#this is killing me what the fuck how did this happen

[sparring-spirals]

Still emotional about Fy'ra Rai and Opal, actually. Thought dump time bc i. dont have the energy to cut this down effectively.

Because at that point in the episode, Opal is doomed. Not in the fun little "oh things are getting worse ;)" kind of way we'd been experiencing leading up to the fight, or even IN the fight. At that point in the fight, Cyrus is dead. Dorian and Dariax have their minds twisted, bodies clambering away from the fight. Morrighan has felt, firsthand, just how far gone Opal is, holes in her mind, her friend broken. The heartbreaking sentence of. "You can always come back." understands that she is gone already. She's lost already. Opal has forgotten Ted. Opal has forgotten herself.

So at that point in the fight, we know Opal is doomed. Us as the audience, the cast, the characters. Aabria is running through each of the other crownkeepers and it is more of a goodbye than a round of combat. Defying the Spider Queen invites death, with zero hesitation- Cyrus's body as physical evidence of that. The terms were very clearly set: You leave Opal, you let her be lost. Or you die. (Leaving Opal anyway).

and Fy'ra Rai then. Grasps the crown, understands intimately that she can break it off and it will kill Opal. (I will free you, if you want me to. We would lose you but you would not be taken). And asks, what do you want me to do. What do you want.

and Opal says, I want you to leave. (I want you to live.) and Fy'ra Rai functionally says. No. Sorry. That's not one of the options.

If you wanted to go. I will do that (your blood on my hands). If you want me to stay, I will. But I'm not going to leave you.

There was the point where Fy'ra Rai broke into the communication and I felt my insides sink because. Look. Lets be real, Aabria had already demonstrated the stakes here. The gesture would not be rewarded for the gesture alone. The Spider Queen's terms were: You leave Opal. Or you die.

And Fy'ra Rai said: no.

I don't think I'm overstepping to assume that if Fy'ra Rai had failed the intimidation check, she would have died. This entire thing hits me so hard because I think Anjali knew that too. I think Fy'ra Rai knew that too. Yes, Fy'ra Rai convinced a Betrayer God to negotiate. She carved a third option out of a non-negotiable situation. She knew what would happen if she failed and did it anyway, with no fear, no regret, no waver in her resolve. She had lost enough sisters. She wasn't going to lose anymore, no matter the personal cost. That's part of why it succeeded, I'm sure, but.

Just. Fuck me. The amount of resolve. The amount of love. The amount of conviction. "I am. A protector." You know your friend- your sister- is doomed. So no more negotiating away from that. You step to her side and you grasp her hand and say- doom me with her.

And in some, sideways way, this saves you both, at least for a little while.

Because this story is a tragedy. This ending is a sad one. We know this already. But think about- Opal, under Lolth's bidding, alone in the dark. Think about Fy'ra Rai, alive, intimately aware that she had failed to protect yet another sister.

And think about what we got, instead: the two of them, in deep darkness, danger encroaching- holding hands. Someone they love at their side. A champion. And her champion.

This is still a sad story. But it's not the same one. Fy'ra Rai stared down a Betrayer God and made her change her mind. She stared down a Betrayer God, and her love and conviction changed the nature of the story. It shouldn't have been able to. But she did.

Fy'ra Rai chose to doom 2 people instead of one, and the sheer strength of her love and will managed to save them both, at least for a little while. Isn't it funny how that works? Isn't it devastating? Isn't it. fucking incredible?

#critical role #cr spoilers #c3e93 #opal #EVERYONE CLAP FOR AABRIA AND ANJALI AND AIMEE BC I GO MORE FERAL THE LONGER I THINK ABOUT IT #character meta #fy'ra rai #fy'ra rai meta #opal meta #spar speaks #i had to get this out bc i cant Stop Thinking About it.... god..... she really Did That... #its not just about refusing to leave its understanding the consequence and facing it so unflinchingly that the narrative flinches first #UAHHHGGHH. #anjali bhimani do you know how much i respect you for this move. aabria iyengar do you know how much i respect you for setting up the stake #so clearly that this success(?) Hit the way it did. Aimee carrero do you know how much i respect you for how truly and devastatingly #you played opal while keeping the core of her character so poignant. #what the fucmkc. anyway im fine . #anyway this is why a lot of my devastated wailing is going to be reserved for dariax. and dorian. and cyrus. #my meta #FORGOT. I HAD THAT TAG. gotta go back and retag

[x0xomady]

the after party

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summary: 1 month after the breakup you go to a frat party with your best friend. of course it’s harry’s frat.

warnings: smut, p in v, dirty talk, kinda public sex (car), degradation, MANIPULATION! cursing, TOXIC love bombing, alcohol. 18+

song inspo: ✧˖°.

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“please don’t make me go” i groan. my best friend, y/bsf/n, is running around my room trying to find a cute dress and heels for me to wear.

“shut the hell up y/n you’re going” she rolls her eyes and continues shuffling through my closet. i sigh in defeat and lay down on my bed. maybe if i play dead…

“oh my gosh this is perfect! harry is going to lose his shit when he sees this!” she squeals and pulls out my navy blue, satin, mini dress. i had bought it for harry and i’s 2 year anniversary, but obviously we didn’t make it there.

“no. i’m not wearing that.” i roll my eyes and shake my head at my best friend. “plus im not trying to make harry jealous or upset. this isn’t about him.”

“ugh! come on y/n! you have got to move on! it’s already been a month. besides, i know you want to get laid… this could be your opportunity!” she smiles and tosses me the dress while walking back to the closet to find me some heels.

i sigh and look down at the dress on my lap. it is really pretty i have to admit it. the dress has little sequin details and is strapless.

“cmon y/n you know this is important to me! we can’t miss a party like this. especially this one.” she smiles and tosses me matching navy blue heels.

y/bsf/n is right… this is THE party. every year harry’s frat throws a big blow out party right after we get out for spring break. everyone goes and tries to get in… but usually only people that know the frat get in.

“i’m just worried. what if it’s awkward when i see him? the last time i saw harry was 3 weeks ago and we didn’t even make eye contact.”

“babe don’t worry! you guys didn’t end on bad terms there’s no reason for it to be awkward. just be yourself and talk to people.” she gives me an encouraging smile and walks to the bathroom to do her makeup so i can get dressed.

one night out couldn’t hurt…. could it?

✧˖°.

we arrived at the party at 10:30. it was the perfect time to go to a frat party. everyone was already there and drunk. seeing as this is the biggest frat on campus and the most anticipated day of the year for most guys, it was packed to the brim.

as soon as the door opens we are met with hundreds of people crammed in the large house. there’s music playing loudly and music booming throughout the room. i despise frat guys. it all seems like one big cult to me. so why did i date one for two years? good question. i have no fucking idea.

we walk through the familiar large house together. there’s bottles, bags, and trash scattered across the floor. people are dancing, making out, and drinking.

ugh kill me now.

it’s so dirty. i carefully step over broken bottles in my stiletto heels. usually for frat parties i would just wear a jean miniskirt and a cute top, but tonight was different. it was like prom for college students.

y/bsf/n has already run off to find her current boyfriend, zayn. he’s one of harry’s good friends.

ugh. harry.

the nagging in my stomach and anxiety in my mind was slowly creeping up on me. harry and i hadn’t ended on the most amazing terms but we hadn’t ended badly either.

it’s a weird situation.

harry and i have a bit of a toxic cycle we like to go through. every couple of months harry gets distracted or bored so he dumps me. then about a month later he comes crawling back begging for me to take him back because he ‘loves me’. it’s not all his fault, no matter how many times this has happened, i go back to him each time.

my eyes are eagerly scanning the room. maybe it’s in hopes of seeing the curly headed boy. maybe it’s dread of seeing him. either way i just wanted to get this long night over with so i could lay in bed depressed about the break up.

usually when i come to frat parties i would make a b-line to the couches where all the frat members and their significant others sit and drink. wouldn’t it be weird if i did that now though?

however, it’s only been 10 minutes and my feet hurt like a bitch. i need those couches.

i make my way past the dance area and bar towards the living room.

there, i see y/bsf/n and zayn talking and drinking, as well as our other friends talking, but no harry.

my eyes scan the large room quickly but i see no sign of him.

“hi petal”

my heart stops. harry.

i would recognize his deep voice anywhere. my breathing catches in my throat as i turn around to see him.

there he is… harry. after 3 weeks of no contact and trying to get over him, it all hit me like a bus again.

“hey”

“you look-” harry stops and looks down at my dress. “really fucking perfect”

blush instantly paints my cheeks as he compliments me.

fuck fuck fuck! no don’t fall for his bullshi-

“seriously… this dress- fuck.” harry smirks and carefully lets his hands rest on my hips.

“harry…”

“hm?”

“don’t.” i push his hands off my sides and take a step back from the oh so tempting man in front of me.

“don’t what?” he smiles at me innocently and steps towards me again.

no y/n. NO.

i’ve worked so hard over the last 3 weeks to forget him and move on… if i gave in all of that would go to shit and i’d be right back where i started… desperately in love with harry.

“i’ve missed you so much” harry leans down and whispers in my ear, his cheek brushing mine.

“well that’s too bad” i roll my eyes and avoid eye contact with him.

“cmon petal look at me.” harry grabs my chin gently and moves my head to look at him. reluctantly i sigh and look at harry. his piercing green eyes meet mine and it all comes back to me.

“what do you want harry?” i ask while looking into his eyes.

“you.” harry smiles and nudges my nose with his. his ring adorning fingers make their way from my chin across my face. harry holds my jaw and cheek gently.

“well that’s too bad. you had me and you fucked that up.”

“i know i did… im so sorry y/n.” harry looks into my eyes innocently and caresses my face carefully.

suddenly the room feels 10x hotter and my dress feels so constricting. i needed to get away from harry.

i step away from harry and walk out towards the large main room. people are everywhere, so it’s not hard to escape from him.

“y/n wait-”

i ignore harry and continue walking. my body carefully brushes past people as i maneuver my way through the dancing and drinking. my eyes spot the large front doors and i sigh in relief.

without hesitation i push myself through the front door and walk out onto the large lawn. the cold air instantly hits my body and i feel a huge relief run over me.

there’s still a line of people trying to get into the dumb frat party. i pass them and head down the street. the street is almost empty… it has to be at least 12:00 right now so it’s not surprising the streets are clear.

my feet mindlessly make their way down the sidewalk towards the familiar park. seeing the big empty park ahead of me brings a smile to my face.

i walk into the park and make my way over towards one of the benches. it’s as beautiful as i remember it. the large trees cover the sky making it look dark and eerie. the only light being the small lampposts that line the path.

my body finally relaxes when i sink back against the chair and let out a breath i didn’t even realize i was holding in.

however, that peace is ruined when i hear the familiar roar of a certain someone’s car.

“y/n! what the hell?!” the car shuts off and i hear the crunching of footsteps make their way towards me.

i don’t look up at him and instead continue looking down at the ground. harry steps in front of me and squats down so he’s in my eye line.

“why’d you run away petal?” he asks while looking at me from where he’s squatting.

“it was hot in there.” i roll my eyes and lean back against the bench. “did you follow me? that’s creepy”

“i didn’t follow you.” harry shakes his head with a smirk. “i just knew you would be here. you would come to this damn park after every argument we had.”

fuck. he looks so beautiful like this.

the moonlight was peaking through the tops of the trees carefully painting his face. harry stands up from where he was sitting and plops onto the bench next to me.

“why did you come after me? you should’ve stayed at your party.”

“because i love you.”

there it is.

i don’t respond at first. my eyes continuing to make their way throughout the park, in a desperate search for escaping this.

i wanted nothing more than to scream and yell at harry. i wanted to hurt him because he hurt me, but the fact was i couldn’t. i could never yell at harry… i love him just as much as he loves me, probably even more.

“don’t say that.” i glare at harry and then look away quickly.

“why not? you love me too. we both know it’s true.”

yeah. he’s right. it fucking pains me to say… but harry is right.

i loved harry more than anything and anyone on the planet. him simply existing made me more madly in love with him every single day.

“cmon petal… come back to me. you know i love you.” harry whispers into my ear and kisses my cheek.

goosebumps fill my skin as his soft lips trace my cheek. harry’s warm breath danced across my skin making my heart flutter.

“harry stop it. you can’t do this.” i put my hand on his cheek and push him away from my face gently. “you always do this! you break up with me and then come back trying to hook up a few weeks later."

harry pushes out his bottom lip playfully and puts his hand on my waist.

“please baby? i miss you so much. i was so stupid i'm sorry.” he whispers and wraps his arm around my waist. the internal conflict starts swirling through my brain.

on one hand i know that harry just wants to fuck and then date for a few months before dumping me. however, on the other hand, i want nothing more than to jump on him and forget we ever had a fight in the first place.

harry can sense my temptation because he grabs my hips and pulls me towards him so i’m sitting comfortably on his lap.

“see? we can have our own little after party.” harry smirks kisses me right below the jaw.

i know i should shove him away and run, but i REALLY don’t want to.

harry puts one hand on hip and the other holds my jaw tightly. the cool of his rings against my flushed skin makes shivers run down my spine. he pulls me against him more so our lips aren’t more than few centimeters apart.

fuck it

i grab harry’s face and pull him to me. the second our lips touch my entire body erupts and i feel the love i have for harry rush back to me. i feel harry’s cocky smirk against my lips last only for a second before he’s pushing his tongue into my mouth.

the kiss is intense, three weeks of pent up anger and frustration sits in my stomach as i run my hands through his curls.

harry holds my jaw tightly while kissing me thoroughly. i tug lightly on harry’s curls resulting in him releasing a whimper.

i move my hips forwards so i’m sitting right over harry’s prominent bulge. harry lets out a breathy moan and kisses my neck.

“h-harry” i sigh and wrap my arms around his neck.

“hm?” he doesn’t bother pulling away from my neck, instead biting my shoulder softly. i moan and press my core against harry in a desperate search for release. harry smirks and kisses my collarbone. “so fucking needy petal. thought you hated me?”

i roll my eye my eyes and lean into harry’s kisses. as much as i hate to admit it, it feels so fucking good to have him kiss me like this.

“just shut up and take me to your car curly."

“as you wish.” harry grins and scoops me up. my legs are wrapped around his hips for stability.

harry quickly walks down the path and towards his truck. we get situated in the backseat of his car quickly. im laying on my back on the seat as harry slams the door and crawls over my body.

in no time harry’s pants are off and my dress is hiked up to my waist with the top of it pulled down to expose my tits.

harry grabs my thighs pushing them open and looks down with a strained facial expression. he moves his head down towards the spot between my legs but i stop him.

“don’t harry. just fuck me already i need it.” i whine and wrap my legs around his hips.

harry chuckles and pulls my panties down my legs. “see? so fucking needy. such a pretty little slut hm? i missed you.” he kisses my neck hiking my hips up to rest on his thighs.

i moan softly as harry presses the head of his cock against my folds. harry, being harry, has to tease me before he can do anything. “so fucking wet. s’ pathetic baby. i haven’t even touched you properly yet and your little panties are soaked to the core."

harry runs his tip from the bottom of my slit to my throbbing clit. i whine and buck my hips up to get some sort of relief from harry. he grabs my hips and holds them down.

“shh need to make sure your little pussy can take me baby. i haven’t filled you up in so long. might not be able to fit it all.” harry smirks and nudges the tip of his cock in my sopping hole.

“stop it h! just hurry up and fuck me!” i whine and try pressing my hips up but harry’s strong hands are holding them down against the leather seats of his car. harry continues teasing me by slowly inching his cock in.

“yeah? okay baby i’ll stop teasing you.” harry punctuates the end of his sentence by bucking his hips up into me pushing his cock to the hilt. i groan and grab harry’s hair tightly as he fucks up into me.

harry is quickly in a rhythm of fucking me hard. the sounds of his hips hitting mine and breathy moans from the both of us are the only thing heard in the tiny confines of the car.

“harry need more please.” i groan and wrap my arms around harry's neck as he fucks me harder.

“do you have any idea how much i missed you? your little pussy does fucking wonders on me i swear- ” he lets out a muffled groan while he pushes his face into the crook of my neck.

i try to ignore it… but i can’t. the flutter in my heart grows as i look at harry who’s busy keeping the pace of his hips steady. he has no idea how much i love him.

“how are you this damn tight? it’s like i’m fucking you for the first time all over again. gonna have to loosen up this sweet thing all over again.” harry moans while increasing the speed of his hips. his pelvic bone hits my clit perfectly and i buck my hips up in desperate search for stimulation.

“yeah? my baby needs me to play with her little button, hm?” harry smirks and snakes his hand from my jaw to rub tight circles on my clit.

the stimulation from harry’s thick cock fucking me deeply and his rough fingers playing with my sensitive spot, i feel my orgasm approach quickly.

“harry!” i gasp as he deepens his thrusts pushing all the way to the hilt.

“cmon petal cum for me. i can feel you clenching. milk my cock.” he squeezes my hips and continues thrusting into my warmth relentlessly.

i’m too fucked out to even respond. i just sit there and let harry continue the sweet assault on my pussy.

“oh that’s it cum for me baby.” harry groans as i cum around his cock. he looks down at our adjoined body and watches the milky ring of my cum sit at the base of his cock.

harry thrusts a few more times before pulling out and releasing his cum across my chest.

we both lay there and harry grabs his shirt wiping up the mess between my thighs and on my carefully. i sigh and sit up slowly pulling my dress up to cover my top again. the guilt of what i just did slowly starts creeping up on me.

“harry-"

“don’t baby just let me love you okay? i’m sorry for everything. i love you.” harry kisses my cheek and fixes his pants.

i pause for a moment thinking about everything that just happened but reluctantly i nod. “okay… i love you too."

the cycle always repeats itself and i let it

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we love some toxic harry

-xoxo ⋆⭒˚.⋆

#harry styles smut #harry styles #one direction #x0xomady #harry edward styles #dom harry styles #fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry smut #hsmut #smut #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles imagine

[lesservillain]

My Beloved Monster and Me.

eddie munson x cryptid!reader

cw: smut, blood, wounds, death, inhuman!reader

a/n: just a little something i’ve been wanting to write for a while. figured why not make it my come back post.

Eddie felt the life draining from his body. Sure, it hurt. But it was merely an afterthought with the way you were making him feel as you rode him with reckless abandon.

He knew better than to venture out in the woods alone with all the mysterious deaths that happened in Hawkins over the last few years. Wayne always told him there was otherworldly things lurking around this town.

Eddie wasn’t afraid, though. Nothing anybody could say to him would keep him out. He knew nothing would come after him in the woods. And if they did, they wouldn’t last long enough to know what hit them.

“Uuuugh, fuck,” Eddie moans, voice horse from the way your teeth grip his throat. He could feel himself slowly slipping away, his climax reaching its impending peak at the same pace.

The thrill of dying in such a way is what kept Eddie coming back here. Back to where he knew you would be, in this clearing.

He didn’t know exactly what you were, mostly because you didn’t speak to him. The most he got out of you was a few chirps and expressive gestures. But if he had to guess, he’d say you were some kind of vampire.

He knew you’d killed others before him. Stumbling upon a fresh kill of yours by pure accident being the reason you’d even cross paths. And even after this whole…situation, became a reoccurring event.

But, one thing Eddie was certain of, was that he was the only one you were giving this “special treatment” to. It even seemed that you’d been excited to see him here recently.

The moan that vibrated against the skin of Eddie’s neck sent chills down his body. He could tell you were getting close to cumming, knowing the signs tour body gives him now after all of your times together.

Eddie musters his strength and does his best attempt in slowing your movements. Thankfully you give in without much fight, and Eddie is able to adjust himself just enough to where he can thrust up into you.

The crunch of forest floor under his shoe is barely audible over the sound of your wails of ecstasy. Removing yourself from Eddie’s neck, you let him bounce you on his cock, the hot blood dripping down his neck from the wound.

Everything becomes a sensation overload to him, Eddie speeding up briefly before all movements come to a halt. His grip would be bruising on a normal human, but it’s wouldn’t leave a mark on you.

His hot cum fills up your now warm cunt, the blood from his body flowing through your veins and bringing you back to an almost alive state of bodily function. Eddie didn’t understand it, probably never would. But, something about his blood pumping in your veins made him feel special.

Your body slumps, arms wrapping around his neck as you lay onto top of him. He can feel your tongue gliding across the wounds you gave him, the punctures closing at an unnatural rate that he’s learned to accept. No scars either, thankfully. That would be hard to explain if they did, considering how often he comes to see you now.

Eddie wraps his arms around you tight, to which he is met with more happy chirps from you. You look up at him, mouth bloody, but still as beautiful as ever. He leans in and lets his lips meet yours, the irony taste of his own blood stinging his tongue.

“Missed you, sweetheart,” Eddie says with a dimpled smile. You nuzzle into him and Eddie beams, hopeful that it meant you were staring to understand him. He’d been trying his best to teach you to communicate, but teaching the english language was even harder than learning it yourself.

“Eddie.” His name coming from your otherworldly voice would send chills of fear down his spine in any other context. Instead he feels his heart flutter in his chest, practically beaming with joy.

thanks for reading 🖤

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x cryptid!reader #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson x monster!reader #eddie munson fan fic #eddie munson x vampire!reader

[gr7mes]

hiiii i’ll throw my other hat in the ring and give you a thg req!!

angst to comfort fic because why not

but like reader is from district 7 and won the 73rd games, and much like lucy gray, used their wits and charm to win the games. and GOD FORBID SNOWS PAST COMES BACK TO HAUNT HIM they end up in the same room with finnick during the ring, and they grow closer and end up making a bond and falling in love

fast forward to the sewer, and reader sees finnick struggling with the mutts as katniss tries to usher them out of the sewer as reader is screaming and fighting to get back to him and eventually runs straight into the pile, almost dying

anyway they wake up losing an arm, but with finnick asleep at her side 🩶🩶

LOVE U BAEEEE

YOU’RE OKAY “look at me, you’re okay.” finnick odair x fem!reader

tags: blood, swearing, htc, violence, use of y/n

a/n: hii pooksters, i have retuned from the dead w/ my first thg fic!! req from my bae gracie, i changed up the losing the arm part because i didn’t really know if i could write it well, so im super sorry for that :( i don’t know how i feel ab this one, but i hope you enjoy!!

god, how you hated the hunger games. you weren’t expecting to be back, but here you were. 

when you had won the 73rd hunger games, you thought that was the end. you thought you could just return to your district, and forget all about the mortifying experience. 

but you were wrong. so wrong. all of that work, all of the trauma? useless. all of your efforts just didn’t matter. your charm and cleverness played a huge role in helping you to win the games. you thought you were smart, but you werent. you were stupid to think the capitol would leave you alone.

they would never ever leave you alone. they couldn’t give you a fucking break. here they were, trying to kill you, again.

them being them, they tried to make it different this time. they decided to make everyone room with tributes from different districts. 

you knew they wanted to cause stuff between everyone. but you weren’t gonna let them get what they want. you told yourself you were just gonna have to deal with whoever you got. 

to your luck, you were paired up with the “golden boy.” finnick odair, in the flesh. hooray. 

you thought it would suck. back in the hunger games once again, and rooming with this guy? it seemed like hell. that was until you started to get to know him better.

finnick was surprisingly sweet. really sweet. he was also funny. and you couldn’t deny it, he was really attractive. “what are you looking at?” you said, noticing how his gaze was directed towards your lips.

“nothing, your smile is just really pretty.” he replied. you felt your cheeks start to heat up. “what, cat got your tongue?” he taunted, a smirk forming on his face. “you wish. goodnight finnick.” you said, trying to hide the fact that you were flustered. 

little did you know, you and him would form quite a complex relationship.

“you win.” he said, while you two were perched in front of a tree, the leaves rustling with every slight movement. both of your partners had died by now. it was just katniss, peeta, you, and him in a truce. 

you brought your head up and looked at him. you two locked eyes before you opened your mouth to speak, “huh?” what was he talking about? “you win.” “i win what?” 

“my heart.” 

that’s all it took. that’s all it took for you to realize how much you really liked him. you can guess what happened after that. that’s right, you and finnick started dating during the games. 

from that moment on, you two swore to never let anything happen to the other. you both cared about each other too much to let that happen.

so when you were all fighting for your fucking life in that stupid tunnel, you were just trying to get back to finnick. katniss was trying her hardest to get you out, but you weren’t leaving until you knew finnick was okay. 

“y/n, you need to go now!” she yelled, holding you back, trying to help finnick herself. she prioritized everyone over herself, which was something you admired about her. but you needed to get him. 

“FINNICK!” you screamed, your voice echoing throughout the tunnel as you finally escaped from her grasp. you ran toward the pile of mutts, plunging your knife into one. “you shouldn’t be here!” finnick yelled, his voice strained with worry.

you ignored his pleading, continuing to fight with all your strength. as you clashed with the horrid creatures in the dimly lit tunnel, you felt fear and adrenaline pump into you. you thought it was going okay, until you felt a tug at your ankle.

“Y/N!” is all you heard before you were pulled down into the water by a mutt. you tried to fight back, but it was no use. suddenly, you felt sharp teeth sink into your stomach. 

it was a type of pain you hadn’t experienced in a long, long time. in a matter of seconds, finnick was at your side, fighting off the mutt which leaned on top of you. he was livid. 

you clutched your side, breathing heavily as a mixture of water and blood dripped down your body. finnick quickly took you into his arms, and eyed your protruding wound. he then reached out his hands to cradle your face. 

“you’re gonna be fine baby, i promise won’t let anything happen to you. jus- just stay awake.” he said, trying to keep his voice from trembling as he tried his best to hurry to the ladder where everyone else was, you still engulfed in his arms. 

“i-i can’t. i don’t think m’ gonna make it.” you struggle to get out, tears starting to stream down your face. he wasn’t gonna let this happen. “hey, look at me.” he said, trying to reassure you that you were going to be alright.

“look at me, you’re okay.” 

that was all you could remember. everything else was a blur after that. you can remember faint yelling, but you can’t quite decipher what was being said. 

you woke up beside finnick. he had his arm wrapped around your body, and your faces were inches apart. your wound was all patched up, but it was still painful. hey, look on the bright side though. finnick had kept his promise. he made sure things got better. 

you were okay. 

#the hunger games #finnick odair #finnick odair oneshot #finnick odair imagines #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair x fem!reader #the hunger games x reader #the hunger games oneshot #the hunger games imagines #sam claflin #finnick odair smut #the hunger games smut #finnick odair angst #the hunger games angst

[appleblueberry-pie]

Honestly trauma bonding is the way to go 😌✨

Reader who adopted a child and loved them more than anything in the world, since she had no family or pets (being spiderwoman is a sacrifice, after all.).

Reader's Green Goblin killed their child brutally in front of her, leaving Reader with immense trauma and depression. (After torturing and then killing GG in the same gruesome way as he did with her child)

Reader who abandons being a Spider-person and goes back to her old job, being a professional gymnast.

Miguel who finds Reader's world, and asks who there isn't a Spider there if the canon event of the radioactive spider biting someone happened long ago.

Miguel who investigating, finds out that Reader is the spider there, however they abandoned their heroic life (mostly because of backlash from the media)

Miguel who one day goes to Reader's house to get answers, first explaining who he is and what the fuck that orange portal is 💀

Miguel understands how Reader feels and explains his backstory, and persuades (forces) Reader to join the Spider Society.

Miguel, that slowly falls in love with Reader and turns into an obsession. Maybe in the future, he can give Reader his kids so they won't have to grieve as much for their dead kids.

You were meant for him.

He shouldn't say that, but no bone or muscle in his entire body disagreed with this statement that he is claiming.

He fell in love with you before he even realized it and happily accepted the fall, knowing just from how you spoke to him, that you know how to love. You love the way that he wants to be loved. And he wants that. He wants you.

He was so goddamn in love with everything about you. He loves the way you speak, the way you carry yourself, the way you look at people, and the way you look at him.

He wants those eyes on him all of the time. So, he tries to work for it.

You looked so tired every single day. Since he found you alone in your apartment of your universe, he knew you held luggage no one else had behind them.

He wanted to at least take half of the weight off of your shoulders. He wanted to brush the midnight tears off of your face. He wanted kiss your callused hands. He wanted to have you.

He truly believes he can fix you.

"There is no fixing me. Nobody can save me."

He had never been so tuned into a conversation before. Mask off, sitting across from you in your living room, on the edge of his seat, staring into your iron eyes. You didn't want to let anyone back in again.

Hearing about your past only made him more determined.

"I can't put that suit back on again.....no. I killed enough people and killed off enough of myself. I don't benefit from that life anymore. Hell, my own city that I fought for doesn't want me anymore. Why the fuck would I even bother trying??" You try to laugh it off and killed the rest of your drink.

"The only person that could make me put that back on is the one I did all of this bullshit for."

You let the silence grow for a little to collect the words building up in your throat. But to speak it was a different battle.

"S/he was mine. S/he was all I had. Every day I had to wake up and go to sleep seeing her/his face, and it's all I needed to continue living another fucking day. And s/he's gone! I thought sparing lives would do me good, and now my babygirl/boy is gone. What the fuck am I supposed to do?" You whispered the words, as if it was forbidden to even speak them aloud.

And every single word you spoke made Miguel feel like he was living in your skin. Every question you asked, everything you said you felt is so close to experience of losing his little girl, it makes him nauseous. He only knew you for a few hours and already wanted to hold you in his arms.

"I can't....I just...can't put that thing back on. I really can't. I'm sorry." Your words slowly turned into a mutter as you fidgeted with your hands.

He doesn't know how many hopeful "yes, you can"s he whispered back to you with comforting (consensual) hugs before you had on that damned suit again and was in the middle of HQ.

His room was quiet. Peaceful, as he typed away on his technology you weren't interested in at all.

You felt so naked in the suit, but for some reason, it made you feel more secure than you'd ever felt these past few years......maybe this would be okay for now.

Miguel looked back at you, seeing you staring off into the distance and stopped typing to place his hand on your shoulder.

You looked up at him with those sad, tired eyes. Just seeing your face as clearly as it was, it continued to give him hope to be the one to support your during your healing process. You clearly needed the help. And if anyone could do it well, he was certain that it would be him.

#yandere #yandere x reader #atsv #atsv miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara #miguel x reader #yandere atsv #yandere miguel fanfic #yandere miguel o'hara x reader #yandere miguel x reader #yandere spiderman #spiderman x reader #spiderman #spiderman 2099

[charliewhaw]

what do you think Alastor would do if Lucifer flirted with him?

(Gasp! RadioApple! AppleRadio! Whichever it is! This will be fun!) (( Post edited and contributed to by balloondrifloon ))

“No, your Majesty, I think I’ve got bigger priorities,” Alastor said with a smirk, his eyes squinting at his short-people joke.

Lucifer frowned. That was enough! He wasn’t taking any more short comments from this man. He’d give him a taste of his own medicine!

“Are you a fire alarm?!” Lucifer asked loudly, watching in delight as the red-haired man’s smile faltered slightly and he tilted his head in confusion.

“A fire alarm?”

“Because you’re making my heart race and my blood boil!” Lucifer grinned triumphantly, placing his hands on his hips and narrowing his eyes at Alastor.

“I-.. Wha-..” Alastor stuttered, raising a brow at the king.

Lucifer paused. Holy shit… He didn’t just–… He fucking used a pick up line on Alastor! Lucifer’s pale cheeks flushed golden as his angelic blood bloomed across his face. He tried to salvage his comment, “I-I mean–!” He pointed up at the other man, “Y-You–!” There was no rescuing this.

Alastor shook his head to rid himself of his stupor, then cleared his throat and summoned his cane with his usual flair. “Anyway, ahem. I must go and attend to these ‘bigger’ priorities, my Liege.” He shot Lucifer a smug grin and disapparated into his shadows.

Wait a minute. Had Alastor not even noticed? Did Lucifer just get away with flirting with Alastor? Well goddamn, it seemed the deer was denser than a brick when it came to flirting. To be honest, so was Lucifer, but at least he had practice with Lilith. Shit… Why was he still blushing?

---

“Charlie, my dear, why is there a red circle around the words ‘French toast’ in the hotel’s financial report?” Alastor smiled sweetly at Lucifer’s daughter. He showed her the papers the girl had handed him and pointed at the circle in question.

“Oh! That’s– wait, why did I write and circle that?” Charlie took the papers and examined them, bewildered by her own actions.

Alastor waited patiently for Charlie to come to some kind of conclusion. He was standing far too close to his daughter for Lucifer’s liking. “Hey, Alastor!” Lucifer called, causing both the demon and the half angel to look up at him.

“If good looks could kill,” Lucifer smirked, feeling the blood already pooling in his cheeks, “You’d be a weapon of mass destruction!”

Charlie’s jaw dropped.

Alastor squinted his eyes, “Pardon?”

“You heard me,” Lucifer felt the adrenaline of the flirt kicking in. Seeing Alastor’s face as he searched for an answer in Lucifer’s eyes was thrilling. He had no idea what Lucifer was doing, and his ignorance was… really cute? Endearing even. Was he serious? Did he find this obnoxious demon cute?

“My,” Alastor placed his hands behind his back proudly, “Thank you!”

“What?” Lucifer blinked. “What– what do you mean ‘Thank you’?” Had he understood that pickup line? Was he… accepting it? Lucifer’s face flushed even harder.

“While I appreciate these compliments, Lucifer, I was in the middle of something,” Alastor’s smile twitched with conceit. Oh. He thought Lucifer was just complimenting him. Was he fucking for real? This fucking guy.

Charlie stumbled over her words, “I-Uh-Wha-I-”

“French toast?” Alastor said cutely as he tilted his head, trying to get Charlie back on track, his ego now inflated.

Fucking narcissit.

--

Alastor was an idiot, Lucifer decided.

Both men were sitting on the couch as Shifty (Was that the little maid’s name?) played with-- wait... Roach corpses? Okay, then. She was apparently putting on some sort of puppet show for the two of them. Lucifer wasn’t sure how he or Alastor got roped into being her audience. It just kind of happened.

Alastor’s smile was closed-mouth and his lips were stretched thin in what Lucifer assumed as an attempt to keep from making a disgusted face that would hurt Drifty’s feelings. His eyes were crinkled at the corners, fondness for the maid’s antics showing in them. For a moment, Lucifer wished Alastor would look at him that way.

He leaned closer to the radio demon, making Alastor’s eyes flick to him without moving his head. Lucifer whispered, “Is your name Chaos?” He cautiously reached out and touched Alastor’s leg, “Because you’re turning my world upside down.”

Alastor froze. After a second, his eyes widened. They darted between Lucifer’s soft smile and his hand on Alastor’s thigh. He abruptly pulled away, scooting himself across the couch and putting his back against the armrest.

Lucifer’s smile widened at this reaction. Alastor’s did too, but for different reasons. He looked defensive and nervous, “What did you just say?” He asked in a much louder voice than Lucifer had flirted in.

Zifty leaned her head out from behind her makeshift stage, “Quiet! Juliet is just about to confess her feelings for Romeo!” The roach story had not been following the story of Romeo and Juliet at all, but it didn’t matter.

What mattered was Alastor looking so dumbfounded and pretty across from Lucifer. He wasn’t blushing, and maybe he even looked a little green around the gills, but the adrenaline Lucifer felt was exhilarating. He scooted closer and whispered again, “Are you a hurricane? Because you’re blowing me away.”

Alastor quickly stood up, “Well, Niffty! This was another excellent show, but I do believe I’ll be taking my leave now!”

Niffty (Her name was Niffty!) tossed down her roaches and stood up too, “But Mister Alastor! You said you’d watch the whole thing!”

“Plans have changed my, dear!” He patted her head in a panic and slipped into his shadows, promising to watch her next show to its entirety.

Niffty turned to glare at Lucifer like she knew this was somehow his fault.

--

Alastor avoided Lucifer for a while. It was frustrating. Lucifer wanted to see Alastor’s mind try to wrap itself around another pickup line. The facial expressions were gorgeous and Lucifer craved them. He–... fuckity fuck fuck. Fuck! Was he falling for Alastor?!

There was no way! He just liked seeing Alastor flustered was all! That was it. It was funny! Nothing else! That sentiment changed the moment Alastor entered the hotel. He had been out with Niffty and Charlie, picking flowers for an upcoming recruiting event. It wasn’t something Lucifer expected the man to do, but he supposed, somehow, the girls had worked their charms on him.

What he had expected even less was for Alastor to enter the hotel… covered in flowers. They decorated his antlers, wrapped around his ears, and dotted his hair. He was… he was gorgeous.

Well fuck. Lucifer had definitely fallen for Alastor.

He couldn’t stop himself from approaching the deer. The panic in Alastor’s eyes when he spotted the king was obvious. He hurriedly tried to hand Charlie his basket of flowers, “Here you are, Charlie! Excellent activity! One for the ages!” He tried to rearrange Charlie’s hold because her hands were too full to take his basket, “But I simply must be going now! Rosie is waiting for me! We have much to discuss about the–”

“Alastor,” Lucifer interrupted him.

Alastor froze, looking toward the shorter man and narrowing his eyes. His plans to disappear before Lucifer got there were squashed. Still holding his flower basket, he now placed it in front of himself like a barrier.

Lucifer ignored Charlie as she began whispering to Vaggie and Angel. Husk was there too, but he was just staring at them.

Perfect. An audience. If he did this in front of others, Alastor would fluster so hard it would be irresistible.

“Do you have a bandaid?” Lucifer asked, feeling his smirk growing wider.

Alastor’s lower eyelid twitched. He knew where this was going. No one else did. Charlie looked at her dad with concern, worried he might be hurt. Angel and Husk raised a brow at him. Niffty tilted her head.

“Because I scraped my knee when I fell for you.”

Niffty gasped loudly, putting her hands to her cheeks.

Charlie squeaked in shock.

Vaggie’s hands dropped to her sides as he mouth dangled open, befuddled.

Angel’s eyes widened and a grin slowly formed on his face, “Oh-ho! Holy fuck!”

Husk did a double take between Alastor and Lucifer.

But their reactions didn’t matter. Only Alastor’s did. Lucifer’s eyes greedily took in Alastor’s response to that pickup line– one of his better ones, he had to say.

Alastor, however, wasn’t flustered. He was staring at Lucifer like he was considering something. Wait, was he considering Lucifer’s feelings? Now, hold on a minute! Lucifer was only just now coming to terms with his feelings himself, Alastor wasn’t allowed to stop the chase just yet!

The deer-demon hummed to himself briefly before smiling wickedly at Lucifer and snapping his fingers. A bandaid appeared in his hands, and he handed it to Lucifer, “There you are, my good man. Wouldn’t want your boo-boo to get infected.” He set his basket down on the ground since no one was willing to take it, and saunted away from the group and toward the staircase, “Do take care of yourself, my king.” He stopped walking and looked over his shoulder, “Do that for me, will you?”

Lucifer’s blood ran hot at the smug look on Alastor’s face. Alastor then walked up the stairs and disappeared from view. This. Fucking. Guy!

“Okay, what the fuck, Dad?” Charlie asked, throwing her hands out. Everything she was holding onto fell to the floor, “Whoops!”

“I’m adding this to my ultimate bad boys fanfiction!” Niffty said, snickering to herself.

“Soooo, who’s the top?” Angel asked suggestively, crossing his upper arms and putting his lower hands on his hips.

“Fuck my life,” Husk mumbled, dragging a hand down his face.

Vaggie shook her head, “I’m out.” She walked off.

Lucifer ignored them all. He swallowed hard, trying to control the furious blush running across his cheeks. Alastor was planning something.

--

Alastor stopped avoiding Lucifer; This time he sought him out.

“Lucifer! My king!” Alastor exclaimed cheerfully, entering the room.

Lucifer, who had been reading a WickedWiki article on his phone called “How To Ask Someone Out instructions with pictures”, nearly dropped said phone when Alastor loudly greeted him.

Lucifer looked up, his heart fluttering at the sight of Alastor looking devastatingly handsome, as always, and so pleased to see him. He felt himself already beginning to blush and he hadn’t even started flirting with the redhead yet.

Alastor leaned against the armchair Lucifer was sitting in, “How are you today? Good? Good!” He was so close to Lucifer that Lucifer could have just reached out and pulled him into his lap.

Maybe noticing Lucifer’s eyes lingering on his waist, Alastor pulled away from the chair and backed up a bit. He smiled at Lucifer with a charismatic grin, “I have a proposal to make.” His words were calm but mischievous. Lucifer could smell a trick a mile away. He had once been Heaven’s ultimate prankster– well, just second to Uriel, but like… Fuck Uriel. He played dirty.

“A proposal, huh?” Lucifer asked, unable to keep his eyes off Alastor’s tiny waist now that he’d looked at it.

Alastor placed his cane, and his hands, in front of himself to block Lucifer’s view, “Yes, indeed! One I think you’d be most interested in!”

“I’m listening,” Lucifer said, though he wasn’t listening too hard. His eyes had gone up to Alastor’s face, craving the flustered look he had previously brought upon the man. What Alastor said next, instead, made Lucifer become flustered.

“I’ll go on a date with you, if you promise me a favor.”

Lucifer choked on his spit, “Y-You’ll do what?!”

“A date.” Alastor’s teeth clenched, “Provided you hold up your end of the bargain and grant me a favor.” He repeated his terms like he was worried Lucifer hadn’t heard them.

Lucifer stood up quickly, “Holy shit! Y-yeah! Fuck! A date? Are you serious?” He tossed his phone down into his chair, no longer needing the WickedWiki article. Alastor had asked him out. This was like a dream come true! 

Alastor extended his hand, “Excellent! A date for one favor!” He repeated again, Lucifer was starting to think he was trying to remind himself that and not Lucifer.

Lucifer took his hand and rubbed his thumb over the back of it, earning a shudder from Alastor, before he shook on the deal.

--

Today was the day.

Lucifer stood in the lobby, nervously adjusting his lapels. He had put on his best suit for this. He’d even had Razzle and Dazzle polish his nicest pair of boots! If he was going to take Alastor out, he was going to do it while he looked his best. The man cared a lot about appearances: Lucifer aimed to please his sense of aesthetic.

He stood in the lobby for a good 15 minutes, nervously adjusting his bowtie and fiddling with his hat. Alastor wasn’t late. Lucifer had been early. But the waiting was taking a toll on him. His mind started to wander.

What if Alastor didn’t show up? What if he decided Lucifer wasn’t good enough? What if–

Alastor’s shadow darted down the staircase. Lucifer held his breath as Alastor began to form in front of him. Once he was fully visible, Lucifer’s face grew hot. Alastor was wearing a fitted, crushed velvet, red suit that was open in the front to reveal a black vest that cinched at Alastor’s waist and made his chest look more prominent. Somehow, this made Alastor’s waist look even tinier. More grabbable. His coat was free from its usual tatters and was slightly shorter than his usual getup, making the deer’s legs seem longer than before. Gosh. Alastor sure was tall…

All of Lucifer’s previous worries melted away as his eyes beheld Alastor’s beauty. He was stunning.

Alastor held out his arm for Lucifer to take, “Shall we?”

Lucifer caressed Alastor’s arm before he took it in his own, ignoring how Alastor’s eyes twitched at this. He took a step forward and nearly tripped, “Gah!”

Alastor kept him from falling face first onto the ground. Lucifer looked down to see what he’d tripped over. It was Frank.

Frank rolled around on the ground before looking up at the two and going, “Ooohh!” then scurrying off. Lucifer would have to worry about what that meant later. He had a date to enjoy.

--

The hotel doors slammed open to Lucifer’s kick. He laughed jovially as he guided Alastor inside. That date was anything but romantic, but it sure was fun. Alastor had refused any form of romantic gestures, which bummed Lucifer out a bit, but he made up for it with his personality. Turns out Alastor was really good at unknowingly flirting with people. It got worse the drunker Alastor got.

And they were both very, very, exceptionally drunk.

“Are you a traffic jam? Because you’re driving me crazy!” Lucifer belted out, clinging to Alastor’s arms.

“Ha hahaha!” Alastor laughed, attempting to pull his arms away, but failing. He was too drunk to make much of an effort.

Tonight was amazing. It didn’t even bother Lucifer to see the rest of the hotel crew standing in the lobby, looking at them like they were nutcases.

“See? I told you the clown and the red man were going on a date!” Frank pointed at them, his goofy voice bellowing through the room.

“Holy shit,” was all that could be said.

Lucifer pulled Alastor closer to him. The ‘red man’ struggled to pull away, but Lucifer was stronger. He just held him for a minute before giving in to Alastor’s desire to be separated and letting him go.

Everything was perfect. He just needed another date. And maybe it was the alcohol talking, but he didn’t care if that meant giving Alastor a second favor.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel charlie #hazbin hotel niffty #hazbin hotel husk #hazbin hotel angel #hazbin hotel angel dust #radioapple #appleradio #one-sided #one-sided appleradio #one-sided radioapple #lucifer is a dork #this is the first time I've written from Lucifer's pov #it was fun #He has goofy thoughts #alastor is not a big fan of romance #aroace alastor #touch averse alastor

[separatist-apologist]

On My Vigilante Shit Again

Summary: At the High Lords Meeting, Rhys doesn't dress for friends-He's dressed for revenge.

Read on AO3

Thank you @velidewrites for the moodboard!

Note: This is what should have happened post High Lords meeting and you can quote me on that

-

“The moment you let him fuck you like an—”

Rhys was going to explode. Was going to kill him. Laws be damned, Rhys stared Tamlin down as he ripped through Tamlin’s feeble defenses and held his mind. Just his tongue, for now. But his mind was pliant, his will weak. Rhys could so easily rip his mind apart, make Tamlin beg and plead. Make him grovel before Feyre on his knees, head bowed so low he couldn’t breathe for the marble slammed against his nose.

Rhys’s hands shook under the table, his jaw clenched so painfully he could taste blood. Had he bitten his cheek or was he merely tasting what was to come? Even as he held Tamlin’s tongue, forcing the High Lord into silence, Rhys thought it wasn’t enough. This was merely a show to the five others watching what he was capable of should they test him.

Should they insult his mate, his wife, his life. Feyre was visibly shaken, freckles stark against her gray face. Her eyes were too bright and if he really parsed through the mingling scents of the room, he knew he’d smell salt gathering in the corners. Tamlin had succeeded in undermining her at her first meeting, at the first test of power and everyone knew it. Weakness wasn’t tolerated among High Lords and they’d be circling her like vultures now, looking for more cracks.

Rhys could kill them all. His eyes flicked toward Beron Vanserra, brown eyes locked firmly on Feyre. It was a dark impulse and yet…if they wanted to test him, he’d destroy all six of them and leave their territories in ruins as their ruthless courtiers fought and killed for power. He’d let them eat themselves alive and then sweet in benevolently and take all of Prythian for Feyre. He’d lay waste to the world and set all that power at her feet.

Did they not know what Rhys would do to keep the ones he loved safe? Happy? Rhys kept Tamlin’s tongue silent for the duration of the meeting with barely a second thought. But there, in the darkest recesses of his mind—the part Feyre never ventured, in part because she didn’t think to—Rhys knew what needed to happen next. And he knew how he’d justify it when the other High Lords came to him, furious and fearful.

Tamlin had opened the gates for Hybern. He was a traitor to them all. That’s what he’d say, anyway. Some of them might guess the true reasons—Helion, certainly, who had very loud fantasies about doing worse to Beron than Rhys intended to do to Tamlin. And some might not care very much at all so long as they were reassured they were in no danger. Tarquin and Thesan, certainly, would know he was a liar and not care—Tarquin especially. Though he wasn’t fond of either Rhys or Feyre, his anger for Tamlin burned so hot that Rhys had been able to feel it in the back of his throat.

Tamlin’s foolishness had cost him more lives than Tarquin was able to count. He wanted to see Tamlin punished, too, and couldn’t for the same reason none of them could—they were forbidden from interfering in the matters of other High Lords. Rhys simply didn’t care. Stalking the halls, he listened until he found Tamlin’s pathetic thoughts.

Where did you go? Feyre’s voice floated through his thoughts, her presence caressing his own as she asked for entrance.

Rhys had never once refused her, but he did then. Go back to sleep, my love. I’ll be back before you can miss me.

Rhys, her voice carried a warning, some of the sleepiness gone. Whatever you’re thinking—don’t. Come back to bed.

I can’t.

It was the truth. They could insult him. Call him a whore, a bastard, evil, Amarantha’s right hand—whatever they liked. Rhys didn’t care. Even if they said it in front of his family in their attempt to humiliate him, Rhys didn’t care. Let them say whatever they liked about him.

But how dare they say a word against Feyre. She was the reason they were able to speak freely at all. If Rhys had his way, they’d get on their knees and worship her like a goddess, not taunt her like she was lesser. 

Rhys!

Maybe it was better to let her see—not to shut her out, but to invite her into his mind. To let her see the lengths he’d go. He’d promised her he’d do this once, didn’t he? That he’d hurt anyone who hurt her and he’d take his time doing it. He’d enjoy it.

As Rhys turned the handle to Tamlin’s door, he dropped his defenses so Feyre could slip in. He could feel her peering through his eyes, settling softly just behind his eyes. Her presence was a comfort, reassuring him that this was the right thing to do.

Rhys found Tamlin standing by a window, hands folded behind his back. When Rhys slipped inside, Tamlin turned, green eyes glowing brightly for just a moment. 

“Have you come to gloat?” Tamlin asked, teeth sharpening ever so slightly.

“Not exactly,” Rhys replied, jamming his own hands in his pockets. 

Tamlin sighed, eyes rolling in his skull. “Have you come to defend your mates honor? Spare me—she has none.”

The hair on Rhys’s neck stood on end.

Don’t, Feyre pleaded softly, her voice a shade too high pitched for his liking. He’s not worth it. 

“She’s the reason you’re standing here,” Rhys reminded Tamlin, forcing himself to remain calm. If he alerted Tamlin to his plan, he wouldn’t get to say everything he needed to say. “You owe her your life.”

“I’ve given her enough—”

“You’ve given her nothing,” Rhys snarled, his magic swirling around him like furious vipers. Tamlin didn’t blink, didn’t blanche, thinking incorrectly that Rhys was all talk and no action. 

“Are you angry about what I said or angry I had her first?” Tamlin spat, a fool to the very end. 

“When I found her locked in your home, it was only her love for you that spared you. I would have ripped you apart piece by piece otherwise.”

Tamlin turned back to the window. “She’ll betray you, too. Feyre isn’t capable of loving anything or anyone but herself and her power.”

Rhys’s stomach twisted in knots. 

“She died for you. For that love.”

“And I tried to make it up to her—”

“You locked her away like a trinket!” Rhys snarled again as Feyre pushed closer against him, talons stroking against his mind lovingly. “You were satisfied to let her waste away so long as she warmed your bed at night. If that’s love, well. I’d say I shudder to think what your hatred feels like, but I am intimately aware of how hateful you can be.”

Tamlin only sighed. “When she leaves you—and she will—I’ll be waiting for your apology.”

Rhys raised a hand as Feyre gasped softly in his mind, understanding right then what he truly intended to do. Tamlin, too, realized the danger he was in. It was too late. Immobile, Tamlin’s eyes widened as Rhys cocked his head to the side.

“You can wait for that apology in the afterlife and we’ll see, when I arrive, who was right.”

“Rhys—!” Feyre burst into the room a mere second before Rhys snapped his fingers. Blood sprayed through the room, coating not just his skin, but Feyre’s too. Where Tamlin had once stood, now there were merely the remnants of a male who’d lived a pathetic half life unworthy of memorial. 

Feyre turned, still in her silken nightdress, eyes wide. “You…”

Rhys didn’t dare back down, though he felt a sliver of genuine fear. “Yes.”

“You shouldn’t…you didn’t…” Her eyes welled with tears as she approached him. Raising a hand, Rhys flinched, expecting her to slap him. Maybe that’s what he deserved.

Soft fingers caressed his jaw. “Thank you,” she whispered. Rhys exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. 

“You’re not angry?” he asked carefully, eyes darting around the room. There was something delicious about his mate soaked in the blood of his greatest enemy. He wanted to strip her naked and lick her clean. 

“No one has ever had me,” she whispered, inching closer. The scent of her arousal slammed into him, nearly knocking him to the floor. “Not like you.”

That was all he needed to hear. Just the knowledge that she could see his worst, ugliest impulses and still love him for it was enough. Rhys needed her right then, so badly he was unwilling to even make the walk back to their shared bed chamber. She knew it, too.

Feyre surged upward on her tiptoes, their mouths crashing in a symphony of heat. Rhys groaned, snaking an arm around her waist to pull her flush against him. 

“I need you,” he told her, unable to add that what he needed was for her to confirm what he already knew to be true. They belonged together—he’d waited his whole life for her, would have waited centuries more. And it had all been worth it, in the end—to know it was her on the other end of all those sleepless nights, the years of misery, the loneliness that had plagued him. No one understood him the way she did, had ever truly looked at his very soul and found it beautiful rather than horrifying.

“You have me,” she told him, arching her neck so he could scrape his teeth against her soft, sensitive skin. “I’m never leaving.”

What would she say if she realized he wouldn’t let her leave? That his hatred of Tamlin was almost unjustified because Rhys understood why someone would want to lock her away and keep her all for themselves. Rhys felt the same urge, felt the same drive to snarl and snap at every male that dared to look at her without showing the proper reverence. They were too casual about her, didn’t venerate her the way they should. Feyre was more than just High Lady—she was a living goddess, the Cursebreaker herself. 

“Fuck,” Rhys groaned, tongue licking a path down her throat to taste the blood adorning her skin like rubies. If Rhys had known she’d taste so good coated in another male's blood, he’d have killed Tamlin at their wedding. That scrap of silk was soaked and when Rhys ripped it away, he found the skin beneath stained red, too. Rhys needed her more than he needed anything else.

They’d condemn him for this. When they found the remnants of Tamlin, they’d smell his arousal and what he’d done atop the bits that remained. Rhys didn’t care—he hoped Tamlin’s soul lingered so he could watch how well Rhys fucked Feyre. And if Tamlin were still alive, Rhys might have told him that he’d fucked Feyre so thoroughly she had no memory of his pathetic attempts at satisfying her.

You were inadequate, Rhys wished he could say. The problem was always you and never her. 

“I can hear your thoughts,” Feyre complained as Rhys sank to his knees. “Stop thinking about Tamlin and your witty comebacks.”

“I have so many things I didn’t get to say,” Rhys complained, pushing her gently against the very same bloodstained window Tamlin had been brooding beside mere minutes before. 

“You can say them at his grave,” she reminded him. 

“You’re so brilliant,” Rhys praised. “And beautiful. And you taste…”

He had his face between her legs as he spoke the words, raising one slim leg to hook it over his shoulders. Feyre exhaled, leaning her head back so her thick hair spilled over her shoulders, the tips teasing peaked, rosy nipples. 

Rhys almost stood back up but Feyre, the clever thing, pushed his head back down. “Focus,” she whispered. He’d forgotten she was still in his mind, listening to his thoughts and watching through his eyes.

“Can you feel how badly I want you?” he whispered, letting his breath curl like shadows against her wet cunt.

“Yes,” she panted, nails scraping over his scalp. 

Rhys let go of his power, drowning the two of them in darkness. His wings flared outward, enveloping the both until she was hidden from the world unless someone happened to be flying by the window her ass was pressed against. Feyre moaned loudly, unconcerned about anyone else hearing. Good. Rhys wanted her screams to echo off the vaulted ceilings, to keep them all awake. Let them hear—let them know how far Rhys would take it. That the true power in his home was Feyre herself.

Feyre was High Lady and Rhys was her sharpened blade. 

Rhys licked up the side of the thigh, cleaning the blood before switching to the other. Feyre was practically trembling by the time he reached her center, the taste of copper mingling with the sweetness of her arousal. Rhys reached upward, using his strength to hold her so she could relax and, perhaps selfishly, so he could spread her further apart. He liked to see her flushed pink with arousal, liked to tease her with his fingers without wholly penetrating her. He wanted her desperate for his cock by the time he finished with her. Rhys teased her with his thumbs, pulling her cunt apart to rub her clit with his fingers and his tongue while Feyre writhed over him, gripping his hair so roughly she was in danger of ripping them out by the roots. Rhys was so aroused it was making him stupid, the throbbing between his legs almost painful.

But he needed to do this. Needed her to see him on his knees before her, worshiping her the way the rest of the world refused to. Besides, the taste of her was soothing something wicked and angry in his chest, calming the raging beast threatening to go on a rampage.

Feyre’s breath hitched in her chest, her free hand coming to his shoulder to stroke the edge of his wing just the way he liked. He didn’t need her to touch his cock at all to come—if she kept her cunt in his face and her hands on his wings Rhys would be spent before he ever had her grinding against him.

Still, Rhys began to work faster, tongue flat against her just the way he knew she liked. Feyre began rolling her hips against him, her orgasm building. Ride her through it—that’s all he had to do, now. Rhys liked when she used him like this, taking her pleasure without concern as to what he thought about her. Daring to press into her mind, Feyre’s arousal slammed into him with enough force to nearly knock him on his ass. 

Her thoughts were a mindless chant of one word—Rhys, Rhys, Rhys, Rhys, Rhys—

If he hadn’t been so turned on, he might have wept. Unwilling to disappoint her in the final moments before she fell over that ledge, Rhys doubled his efforts, looking up as he licked her to watch her come. Feyre was radiant, glowing like silvery moonlight as she fell apart. Head thrown back, breasts arched toward the ceiling and her skin flushed, Rhys wished he could paint so she could see herself the way he did.

“Stop,” she panted, fingers sliding from his hair to cup his face. “I can hear you, I—”

“I need you,” was all he could manage to say. He could have laid her out on the bed if he’d wanted to, taken his time. But Rhys didn’t want to. He wanted her right then, right now, and he’d have her against that window or not at all.

Feyre clawed at his clothes, drawing forth a talon to slice open his shirt. Rhys didn’t want to think about the walk of shame the pair were going to have to undertake when they were finished. Perhaps he’d call Cassian and beg his friend for a favor and endure the inevitable teasing that would happen in the aftermath. It was well worth it—Rhys couldn’t wait to tell Azriel, Mor, and Cassian that he’d slaughtered Cassian. Unlike the rest of the ruling elite, his friends would find it funny.

“Now,” Rhys told Feyre, hoisting her up so her back was flat against the window. He offered no other warning before he slid his aching cock into her body. Rhys nearly lost himself, rutting into

Feyre like the animal Tamlin claimed he was without a care or concern for the female pressed against him. Her body gripped him so tightly, still convulsing from the orgasm he’d given her with his mouth. 

“You’re so fucking tight,” Rhys whispered, biting gently against her shoulder. “Sometimes I think you were sent to destroy me.”

“You should have run from me, then,” Feyre replied as she raked her nails down his back.

“Dying at your hands would be a gift,” he said, half delirious from pleasure. All Rhys could focus on were his hips, thrusting hard enough that the window rattled in time behind them. His words were merely his unfiltered thoughts given voice because Rhys had never learned when to shut his mouth. 

“There will be no death for you,” Feyre told him, lips gliding over his jaw. “Only me.”

Rhys shuddered, holding her so tightly against him he felt her ribs groan in protest. He needed her like he needed the air in his lungs, the sun on his skin, the wind on his wings. How had he managed so long without her? Rhys could barely remember that time before, the memories tinged gray with loss. 

How much different would every horror have been if he’d had her at his side? If he knew she was at his back, bow pulled taut, gaze focused and lethal on his enemies? Rhys tried to imagine Feyre going up against his father, against Amarantha in the first war, against Tamlin and his family.

His breath stuttered at the image. Gods, they would have been unstoppable. 

“Rhys,” Feyre breathed, holding his face so he had to look at her. “Come for me.”

Rhys was everything Tamlin accused him of being, but without any shame. He was fucking her like an animal because that was how Feyre liked it. She panted, nails clawing at his tattooed skin until the smell of his fresh blood mingled in the air. He was desperate and needed to feel her come again, wanted her wrapped so tight around his cock he couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, could do nothing but wait until she released him.

Snaking a hand between them, Rhys rubbed circles over her clit—it took two, maybe three before Feyre cried out, allowing Rhys the pleasure of capturing the sound with his tongue and teeth. 

Taste yourself, he ordered, thrusting into her with brutal efficiency. Feyre was pliant in his arms, her cunt just as tight as he’d hoped it would be and twice as wet. Rhys couldn’t have stopped himself even if he wanted to, coming with a snarl so loud there was no way everyone in the hall didn’t hear him.

Rhys poured himself into her, half wishing something would take. He didn’t want to stop, even when he was spent, balls empty. He could have kept going if he took a minute to catch his breath.

Feyre, too, seemed to be thinking the same thing.

“You’re so beautiful covered in blood,” she murmured, brushing a lock of hair out of his eyes.

Rhys suddenly didn’t care if someone watched him carry Feyre naked through the palace. Fuck everyone.

“Come on,” he purred, pressing a soft kiss just beneath her ear. “Let's get you to bed.”

#feysand #okay im free #im gonna reward myself with pho for dinner tonight

[furious-blueberry0]

Are there people out there that really think that Star Wars is too political? And say that as if it is a flaw?

Like, I’m sorry, but did people seriously look at a saga literally named Star WARS and manage to complain about the fact that it has politics? Did these people watch the movies and only saw the lightsabers, the cool music and the pew pews? Is that all their brain could comprehend?

I’m not saying that you can’t do that, if you want to look at the fun side of the saga only than good for you, but using the argument of “too much politics” and make it the flaw of the story is so stupid.

Like that’s the point, THAT’S THE WHOLE FUCKING POINT.

George Lucas didn’t just make a story of a good guy vs a bad guy, he made a story where a Republic, a just system that has become corrupted to its core, finds itself into a devastating war and is pushed to its limit by a slimy and disgusting scheming bastard (inspired by George Bush), who then uses its weakness to take control of it and transform it, from a free system to a fascist dictatorship (inspired by Nazi Germany and the USA of the Vietnam war) and whose one of the first things he does is a literal genocide and ethnical cleansing of a religious order.

And this is only the Prequels, because in the OT the story is about how this Empire, whose head and right hand are literally the most powerful beings in the galaxy, gets utterly destroyed not by other powerful beings, not by superpowers, not by mystical forces that the human mind can’t comprehend.

But by people, normal people, the average person, who can’t fly, who can’t use mystical objects, who cannot move things with the mind or other tricks.

The heroes of these movies are the rebels, who are not fighting because of some ancient prophecy, or because of a quest given by mystical beings, or because they have to restore the fabric of the Universe, they fight because it’s the right thing to do, because this is what happens when you take away freedom from people, when you destroy their homes, when you kill their loved ones, when you obliterate everything they have ever known and loved.

Treat people like animals and they’ll react like animals, by biting the hand that carries the stick and then ripping it into shreds.

And yes, Luke is the hero that saves the day by killing Sidious and Vader, but he would have never, and I say NEVER have arrived at that point without the help of the Rebellion, it’s something that no one could have ever done alone, a single individual against an entire Empire is a suicide, no matter how powerful you are.

And I love it. I don’t even know how to put it into words, I love how this ancient and meticulous plan gets annihilated by normal people, who just wanted to be free.

THIS is Star Wars: a fight against tyranny.

And it makes me sad how people forget and ignore it. With the Rebellion it’s not just the special people who can be heroes, everyone can! And they don’t even need to do the heroic actions described in the stories and the myths.

A Hero says “No” when the Stormtroopers ask if they saw the young and scared boy who ran and hid behind the bins near their home.

A Hero gives extra blankets and food to the neighbor that is hiding refugees.

A Hero “accidentally” blocks the way of a squad of Stormtroopers, to give others the time to escape.

A Hero hides the weapons of the rebels in their well while the Stormtroopers raid all the houses.

A Hero runs through the streets and into the woods to go find the rebels that are hiding there, to tell them it’s time to run

A Hero talks loudly about the atrocities that the Empire is committing, forcing those who are silent to listen.

A Hero comforts the mother who lost all her children to the Empire.

A Hero organizes the funeral of that same mother, after she tried to take her revenge.

A Hero doesn’t let the Empire enter their head, they don’t let it change their being.

It’s all about the small acts of insurrection that pushes the line forward.

#this is what happens when I listen to stories of the partisans #I’m not good with words so this is the best I can express #star wars #star wars prequels #star wars original trilogy #star wars clone wars

[biteofcherry]

Let’s just say, for reasons, Leshy!Steve goes into a kind of rut when spring begins and everything starts to bloom 😏👀 How do you think that would play out for Reader?

😳🥴 You're killing me here, Siri! So I'm ruining you in return 😏

Entwined Main Story

Leshy!Steve Rogers x female reader

warnings: sort of monsterfucking (Steve is an eldritch entity); cockwarming; a different kind of bondage; rut/mating;

Each wet breath you wheeze out seems to twinkle like dust in a beam of sunlight.

The earth shakes lightly, growing warmer and damp; each rumble synced with spurts of cum filling your cunt.

You're not sure, if it's really happening, or if your overdosed on sensations brain created illusions. You knew there was ancient magic running through this forest through invisible veins, pulsing inside of you, too. And it all was connected to the god of the forest.

Who, at the moment, is deeply rooted inside of you in the most literal way.

As the first moon of May brought the coat of spring, it stirred something in Steve.

He always had this mysterious wildness to him, but it appeared to be unleashed now; bursting high and spreading wide, just as lilies of the valley did over one night.

You woke with his face buried between your thighs. Your legs were perfectly placed in the cradle of his antlers, spreading you obscenely to his thirsty mouth. And he drew your juices into a stream, rocking his hips into the bedding of green and moaning his need and pleasure onto your swollen folds.

When he rolled you onto your belly and put you onto your hands and knees, you barely had a moment to brace yourself. Steve breached you in a single thrust; his groan mixing with your cry.

Over the months he showed you gentleness of an experienced lover, who could shatter you into pieces and rebuild you again with slow, thorough love making; as well the untamed primal ways a body could be taken and filled, making you both embarrassed and craving more.

The way he's fucking you know, is something completely different. Wilder. Powerful, not only in his thrusts.

You're so full of him already and yet he seems to be squeezing you closer, wanting into you deeper.

You gasp, feeling a tickling sensation that spreads into soft caress on your body. All over you. When you look down, you see vines stretching from Steve's skin to grow and twine around your limbs.

They wrap around your thighs, over your belly and chest. Tying you to Steve's broad body and constricting any movement.

Only your arms are free.

You trace a trembling hand across your chest, but as your fingers dance over the little leaves, the vine swirls around your nipples, eliciting a new jolt of pleasure.

"Steve?" There's a tint of worry in your voice, but it's still a breathy moan from the sensations rolling through your body. "What's all this?"

You twist your arm behind you and reach your hand to his head, your fingers combing through the silky strands. You've caressed Steve so many times, you can touch him blind without hurting yourself on his antlers.

You've learned how to caress them, too.

"I need to be inside of you." Steve's voice echoes with something deep and old. Something very inhuman.

"You are inside of me-ah!" You can't help the loud keen as Steve shifts and his cock moves inside you again.

"Need more!" He snarls like a stag in rut.

One of his hands grips your vine covered breast, the other cradles your belly as Steve makes an abrupt change in positions.

He stands up. And your body, tied to him so closely with his vines, moves along with him.

Like a perfect cocksleeve.

Steve walks the few paces between your bed and the wide, golden beech tree; each step shifting his cock along your fluttering walls.

"Brace yourself," he growls, sneaking the hand that was on your belly lower and rolling your swollen clit between his fingers.

You comply, placing your hands on the trunk of the majestic tree. With a shout, you dig your fingertips into the harsh bark, as Steve starts bucking into you anew.

#Siri #stargazingfangirl18 #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x female reader #leshy!steve rogers #entwined #entwined universe #now I need to make a separate masterlist for this universe 😝

[lostinforestbound]

Inspired by @slumpsnail 's piece of their Dark Rolan concept! Check out their other piece here!

The Rise or The Downfall of a Wizard's Apprentice?

CW: Blood, Death, Description of Breakdown

The first emotion was shock. Rolan couldn't move from his place on his knees as he watched his master clinging to whatever life he had left. His hands are stained red, settled on his lap while Lorroakan crawls to him, his own blood seeping onto the floor in rapid speed. Rolan can't recall what he did exactly, but it was during one of his usual beatings. Something about being a "failure" and "an idiot who deserved everything he gave to him". The memory is fuzzy now, he didn't even realize he stopped shaking from fear.

Lorroakan doesn't say anything, not that he could from the pain, but he looks fearful. A fear of death, perhaps? What a coward.

His mouth spits blood out, and he looks ready to beg. For mercy, Rolan hopes, because how humiliating would that be, for a master to beg for his life from his student?

His mentor doesn't get the chance before he stops moving, the life leaving his eyes, wide with a permanent terror. Rolan wonders if he's going to one of the Hells, his soul forever tortured.

After the initial shock dies down, he runs his hands down his face, uncaring of the blood trail he leaves on his bruised cheekbones as his eyes shine with glee. He killed Lorroakan, the Lorroakan, and yet he felt nothing but pure joy. Is this how Tav feels when they kill someone they hate? This addicting satisfaction that makes his blood rush with adrenaline?

By the gods, is he going insane? He can't find it in his heart to care, so he laughs.

He laughs and laughs, loud and prominent, echoing in the stillness of the room. What a fool he has been. Was it always this easy to kill someone? Does it matter now? It felt so fucking good. Even as he calms, his happiness still remains. In all honesty, he thought he could have died here. When he first struck his master, it was out of terror. He was going to beat him again, and he pleaded for him to stop. It didn't work, and when his teacher's staff raised once more, he held out his hands and- Bursting into a new, quiet giggle fit, he rests his head on his still-wet hand, staring down at the body with a smile. "Oh how the mighty have fallen, Master Lorroakan. Though, you were not mighty to begin with."

A small part of his breaking mind is screaming at him, wondering what in the hells has he done? What would Cal and Lia think if they saw him now, practically bathing in his master's blood? What would their mother think? What would they think when they realized he it enjoyed it?

It doesn't matter, they're all dead, including the man he once was.

He gets up on surprisingly steady feet, leaning down and grabbing Lorroakan's hair by the scalp, beginning to drag it towards the balcony. "Master Lorroakan, do you believe in karma?"

There is no response, but it's not as if he was expecting one. The body's getting cold.

"I'm not talking about you, oh no, I'm talking about yours truly." He says casually, grip tight. "My parents abandoned me, and when I get adopted into another one, their mother dies. Then The Descent, where I saw prowling devils and undead roam the streets, tearing people apart. When we finally escape, we're exiled by Elturel, our only home. When we finally make our trek to Baldur's Gate from a grove that hated us, Cal and Lia are eaten alive by shadows."

He finally reaches the railing, leaning against it to rest briefly. "Then, when I eagerly arrive to you with nothing, you beat me for saying the wrong answers to nonsensical questions. Yet look at you now."

Lifting the head to his face, he grins happily as he stares into the lifeless eyes of his mentor. "Master, I believe karma is finally on my side, after all this time. This tower is mine now," he snorts, trying not to laugh again, "I suppose I should thank you! None of this would have happened if it weren't for your weakness."

He picks up the body proper now, getting closer to the railing. "Goodbye, Master. I'm sure there's a special place in the afterlife, just for you."

Without thinking twice on it, he throws Lorroakan's body off the edge, watching it fall down the edge of the tower. He can't see the bottom from here, but he can't only imagine the body mangling as soon as it hits the ground. The people down below probably won't recognize who it is, but that doesn't matter.

All of this knowledge in the tower he now has access to, but where to start? He should probably clean all the blood but...no, he'll keep the stains there for a while longer, as a reminder of one of his greatest achievements.

A spineless wretch is what Lorroakan was. A pathetic, greedy human who wanted to keep this almost infinite knowledge and artifacts all to himself. Now it was all Rolan's, the new master of Ramazith's tower.

Master Rolan has a good ring to it, and he's too excited to get started on his infinite studies.

That's when he notices that dwarven man in the corner of the red stained room, shaking like a leaf. Another apprentice under Lorroakan. He saw everything. What was his name again? Ah, well...

He fires his magic missile in an instant, killing the man from where he stood with the brightest smile he's ever had in many years.

There cannot be witnesses, now can there?

#forest-writes #rolan #bg3 rolan #holy rolan empire #rolan bg3 #dark!rolan #rolanites

[justagalwhowrites]

Yearling - Ch. 35: Answers

You leave Jackson to find your daughters. A continuation of Yearling ch. 1-34 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Canon-typical violence. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ Only 

Length: 5.4k

A/N: We are into the final arc of Yearling and we are going to see some TLOU 2 OVERLAP again. There isn't any this chapter but there will be in this arc and here's how: a character from that game will be mentioned as will the spoiler-y incident from a few chapters ago. What happens plot wise in this arc is completely separate from the game and entirely original content BUT there is that character overlap and more specific mentions of the incident and the motives behind it. If you're trying to go in blind to season 2, it might be wise to step back. Feel free to send me a DM, I'm happy to answer any and all questions!

AO3 | Chapter One | Previous Chapter

It was hard not to panic when the world was ending. 

You’d lived through it enough by now, you thought you’d get used to it. 

You never did. 

“Who has them, Kyle?” You asked, holding the boy’s shoulders, searching his eyes. He was still panting for breath, still looking terrified. “I need you to focus, who has them.” 

“That man, the one who was here a few months ago but left,” he said. “I can’t… He gave me so much to remember and I can’t…” 

“Cody?” You asked quickly, even though you knew you were right, your chest tight. “Does that sound right?” 

“Yeah,” he nodded quickly. “Yes, Cody, it was Cody, he has them. He sent me here, to find you. He told me to bring you and just you back, said if we came with anyone else he’d kill them. I’m so sorry, Mrs. Miller, I was just trying to help, I swear…” 

Your head spun but you didn’t have time to try to calm yourself down or even come up with a fucking plan. 

“Did he say why?” You asked, leaving the teenager hovering in your doorway as you went to your kitchen. You found a notebook and ripped a piece of paper out of it, the pen hovering over it for a moment. Like once you wrote what was going to happen there was no turning back. 

“He said you owed him,” he said. “And he that he would collect with them if it wasn’t with you. He said you’d know what that meant.” 

You held the pen a little tighter. You did know what he meant and you knew the kind of man Cody was, what he would take if you let him. 

You couldn’t let him. 

“Kyle, go in the closet by the front door,” you said, wondering how your voice wasn’t shaking. “There’s my patrol pack in there, it has my flashlight, my axe and my knife. Get them.” 

It wasn’t going to be enough but you didn’t have guns in the house and getting one would require talking to someone else, something you couldn’t risk, not when it was Savvy and Ellie on the line. You’d have to make do.

You tried to think of what to say to Joel, the man you loved more than you ever thought it was possible to love someone like that. How did you say goodbye to someone who meant that much to you when you didn’t want to leave? 

You did the best you could, signing your name - your real one - for the first time since you’d married Joel. 

“Found them,” Kyle said as you folded the paper in half and wrote Joel’s name on one side of it, leaving the note leaning against the flowers that he had picked for you before leaving town. You looked around the kitchen, at the spot on the counter where you perched as your husband cooked for you and the table where you sat with him and took a deep breath, hoping you’d see it all again. 

“You know where to go, right?” You asked. 

“Yeah,” he nodded. “I memorized it.” 

“OK,” you said, clipping your knife to your belt, thankful that you’d just fallen asleep fully clothed so you didn’t have to stop to get dressed. You were in one of Joel’s shirts. You always were, when he was outside Jackson, when he promised to come home to you. “Lead the way.” 

You followed Kyle through the dark, quiet town. Even the Tipsy Bison was silent and you realized you weren’t sure what time it was but it had to be late, at least 3 a.m. 

“We’ll have to sneak out,” Kyle said, his voice low. “It’s what we did when…” 

You couldn’t think about it. 

“Show me.” 

There was an area of the fence, covered by a woodpile and not far from the schoolhouse, that easily pried apart, leaving enough room for a person to slip outside. 

Kyle climbed through first and held it for you to follow before the two of you scrambled for the nearest tree line, hoping that you made it out of town unnoticed. 

“How far?” You asked, looking back over your shoulder, your heart pounding. 

“Three hours, I think,” he said. “I’m so sorry Mrs. Miller…” 

“Tell me all of it,” you said, ignoring his apology. It didn’t matter now. “I need to know what we’re walking into.” 

It made so much sense when he laid it out for you. 

Savvy and Ellie had snuck out of Jackson the first night Joel was gone, the friends they were hanging out with apparently slipping out regularly. They stashed some pot outside the walls and liked to go sit and smoke when they thought they wouldn’t get into trouble, where they felt like they had some freedom. It was so typical of teenagers, it was almost funny. That even in the apocalypse, in a place like Jackson, the children found ways to rebel. Kyle and Savvy had wandered off from the group. They didn’t go far, just far enough that they felt like they had some privacy. Kyle wanted to ask her to the dance that was happening in a few weeks. 

That’s where they ran into Cody. 

He’d been nice, at first. Asking after Jackson, how things had been there. How he was thinking about trying to come back. He asked for information, enough that Savvy was starting to feel skeptical. 

And then Ellie found them. 

Ellie was worried, thinking that Savvy had been off on her own with a boy a little too long, and set off to find them. But she’d snapped when she saw Cody. She was a smart girl, she didn’t leave Jackson unarmed and she put her knife to Cody’s throat. 

He’d just smiled, something in his eyes that made Kyle uneasy, more uneasy than Ellie’s knife did. 

“Should fucking kill you right now,” Ellie had said, getting in his face. “Joel never should have let you live, I don’t give a fuck what she says…” 

“Ellie!” Savvy tried to go for her but Kyle stopped her, catching her around her waist and holding her back. “You can’t just kill him, he hasn’t done anything!” 

“Should listen to your sister, little girl,” Cody smirked. “I don’t come back, there’s a whole new set of problems for that perfect little town of yours.” 

“Fuck you,” Ellie spat. 

“You that serious?” He asked. “Come and get me. Tomorrow night. Bring your mom.” He’d looked at Savvy in a way that made Kyle feel sick. “And get your sister on board. Something tells me she might not know the real reason I left Jackson.” 

Cody walked away then, Ellie’s grip still tight on the knife for a minute before she put an arm around Savvy and stalked back off toward town. Kyle couldn’t hear what they were saying. 

When they made it back as dawn was on the horizon, he still wasn’t sure what set Ellie off. He wasn’t sure when Ellie and Savvy came to him the next afternoon, either, to ask him to go with them to find Cody that night. 

“I want to have the upper hand,” Ellie had said. “And you already know about him.” 

Savvy looked different then, something set and angry on her face. Kyle tried to ask her what was wrong but she wouldn’t tell him. He just went along with their plan, Ellie and Savvy out for Cody’s blood and Kyle wanting to keep the girl he was starting to fall for safe. 

But they made a mistake. 

They were outnumbered from the start, Cody bringing a dozen men to capture them. Ellie killed one as Kyle tried to run with Savvy but they failed. 

“Thought I told you to bring your mom,” Cody had said. “But that’s OK. Sure we can work something out.” 

He hauled the three of them away, walking a few hours into the forest, before sending Kyle back to Jackson to get you.

It explained so much of what had happened over the last day. The cagey way Ellie and Savvy were talking in the mess hall, the way Savvy had hugged you - Ellie had to have told her something - like she hadn’t in months, the odd way they were acting when you checked on them that night. 

“How many men were there?” You asked. 

“A lot,” Kyle said. “I don’t know for sure. At least 12 to grab us, we met up with probably another dozen or so after that…” 

“Right,” you said, your heart clenching. You weren’t making it out of this. You tried to resign yourself to that, that the best you could hope for right now was getting the kids out in one piece. “Did he say what he wanted?” 

“Besides you?” Kyle asked. “No. I’m sorry, Mrs. Miller…” 

“It’s OK,” you said, trying to keep him calm. “You did your best, you stayed alive, that’s the important thing.” 

The two of you walked in silence for a while, your heart pounding the whole time. You focused on getting to the girls. That’s all that mattered. You tried not to think about what was waiting for you on the other side of it. 

“When we find them, let me do the talking,” you said as the sunrise tinted the horizon red. “And stay behind me. If you see a chance to get Savvy or Ellie away, do it. Otherwise, do what I tell you.” 

“Yes ma’am,” he said, a tremble in his voice. “I’m really sorry, Mrs. Miller, I didn’t mean…” 

“I know,” you said quietly. “Just get them home.” 

You caught a glimpse of someone moving in the woods then, just on the edge of your vision, your head whipping around to track the motion on instinct. It was baked into you still, moving through the forest alone, being on guard, knowing when you were being watched. You’d survived most of your life that way and years in Jackson hadn’t pulled it out of you. The second you realized it was a man and not an animal, you adjusted your grip on your axe with one hand and reached behind you with the other, shifting your body so you were between Kyle and the man. 

It took you half a second to place his familiar face, one of Mitchum’s henchmen who was low enough that he wasn’t allowed to touch you, a slow smirk spreading over his face. 

“Well ain’t you a sight for sore eyes,” he emerged from a fern and gave a long, low whistle. “Mitchum’s been lookin’ for you.” 

“Bet he’s been lookin’ for you, too,” your hold on the axe tightened. You wanted to kill him but you couldn’t, not when you didn’t know where Ellie and Savvy were. “Unless you’re still his little bitch. But I don’t think he took too kindly to you taking off on him to serve some other asshole.” 

“You always did have a mouth on you,” he said, trees and brush at your back starting to rustle. “But look where that got you.” 

“And you were up his ass for how long?” You asked. “Where’d that get you, exactly?” 

His eyes narrowed and you tracked where you were hearing movement around you, the sound drawing closer. Kyle’s shaky hand grabbed at your bicep. 

“Don’t think the boss would be too happy with you picking a fight with our biggest commodity,” a man said from behind you. Kyle gasped and you felt him jump but you kept your  eyes on the first man. “You know what he wants with her.” 

“And what’s that, exactly?” You called over your shoulder, still tracking where Kyle was with your unoccupied hand. 

“Leverage, of course,” the man came around to the front of you, smirking just like his friend. You didn’t recognize him. “Mitchum has the biggest operation around these parts and you, it seems, are the only thing he wants that he doesn’t have. Give him you on a silver platter? We get first pick of new territory.” 

He looked you up and down in a way that reminded you of inspecting livestock. Your stomach turned.

“Don’t really see what all the fuss is about but,” he shrugged. “Don’t really give a shit.” 

“You got my girls?” You asked, cutting to the chase. 

His smile grew. 

“So the boss was right,” he shook his head a little. “You women, so predictable…” 

“If they’re not in one piece, I got no reason to leave you two idiots alive,” you snapped, losing your patience. You needed to see your daughters and you needed to see them now. “So if you don’t want my axe in your goddamn chest, you’re gonna take me to them right fucking now.” 

He licked his lips. 

“Might get the fuss a little more now,” he said, stepping close to you. He knew he had you, knew that you wouldn’t do anything that would risk Savvy or Ellie. “Gonna need that axe and knife and anything else you got on you or the boy. Then we’ll see if we can’t find your girls.” 

You narrowed your eyes but surrendered your weapons anyway. 

“Mrs. Miller…” Kyle whispered but you shushed him. 

“I’ll keep you safe,” you glanced behind you toward him. “Stay calm and do what they tell you.” 

You turned your attention back to the men in front of you, more emerging from the trees now. 

“If you’ve hurt either of them, you have no idea the shit storm you just brought down on your heads.” 

“Not much of a threat without your little toys,” he looked them over. “Something tells me we can take you just fine unarmed.” 

“Cody tell you what I did to the men who tried to catch me last time I got out?” You asked, brows raised. For half a moment, there was a flash of concern on the first man’s face. You nodded to him. “He knows. Take me to my girls before you find out first hand.” 

The second man quirked his jaw before jerking his head in the direction you’d been walking. 

“Keep up.” 

You only needed to follow them another 15 minutes or so, your heart pounding the whole time. Eventually, you came upon a clearing, a fire dying at the center of it with Cody standing right behind it, watching you approach with a satisfied smirk on his face. 

“Hey there baby doll,” he said, prowling around the fire to meet you. “You don’t look too happy to see me.” 

“Where are my daughters.” 

He ignored you, like you hadn’t spoken at all. 

“You’d think that, after last time, you’d learn…” 

“Where are my daughters.” 

“…that you should at least pretend to be grateful when you see me…” 

Your patience was gone. If he didn’t have Ellie and Savvy, there was no point to this. No point to his game, no point to trying to make it out alive. You needed to see them and you needed to see them now. 

The man at your left had a handgun in a holster on his right, one he wasn’t paying close attention to, his hands on his rifle that was strapped across his body. You, on the other hand, had paid attention. 

You went for the gun, moving fast enough that he didn’t know what was happening until he felt the tug of you pulling the weapon from his side, turning to face you with a frown on his face after you freed the revolver, pulling the hammer back as you raised it and pulled the trigger. He dropped, Kyle screaming in shock at your back, and you turned the gun on Cody, pulling the hammer back again. 

“WHERE ARE MY FUCKING KIDS!” 

You could feel every gun and eye turn to you as you fought to control your breathing, the sound of birds taking flight the only sound beyond the echo of the gunshot and your scream. But you knew they wouldn’t shoot you, not when you were apparently so valuable to their boss and their boss was still breathing. And if they were smart, the wouldn’t hurt Savvy or Ellie, either.

“You know you wouldn’t make it out of here alive,” Cody said, stepping closer, until the barrel of the gun was in his chest. 

“You think that matters if they’re gone?” You asked, brows raised. “If you killed them, all that matters is that I kill as many of you as I can before you take me down and I’m a damn good shot. So. Give me my daughters or another one of these fuckers dies.” 

He gave you a cocky smirk and whistled. There was rustling somewhere you couldn’t see but, after a moment, three men brought out Savvy and Ellie, bound and gagged. You clenched your jaw but stayed still, eyes ranging over them as quickly as you could, looking for all signs of injury. They were still dressed, a good sign. Ellie had a cut at her forehead, Savvy had a bloody bandage at her arm. You clenched your fist on the revolver. 

“See?” Cody said. “All in one piece. Now, hand over the gun before we have to change that.” 

Ellie’s eyes went wide and she shook her head at you, frantic, but you ignored her.

“Untie them,” you said, gun still in his chest. 

“Gonna need a little more incentive than that,” he said. “I know how you are with people who do you favors…” 

“Untie them,” you said again, pulling your eyes away from the girls to meet his. “Let me talk to them, make sure they’re OK, then let them go with their friend. And I mean let them go, your men stay where I can fuckin’ see ‘em. You do that? I’ll do whatever you want.” 

“Whatever I want?” He asked, looking you up and down. 

Your stomach turned. 

“You heard me,” you spat. 

He mulled it over for a second before smiling, cocky. 

“Deal,” he said, jerking his head toward one of his men. They moved to untie Savvy and Ellie. “I’ll take that gun now.” 

You lowered the weapon and turned it around in your hand before holding it out to him, handle first. He took it. 

“Good as you are, don’t know if I ever thought your pussy was worth all the fuss Mitchum made over you,” he said, handing the gun to one of his henchmen. “But damn if it ain’t fun to watch you break.” 

“Mom!” Savvy was freed first, running for you and throwing her arms around your neck. You clutched onto her, clinging to her, breathing in the scent of her, floral with a hint of apple and hay and gunpowder. “I’m so sorry, Mom, I’m so sorry…” 

“It’s OK,” your voice was thick and you tried to focus on how she felt in your arms so you could hold onto that memory before stepping back from her. “Are you OK? They touch you?” 

“I’m fine,” she sniffed. “They got my arm a little but…” 

“They haven’t touched you since you’ve been here?” You asked, brows raised. “No one’s hurt you or…” 

“No,” she shook her head. “No, they tied us up but they haven’t done anything.” 

“Good,” you nodded, brushing her thick curls back from her forehead. “That’s good.” 

Ellie approached you cautiously, like she was waiting for you to yell at her but you didn’t. You didn’t even want to, there was no point to it. Instead, you pulled her into your arms and held her tight as she pressed her face into your shoulder. You tried to remember her, too, the daughter who came into your life so late and that you desperately wanted more time with. 

“I’m sorry,” she said, voice thick and wet. “I thought I could handle it, I thought…” 

“S’OK,” you said, stepping back from her and looking her over, too. Her lip was split and the blood at her forehead was dried, the cut there scabbing over. “Ellie, I need you to listen to me. You’re in charge, OK? You’re going to get Savvy and Kyle back to Jackson…” 

“But -”

“No,” you said, harsher than you really meant. “This ain’t a discussion, this is me telling you what you’re going to do, do you understand me.” 

“I can’t just leave you here!” Her eyes were wide and desperate and you forced yourself to be calm. 

“Yes, you can,” you said, taking her by the shoulders. “Ellie, the most important thing you can do right now is take care of your sister, do you understand me?” She nodded. “You get her and Kyle back to town. You’ve patrolled, you know how to do it safely. Get them there. That’s your job, they are your responsibility. Promise me you’ll get them home.” 

She looked like she wanted to argue but you held her tighter. 

“Ellie,” you said. “Promise me.” 

“But…” 

“Promise me!” You yelled it, loud enough that you saw Savvy flinch out of the corner of your eye. 

“I promise,” she said, crying now. 

It was like a weight lifted. You knew it was hours back to Jackson but, if Ellie actually kept her word, they’d make it. They would be safe. That was all that mattered. 

“Thank you,” you pulled her in for another hug, kissing her cheek as you did. “I love you so much. Take care of yourself and your dad for me, OK?” 

“I love you too,” she breathed. 

You gave her a final squeeze and went for Savvy who was fighting back tears. 

“Mom,” her voice was thick and wet. “I can’t…” 

“Yes, you can,” you said gently. “Go with Ellie, do what she tells you and you’ll get back safe. Listen to Joel, stick with school, find your place in Jackson. Have a good life, OK?” 

She shook her head. 

“I don’t want to do it without you,” she’d given up on not crying now. “I tried to before and I don’t want that, you need to be there, Mom, I need you, I…” 

“Savvy,” you said, holding her face in your hands, brushing her tear-streaked cheeks with your thumbs. “Everything I’ve done for as long as you’ve been mine has been for you but you don’t need me now. You’re all that matters. You get back safe, you have a good life with people you love. You do that and I’ll have done everything I needed to do. So give me that, OK?” 

You didn’t give her a chance to reply, just pulling her in close and holding her there, kissing her cheek as you did. 

“I love you so much, baby girl,” you whispered. 

“I love you, too,” she said. 

You stepped back and looked at them for a moment before casting a glance at Cody. 

“They need weapons.” 

“That wasn’t part of the deal.” 

You rounded on him. 

“Give them weapons,” you said through clenched teeth. “Or I’ll kill as many of your men as I can between here and Mitchum.” 

He smirked a little before jerking his head in the direction of one of his men. They surrendered knives you recognized - ones you were sure Ellie and Savvy had come here with - and your axe. 

“Better get going,” Cody said. “Before I change my mind.” 

You just nodded and watched them go, Ellie and Savvy looking back at you as long as they could, Ellie pulling Savvy along side her as they went. You kept looking at the place where they’d been long after you couldn’t see them anymore. 

“Alright Doll,” Cody said eventually, stepping forward with cuffs in his hands. “Wrists together. Not about to risk you changing your mind on that deal. You’re a little too valuable and it’s time for me to cash in.” 

***

“Joel.”

Tommy sounded desperate. Joel ignored him. 

“You can’t just take off…” 

Tommy’s hand came to Joel’s shoulder but he ripped it off, rounding on his brother, moving quickly and decisively and backing the younger, smaller man into a building. 

“You tryin’ to tell me I can’t protect my family?” Joel towered over him. “You gonna try and stop me?” 

“Can’t do shit for them if you run out there hot headed,” Tommy said, his eyes darting over Joel’s face, like he was watching a wild animal. “You can’t help them if you’re dead, you need to wait, you need a plan…” 

“I have a fuckin’ plan!” He didn’t have time for this. “Get my girls back. Don’t try to fuckin’ stop me.” 

“Joel,” Maria’s voice was behind him, calm and collected. He turned to face her, ready to go through her, too, if he had to. “We have everyone out looking for them, there are no fresh horses because we sent everyone we had as soon as we could. We’re looking for their trail but they could be anywhere. Wait until we have people back to go with you, wait until we know where they went. If you run off now, you’re only going to make it worse. You’ll waste time. Give it a few hours, Joel.” 

“A few hours?” He bit out. “You want me to sit here for a few fuckin’ hours while that monster has my wife and kids? Expect me to let him hurt them for hours while I fuckin’ wait?” 

Maria didn’t have a chance to respond, the sound of chaos at the gate sending the three of them running for it. 

Joel reached it just as three horses rode up. It took him a moment to realize they each carried more than one rider. His heart pounded. For one second - a glorious, peaceful second - he thought everything was going to be OK. That they’d found you and the girls before anything bad happened, that he was going to be able to hold the three of you close and never let you go again. 

And then he realized that you weren’t there. That you’d gotten the children you shared with him back but you hadn’t made it. 

“Joel!” Ellie jumped off her horse before it had fully stopped. “Joel, he has Bambi, we have to go get her, we have to.” 

She threw her arms around his neck and clung to him and he could feel her taking shaky breaths. 

“It’s OK Baby Girl,” he said, holding her close. “I’ve got you, you’re OK.” 

“We have to go get her,” Ellie said again, frantic as she pulled back from him. “We have to.” 

Joel, Tommy and Maria led the girls and a trembling Kyle to the clinic. Ellie and Savvy didn’t wait for the doctor to be done looking them over as they sat beside each other on the exam table, the story spilling out of them quickly. How they’d lied to you and snuck out of Jackson the first night he was gone. How they’d run into Cody in the woods. How Ellie threatened to kill him and Savvy didn’t understand why. How he told them to come back the next night with you. How Ellie had told Savvy everything she knew about what happened to you. How Savvy wanted to leave then and there to take care of it and Ellie had to make her wait, confident that they could handle him. How Ellie had killed men like him before, how she was sure she could do it again. How they got help from Kyle to be sure. How it had all gone to shit the second they were too far from Jackson to get help. How you’d come for them, how you’d sacrificed yourself to get the three of them out safely. 

How Joel knew that’s exactly what you would do. 

Because of course you would. It was exactly what he would have done. How would you have done anything else? 

“We need to get her back, Joel,” Savvy was crying, pleading. “We can’t leave her there with him, we can’t, please…” 

Joel looked between the two of them. He wanted to scream. He wanted to ask why. Why had they snuck out? Why had they tried to take matters into their own hands? Why had they put themselves in such danger? Didn’t they know, if they failed, you’d have no choice? That you would do anything for them? That he would, too? 

But yelling and questioning wouldn’t do any good. What was done was done. Taking his fear out on them would only make shit worse.

“I’m gonna get her back, Baby Girl,” Joel said. “I’m gonna bring her home.” 

He turned and gave Tommy a look, half begging for help, half daring him to stop him. Tommy just squared his jaw and gave him a single, firm nod. Joe returned it and the went to leave, but Ellie stopped them, catching them on the porch of the clinic. 

“I’m coming, too.” 

“No,” Joel shook his head. “No, you’re stayin’ here…” 

“No,” she said sharply, a fierce look in her eyes. “I’m going. I can help, I know…” 

“It don’t matter,” Joel cut her off. “Not putting you at risk…” 

“I don’t care about the risk!” She snapped. “You can’t just expect me to sit here on my ass while she’s out there…”

“You think she’d want you gettin’ hurt for her?” Joel grabbed Ellie by the shoulders and held her tighter than he should. “She took care of you by…” 

“By cleaning up a fucking mess I made!” She yelled before closing her eyes for a moment, a single tear slipping down her cheek. She took a deep, centering breath before opening her eyes again, voice calmer now. “I never had parents, Joel. I never had anyone who loved me like that until you and then she showed up and she didn’t have any fucking reason to care about me like that but she did. She’s my mom and I got her hurt because I tried to handle shit on my own. I’m not handling it on my own now, I’m handling it with you. I know what you’re capable of. I know what you’re going to do. I’m telling you that I don’t want to be here when you do it, I want to be with you. I want to get her back and I want to make him fucking pay and I can’t do that from Jackson. So are you going to let me come with you or are you going to make me sneak out and try to handle this shit on my own again?” 

Joel looked to his brother. He’d done shit like this more times than he cared to count but only twice with stakes as high as this. Every time, it was either alone or with Tommy at his side. He knew he wouldn’t be able to do what he normally did with Ellie there. He’d be worrying about her, watching for her, protecting her. 

But they were out numbered and Ellie was a strong rider who was smart and good with a gun. 

“She’s an adult, Joel,” Tommy said hesitantly. Joel could see in his eyes that he was thinking about William, if he would let his son do something so reckless if he had any say. “And she does a good job on patrol.” 

Joel took a deep breath. 

“You gotta listen,” he said. Ellie was already nodding quickly. “Do what I say so I can keep us all safe. I tell you to get back to Jackson, you do it. If you’re a liability out there, you’re makin’ things worse for her, not better. Got it?” 

“Yes.” 

“Repeat it.” 

“What you say goes,” she said, watching him closely. “I won’t fuck up, Dad. I promise.” 

In another time, another place, Joel’s heart would have soared in that moment. Just knowing that Ellie saw him the same way he saw her made him feel complete in a way he didn’t realize he was missing. 

But he wasn’t able to enjoy it. There was another vital piece of him that was gone, one he was going to get back if it was the last thing he ever did. 

“OK,” he said, looking at Ellie. “Let’s go get your mom.” 

A/N: Figured we'd kick off the more feral part of this fic with some Feral!Bambi. Don't worry, Feral!Joel fans, he's up next ❤️ As always, thank you so so much for reading and for sticking it out with this fic! I know it's been a long one. I'm glad you're still here. Love you!

Taglist: @ashleymsnodgrass@planet-marz1@kalea-bane @juneswonderlust @ilovepedro @h-annahayy @starstruckmusiciansartghost @beccerjune @mumma-moonchild @netonetoneto @mellymbee @purplelye @n7cje @flugazi @evyiione @randomhoex @aliengirl99 @orcasoul @reds-ramblings @pedropascalsbbg @fupoola @tinypotatothing @knopes-waffles @lilmizmoz @ayamenimthiriel @jenispunk @panda-pascal @sarap-77 @flugazi @your-slutty-gf @daniegraceg @partyofone3413 @cumberpegg @noisynightmarepoetry. @fifia-writes @grumpygrumperton @srmacaroni @txlady37 @bigboiseason123 @ashleyfilm @arizonadreamingg

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #yearling #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x oc

[certifiedwhore4slashers]

final girl | coriolanus snow

pairing: ghostface!coriolanus snow x fem!reader

summary: you've become a target, the final girl of a killer's movie.

warnings: dark content, possessive!coryo, dark!coryo, obsession/obsessive behavior, suggestive themes(if you squint), stalking, murder, blood and gore, coryo being delusional, threats of violence, violence, sort of modern!au, no use of y/n, naive!reader, r is too kind.

It was october, not only that but there was a killer on the loose. You were by yourself, much to your parent’s annoyance. You told them,”I’m 18 Mom. I technically could be on my own. Please, let me be on my own. I’ll be fine. I’ve got friends who can help me. And 911 on the phone.”

Your mother sighed. "The capitol’s safe enough. Fine. But if anything happens-” “Protocol, I know, I know all the rules, You replied. You did. Normally, your parents weren't like this. But there was a killer. A fucking killer. Of course they'd be worried for their only child.

You were also the heir to wealthy parents and known in the capitol. Your parents were. If there would be a target, you might be on that list. Either way, you were going to be as safe as you could be.

. You place yourself on the couch. The staff, which included the maids, were on their day-offs today, which was unfortunate for you. Tonight, would be different, though, you had no idea.

Clemensia, your best friend, texted you.

Home alone?

You replied almost right away.

Yeah. It took convincing, though. My parents are kind of protective.

You knew she was sighing and rolling her eyes at your comment. Clemensia was logical, so were you. The both of you were, but sometimes you could be reckless. Her, too, but not tonight apparently.

For good reason. I mean, there's a killer out there.

You wanted to just watch a movie, something that was a form of entertainment in the Capitol, obviously. You decide a horror movie was too gruesome for a time like this, and were planning to watch a rom-com. A surprise, considering you loved horror movies.

Yeah. I feel too... scared to watch a scary movie. That's how bad this is getting.

That was the truth, you were utterly terrified. Terrified to even watch scary movies, as if it'd become true. You check your phone. Updates in the group chat continue.

Your friend, Coriolanus, was discussing the killer. But also said that everyone should be careful. It was a known fact he liked you, but you were oblivious.

You were always so naïve.

They say he calls his victims before he kills them. I hope that's not true. I mean, what if he gets one of us?

The latest kills were students at the school, Gaius Breen and Androcles Anderson. This was tragic, and they didn't deserve it. They really didn't. And it made you wonder, why?

Why?

Clemensia was texting you and then calls. “Hey Clemmie, You say. “Hey! She replied. She sounded a little better but still, she was probably terrified just like you. "You okay, Clemmie, why did you call? You ask her, naturally. "Clemmie" was a nickname given in your childhood. You had a friend group that all had your own nicknames, including you. "I don't know, I don't think I'd like to be by myself, She admitted.

"That's fair, You agreed."I don't think... Hold on. I'm getting another call. Can I be right back on that?" "Mhm, it's not your fault, Clemensia said.

You end that call, and while the number was not one you'd recognize, sometimes you don't put in numbers on accident, or change the name. It happens. "Hello? You say, kindly. No matter who called, you tried to be as polite as you could be. 

"Hello."

Already, you know this is a stranger. For one thing, the voice isn't one yo recognize, secondly, the number wasn't in your contacts. So it wasn't one you accidentally kept the number on. Unless this was a prank. 

"Sorry I have to ask, who is this?"

"Who is this?"

"I already asked that. What number are you trying to reach?"

"I don't know, what number is this?"

You chuckle. "You called me, shouldn't you know?"

"I guess not."

In your mind, you conclude that this must be a wrong number. It wasn't his fault, so you weren't going to be annoyed by it. They seemed to be confused. "Wrong number, it's not your fault, it happens." You hang it up, and it was eerily similar to the beginning of Scream. You brushed it off, and planned to call Clemensia back, when the number called again.

"Hello?"

"I'm sorry. I guess I dialed the wrong number."  

"Oh, then why did you call again?"

"To apologize."

"Well, I forgive you, so-"

"Wait, can we talk?"

You sigh. "I'd love to. But i've got a phone call to do, bye, buddy." You hang up again. You innocently think of this as some joke. So, entertaining the prankster wouldn't be too bad for you. 

However, you needed to call Clemensia back, ASAP. As you were about to tap her name to call, the prankster called again. However, you weren't going to be mad or annoyed, you were that good of a person.

Maybe naïve for your own good, but kind nonetheless. 

"Hello?"

"Why don't you want to talk to me?" 

"Oh, hi, um... I just don't know you at all. Sorry."

"You seem very sweet and understanding."

"I try to be. You never know. What's your name?"

"You tell me your name, and I'll tell you mine."

You place a piece of popcorn in my mouth, my soda beside me by the movie." As much as it'd be nice to make another friend, you'd have to earn that." A while ago, you texted your boyfriend to come over. Where was he? Your parents were gone. This was your chance to finally get intimate tonight. Still, no response. You texted him a couple of times. You frown. Is he cheating on me? You thought.

"What are you eating?"

"Popcorn, You immediately reply. "I'm watching a movie."

"What movie?"

"A rom-com, I can't bring myself to watch a horror movie."

"Rom-coms are cheesy, I think horror movies are incredible."

"Ah, a horror nerd, You joke. "Well, I normally think so, too. But, it's just... whatever."

"What's your favorite scary movie?"

You smile. "I guess I'd say, Texas Chainsaw Massacre. It's interesting."

"A good choice. It's brutal."

You check your phone a couple of times, still on the call, your boyfriend messaged once. He was on his way, and apologized for not being there. You accepted it, he was a good boyfriend, and was normally on time or responded, he was perfect. So, you forgave him immediately. 

"So, you've got a boyfriend?"

His voice was flirty, and suggestive, even. But you weren't flattered or anything. You loved your boyfriend. "Mhm, You say."So, I'm not interested. We're happy together."

"Ah, lovebirds. How cute."

His voice was sarcastic. However, you still tried to remain kind. You didn't say anything as a response though. 

"You never said your name."

"Why do you want my name?"

"Because I want to know who I'm looking at."

You freeze. "What did you say?"

"I want to know who I'm talking to.""

You shake your head."No. That's not what I heard." Panicked, you text your boyfriend and Clemensia. Someone was watching you."I'm hanging up."

"Why would you do that, Doll?"

"I... I just have to go."

"Don't hang up."

You text your boyfriend once more, hoping he'd come quick. Instead, however, you got a disturbing response.

Don't hang up on me. It won't end well for you.

You lock every door in your house, this creep wouldn't come in your house. But you also weren't ignoring his calls anymore certainly. He calls again, and you pick up. "What do you want?"

"Just to talk, doll."

"No, clearly not. Otherwise-"

"You've caught me. I want to play a game. Like I played with your boyfriend."

"What did you do with him?"

"Go check for yourself."

You whimper, stepping towards the back of your large home. You had a feeling it'd be in your backyard, the answer you were looking for. When you turn on the lights, You scream. Your phone drops, but thankfully doesn't break. Your boyfriend, was hung and gutted in your tree, bloody and all. You began to sob, shakily picking your phone up. "Please, why did you kill him?"

"You belong to me, doll. You're mine. I won't let anyone take you from me."

In that moment, a figure with a ghostly mask bursts in, grabbing you from behind, hands on your waist as you begin to fight, what was he going to do? Take you? You kick, your elbow kicking his rips, and a groan came out from him. You run. You held your phone, call ended. You take this chance and call 911. 

Ghostface gets up, and mid call, is fast and you dropped your phone. You yelp, trying everything in your power.You’re thrown onto the floor and now he’s on top of you, knife in hand was clean but probably washed off the blood after murdering your boyfriend.

what was he going to do with you?

He must be contemplating what he was planning to do. Your legs were stuck, so you couldn’t kick him. He tilts his head. His knife trails down your body, suggestively but also mocking you, it's between your breasts, and then you grab his wrist, trying to pry him off of you. But he's stronger. He says,"Be a good girl and I won't hurt you." He must mean death, so you nod, still crying. The police would come. 

You must've hit the floor hard, because your vision was foggy, and you were close to passing out. If this was death, you were ready. But you had no injuries. You clearly were just going unconscious. You use your free arm to take his mask off.

Your eyes widen."Coryo?" You barely see the grin on his face before you black out.

#yandere coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #fem!reader #ghostface au

[moodymisty]

(This isn't a request, just some Konrad daydreams driven by 4am insomnia that had me screeching and I just have to share with someone while I wait for my meds to kick in!!)

Your recent post about the stinky rat man got me thinking of something truly, hilariously awful: Konrad's favorite meow meow is a PERPETUAL.

Maybe he watches her die. Maybe he accidentally kills her himself. Whatever happens, he'd probably be losing. his. fucking. mind.

..And then she comes back. Oh god, I'm loving imagining at how truly deranged he would be over that. I know he tortures Vulkan SUPER HARD after finding out he's a perpetual, but that seemed driven a lot by "You think you're good and noble(and sane)? I'll drag you down to my level."

I wonder if he'd mistake her as some kind of phantom/delusion brought on by grief and madness at first. Extra comedy: he accidentally(purposely?) kills her again while freaking out over her showing back up alive LMAO. Meow meow can't catch a fuckin' break with this man.

Now I'm wondering how a few other primarchs would react to something similar though

Sanguinius and his sons in mourning and his dead wife just shows back up like "Why did you bury me alive?!" completely unaware she DIED.

Perturabo's shitass sons being like "I told you it was a waste of time!" and then the horror of realizing they didn't escape their step-mom after all.

I'd assume all the primarchs would try to find out what the fuck happened, and maybe go to Malcador for information once they start drawing blanks? Idk.

Fulgrim would so cute, just hyped as fuck. "I have a wife? That won't get old and die before me?? I don't have to lose this one???" Bonus points if she's the last one he was going to marry because he got too heartbroken seeing his wives get old and die over and over 😫 the queen and her corgis vibe forreal

I can't really figure out Mortarion even though he's one of my faves. On one hand, WITCH!! On the other hand,he'd be so relieved the One Good Thing in his life isn't actually gone forevet..

Oh my g o d. Lorgar. Thefucking goddess shit would go CRAZY. Kor Phaeron slamming his head against a wall because he thought he finally WON. HOW DID SHE DO THAT? Some of his followers getting spooked about being rid of her because s u r e l y it was the Powers who orchestrated such a miracle... So maybe she is meant to be here? Uh oh.

Guilliman is another one I'm just like ????. All I can think of, is he'd quietly go find Emps/Malcador and be like "whattheFUCK? explain?please?how?"

It might be because I'm heavily sedated but it's all sO funny to think about. Some legions quietly rejoicing because The Distraction is gone and shejust. Comes back 😭

But can you imagine the parties thrown by the ones who really loved their legion mothers?! And you thought theFUNERAL was extravagant..

Im not sure what time it is there but I hope you slept well and have a good morning! Sorry forcthis stream of consciousness garbage by theway LOL but you always have such cool takes on things I couldnt help muself

This a joy to read friend, I have nothing to add.

Lorgar in particular with a perpetual beloved would be fucking INSANE. His whole religious trauma would be going wild as well as even some of the more apprehensive Word Bearers might be a bit more, respectful.

Imaging Vulkan's wife ends up coming back a few weeks after they desperately mourned her loss, and it's time for the galaxy's largest hug. They form a line.

#Misty's book club #jesus finding out you're a perpetural and in love with Konrad would be AWFUL you can't escape him lmao

[disillusioneddanny]

The Bats and TTPD Songs

This is just me sharing what songs I think matches each of the bats and why :> i take no criticism /j

Bruce Wayne-- Cassandra

Hear me out okay, the lyrics:

So, they killed Cassandra first 'cause she feared the worst And tried to tell the town So they filled my cell with snakes, I regret to say Do you believe me now?

This whole song just reminds me of Bruce and his contingencies, like he's constantly prepared for any situation and he's had people who have gotten mad at him for it before.

Dick Grayson-- Who's Afraid of Little Old Me

God where do I even start? I want to write a whole fucking fic based off of this song and Dick Grayson.

So I leap from the gallows and I levitate down your street Crash the party like a record scratch as I scream "Who's afraid of little old me?" I was tame, I was gentle 'til the circus life made me mean "Don't you worry, folks, we took out all her teeth" Who's afraid of little old me? Well, you should be

In this case, he was bright eyed and innocent until his parents were killed in front of him. Then he became Robin, then Nightwing and this man went through fucking hell and he has survived.

Everyone sees Dick for his smiles and his kindness but this man should not be crossed by any means. He's fucking lethal and has gone through so much shit in his life and he's just not the same bright eyed, innocent kid he once was. And you should be scared of him.

Jason Todd--Robin

So technically this song is about Christopher Robin from winnie the pooh, but I think it also captures Jason really well.

You have no idea The time will arrive for the cruel and the mean You'll learn to bounce back just like your trampoline But now we'll curtail your curiosity In sweetness Way to go, Tiger Higher and higher Wilder and lighter For you

I feel like this song focuses a lot on loss of innocence and growing up tbh, like the person this song is aimed at has no idea how hard the world is, how painful things can be but that they'll learn to handle it and bounce back. IDK the first time I heard it, it reminded me of how Jason believed that Robin is magic and maybe even like Bruce or Dick singing this to him knowing what was going to happen to him one day.

Tim Drake -- Clara Bow

okay, so there's not just one lyric that really sticks out to me but the overarching story that this song tells. It's all about being replaced with the next big thing. Taylor Swift is compared to Stevie Nicks who is compared to Clara Bow and one day T. Swift is going to be replaced with something shiny and new and that just reminds me of Tim.

Tim is the third Robin, he replaced Jason who replaced Dick and one day he himself is going to be replaced. There's a lot of HC where he's aware of this fact, that he knows that his role as Robin is not a permanent thing, that one day, he too will be replaced. And eventually, he is.

"You look like Taylor Swift In this light We're loving it. You've got edge she never did The future's bright ... Dazzling."

Cassandra Wayne -- The Albatross

okay Cass was really hard for me at first to pin down what song fit her but then I listened to The Albatross and holy cow.

The devil that you know Looks now more like an angel I'm the life you chose And all this terrible danger So cross your thoughtless heart She's the albatross She is here to destroy you

I don't know quite how to explain how this song makes me think of Cass except for how it just makes me think about how she decided to take her life in her own hands and become her own person. She was pretty much created with one thing in mind and that was all that was expected of her but she's become so much more than that. Now she's strong and powerful but in more ways than just how David Cain made her out to be. She's caring and loving and she's going to destroy the idea that she was ever just a weapon.

Stephanie Brown -- I Can Do It With a Broken Heart

Listen, listen, this woman has been through so freaking much and she has come out on top and with a smile on her face the entire time. She is resilient and she isn't scared to fight Bruce Wayne himself if she needs to.

'Cause I'm a real tough kid, I can handle my shit They said, "Babe, you gotta fake it 'til you make it" and I did

I know this song is about dealing with a break up but when I hear it, i think of everything that Steph has been through. Her dad who's a rogue, her mom who is struggling with addiction, getting pregnant and giving her baby up for adoption, not being considered good enough to be Robin, the list goes on and on and yet she does it. She rolls with the punches and she swallows it down and she smiles through it all and I just friggen love Stephanie Brown so much.

Duke Thomas -- Florida!!!

Admittedly, I don't know as much about Duke as the others (I'm so sorry, I just haven't gotten there in the comics quite yet, I'm just now getting to the aftermath of the Red Robin run and I haven't read New 52 yet. so this is purely based off of WFA )

Little did you know your home's really only The town you'll get arrested So you pack your life away just to wait out The shitstorm back in Texas

This song just makes me think about Duke because from what I've learned, kid's been through a lot and he's had to move in with the Waynes after what happened to his parents. I think of Florida as a song of starting over, picking up your broken pieces and finding yourself once again and that just feels like Duke.

He's been hurt and he's now having to figure out what to do and where to run. Now he's with the Waynes and he's slowly finding his place with their insanity.

Damian Wayne-- thanK you aIMee

Okay but imagine this song is Damian at Ra's al Ghul okay? Stick with me buddy.

I built a legacy that you can't undo But when I count the scars, there's a moment of truth That there wouldn't be this if there hadn't been you

And maybe you've reframed it And in your mind, you never beat my spirit black and blue I don't think you've changed much

Damian has grown so much since the days he was still with the LOA and he recognizes that not only has he grown but he's done it DESPITE what Ra's did to him and that maybe a part of him is created by Ra's and he has learned to love that part of himself and he recognizes he wouldn't even be here if it wasn't for Ra's and his mother being conniving and evil. He's created a name for himself as Robin that goes against so much of what Ra's brainwashed him to believe.

Barbara Gordon-- The Bolter

And I can confirm she made A curious child, ever reviled By everyone except her own father With a quite bewitching face Splendidly selfish, charmingly helpless Excellent fun till you get to know her Then she runs like it's a race

This song just gives the brave, strong, independent vibes of Babs. Someone who lives her life to the fullest and embraces who she is. She's just powerful and she knows that she's amazing and she doesn't expect anything less from herself. She has gone through hell and she's come out of it stronger. She rolls with the punches, she doesn't let it stop her from her dreams, her desires.

Alfred Pennyworth-- I Hate it Here

I hate it here so I will go to Secret gardens in my mind People need a key to get to The only one is mine

This song just makes me think of Alfred when Jason died. That time where it's just him and Bruce and he's struggling to take care of his ward and he's also going through his own grief and unable to heal. I think Alfred has his own methods for taking care of himself, I think he's like the world's greatest compartmentalizer.

oh my god that got so freaking long lol. I'm so sorry. Anyway, y'all can listen to these specific songs here

#batman #taylor swift #TTPD #Bruce Wayne #Dick Grayson #Jason Todd #Tim Drake #Cassandra Cain #stephanie brown #alfred pennyworth #Damian Wayne #duke thomas #Barbara Gordon

[asagirisfavoritepen]

I have some questions. What would happen if Fyodor got killed by a pregnant woman? Would he be pregnant? And would the kid have his DNA or the mom's DNA? Or since Fyodor is a man would the kid just die or smth?

And he got Bram's height since he fits his clothes perfectly. But he didn't keep Bram's nails. So how exactly does he pick what he keeps and what he doesn't? Or are you telling me Twinkyodor was as tall as Bram fucking Stoker?

And what would happen if 2 people kill Fyodor together? Like they both give the final stab or smth. Does he possess the both of them? Does he pick which one he possess? Is it random? Does he not possess any?

And if he's killed by an ability user, does he keep the ability the said person had? Like, if Chuuya kills him does Fyodor get For The Tainted Sorrow? WILL FYODOR BE ABLE TO USE CORRUPTION? You know what? Not gonna risk it. Keep Chuuya away from the rat man.

Also, Dazai doesn't have to kill him. He just has to touch Fyodor as he dies or the person that kills Fyodor. And I personally think that Fukuzawa deserves to kill the rat.

And about Genshin-Impact-Fukuchi. Sskk will defeat him. How? Easy. They're also gonna forme a singularity. Actually, I think they already did. When they fought Ivan and Aku gave Atsushi Rashōmon while Sushi was using his ability. Is that a singularity? I dunno. Will I act like it is because based on how shit is going right now it makes sense? Yes, of course.

Dazai also said at some point that these two will create a singularity. I don't exactly remember when but I think it was in Beast light novel.

So Singularity Sskk will defeat Tripolar Singularity while Skk defeats Fyodor.

Or even easier! They get Ayatsuji to kill Fukuchi. He just has to move his ass to the airport, look at him and go like "You didn't respect the law." Or smth like that and boom! No more Fukuchi.

He can't kill Fyodor tho because then he's gonna become Fyodor and we don't want that.

Kinda a theory. Sigma said that Fyodor seemed to be the same age in the memory (when he first met Bram). And now after taking over Bram's body he looks the same. So what if this is the age he had when he first died? And I think the said age was 33 because that's how old Jesus was when he died.

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #theory #fyodor dostoevsky #dazai osamu #fukuzawa yukichi #bram stoker #atsushi nakajima #chuuya nakahara #akutagawa ryuunosuke #yukito ayatsuji

[reduxulousoctopus]

Logan: “Whatever Chuck did in there, it worked. I don’t know how he faced that thing. He never loses his cool.” Rogue: “Forget it, hon. In our business, we all get shook up every now and again.” Logan: “I don’t.” — X-Men: The Animated Series, season four, "Proteus"

~4500 words, immediately Post-Episode, Morpherine established relationship, The Most Traumatized Man in the World dealing with the fact that he is now Slightly More Traumatized

If you missed my last fic, Morph has in-universe (he/him) and out-of-universe (they/them) pronouns because I think that's funny.

--

After watching waves crash against the island’s rocky shore for a moment, Logan stuffs his hands into his pockets and starts walking in the direction of the tarmac where they left the Blackbird. He’s ready to go the fuck back to Westchester, find his favorite seat at the bar, and drink until he forgets he even exists. Plenty of ye olde pubs to be found on the mainland, of course, but he’s had more than enough of bonnie Scotland for one day.

Too bad some force out there—be it God, the Devil, or the whims of an uncaring universe—seems dead set against ever letting Logan have what he wants.

“I think the professor’s gonna want to stay a while longer,” Rogue pipes up behind him. “Y’know, to make sure Kevin’s really okay, and to make sure Dr. MacTaggert’s doin’ alright, too. We probably got at least an hour to kill before it’s time to head home.”

Holding back an enraged scream, Logan instead grunts out through gritted teeth, “Uh-huh.”

“Why don’t you pay Morph a visit?” Rogue suggests with a smile. “That might make you feel better. Even if you don’t wanna talk to him about what happened, he always puts you in a good mood.”

Despite her words, Logan’s mood somehow turns even more sour at the thought of seeing Morph again. He crosses his arms and grumbles under his breath, “Morph’s already got more than enough to deal with—he doesn’t need me dumpin’ a load of my garbage on top of everything else.”

Rogue rolls her eyes. “For some reason, Morph actually seems to like your garbage. I already told him you’d come see him before we left. You gonna make a liar outta me, or do I have to throw your sorry butt in through his window?”

How in the hell did Logan end up surrounded by so many females who think they can boss him around? Jean, Storm—even Jubilee’s gotten real bold about demanding rides to the mall.

They’re completely right, of course, but they don’t always have to rub his nose in it.

“I can walk.” Logan gives her a mocking bow. “By your leave, ma’am.”

“Go on, now, get,” Rogue says, nodding her head towards the research center’s entrance. “Surly ol’ polecat. Don’t know how Morph puts up with you.”

Thing is, Logan thinks as he grudgingly makes his way back inside the building, he isn’t so sure Morph wants to put up with him anymore. Three times now, he’s had to watch Morph walk away and not look back, even as Logan called his name.

Kinda hard for a fella not to start taking that personally.

Upon entering the laboratory where the others have gathered, Logan immediately locates the cause of his bad day—across the room, playing some kind of hologram puzzle game with Cassidy, too busy to notice him—before very deliberately looking away and approaching Dr. MacTaggert instead. “Hey, Doc. I’m gonna head upstairs. Unless now’s a bad time…?”

She’s understandably reluctant to tear her eyes away from her son. Even when she manages to meet Logan’s gaze, it takes her a second to actually register what he said.

“Oh! Of course you’ll be wanting to see Morph.” She checks her watch. “He should be nearly done with his morning round of mnemotransience therapy. I’ll call the supervising nurse to let her know you’re on your way.”

Logan frowns, wondering what the fuck ‘nemo-transients’ are, but nods politely when she tells him which room Morph’s in. Not that he needs directions—as usual, Logan opts to trust his nose, letting Morph’s familiar scent lead him through the building, instead. But when he arrives outside the closed door at the end of the trail, something makes him hesitate.

He reaches for the knob. Pauses.

Reaches again, before pivoting on his heel and walking back the way he came.

Stops. Runs his hand through his hair. Returns to the door.

Hesitates again. Growls in frustration.

“Just leave him alone, old man,” Logan mutters to himself. “He’s here to heal.”

Not listen to a whining, yellow-bellied coward like me.

With that bitter self-recrimination, Logan turns away from the door again—only to nearly jump out of his skin when he hears it suddenly open behind him.

“Are you that ‘X-Man’ come to visit Morph?” asks the middle-aged woman with frizzy grey hair and coke-bottle glasses. “Sorry love, Moira called ahead but I only just remembered the door was locked. Must not have heard your knockin’ over my headphones, either. Come on in, love, he’s almost done with his treatment, shouldn't be more than a minute or so.”

Now there’s no chance he can sneak away without word getting back to Morph. Reluctantly, Logan follows the nurse into the room. As soon as he’s through the threshold and he hears the door automatically lock itself behind him, his breath catches and a bolt of sick terror shoots through him, followed quickly by rage.

He hates hospitals, and he really hates laboratories; this room is some hellish combination of both. Sterile metal walls, acrid chemical smells, computers and machinery blinking and blooping with obscure purpose in stalagmite-like clusters rising from the floor. Seeing Morph unconscious on a slab, hooked up to those machines—it makes him want to break things. His pulse is a war-drum in his ears.

This can’t actually be helping Morph get better. They’re hurting him, experimenting on him maybe. Ripping him apart to learn how his shapeshifting powers work. Maybe that’s how MacTaggert figured out how to make her son look normal, because that’s all humans ever want from mutants: to use them, or make them normal.

His claws itch at the underside of his skin. He’s gotta get Morph out of here, run away as far and fast as they can because if they can’t trust MacTaggert then they can’t trust Xavier then they can’t trust the X-Men—

Logan closes his eyes. His thoughts are spiraling in on themselves like a dog chasing its tail; he grabs that dog by the chain and forces it to heel. Maybe he can’t trust MacTaggert—the fact she managed to hide her mutant son from Xavier all these years proves she’s good at keeping secrets, who knows what other skeletons may be hanging in that woman’s closet?—but he damn well knows by now that he can trust Xavier and the X-Men. There’s no point in speculating to the contrary. May as well start doubting that the sun will rise or the tides will turn; may as well send himself to the funny-farm, too, while he’s at it.

“You can sit in that chair while you wait, love,” the nurse says suddenly. Logan’s body jerks in surprise as his eyes snap open. She doesn’t seem to notice, though, already taking her own seat behind a desk not far from the door and picking up a well-worn paperback romance novel. “That one there, by the window.”

“Thanks,” Logan grunts.

The nurse puts on her headphones and presses the play button on her portable tape-player. Logan blinks as his acute hearing picks up shredding guitars, crashing drums, and guttural, growling vocals.

He would not have guessed from looking that she was a metal fan.

Although he moves towards the window the nurse mentioned, Logan doesn’t sit down in the squashy-looking armchair. Instead, he slides the window open and just stands there a while, breathing deeply. No ocean-view this side, but he can smell the brine and feel the cold wind against his face. He can hear crashing waves.

He can still smell Morph, too, which is always a balm—even if he can’t bear to look at him while he’s hooked up to those machines. He can hear his heartbeat and his calm, soft breaths.

Eventually, the room stops feeling quite so much like a trap snapping shut around him.

Morph trusts Dr. MacTaggert. Trusts this place, even if it makes Logan’s skin crawl. He clearly feels safe enough to recover here. Safer than he felt at the mansion, apparently.

Safer than he felt under Logan’s protection.

Some ‘protection.’ Not even one whole day back and I let him go up against Sentinels again.

Yet even when confronted by his worst fear, Morph ran in literally guns-blazing and faced an entire squad of Sentinels almost single-handed to save the team. A true X-Man, through and through.

And what does that make me? Just the guy that turns tail and runs while his friends are in danger, all because he let himself get spooked by a snot-nosed teenager with daddy-issues.

Logan hasn’t forgiven Morph for leaving again—hell, he might even hate him a little—but he’s still so proud of him. That pride only deepens his own shame.

Bamboo and steel, like Master Oku used to say. Guys like Morph, like Xavier and Beast and Nightcrawler, too: they’re bamboo. Strong enough to bend, able to grow back when cut down. For all that Logan’s bones are plated in adamantium, as often as he’s tried to change his nature, he knows he’s made of steel. Tough. Unyielding. Inflexible. Beaten into the proper shape, ground down to a razor’s edge. And if even one crack appears—he breaks.

Even reforged, a broken blade will always be weaker than it once was.

Something beeps on the console by Morph’s bed. Eerily, he seems to instantly snap from asleep to fully alert, like he isn’t so much waking up as activating. His eyes open and he takes a single, sharp breath, which he holds for a moment before releasing it in a sigh.

Logan crosses his arms and leans back against the window-sill, content to watch that long, lean body stretch and those pretty brown eyes flutter.

When Morph eventually sees him standing there, to Logan’s relief, he smiles. That’s gotta count for something. “Hiya, Logan…”

“Hey, kid,” he says softly.

I miss you.

I hate you.

Something terrible happened.

Come home.

I don’t know how to be afraid. I don’t know how to bend.

I don’t deserve you.

“Nice helmet,” Logan says. “You look ridiculous.”

Morph laughs as he sits up and starts to remove the strange device strapped to his head. “You think this helmet looks ridiculous, you should have seen my first and only attempt to design my own costume. There’s a reason why I opted to go with the generic uniform, instead.”

“Well, now I’ve gotta see it. You can’t say that and not show me.”

“And lose what little respect for me you have left? No thanks.” After setting the odd helmet down on the side-table, Morph taps it with his finger. “This is a new thing we’re trying out. Moira says it might help make my nightmares and flashbacks less intense.”

Logan nods like he knows anything about anything. “Nemo-transients therapy, right.”

Morph laughs again. “Right.”

“What’s it do?”

“No idea. Moira tried to explain the science but there were a few too many five-dollar words,” Morph admits. “Basically, it’s meant to make some of my bad memories fade away a little over time, the way the memories of other people do.”

“That perfect recall of yours givin’ you trouble?” Logan guesses with a regretful sigh. It’s a necessary side-effect of Morph’s powers. He can just glance at someone and remember every single detail of their appearance; listen to a brief recording of a voice and replicate it flawlessly; watch anyone perform a physical skill, from a martial arts maneuver to a complicated dance-step, and immediately add it to his own repertoire.

He could probably tell you how many rivets were used to construct the Sentinels that killed him. Or remember the exact moment—month, day, hour, minute, and second—when he realized that no one was coming to rescue him from Mister Sinister; that the X-Men, his friends, the people he trusted most in the world, really had left him for dead.

“On the bright side, I never had to study back when I was in school. You win some, you lose some.”

“Morph…” Logan uncrosses his arms and takes a step towards the bed, but stops himself from getting any closer. Although the nurse is thoroughly distracted by her kissing book and her metal music, she could glance up at any moment. Besides, there’s a security camera looming in the corner of the ceiling, pointed directly at them.

As much as Logan might want Morph to come home, he won’t do it by making this place unsafe for him, should someone at the research center react poorly to seeing two men be a little too affectionate with each other. His hands fall uselessly to his sides.

“I can’t say I like the idea of you lettin’ people tamper with your memories,” Logan admits after a moment.

“It doesn’t erase anything. Just sorta gives me a little breathing room, so the other therapies actually have a chance to stick. That’s all,” Morph assures him. When Logan still looks unconvinced, he adds, “The professor helped design it, if that makes you feel any better.”

It does, actually. Logan can’t understand any of this modern, high-tech psychology mumbo-jumbo. Back in his day, when a fella got a case of shell-shock, the brass would just put a gun in his hands and shove him back in the fight. If Xavier and Morph both agree that this is the best way to help Morph get better, who is Logan to question it?

“I don’t know how much longer we’ve got before it’s time to catch my ride back to Westchester,” Logan says.

“Oh.” Morph shoots him a knowing smile and a wink. “I get you.”

Well. That wasn’t what Logan was getting at, but he definitely isn’t going to say no…

Morph yawns and stretches again. This time, there’s nothing innocent in the arch of that spine or the flex of those lean muscles. “Goodness, these sessions sure take it out of me.”

“How ‘bout I walk you to your room,” Logan offers.

“Thanks, Logan,” Morph says with a shameless grin. “You’re a good pal, y’know that?”

As they walk towards the exit, Morph pauses to drum his fingertips across the nurse’s desk. She jumps and removes her headphones with a slightly guilty-looking smile. “All done, then, love? How was the session?”

“Good. How are Fae and Tavish?” Morph asks. After a moment of confusion, Logan realizes those must be the names of the woman with the heaving bosom and the oiled-up, tartan-clad highlander and on the cover of the nurse’s romance novel. “Have they sorted out that little misunderstanding at the clanmeet yet?”

“Aye, things are finally heating up again,” the nurse replies with a grin. “So if you wouldn’t mind maybe holding off telling Moira you’re done with your session, that’d be grand.”

Morph literally zips his lips shut. After Logan and the nurse have a good laugh, he unzips to say, “Don’t work too hard, Doreen.”

“You know I’m in no danger of that, love!” she calls after him as they leave the room.

Although the two of them don’t speak as Morph leads Logan through the halls of the research center, their eyes keep meeting as anticipation builds. It’s been too long—even longer, if you don’t count that cramped, awkward quickie in the mini-jet en route between Morph’s welcome home party and the trashed polymer factory.

When they arrive at Morph’s guest room, Logan doesn’t have long to re-familiarize himself with the scenery. The door is barely shut and locked behind him before Morph slams him up against it with enough force to rattle the hinges. Logan growls appreciatively around the tongue in his mouth and slides his hands down Morph’s back to grab his ass.

There’s surely no better cure for what ails him.

–

Glaring up at the ceiling several minutes later, Logan thinks he’s going to kill someone. Possibly himself.

“It… it’s fine, Logan. Really.”

“Shut up,” Logan snaps. He flops back against the scratchy hospital sheets covering Morph’s bed and hides his eyes in the crook of his arm.

“Everybody has trouble, uh, performing sometimes,” Morph insists. “Especially older—er, I mean—”

“Stop. Talking.”

Morph sighs and turns away, looking frustrated, worried, and worst of all, guilty. That last one breaks Logan’s heart a little. This sure as hell isn’t Morph’s fault. He doesn’t deserve Logan’s anger.

Too bad anger is just about all he ever has to offer.

“I should go,” Logan says, wishing he’d stuck to his guns and stayed away instead of letting Rogue bully him. He’s no good for Morph like this.

Not enough of a man to stand and fight. Not enough of a man to fuck. What good am I for anyone?

Logan stops in the middle of looking for his clothes to shut his eyes, clench his trembling fists, and wait for the wave of rage to pass over him before resuming his search.

“Oh… okay,” Morph says. Logan can’t bear to look at him. He has his jeans buttoned and is in the middle of shrugging on his flannel shirt when Morph asks, “How’d the mission go, by the way?”

A pure, wimpering-animal dread creeps into his chest. Morph keeps talking—Logan hears Rogue’s name, and the phrase ‘made of glass’—but nothing else sinks in. His stomach turns. Sweat beads on his brow. Although he can feel air rushing in and out of his lungs, he can’t breathe.

“Why do you care?” Logan snaps. He can barely hear himself over the blood rushing in his ears. “Thought you turned your back on that life.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Morph demands. “Of course I care—you’re still my friends, I’m still an X-Man! Do you think I wanted to leave?”

“I… I don’t know why I said that,” Logan lies. His vision blurs, but he can still see his own body being ripped apart, melted down into slag. He presses the heels of his palms into his eyes as hard as he can. They have to be playing tricks on him. He’d be able to smell that monster coming.

Right?

“Besides, I didn’t turn my back on you! You turned your back on me, left me to—” There’s a soft thud behind him as Morph punches the mattress. “No… no, that’s not true. Especially not about you. You did more than anybody to… But don’t you see? That’s why I had to leave! I’m no good for the team like this. I thought you understood that.”

Logan nods, although gun-to-his-head, he couldn’t say what he’s agreeing to. He stands up and staggers a few steps away from the bed on legs that feel like jelly. He needs… he needs… to button his shirt. Find his boots.

Grab your gun and head back out there, soldier. The war ain’t over just because you’re scared.

“Logan…?”

“What?!” Why can’t he find his fucking boots? Why can’t he see anything besides his own body being ripped apart, melted down into slag.

“Why are your claws out?”

Logan blinks. Looks down at his hands.

His claws hiss back at him like angry snakes.

He retracts them, feels them squirm all the way back up into his arms, alien and repulsive in a way they haven’t felt since they were brand-new.

He blinks again, and suddenly Morph is standing in front of him, between Logan and the door. Wrong, wrong, wrong. Logan should be the one closest to the door. When that monster comes in here—

“I think you’re having a panic attack,” Morph says. He offers a smile completely devoid of amusement or joy. “And I’m heading that way, too, so lets see if all these boring counseling sessions I’ve had to sit through are worth the time I could have spent watching TV.”

Closely observing Logan to gauge his reaction, Morph takes his hand and guides it to his bare chest. His heartbeat is a little too fast, his breaths shaky and hitched. Holding Logan’s hand in place, Morph takes as slow and steady an inhale as he can manage, holds it for a few seconds, then releases a sighing exhale. Again and again. In, hold, out. In, hold, out. Although Logan doesn’t mean to join in the breathing exercises, he finds himself subconsciously matching Morph’s pace.

Over the course of what somehow feels both like several hours and no time at all, Morph’s heartbeat gradually slows to something approaching normal. As it does, the worst of Logan’s terror fades, leaving him exhausted, angry, and embarrassed in its absence.

The monster—the kid is still downstairs with his mother, Cassidy, Beast, and Xavier. The only thing tormenting him is a few bad memories.

“Sit down,” Morph says, pushing him a few steps backwards until the back of his legs hit the edge of the bed. Logan doesn’t sit so much as collapse. His muscles twitch uselessly with unspent adrenaline. “Easy, big guy. A panic attack can really take it out of you. Believe me, I know.”

“You take it easy,” Logan snaps without any heat. “I don’t get panic attacks.”

“Uh-huh,” Morph says dryly, not buying what Logan’s selling even at a discount. Standing between Logan’s spread knees, Morph reaches out and runs a hand through his hair. Logan nearly growls at him—until he feels blunt fingernails scratch over his scalp just right. All the fight bleeds out of him until he can only slump forward and rest his sweaty forehead against Morph’s belly.

While he continues to play with Logan’s hair, Morph speaks again: “You and I aren’t great at this mushy stuff. And I know you too well to bother asking if you want to talk about what’s wrong.”

Logan shakes his head.

“Just… know that if you did want to talk, I’d listen. Okay? I know what it’s like to go through this stuff, and I know it feels like you have to tough it out alone, but—”

“You don’t.”

Morph’s hands go still. “…What’s that?”

“You said you know what it’s like. But you don’t,” Logan repeats, gritting his teeth, “because nothing happened to me.”

“What do you mean, ‘nothing’?” Morph asks, taking a step back so he can look Logan in the eye. “Wait, so this isn’t about Weapon X, or Sabretooth and Fox, or—”

Of course Morph would assume that, because that might actually make some goddamn sense, but no. Some of the worst things that ever happened to him, yet they only ever made him tougher and stronger and angrier. Instead, it’s a kid throwing a temper tantrum that finally managed to break the Wolverine.

—he’s falling apart, weeping at the feet of a stranger he nearly killed, begging her for answers she can’t give him. Why did they do this?—

—pretty brown eyes stare up at him, brutalized and afraid. What’s the matter, punk? Can’t take care of your woman?—

—he sees his own body being ripped apart, melted down into slag. Where are you, Logan? Wolverine!—

“I ran away during the mission,” Logan snarls. There it is, the ugly truth.

A long, terrible silence hangs between them, until—

“Oh.”

Logan cringes and looks away like a scolded hound. Shame burns acidic in the back of his throat.

After a moment, Morph moves to sit next to him on the bed. Logan watches out of the corner of his eye as he leans forward, braces his elbows on his knees, picks at his hands.

Then, to his dismay… Morph quietly chuckles.

—high, mocking laughter echoes through the dark jungle. Who could ever love a freak like you?—

“Funny,” Morph remarks. Unlike the corrupted thing he became under Sinister’s control, there’s no sign of cruelty in his voice, his face, his pretty brown eyes. “I used to think you weren’t afraid of anything.”

“I’m not,” Logan insists, before amending: “I shouldn’t be.”

“Why? Is it so terrible to find out that you’re just as human—er, so to speak—as the rest of us?”

Logan frowns down at the floor between his bare feet.

“Or was all that stuff you told me after the Sentinels came back just bullshit to make me feel better?”

His gaze snaps up to meet Morph’s cold, flat stare. “It’s not the same.”

“How do you figure?”

“Because…” Logan starts, and then doesn’t know how to finish.

Morph, the absolute bastard, smirks like he’s already won the argument. “So you ran away. So what? Did you come right here, afterwards?”

“No,” Logan growls.

“In the time it took you to turn around and get back to the mission, was anyone killed or maimed?”

“The professor fell in a pit of fire.” Morph’s eyes go wide, which is a little gratifying at least. All the more unfortunate that Logan has to tack on a reluctant, “Dr. MacTaggert and I caught him.”

“Jesus… Don’t scare me like that, you asshole. Okay, you almost let Xavier fall in a pit of fire; I almost let Xavier’s brain get stolen by Sentinels,” Morph says with a shrug. “We’re as bad as each other. Anything negative you have to say about yourself, you may as well say about me, too.”

It’s a tidy little trap Morph’s caught him in, without a doubt. Hell of a catch, that catch-22.

“Alright, put it away,” Logan grumbles, and covers Morph’s entire smug, cackling face with one hand.

“What, my dick?” Morph asks, muffled against Logan’s palm. “Talking about some guy’s emotions while my whole hog is out. I feel like I’m in a student film.”

Logan laughs. “You coulda changed that at any point, shapeshifter.”

“Hey, I wasn’t complaining.” Despite his words, Morph shifts back into his uniform as he rises from the bed. “Alright, no bars on the island, but there’s probably a boat somewhere we could steal. Or I can turn into a whale and swim you across to the mainland.”

“Can’t,” Logan says regretfully, shaking his head. “My ride home is leavin’ soon.”

“I’ll buy you a plane ticket. Even better, I’ll pull a guilt-trip on Scott that'd put a Jewish grandmother to shame, get him to come visit me tomorrow, and you can fly back with him after. In the meantime, we’ll rent a hotel room for the night and see if Little Logan has recovered from his stage-fright.”

Logan chuckles. Seeing Morph play Summers like a fiddle would be worth the price of admission alone; that he’d be doing it so Logan can play hooky and drink beer and have sex is just gravy. Still, he can’t help but ask: “You sure it’s a good idea for you to leave?”

“I don’t imagine we’ll see Mister Sinister or any Sentinels having a pint down the pub in a random seaside village in Scotland,” Morph says with a laugh. “What about you? Any chance we’ll run into whatever freaked you out?”

Logan thinks of young Kevin MacTaggert, happy and safe with his mother and Xavier—the man who’s been a better father to him in the past two days than Joe MacTaggert has for the boy’s entire life. In a strange way, maybe that makes the kid a bit of an X-Man, too. “I’ll take my chances.”

Morph grins as he pulls Logan to his feet. He doesn’t let go of Logan’s hand right away, almost absentmindedly stroking the thick, rough callouses, the knots of scar tissue, the bulky pugilist’s knuckles.

Steel is tough. Unyielding. Inflexible. Beaten into the proper shape, ground down to a razor’s edge. Even reforged, a broken blade will always be weaker than it once was.

Luckily, for all that Logan’s bones are plated in metal, he isn’t made of steel. Flesh bleeds, flesh breaks; then it heals and grows back stronger.

Logan is pretty damn good at healing.

#x men #wolverine #morph #morpherine #my stuff