elin stood the man she betrayed to the Revered Father, who two years ago she had coerced into the woods.

Elin bowed her head and cried, “Please forgive me! I never wanted to do those things! They made me do them! I still love you!” She was willing to say anything, even lie through her teeth, if it meant she could walk out of this alive.

And the Watcher knew this, because he laughed before saying, 

YOU WERE THE REASON I WAS CONSUMED BY THE DARK; THE REASON I WAS CONSUMED BY THE BLACK. I ALMOST LOST MYSELF IN ALL THE LIES YOU TOLD, BUT I’M BACK NOW, AND STRONGER THAN YOU’D THINK.

Noah Davis was a sweet boy when she first met him. His mother had just died, but he still had a spark in him. A spark that the Revered Father coveted, and would eventually claim. And maybe that’s why he was unrecognizable as he flung her around.

And now, as he leaned over her, she knew the humanity had really left him.

THERE’S A LOT OF HOLLOW SOULS OUT HERE IN THESE WOODS; A LOT WHO WOULD LOVE TO SEE YOU BURN. AND IF YOU DO SEE YOUR SO-CALLED “FATHER,” TELL HIM I’VE GOT A MESSAGE FOR HIM.

And he left her to die, there, alone.

Despite her faith, despite all that she sacrificed, she died unfulfilled. The only thing she held onto in her black heart was the hatred for the man who left her to die, who cheated her out of what she had been promised. She was glad that the Black Stag had taken his heart, for he could never know love again.

And if he did… well, nothing in these woods ever truly stayed dead.

tysm for reading! Next part coming soon!

#bad omens fanfiction #bad omens rpf #bad omens au #noah sebastian fanfiction #nicholas ruffilo fanfiction #Jolly Karlsson fanfiction #nick folio fanfiction #series: lost in the labyrinth #fic: looking for the meaning #author: aplaceinthedark

[starryriize]

picture perfect | leehan

part 2 - the invite

a/n: i will admit, this did take me longer than i thought.😭 i’m sorry to people who might’ve been waiting for this btw :( but i do hope you all enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed writing this !! <3

summary/preview , part one , part two

pairing: photographer! Leehan and model! reader

After two years of being a professional photographer for watch companies, Leehan remains true to his craft, choosing to only focus on photography and work. Any model he worked with, he made sure it was strictly business.

But there was something different about this event. Perhaps it was the music and the lights or maybe it was the adrenaline talking, but something changed Leehan's mind. You. He first saw you in the advert at the entrance of the party. At first, it was the elegance of the watch that he was interested in, quietly appreciating the beauty within the silver and gold dial. His eyes grazed over the watch in the picture before he finally saw the model. The watch accentuated her sharp, yet somehow soft features. Her eyes were deep, full of intense emotion, as though she was a siren. Why had he never seen you before? He stilled, wondering where Omega found you because, to him, everything about you was timeless, classy, and elegant.

God, events like this drained him as he stared blankly at the woman on stage, watching as she rambled on about the handmade details of the new watch collection. Your face flashed across the screen as the various pieces were shown. The lights were slightly dimmed, but he could still see the sparkle of the lights reflected on your hair.

—

Across the room, you were busy mingling, chatting with the whose who of Omega. The party itself was very well organized, with the servers being incredibly attentive to all the guests. You beckoned a server over, passing your empty champagne glass to him.

The gala was…interesting to say the least. Thousands of fairy lights and flowers were hung from the ceiling, creating a magical atmosphere. The lights, paired with a mist that traveled across the floor, made each person look as though they’d just fallen out of wonderland. Soft, classical music reverberated through the air, enticing people to gather onto the dance floor.

You stood at the edge of the ballroom, analyzing the gracefulness of the other models invited, as they spun around the floor. The couple you were watching finished their dance with a twirl and a gentle kiss on the lady’s hand. Your eyes glanced across the expanse of the room once more, noticing a man by his lonesome also watching the couples dance.

The man wore an outfit that made him look as though he’d just come from the woods. His hair was slightly messy, probably from mingling too, you thought to yourself. He had a tall stature and was incredibly handsome, but there was something familiar about him. After a few seconds, it finally dawned on you why he was familiar to you. He was Leehan, the famous photographer for Omega. Of course! you thought to yourself. You’d been told before that you’d be working with him. So, naturally, you fluffed your light blue gown and made your way over to him.

—

Leehan was no fool. He knew that you were watching him from across the room. Honestly, it gave him an adrenaline rush that you stared at him for so long, knowing a girl as pretty as you found him handsome. Putting his wine on the draped table behind him, he noticed you were making your way towards him. You...were absolutely enchanting, he thought to himself.

A few strides and you found yourself in front of Leehan. Was he always this gorgeous up close? You took a deep breath, hoping he couldn't hear how fast your heart was beating. He stared at you, his gaze slowly traveling over your figure as if you were the finest piece of jewelry.

Leehan’s one rule of not blurring the line between business and personal relationships was starting to change as he stared ever so deeply at you. For you, he’d risk it all. He winked at you as he joked, “Milady, where’s your prince?” You stifle a laugh, looking back up at him. Amused, you smack him lightly, chiding, “Why? Are you offering to be my prince for the night?”

"Maybe." He paused, "I've forgotten to introduce myself. I'm Leehan, the photographer." He extended his hand, eyes hopeful for you to shake his hand too.

Flashing him a small smile, you take his extended hand, firmly shaking it. "I'm Y/n, one of the new models. Aren't you being humble? I seem to recall numerous brands wanted you as their photographer but you declined."

Leehan intently stared at you, letting go of your hand. He pursed his lips in thought before saying, "Yes, well, I have standards..." He trailed off, eyes leaving your figure to look at the decorations around him.

He throws his head back, awkwardly laughing before smiling down at you. The laughter subsided and once again, you found yourself under Leehan’s intense gaze. Your confidence was slowly crumbling as he stared at you, unblinking. The risks of starting a relationship with him were running through your mind. But you didn’t care. In this precise moment, as you locked eyes with Leehan, time could stop and you’d still find yourself searching for him. Your very own prince of time.

“Can I…kiss you?” Leehan knew saying that was a risk, perhaps because you were a stranger, but he wasn’t thinking about that. He flicked his eyes downward at your plush lips, painted a beautiful pink. Your eyes searched his for any hint of doubt. And you decided you had nothing to lose as you placed your hand on his cheek, slowly closing the distance between the two of you.

The kiss itself was innocent, yet filled with unspoken desires. Leehan slid his hand into your hair, relishing in the warmth of your lips and how it tasted of Champagne. You were melting in the way his lips moved so perfectly against yours. Smiling softy into his lips, you pull away, not missing the small whine he let out. His face was flushed but he was unable to hide his grin. You leaned your head into his chest, feeling comfortable as you heard the soft thumps of his heartbeat. He gently kissed the crown of your head, saying, “Dinner at White Capitol?”

You smile, taking his hand in yours, holding it tightly. “As long as you pay.” You know he’s going to pay, as he’s ever the gentleman. And you think of the risks again before deciding that he’s a risk worth taking.

—

The End 🫶🏼

#laur’s thoughts 🧚🏼‍♀️ #bnd imagines #bnd fluff #boynextdoor imagines #bnd x reader #bnd leehan #leehan x reader #boynextdoor leehan

[lizzie-is-here]

just got emotionally fucking annihilated by wakanda forever

but i also wanna talk about it! warning for spoilers and general rambling below 👇

ok, let’s start with parallels CAUSE THERE WERE SO MANY

first off, the comparison of shuri and killmonger 👀

it really does make sense, especially when you think ab how they both “go against” tradition, rejecting the standards. t’challa (rip ilysm) still wanted to please the elders, even if he had more progressive ideas (ie: sandals for his first day

also i’m so fucking glad they didn’t try to cgi chadwick in. it would’ve felt disrespectful and i think it was handled beautifully

her sparing namor the same way t’challa spared those he fought (saving zemo, helping bucky, trying to help killmonger)

the dialogue callbacks bro. fuckin “show him who you are,” had me sobbing. “vengeance is consuming us” babes, shuri, i’m crying.

her being angered by loss and snapping at nakia like t’challa snapped at zuri when he realized killmonger’s identity

also i absolutely love riri. i was a bit apprehensive going in, but i think they executed her well without just making her a replacement for tony. that being said, he would absolutely adore her

the parallel of her going too high and running out of oxygen and later turning it on namor in the same way mirrors tony’s suit frosting over and doing the same to stane 😭

the silent flashes of t’challa took my breath away. the silence really compounded just how empty and quiet their grief is.

seeing shuri try so hard in the opening and not even being able to say goodbye was so sad, and you can see her thoughts racing later on when she successfully synthesizes the heart-shaped herb. it’s a sort of “what if i’d thought of this earlier?” “who would still be alive?” “how could i have missed this?” sort of feeing

onto details!

the new black panther suit is stunning 🤩 the gold and silver details along with the dots that almost look like pearls, mirroring the ones she wears at the funerals? it shows that even if she is the leader of wakanda now, she’s still very young, still grieving her many losses

the tech and ai has really been amped up. shuri’s ai and her different interfaces looked amazing. also the ai (who i think is grio but i couldn’t tell) reminds me of jarvis. mainly in the orange blob department

the dora milaje looked stunning as ever, and seeing some new tech for them was exciting

THE VIBRANIUM THAT MELTED INTO THE CARS ALSKDKDKFKLDDK OBSESSED TONY WOULDVE LOVED THAT SHIT

talokan was gorgeous, even if it did violently trigger my thalassophobia

ummm everett and valentina being married (well, divorced) was a plot point i was not expecting. hope to see him in the thunderbolts tho he’s very slay

fucking 👏 t’challa 👏 junior 👏

i broke down right then and there

took me right out

i won’t lie the people of talokan gave me avatar vibes but i did like the touch of them having siren-like voices.

also namora was pretty so that’s a win

ok i get that it’s a movie. but realistically, i’d they’re fighting this massive underwater force, why not just call any other super powered avenger????

like for movie’s sake yeah it’s all fine but like if i were in the mcu living that shit i’d be like “let’s just call thor. have him like electrocute the water. or doctor strange. he did that cool water thing in endgame that had literally no purpose except to give him screen time. or wanda, we all know she ain’t really dead bffr”

AYO IS GENERAL NOW??? I LOVE OKOYE BUT THATS A SLAY

ALSO SHES GAY??????

I SAW THAT KISS AT THE END 👀👀👀👀

man i love m’baku so much. he’s just. ugh

ok in better terms, i think i like him so much because he is first presented as a chad, almost. he’s strong, a bit dumb, and leads the isolated tribe.

but then you interact w him and find out he’s incredibly emotionally empathetic and kind, and reaches out to shuri as a helping hand, a person to lean on.

i just really appreciate him okay 🥺😭

overall, stunning. 10/10, fifth time in a row that marvel’s made me cry at one of their movies.

aka black widow (bc yelena and the ending), shang-chi (bc gotdamn let me cry ab the chinese representation), no way home (cause duh), love and thunder (BC HE ADOPTED HER BITCH WHAT) and now this

stunning, showstopping, say what you will about marvel but damn they know how to make me cry

#marvel #avengers #wakanda forever #black panther #black panther wakanda forever #black panther: wakanda forever #shuri black panther #princess shuri #queen ramonda #mcu namor #nakia #t’challa #shuri udaku #chadwick boseman #rip chadwick boseman #letitia wright #lupita nyong'o #wakanda forever spoilers

[oldmovieactress]

From Silver Screen Siren to Secret Inventor: Meet Hedy Lamarr

#oldhollywood #actress #vintage #oldhollywoodglamour #hedylamarrbombshell #classichollywood

[bllakcat]

— FIVE SONGS.

siren ; kailee morgue. there's a bright side to every wrong thing, if you're looking at me through the right eyes. darkness in my name, don't you wanna come &. play on the cool side, don't be so shy.

guilty ; marina. oh i'm a guilty one, &. i know what i have done. yeah, i'm a troubled one, &. i won't be forgiven. guilty on the run, &. i know what i have done. guilty on the run, &. i'm never forgiven. i was just a kid that you could not forgive because it's harder. i was just a kid, &. all i really wanted was my father.

marilyn monroe ; astrid s. if i sing something you don't like, am i the problem? 'cause i think i've been holding back, it's not what i want. if i show a little bit more skin, already know what you're gonna think. don't tell me what i'm gonna do, what i won't. i will decide what i will what i won't.

oh no ; marina. i know exactly what i want &. who i want to be. i know exactly why i walk &. talk like a machine. i'm now becoming my own self - fulfilled prophecy, oh! oh, no! ... one track mind, one track heart. if i fail i'll fall apart. maybe it is all a test, 'cause i feel like i'm the worst so i always act like i'm the best.

primadonna ; marina. primadonna girl, yeah. all i ever wanted was the world. i can't help that i need it all, the primadonna life, the rise &. fall. you say that i'm kinda difficult, but it's always someone else's fault. got you wrapped around my finger babe, you can count on me to misbehave, ... beauty queen on a silver screen, living life like i'm in a dream. i know i've got a big ego, i really don't know why it's such a big deal though.

tagged by : @fortrauma xoxo thank you!! tagging : @gunbash , @greenelight , @denouemente ( a muse of your choice! ) , @goblincaptain , @abyssell , @loneheir , @proditeur , @noirfile ( a muse of your choice! ) , @argenpluma , @tragicale , @daylighter , @ofsoul &. anyone who wants to steal it!

#⋄ ⊰ bad luck is better than no luck at all. › character study. ❜ #but deax half of these is marina! - me vc: i know felicia is marina coded and WHAT OF IT #i LOVEEEEEE connecting songs to muses so all say 'thank you jay' for providing me with this #so i can provide you all with this too!! I AM SO INTERESTED!

[lolthslover]

Aqua Regia

Plot: In Menzoberranzan love seems not to exist, almost as if it were an unknown feeling, or hidden behind the rock walls of the buildings, the veils that adorn the rooms, behind blood-stained screens. There seems to be only obedience to Lolth, the Mother of Destiny, and to her priestesses, to the Matron Mothers who compete for power, ruling from their houses: a war that wears out but amuses the Spider Queen. But what happens if love blossoms between two young drow, belonging to two different houses who have the common goal of overthrowing the Baenre and conquering their power? Unaware of their respective Matron Mother's thirst for power, the two just want to be together and give in to lust and passion. Yet, something lurks in the shadows, someone who spies on them and holds a grudge, to the point of having the possibility of destroying everything they desire. Will they be able to have a happy ending, there, in that city governed by Lolth? Or will they have to run away? Series: The intrigue of the Spider Chap. 1: Melodious Symphony Rating: Mature Ship: Original drow Character & original drow character Characters: Franceska Qilin, Elamszar Barrison Del'Armgo, Tristan Dilyrr (my ocs and others who'll appear in the next chapters), Mez'Barris Armgo, Uthengentel Armgo, Taayrul Armgo. That's an original work based on the Dungeons & Dragons universe. Excerpt:

Dulcet and sublime music reached my ears, filling the entire corridor where I found myself, still and motionless outside the door of the large parlor. I felt every muscle quiver with the desire to move and run towards the musician because the melody he was playing was a languid and mellisonant call: it was similar to the song of a siren that attracted the poor sailor to her, ready to shipwreck to reach her breast. The notes of the lute were capable of calming the nerves and soothing the turbulent hearts, but it could also push people to make love or kill each other in a vicious dance of blades. Who was capable of doing such things, bending the Weave to his will? Who was playing with us? Or maybe he was training? I was about to take a step, intrigued by the music, dragged by it in wanting to discover who was behind it, when I heard a low growl coming from my captain, who was also motionless and standing outside the door, clutching his trident in both hands, ready to lash out at anyone who dared to threaten the Matron Mother of our noble house. In addition to the music, I heard the voice of Mez'Barris, who was dealing with the Matron Mother of House Qilin. My gaze moved to the soldiers standing before me, to the insignia they wore plated in silver and gold on their armor: House Dilyrr, a minor house like the one we were in and like the one I myself was part of. One of them was a sorcerer, his tunic was of the finest blue silk and richly embroidered in gold, and it rustled with every little movement he made, his white hair fell smoothly along his shoulders, an amused smile curled his lips while his purple iris sparkled on his twilight skin, the red one was hidden behind a tress that fell along his sharp cheeks. He walked away a few steps, no one dared to call him back, he too was attracted by the melody which was filling the entire space, then I saw him watching me over his shoulder, his copper-colored scales shining like jewels in the fairy lights of the lamps.

Read the rest on AO3

#dungeons & dragons #dungeons and dragons #dnd #d&d #d&d ocs #dnd ocs #dnd drow #d&d drow #fanfiction #fanfic #dnd fanfiction #d&d fanfiction #drow oc #drow d&d #drow dnd #drow of lolth #lolth sworn drow #dnd story #ao3 author #ao3 writer #ao3 fanfic

[lily-drake]

[Bio!dad Dick] when Dick had amnesia and became 'Ric Grayson' He hooked up with a traveling Sabine. He later discovers when looking into his old things when he was Ric he had been contacted by Sabine who told him he has a daughter named Marinette (maybe 5 years old now?idk), during his time as Batman (with Bruce 'dead', Tim missing, and Damian being well Damian) Dick makes the hard choice to stay out of his daughter's life to keep her safe from the world he lives in, but watches from a distance when he can. Before he knows it more years pass and he wants nothing more than to meet her but feels like it's to late. However everything changes when he goes down for patrol and finds one of his brothers at the batcom with a file of Marinette open, and the words 'Master Fu, ex-guardian' 'Mutlimouse, Known' 'New Guardian?'. And files on a Ladybug hero who bares a striking resemblance of his daughter.

Ric Rolled

Note, Ric/Dick is 21 at the beginning of the story while Sabine is 23.

Ric Grayson liked his job as a taxi driver.  He learned a lot about the people in his city and even people from outside of it.  But he always felt like he could be doing, or rather was meant for something more.  Ever since he had left the hospital once the bullet wound was healed, he felt like he was missing something important from his life.  It was his 21st birthday, and he decided to celebrate it at one of the nicer bars in his city.  

“Hello, is this seat taken?”

A gentle voice spoke from beside him.  Ric slowly turned his head and saw a beautiful woman with charcoal black hair, silver eyes, her makeup was done naturally, and her dress was a beautiful red and gold knee length qipao.  

“No, you can sit here.”

He replied, gesturing toward the seat on his right side.  

“My name is Sabine.”

She spoke as she gestured for the bartender.  He didn’t respond, just took a sip from his glass.

“So what’s brought you here tonight?”

Sabine asked in a honeyed voice.  Ric thought about whether or not he should answer that question, his already addled brain found nothing wrong with it though.

“It’s my birthday.”

“I see.  You celebrating with anyone else?”

“Afraid not ma’am.”

“I see.”

Her voice was like that of a siren.  Enchanting and full of life.

“Let me buy you a drink, whatever you want.”

Ric smiled at the lady and nodded.

“Thanks.”

“Of course.  No one should spend their birthday by themselves.”

One drink led to another, which led to another, which led to a night that Ric hadn’t imagined he would have.  When he awoke, he was alone, only a note.

Thanks for last night.  Hope we can meet again one day, Ric.

~Sabine

Ric let out a groan, his head pounding up a storm.  He wasn’t going to be able to work today.

_________

3 years later

Dick Grayson stared at the screen in front of him in shock.  He remembered bits and pieces of his time as Ric Grayson, but he liked to pretend that those three years of his life never existed.  But as he stared at the information in front of him, he wasn’t so sure he could ignore it for much longer.  Turns out he had a daughter, and it had to be his because “Ric Grayson” was listed as the father on the copy of the birth certificate that he had been sent and the girl–his daughter– was just barely 2 years old.  

Sabine had sent him a letter, but he had never seen it before as he had moved on from being Ric by that time.  It was pure luck he even stumbled upon the letter in the first place when he was cleaning up the rundown apartment that he had stayed in.  The overwhelming feeling of need that he felt at the thought of meeting the little girl, Marinette, was so overwhelming he couldn't think of anything else.  Even breathing felt like a chore.  He imagined being a real father, teaching her to read, watching her color, listening to her stories, he could even teach her gymnastics.  It was a wonderful fantasy.  But that was it, a fantasy.  One that came crashing down with the sound of a katana slicing through a training dummy.  

He shook his head as reality came crashing in around him.  Bruce was dead, Tim was missing and probably hated him, Jason left the city, and he needed to make sure that Damian was being taken care of, he needed to be Batman and protect Gotham.  He took a single minute to mourn what could have been before he stole himself and closed the files.  She would be safer and happier without him.  From what he saw Sabine was in a relationship with another man in Paris.  He could watch after her from a distance, but it would be better if he was as far away from her as possible.  It seemed everyone he loved got hurt in some way, and he would make sure that nothing would happen to her by keeping his distance.

_________

8 years later

Dick stared at his phone.  There was a picture of a young girl at a sewing machine with the brightest smile.  She had hair as black as Sabine’s and his eyes.  She was growing up so fast and now that everything was working out he desperately wanted to meet her.  But it has already been so long, it was probably too late now.  She had Tom as her dad now.  He had another daughter now, he and Kori had finally tied the knot, and now they had little Mari’.  It wasn’t intentional, in fact it was Starfire that had named her that.  It made his heart hurt when he thought of his other daughter.  He often wondered if his girls would get along with each other if they ever met.  

He sighed as he set down his phone and looked around the cave.  He was in Gotham for the weekend just visiting his family—which was finally happy (well, as happy as they could be) together— with his wife and daughter.  Star would be down soon, she was just putting Mari’ to bed.  Star knew about Marinette and often encouraged him to reach out, and though he was thankful for her support, he was still too scared to approach her.  

He could hear the fast click clacking of the Batcomputer’s keyboard, and as Bruce was upstairs he knew that it had to be Tim.  Slowly he walked down the stairs to make sure that his brother hadn’t been down here for a consecutive 56 hours again.  He had been getting a bit better at taking care of himself, but he knew Tim and which meant that if Tim found something overly important all of Tim’s own needs would be put aside until he was sure that he had finished everything.  

“Tim, how long have you been down here?”

He asked as he carefully approached his baby brother from behind.  Tim didn’t answer, he just kept clicking and moving things around on the screen.  There was strike one, Tim may not always answer, but his shoulders would often either scrunch up or relax.  And as neither of those reactions happened he may not have heard him showing how tired he was as Tim was one of the most aware and attentive one out of all of them.

Dick got closer to the screen and looked up to see what was so important to Tim.  There files upon files of absolute chaos and destruction filling the screen.  It looked horrifying and Dick couldn’t believe that it was real as if this was anywhere on Earth or even in space they would have heard about it by now.  On the top and bottom right monitors there were files of three different people open at the moment.  On the top there was an image of a girl with strikingly familiar blue eyes, dark raven hair, and a face he was staring at only a few minutes before.

Marinette Lenoire Dupain-Cheng

Identity (Known): Multi-Mouse (First)

New Guardian?

Pupil of ex-Grand Guardian: Wang Fu

Age: 11

Ethnicity: Asian-American

Location: Paris, France

Mother: Sabine Cheng

Birth Father: Ric Grayson

Step-father: Tom Dupain

Dick gulped as he read through the data.  He hadn’t told his family about Marinette, but now they would know.  He had told Starfire before they had gotten Married, and he was so relieved when she still accepted him, still loved him despite his mistake and cowardness.  But he kept reading.  He would have to process that his daughter was a hero, a hero at the same age he was.  That his efforts to keep her out of this type of life were all in vain and that it didn’t matter now.  That he was a failure.  He started reading again.  

Wang Fu

Identity (Known): Ex-Grand Guardian

Belonged to “The Order of the Guardians”1

Age: Unknown

Ethnicity: Unknown

Mother: Unknown

Father: Unknown

Needs to be further investigated

Then there was the final one.

Ladybug

Identity: Unknown

Age: Unknown

Origin: Unknown

Father: Unknown

Mother: Unknown

Relatives: Unknown

Source of power: Earrings

Power: Creation and restoration

Danger level, high.  Need more data.

Tim studied the girl before him.  He didn’t like what he saw.  He looked at the picture of Ladybug, then the picture of his daughter, then the picture of his daughter in a mouse themed suit, then back to Ladybug.  Dick was going to be sick, he was going to pass out, he was going to have a panic attack.  He should have just been part of her life.  Maybe if he had been in it she wouldn’t have had to become a hero.  Maybe it was because he stayed out of her life that she unintentionally followed in his footsteps.  He was a terrible father, how would he tell them, how would he tell her?  What was he going to do now?  

“Dick!  Dick, you need to breathe!  Come on Dick, please breathe with me.”

There was a distant voice talking to him, but it was so hard to hear over the raging voices in his head.  What was he supposed to do now?  It was too late for him to just insert himself in her life.

“No it’s not Dick.  It’ll be okay.  I won’t tell anyone, it’s your news to share.”

That was a nice thought, but there was no way that the others wouldn’t figure it out now.

“That may be true, but they’ll respect your boundaries and wait until you feel comfortable enough to talk about it.”

The voice said.  Dick tried to breathe, he could feel his hand against something hard yet soft, and he clutched onto it.  He could feel a gentle beating against his hand and slowly he began to even out his breathing all while the voice seemed to rattle on, saying things that he couldn’t seem to process as he focussed all of his efforts into simply breathing.  How pathetic, he couldn’t even breathe right.

“You’re doing so go.  That’s right, deep breath in, then a slow long breath out.”

Dick leaned forward until his forehead was resting against Tim’s shoulder, silent tears that he hadn’t even realized were falling leaking onto the boy's shirt.  He could feel Tim’s arms slowly wrap around him as they both sat on the floor, silent except for the chittering of the bats and the light drip of water from the ceiling.  

“What am I supposed to do?  It’s too late to meet her, and now she’s in danger, she’s like us.  I stayed away to keep her away from this life and it was all useless.  It didn’t matter, I could have been in her life all this time but I didn’t and now-”

Dick let out a shuddering sob, unable to finish the sentence.  Tim was frozen; he didn't know what to do.  He could count on one hand how many times he had actually seen Dick cry.  It was always so strange and foreign and he never really knew what to do.  So he held Dick even tighter, rubbing his older brother’s back as he cried.  He could feel someone’s gaze on them from above and slowly looked up to see Jason and Bruce, eyes wide in shock at the scene.  Bruce snapped out of it first, racing down the stairs until he was at Dick’s side only a few moments later.

“Report.”

He barked panickedly, unsure of exactly what to do to help his oldest son.

“Dick found something out and he’s in distress.  I’m not allowed to say what about as it’s his business to tell.”

Tim replied automatically, but he never let go of his brother though he glanced over to the Batcomputer.

Bruce looked over the data on the screen and nearly short circuited when he stumbled across the name of the father for Marinette/Multi-Mouse before he glanced down at his son.  He understood the distress of his son when he had just discovered that he in fact had a child.  Not knowing about Damian until he was ten because Talia had hidden his existence from him had been heartbreaking.  He could only imagine what it felt like for Dick who loved those he was close with and trusted with all of his being.

Slowly Bruce bent down glancing at Tim who slowly nodded and backed away a little, but Dick only held on tighter with a slight whimper.  Tim looked like he was in pain himself.

“It’s okay Dick, Bruce wants to give you a hug too.”

But Dick didn’t let go of his little brother.  The little brother he nearly lost to Ra’s, to The Widower, to Lady Shiva, to the Joker, to so many people.  He clung onto the boy even tighter, he didn’t want to lose anyone else.

“Okay, okay, I’ll stay here with you.”

Tim whispered softly, pulling Dick closer.

“You’re going to have to pick both of us up B, he’s not letting go, and I think bad things will happen if I try to move away again.”

Bruce grunted in his ‘I understand and I’m really worried’ way and carefully picked up both of his sons, moving them towards the upstairs family den.  Jason had already left to get Alfred, worried about his big brother, but unwilling to admit it.

“We’ll figure everything out, you’ll get to meet her.  I think that she’d love to meet you.  You could just take Star with you, we could watch Mari’ for you.  I’m sure everything will work out, don’t give up.  It’s never too late Dick.”

Dick didn’t know how much he believed those words, but Tim was right.  He needed to go visit her, he needed to make things right.  But until then, he would hold onto the family he had now, because they loved him and he loved them.  He loved the daughter that probably didn’t even know existed, and he protected the people he loved.  So he would need to protect her, and in order to do that, he would need to finally meet her.  He would never give her up, he would never let her down, and never again would he desert her.

Taglist:

@aespades @adrestar @astrynyx @doll246 @queenz-z @toodaloo-kangaroo @crazylittlemunchkin @seraphichana @miraculous-ninja @dorkus-minimus @mysticsoulgirl @ritacrow-blog @snow-leopard-777 @fidget-eep @sometandomstuff333 @lady-phoenix-of-tardis @shreeing @achaoticmess1 @miraculous-ninjabird @liquid-luck-00 @buginetye @stainedglassm @prettylittlebutterflie @laurcad123 @iloontjeboontje @heartsong18 @raeuberprinzessin @when-no-wings-do-broomsticks @jennifer-rose123 @moon5608 @corporeal-terrestrial @skitarii-alpha-c6-555 @saltysugarysembei @phantom120 @kking13 @depressed-bitchy-demon @a-slytherinish-gryffindor

#You #just #got #Ric Rolled #maribat #mlb x batman #marinette dupain cheng #dick grayson #sabine cheng #tim drake #bruce wayne #ric grayson #amnesia #sabine c dick grayson #starfire x nightwing #bio!daddickgrayson #marinette grayson #hurt/comfort #angst #dick grayson needs a hug #dick grayson gets a hug

[rachey899]

Be the Hero

Another little one shot featuring my OC's Luke and Matt, a size shifting story, approximately 2k words.

“Everybody get down on the ground! Hands where I can see em!”

The room erupted into chaos, children crying and others sobbing as they knelt down and put their hands on the floor in front of them.

Stevo really didn’t see another way out of this, he had a wife and kids to provide for, no one was hiring a convicted felon, this was his only option now, a life of crime.

He waved a massive machine gun around, firing a few shots in the air for good measure, he was wearing a ridiculous elephant mask so that he couldn’t be identified but aimed at the cameras anyway, better safe than sorry.

Luke and Matt watched fearfully from under a desk, they had been there only because they had noticed fraudulent activity on their bank account and wanted to freeze the cards attached to it.

Luke wished they had just come into the bank another day, situations like this involving high levels of stress were likely to trigger an episode. Of course, he couldn’t have known today was the day this bank would be robbed.

They watched quietly as the man stormed towards the front counters, the poor elderly woman behind the counter shuddered and closed her eyes in fear as he approached her.

“Empty em!” He shouted, before thrusting a canvas bag at her, she shrieked in response.

“The tills, empty em all! Now!” Stevo’s voice wavered, adrenaline pumping through his veins, this had to be quick, he couldn’t be busted, not again.

With shaky hands the silver haired woman pushed stacks of notes into the bag, before using a key to open the till beside her, her hands shaking as she did so before repeating the process.

“Quickly old lady!” He turned to make sure everyone else was still on the ground and shot another round of random shots around the room eliciting more screams and further sobs.

“Luke this is your chance, if you’re gonna be a hero, you need to be the hero.” Matt whispered to his friend urgently.

Luke on the other hand was shaking, he didn’t feel like a hero, there was nothing he could do without revealing his secret in front of everyone here and possibly putting them all in danger in the process.

“There’s too many people, I can’t.” He felt guilt rise in him as he watched the terrified woman complete the task the robber had set for her while tears streamed down her cheeks.

The sound of sirens made everyone jump, either in alarm, relief or in fear, after all, this man had a gun, he could quiet easily hold them hostage or aim to kill at any moment.

“Fuck!” Stevo shouted, sweat dripped down his nose and he had to think fast.

“No, no, no not the cops, I can’t go back there, I won’t go back.” He muttered to himself.

He whirled around to see the flashing red and blue lights through the screens of the building, they wouldn’t enter while he held hostages but there was no other exit for him either. Whispering a silent prayer and an apology to his wife and children he opened up his large black trench coat.

Luke watched with wild eyes as the man pulled a large device out of his coat, flipping open a switch the man armed the device placing it directly in the center of the bank floor, a red light blinking on top of it.

“If I’m not gettin out of here! Then nobody is!” He screamed manically; it was a bomb. He planned on blowing up the bank, killing everyone inside including himself.

Stevo pulled another device out of his jacket, a smaller black box with a red button, the trigger.

Luke felt his body straining to be released, it was now or never, he felt his body expand and watched the world around him shrink, he reached both hands for the bomb as he grew at a rapid rate. Each of his hands quickly grew to roughly the size of a large car and with as much strength as he could muster, he pressed into the bomb, pushing it down through the floor with his hands.

Luke squeezed his eyes shut, hoping he’d been able to push it far enough into the floor of the bank, using his hands to shield the explosion, and then he felt it. Everyone felt it as it shook the foundation like an earthquake and burned his hands in the process.

He opened his eyes to see that everyone in the bank was okay, the room was filled with smoke from the explosion, but no one was hurt from what he could see, he’d stopped the bomb in time.

“W-what! H-how!?” Luke turned his gaze on the robber, seeing the gargantuan man set his intense glare on him, he bolted but didn’t get very far before large fingers wrapped around him, pinning his arms to his sides and squeezing him tightly for good measure.

“W-what the fuck is this!” Stevo wheezed breathlessly, of all the scenarios he had played in his head of how this robbery would go, this was the furthest thing from his mind, it was just simply impossible.

“Luke!” Matt shouted from somewhere behind him, Luke turned to find his friend pinned up against the wall by his overgrown sneaker and cringed, he hadn’t had time to warn his friend of his intentions let alone shove him out of the way, it had all happened so quickly.

“Shit Matt are you okay?” Luke’s voice rumbled through the room, immediately moving his foot a fraction so that his friend could wriggle out. Matt waved Luke’s concern off, instead sauntering across the room and standing below his face bravely, addressing the criminal currently trapped in his fist.

“This my friend, this is justice.” Matt spat at him, and then began a round of applause, the occupants of the bank slowly began to stand up and cheer and clap, Luke felt his cheeks flush from all the attention.

Then the doors burst open, and a handful of Police officers barged in dressed in full bomb squad gear, guns raised.

“Holy Shit!” One of the policemen said staggering to a halt once they’d surveyed the room for threats and then settled on the largest thing in the room, Luke.

Luke certainly was a sight to behold, he was crouched on his knees, his back pressed against the high ceiling, his legs touching the far wall behind him, he quite literally took up almost all the space in the bank and his face was looming over everyone.

“He’s a friend!” Matt shouted, approaching the Police fearlessly, his hands held up in the air to convey that he held no weapon, and he came in peace.

“Luke stopped the bomb and apprehended the robber, see in his hand, that’s the bad guy.”

Officer Hicks eyed the giants’ fist, to confirm the young mans claims, it did indeed add up, regardless of how utterly impossible the whole situation was.

He signaled to his team to stand down before approaching the giant himself.

“Young man, please put the criminal down.” Officer Hicks cleared his throat as nerves threatened to overcome him, standing literally in the shadow of a giant, putting himself in arms reach and potentially in danger if the giant acted unpredictably.

“Of course.” Luke kept his voice as quiet as possible, he didn’t want to cause any trouble, he had only wanted to help, he lowered the robber down directly in front of the Officer who had spoken to him, the gun falling to the ground which was quickly picked up by another officer to be taken away.

Stevo had little fight left in him, still stunned beyond words that a giant had appeared out of nowhere and ruined his plans, he held his hands out to Officer Hicks who immediately cuffed him, sending him toward the door with the other officers.

Officer Hicks turned then to face the giant once more, he had a great many questions but before any words could leave his mouth, he stared slack jawed as the once giant man quickly dwindled in height until he stood the size of a regular man. A large crater lay in the middle of the floor, the only evidence that the giant had ever been there.

Luke held his hands up just as Matt had done, trying to look as non-threatening as possible which was much easier to achieve at his regular height.

“What are you?” The officer blurted, his words filled with disbelief and quite possibly a small amount of fear, this was after all a man who could turn into a destructive giant seemingly at will.

“I’m a size shifter, Sir.” Luke looked at his feet nervously before searching the room for his friend, he needed his supportive and outgoing best friend now more than ever.

Matt wasn’t far away; he’d briefly left Luke’s side to help usher out the other civilians and staff.

Matt stood beside his friend, facing the officer also, he wouldn’t let his mate go through this alone, no matter what was about to happen.

“It’s a gift he was born with Sir, we’re not sure why or how, but he’s never used his powers to endanger or harm others, he’s only ever used them to help people.” Matt’s words made Luke’s heart flutter, he was so grateful for him, he always knew what to say, he always had his back.

The Officer seemed conflicted, he held the bridge of his nose as though the decision were giving him a headache and perhaps it was. He met Luke’s grey blue eyes intently before speaking again.

“Do you swear to never endanger a human life? You swear to keep this ‘gift’ hidden? This is not something that the public will take lightly boy, and if the government catches wind of it, you’ll end up a guinea pig, understand? Do you swear?”

“I swear.” Luke stated firmly.

That was enough for Officer Hicks, he clapped the boy on the shoulder encouragingly, perhaps it was because the kid reminded him so much of his own son. He didn’t want to stop the boy from leading a normal life if he wasn’t hurting anyone.

“I’ll talk to my team; your secret is safe with us.” Luke very nearly hugged the burly man, but held himself back, smiling appreciatively instead.

“Sir?” Matt questioned.

“What about the witnesses, the other people who were in the bank?” Matt asked before they could exit the building.

“They are all being taken in for questioning as we speak, their statements will not mention either of you, their phones will also be searched, you have nothing to worry about.”

As they walked down the steps of the large bank, leaving a small crater and some minor structural damage behind them, they both breathed a sigh of relief before walking quickly in the opposite direction of all the commotion.

News crews were beginning the show up and they did not want to be there when the cameras started rolling.

“Shifty strikes again!” Matt hollered pumping his fists in the air and dancing circles around Luke as they walked through central park.

“Shut up or I’ll crush you with my shoe again!” Luke threatened good naturedly, in all honesty he had been worried that he had seriously hurt him, however Matt seemed fine, like nothing had happened at all, well, except for the dirty shoe print that covered his clothing.

“How are your hands by the way dude? I can’t believe you smothered a bomb in your hands, like who does that and lives to talk about it!?”

Luke held up his hands for inspection, he hadn’t noticed at the time but as he shrunk back down to his normal size the burns had vanished, there was nothing there, not even a scar.

“Whoa! Wicked! Super size shifting and super healing! Being your friend just keeps getting better and better.”

Matt smiled stupidly at his tall friend and wrapped an arm around his shoulder, he couldn’t wait for their next heroic act together.

#gt #giant #gianttiny #giant/tiny #g/t #tiny #size shifter #size shifting #LukeandMatt

[nurse-buckley]

Whumptober Day 4

Title:

Prompt: Shock

Word Count: 1,150

Characters: Evan Buckley, Eddie Diaz and Lena Bosko

Pairing: Eddie Diaz x Evan Buckley

Warnings: mentions of shock.

Summary: Part 2 of this story written for day 3 I felt it fitted in nicely. Written for day four of @whumptober for the prompt shock.

Tags: @firemedicdiaz @winterreader-nowwriter @iamasimpingh0e @dayrin085 @hauntedmilkshakeghost @floralbuckleys @alexxavicry @cm1031sr​ 

Authors notes: what's this? Four days in a row? Beth you've outdone yourself. I am genuinely surprised I have done this considering One Drive wiped my entire documents file and I was in a writing rut for months. Thank you as always to my amazing beta and the one who gets to listen to all my rants and crazy ideas @firemedicdiaz <3 I love you to the moon and back!

Huddled together with the night still drawing closer, Eddie wrapped his arms tightly around Buck as he pressed their bodies in closer for warmth. The forest was quiet, the stillness broken only by the last of the bird song and rustling of leaves in the wind. 

Eddie glanced up the steep hill, knowing there was no way he’d be able to climb up there himself, let alone with Buck injured as well. He felt helpless but knew he had to do something with Buck growing weaker and more tired by the minute. 

He gently brushed the curls away from Buck’s forehead as he spoke.  “Stay with me Buck. You gotta stay awake, alright? Someone will find us.” 

His hand slid down to Buck’s neck as he felt for his pulse. He noted how cold Buck’s skin felt beneath his touch and how clammy he was.  Coupled with his shallow breaths, he knew Buck needed help soon. 

Eddie leaned over to grab his pack and rummaged through for anything else he could find. He rifled through his first aid kit, thankful to find the small silver packet he’d hoped was in there. He shook out the emergency blanket and draped it over Buck’s shoulders. 

He hushed Buck gently as he let out a groan at the movement, “I know sweetheart, but I’ve got to keep you warm.” 

If that caused him pain, Eddie knew he wasn’t going to like what was to come. “Buck, I’m just going to move you and lay you down. We need to elevate your legs, it’ll help.” 

Being as gentle as he could, Eddie helped Buck swivel around and eased him back so he was lying flat. He grabbed his pack and gently elevated his leg in the hopes it would help with the shock, being careful not to jostle his injury. 

Desperate, Eddie tried his phone once more. He reached for the smashed device, his fingers trembling as he tapped on the screen and pressed buttons, but the phone remained lifeless. 

His frustration grew as he realized the magnitude of the situation. They were alone and both injured with no link to the outside world. Frustrated, he yelled out into the darkness of the forest with the hopes that someone might just hear him. 

“Help! Anyone. Please!” his frustrated yells turned into cries as he got no response. He slumped next to Buck and huddled in close, knowing he could do nothing more. 

As he lay there it became clear that the fall had taken a heavier toll on him than he realized. His head was in agony and as the adrenaline wore off he began to feel the aches all over his body. His eyes grew heavy as he fought with everything in him to stay awake and await rescue. His last thoughts before he succumbed to the darkness were the hopes that someone would realize they were missing before it was too late. 

Eddie’s world was a blur of pain and confusion when he came to next. He could feel something hard and rigid beneath him. When did he fall asleep? He could hear the distant sounds of sirens that filtered through the haze before his thoughts became clearer. 

The hike… The fall… Buck… 

He reached out to the side for Buck, but all he felt was empty ground beneath his fingers. Desperate, he tried to sit up but was held down by a firm hand on his shoulder. 

“Diaz!” 

He’d recognise that voice anywhere, “Lena?” he choked out in disbelief. They’d been found. 

He fought to turn his head at the sound of her voice but was held still as he realized there was a hard collar around his neck and blocks keeping him from moving.  

Lena came into view as she leaned over him, “Eddie, it’s okay. You’re going to be alright, but I need you to stay still for me until we can get you out.” 

“Buck? Where is he? I need to find him, he’s hurt,” he continued to struggle against the medics holding him still. 

Lena softened, her eyes filled with empathy as she met Eddie’s frantic gaze, “Eddie, you’re in shock. I need you to try and stay calm for me or we’re going to have to sedate you to keep you safe.” 

Eddie settled a little, exhaustion and the thought of being sedated both helping to calm him. 

With her patient more settled she continued, “we found you both and my guys are taking care of Buck now. He’s okay, but I need you to stay still and let us worry about you right now.” 

Tears welled in his eyes at the thought of Buck being all alone and in pain. His only instinct was to rush to his side and be there for him and being strapped to the spinal board only made him feel even more helpless. 

As if she could read his mind, Lena placed a hand on his cheek, her touch helping to ground him. “I promise you Eddie, my team has got him. He’s in good hands and we’re doing everything we can,” she reassured. 

Eddie took a deep breath and relaxed a little at the news Buck was okay. He let the paramedics continue their work to stabilize him knowing Lena was right; he couldn’t do anything for Buck and he needed to stay calm for both their sakes. The team worked efficiently to get him out of the forest and to the top of the steep hill. 

As he neared a clearing in the forest his heart was in his throat as he caught sight of Buck being loaded into another ambulance. A mixture of relief and anxiety washed over him and he wanted nothing more but to leap to his side. 

Lena could read him easily and nodded at her team to let Eddie see Buck before they loaded them both up to take them to the hospital. Buck was still unconscious, an oxygen mask covering his nose and mouth, but with the blankets around him and fluids running into his IV Eddie could already see the color returning to his skin. He reached out a hand and touched Buck’s, his skin was warm. 

They were both alive. They made it. 

Eddie let out a choked sob as he gave a gentle squeeze to Buck’s hand, “you’re okay. We’re both okay.” 

Lena placed a comforting hand on Eddie’s shoulder, “you’ll see him at the hospital. He’s going to be alright.” 

It killed Eddie inside but he reluctantly let go of Buck’s hand and let the paramedics continue loading him into the ambulance. “Lena, can you go with him?” 

Lena smiled and nodded in understanding. He watched as she climbed on behind and took a seat next to Buck. While he couldn’t be there, he knew Buck wasn’t alone and he’d soon be at the hospital by his side.

#whumptober2023 #no.4 #shock #911 #9-1-1 #fanfic #fic #evan buckley #eddie diaz #lena bosko #evan buckley x eddie diaz #buddie #911 fanfic #911 fanfiction #9-1-1 fanfic #9-1-1 fanfiction #mine #my writing

[circlemidnight]

just thinking about S1 Jughead working at the Twilight Drive-In and passionately lamenting the end of an era and the last picture shown is Rebel Without a Cause (1955) and now he’s stuck in 1955 and Veronica is a silver screen siren and they’re kissing in the firelight.

#jeronica #jughead x veronica #hmmm