#I suggest reading on a03

[otterwithaknife]

so upset by the divide in common usage of "agorithm" (weighs stuff by popularity/similarity to what you've engaged with before) vs the actual definition of "algorithm" (a sequence of precise instructions to achieve a result)

[casually-dying]

A03 I THOUGHT WE WERE COOL???

[ghosts-and-blue-sweaters]

Hitting On 16 is so darn good.

[physalian]

How to make your writing sound less stiff part 2

Part 1

Again, just suggestions that shouldn’t have to compromise your author voice, as I sit here doing my own edits for a WIP.

1. Crutch words

Specifically when you have your narrator taking an action instead of just… writing that action. Examples:

Character wonders/imagines/thinks/realizes

Character sees/smells/feels

Now not all of these need to be cut. There’s a difference between:

Elias stops. He realizes they’re going in the wrong direction.

And

Elias takes far too long to realize that it’s not horribly dark wherever they are

Crutch words are words that don’t add anything to the sentence and the sentence can carry on with the exact same meaning even if you delete it. Thus:

Elias stops. They’re going in the wrong direction.

I need a word in the second example, whether it’s realizes, understands, or notices, unless I rework the entire sentence. The “realization” is implied by the hard cut to the next sentence in the first example.

2. Creating your own “author voice”

Unless the tone of the scene demands otherwise, my writing style is very conversational. I have a lot of sentence fragments to reflect my characters’ scatterbrained thoughts. I let them be sarcastic and sassy within the narration. I leave in instances of “just” (another crutch word) when I think it helps the sentence. Example:

…but it’s just another cave to Elias.

Deleting the “just” wouldn’t hit as hard or read as dismissive and resigned.

I may be writing in 3rd person limited, but I still let the personalities of my characters flavor everything from the syntax to metaphor choices. It’s up to you how you want to write your “voice”.

I’ll let dialogue cut off narration, like:

Not that he wouldn’t. However, “You can’t expect me to believe that.”

Sure it’s ~grammatically incorrect~ but you get more leeway in fiction. This isn’t an essay written in MLA or APA format. It’s okay to break a few rules, they’re more like guidelines anyway.

3. Metaphor, allegory, and simile

There is a time and a place to abandon this and shoot straight because oftentimes you might not realize you’re using these at all. It’s the difference between:

Blinding sunlight reflects off the window sill

And

Sunlight bounces like high-beams off the window sill

It’s up to you and what best fits the scene.

Sometimes there’s more power in not being poetic, just bluntly explicit. Situations like describing a character’s battle wounds (whatever kind of battle they might be from, whether it be war or abuse) don’t need flowery prose and if your manuscript is metaphor-heavy, suddenly dropping them in a serious situation will help with the mood and tonal shift, even if your readers can’t quite pick up on why immediately.

Whatever the case is, pick a metaphor that fits the narrator. If my narrator is comparing a shade of red to something, pick a comparison that makes sense.

Red like the clouds at sunset might make sense for a character that would appreciate sunsets. It’s romantic but not sensual, it’s warm and comforting.

Red like lipstick stains on a wine glass hints at a very different image and tone.

Metaphor can also either water down the impact of something, or make it so much worse so pay attention to what you want your reader to feel when they read it. Are you trying to shield them from the horror or dig it in deep?

4. Paragraph formatting

Nothing sticks out on a page quite like a line of narrative all by itself. Abusing this tactic will lessen its effect so save single sentence paragraphs for lines you want to hammer your audiences with. Lines like romantic revelations, or shocking twists, or characters giving up, giving in. Or just a badass line that deserves a whole paragraph to itself.

I do it all the time just like this.

Your writing style might not feature a bunch of chunky paragraphs to emphasize smaller lines of text (or if you’re writing a fic on A03, the size of the screen makes many paragraphs one line), but if yours does, slapping a zinger between two beefy paragraphs helps with immersion.

5. Polysyndeton and Asyndeton

Not gibberish! These, like single-sentence paragraphs, mix up the usual flow of the narrative that are lists of concepts with or without conjunctions.

Asyndeton: We came. We saw. We conquered. It was cold, grey, lifeless.

Polysyndeton: And the birds are out and the sun is shining and it might rain later but right now I am going to enjoy the blue sky and the puffy white clouds like cotton balls. They stand and they clap and they sing.

Both are for emphasis. Asyndeton tends to be "colder" and more blunt, because the sentence is blunt. Polysyntedon tends to be more exciting, overwhelming.

We came and we saw and we conquered.

The original is rather grim. This version is almost uplifting, like it's celebrating as opposed to taunting, depending on how you look at it.

—

All of these are highly situational, but if you’re stuck, maybe try some out and see what happens.

*italicized quotes are from ENNS, the rest I made up on the spot save for the Veni Vidi Vici.

[zelda7999]

New Horizons where Neon gets on Horizon's lap to loosen his suit collar 'cause it's bothering him

I may be stupid, but I couldn't find this scene and to say i was sad about that would be an understatement.

I really badly wanted to read this scene since it sounded so cute but I couldn't find it. I reread the whole fic to see why i couldn't remember it from my first read through (which your ifc is amazing by the way! gonna probably reread it again after this ask) and couldn't find it.

I could very well be blind but didn't see it. Then again Ao3 has been glitching on me recently so maybe its hiding it from me?

Hope you have a nice night dear!

- A tired blob

Oh! It's in chapter 13! Here's a link -> boop!

It's from the alt timeline chapter, I had a lotta fun with it!~

and here's a lil copy n paste incase you wanna read that part on tumblr instead! I'll throw it under the cut so you can see the full scene!

here's the whole scene:

You were told someone would be picking both you and Horizon up for the event, which you were very thankful for considering you couldn’t drive. A fancy car pulls up to your pick-up location and you enter, Horizon is already inside and he looks… Uncomfortable? He looked good, stunning even, but he did not look comfortable in his suit. Tugging on his sleeves and collar while making no attempt to even pretend he’s currently comfortable.

 “Hi Horizon,” he looks over to you and his eyes lift as he looks at you. You were wearing a neat dress-shirt with a dark purple overcoat, as for your pants they were simple black dress pants. Not over the top, but just enough that you felt like you looked good, and based on how Horizon was simply staring at you and stopped pulling at his suit… You must done something, though it’s hard to tell if it was something good or bad.

 “Is there something on my face?”

 Horizon shakes his head, “No, no. You look amazing!”

 “Aw, thank you! You look stunning too, however…” You move across the car’s seat and position yourself on his lap to reach up to his collar, which you promptly loosen and unbutton so it’s not as tight around his neck.

 Satisfied with your work, you smile up at him “I think you’ll prefer it like that.”

 Horizon is simply staring at you, and you can almost hear the gears turn but your own thoughts are interrupted by the car moving. You’re thrown forward into Horizon’s chest, and all four arms are instantly around you.

 “Oh my goodness, I am so sorry!”

 He doesn’t speak immediately instead opting for lifting your chin and checking for injuries, “Are you okay?”

 You nod, the hand on your chin following as you do. The remaining three still snuggly around your waist, easily keeping you safe while the vehicle continues moving. This was most definitely not safe, but you were not going to complain. Especially as your face is quick to burn with a blush you knew was painted on your face. You should move over to a seat and buckle up, but you wanted to stay right where you were. Caged by Horizon’s arms and snugly sitting on his lap.

 “You know… I probably shouldn’t move while the car is moving… For safety reasons, right? and- and you’ve got me, right?”

 Horizon’s arms tighten around you as he nods, “Of- Of course! You’re much safer here until the car stops moving.”

[neil-gaiman]

Hello Mr Neil,

You probably won't be able to see this but I just had to get it out to rest my mind and I feel like it's more reliable to get an answer from an author than on Google.

I've seen that reblog from one of Ms Diane's asks where they mention that any story idea, fanfic, suggestion shouldn't be sent over as it would cause possible issues. So I was thinking, if you don't read fanfics, are you also not allowed to read prompts?

There's a blog here on Tumblr which posts prompts so I was wondering if authors aren't allowed to read those and what about if you were just surfing the internet say on Twitter or here on Tumblr where a lot of thoughts about certain books or shows are being posted. Are you required to inform during meetings if you've passed by a similar idea somewhere or would that only matter if it was directed to you?

Maybe you've answered this question before that I must not have understood or seen. I'm sorry if that's the case 😥

I'm all out of answers. I don't read fan fiction. It is to everyone's benefit that I don't read fan fiction especially that of the people writing the fan fiction. I don't read prompts, I don't read it on Tumblr, I don't read it on A03, when people decide to send it to me in the asks I don't read it. I do not read it on a train, I do not read it in the rain, I do not read it here or there, I do not read it anywhere...

Let's try a thought experiment.

"I don't eat peanuts. I'm allergic to them, and I don't like the taste."

"Can you eat peanut butter?"

"No. I'm allergic to peanuts. They can kill me."

"Okay, I get it on the whole peanuts and the peanut butter, but my mom makes fabulous peanut cake, and the peanuts in that are really finely chopped, so you don't know they're peanuts. Can you eat my mom's peanut cake?"

"I can't eat them. They would kill me."

"I've got a recipe for Cashew-butter that tastes exactly like peanut butter. Can I make you a cashew-butter sandwich? You aren't allergic to that."

"No, but I don't like the taste. I'll pass."

"Hey! We haven't talked about boiled gas station peanuts. If you could hypothetically eat peanuts and you were in a gas station in the south, would you have the spicy boiled peanuts or the vinegary boiled peanuts or the plain boiled peanuts?"

"I wouldn't eat the peanuts."

"No, but hypothetically, and remembering that these are green peanuts and not dried peanuts, pick the one you'd prefer..."

[myfictionaldreams]

~ Mafia!Stucky Mastlist⍟✪ 📚~

Hello lovely, I hope you’re having a great day. I thought it was about time I made a list dedicated to my favourite boys, so welcome to my Mafia!Stucky masterlit!I love to write in my spare time, and the fiction I create is for 18+ readers ONLY. Also, everything is character x fem!reader, and please, read the tags carefully before continuing.

Masterlists ♥ A03 ♥ Tags  ♥ Question? ♥ latest works ♥

you're mine (smut, angst, dark)

Steve loves showing off what’s his, you. What does eh do when he sees someone staring at what is his?

i need more (fluff, smut)

You’d been off all day and it hadn’t gone unnoticed by Steve. He’d do anything to make you feel better so when you started begging him to help you have some release, he didn’t hold back.

ruined orgasm - kinktober (smut)

He had given you one rule: do not interrupt the meeting. So, of course you had to walk straight into the meeting that had all of America’s most noterious gangsters

steve's birthday wish (P.1) (fluff, smut, angst)

It was approaching Steve’s birthday and you had no idea what to get him. Bucky suggests just asking the Mafia boss what he would like, but would you regret your decision when you hear what Steve truly wants.

When Two Become Three (P.2) (fluff, smut)

It has been a few weeks since Steve sat back and watched your be pleasured by his best friend Bucky, and you couldn’t stop thinking about it. Especially, the part where Steve confessed his fantasy to have a threesome, but would you ever agree to it?

one more meeting (fluff, smut, angst, dark)

For all of the years that you had known Steve and Bucky, you had never seen them lose control of their anger. All of the murder and violence always being calculated, calm, and dangerous. But today, that all changed and for the first time in years, you were truly scared of the boys you loved.

repeat after me(fluff, smut, angst)

It wasn’t often that you had to attend a party with your boyfriends but today, you found yourself at one, filling you with anxiety and dread. How will the boys react when they find you close to a panic attack and starting to doubt their love for you?

how many?(fluff, smut)

Steve had finally found time to take you and Bucky on holiday. What he doesn’t tell you however is that today, he wanted to see just how many times he and Bucky could get you to orgasm.

i can’t lose you (fluff, smut, angst, dark)

Being the girlfriend of the Mafia leader and his second in command had its dangers but for years, you'd never had to experience this. Until now. How will the boys react when you're put in danger?

no touching (fluff, smut, angst)

You blatantly ignored their instructions and now you had to suffer the repercussions for your actions.

i don’t care (fluff, smut)  

'The reader having a menstrual cycle, this one just a little worse than others, and Steve and Bucky worrying and helping her through it.'

the one weakness (fluff, smut, angst) 

It wasn't often you were by yourself so when you quickly go to the coffee shop, what happens when the enemy is watching and waiting nearby.

overwhelming (fluff)

It had been your birthday a few days ago and both Steve and Bucky had made it their mission to give you the most lavish party followed by intense, long nighttime activities. However as you lay in bed on Monday morning, something just didn't feel quite right.

the fun game  (fluff, smut)

Steve and Bucky had forgotten about your date, leaving you waiting for two hours in the restaurant. How will they react when you decide to play your own little game as payback and, how far can you go before they finally snap?

harder, please  (fluff, smut, angst)

Your mind was clouded with lust and pleasure, as you begged repeatedly for more from Bucky but, what happens when you get hurt in the process?

protect and forget  (fluff, smut, angst) 

Life as the girlfriend of the Mafia boss and his second-in-command was not always smooth sailing, everything did not always go to plan. Two weeks before your birthday, a threat was made to your life. What happens when Steve and Bucky begin to push you away as they search for the threat?

All Eyes On You  (smut)  

“Do you know what we would have done if we had turned up to that restaurant and seen you all dolled up like that? We would have bent you over the table in front of everyone and shown them exactly who you belonged to". - Steve Rogers

you belong to me  (fluff, smut, angst)

These girls knew you were dating Steve and Bucky, so why is it that they thought it was ok to have their hands all over them?

dont fall asleep  (fluff, smut, angst)

It was supposed to be a normal day, but not in fate's eyes as you and Sam are hit by a drunk driver. How will Steve and Bucky react when they hear their girls been hurt?

rule number one.  (fluff, smut, angst)

It was Bucky's birthday but even a surprise party won't stop Steve and Bucky from punishing you for not looking after yourself.

Last Hope (CH. 1) (CH. 2)  (fluff, smut, angst, dark)

Before dating Steve and Bucky, your life felt like a steel cage that you couldn't escape from because of your family business. There was no happiness or hope but, what happens when the infamously heartless mafia leader, Steve Rogers, finds you alone?

our little bean  (fluff, angst)    

You stared unblinking at the Doctor who had just told you the news you couldn't quite comprehend. You were on birth control, so why is the test in his hands saying that you're pregnant?  Accidents happened but is this a happy one? (Yes it is).

the limit  (fluff, smut, angst)

Everyone has a limit, this includes Steve and Bucky. What happens in different situations where each of you felt compelled to use your safewords?

sick day (fluff)

Bucky had warned you that dancing in that rain without a coat would lead you to be ill, maybe you should have listened more to his warning.

accident’s happen (fluff, smut, angst) 

You were visiting a friend when you were accidentally hit in the face, leaving behind a cut across your cheekbone. How will Steve and Bucky react when they see their girl injured?

everyone is breakable  (fluff, smut, angst)

Steve and Bucky were invincible in your eyes. They'd never been injured or in a situation where you thought they weren't the ones in control. That is until one day Bucky doesn't return from meeting with a client.

winter soup  (fluff, smut, angst)

There was no better feeling than a bowl of hot soup when you're feeling unwell and, what's even better is when it's delivered to your door every day by your new guard. It tasted amazing and you could always trust everyone in the Mafia... right?

something new   (smut)

The mafia leader was known to be possessive and enjoy showing off his girl but what happens when he wants to do this by being intimate in front of his gang?

pegging - kinktober  (smut)

Steve had once instructed bucky how to pleasure you but what happens when you’re the one being given the instructions?

cockwarming - kinktober (smut)

You’re feeling needy and restless so Steve offers you something to suck on, much to Bucky’s amusement.

double penetration in one hole - kinktober  (smut)

You were adament to prove Steve wrong and do something you’ve never done before.

fear play - kinktober (smut, dark)

You woke up to darkness, your phone was missing and, all you could was silence echoing around the house but, you knew you weren’t alone.

role reversal - kinktober  (smut)

For once, you were the one shouting at the enemy, demanding that they leave your office. Steve and Bucky were in awe so you tried to keep up this confidence and burn off some energy with them.

Duke, Duchess and Knights  (fluff, angst)

You get so lost in the fantasy dream that when it turns into a nightmare, you're not sure what reality is when you wake up screaming.

Merry Christmas (fluff, smut)

It was a simple question: Have you been naughty or nice this year?

Safety Measures (Angst, Smut, Fluff)

It was the anniversary of Steve and Bucky saving you from your sadistic brother. Usually, it was a time of celebration for you, but this year, you couldn't help but feel paranoid and unsafe.

Drabbles

The first to give their jacket when reader is cold

Mad & Sad moments

Saying the wrong thing

TikTok trend: no kissing

Who is more protective?

safe space in your new home

Halloween Costumes

[viennacherries]

Prompt suggestion <3 Rolan/Tav NSFW. Tav really likes it when Rolan speaks to her in infernal. She doesn’t understand it, but it doesn’t change the fact that it turns her on. He starts to notice her subtle reactions to when he curses or something in infernal. Which leads to bedroom shenanigans lol. My username is the same on A03 ^^

this has taken me a minute, mostly because i had to spend some time literally making up the infernal language for the purpose of this fic LMAO. if you're interested in my process it's in the end notes on ao3.

i changed the prompt a little though; rolan doesnt notice because he's very silly and keeps failing the perception check. lia notices immediently.

NSFW read on ao3 here

~~~

The first time Tav hears Rolan speak infernal, she doesn't even register it as a word. It slips past his tongue and it's all consonants and noises that she's not sure she could emulate properly with her non-tiefling tongue.

"Zurgan." He mutters it under his breath as he drops a pile of books.

Her quill stops midair where she's busy writing up an inventory of magical items they've found. With everyone else busy or gone from the city, she offered to help Rolan with organising the tower. It's been a nightmare, frankly. The previous tower master (she wont do him the privilege of speaking his name, the bastard) had apparently spent the last who-knows-how-many years stuffing things into random shelves and boxes.

She frowns as she tries to repeat the word, "Zu- Zurgan? What's that mean?"

Rolan jumps, clearly having forgotten she's in the room, "not zurgan, zurgan. It means- well, I don't know if it translates literally to common. It's... an expletive, I suppose ."

She laughs, "so it means 'fuck'?"

He huffs, and rolls his eyes, "I suppose that's a close enough approximation, yes."

"I don't think I've ever heard you swear before."

"Well," his brow is furrowed as he thinks, "I suppose I try not to, really. It's not becoming."

Tav snorts at that, "Gods, how old are you, 150? Besides, how is swearing in tiefling any different?"

"The language is called infernal, you uncultured swine. I'm a tiefling, I speak infernal."

"You speak something alright. Usually a crock of shi-"

"What did I say about it not being becoming, hm?"

She rolls her eyes at him, "so sorry, Master Rolan, please accept my humblest of apologies for disgracing your presence in such a regard."

He rolls his eyes at her, but she hears him snort and sees the quirk of his lip. "I suppose as far as apologies go, that one will suffice."

~~~

Several weeks later, Cal shouts through the door to the study where they're cataloguing evocation books, "Rolan! Lia and I are heading to the market, do you want us to pick up more of the wine you like?"

He laughs, which is rare enough in itself, and leans out the door to reply.

"Fazit drakon'ziz orum?!"

She hears Cal's responding cackle from down the hallway. "alright, alright, little drakon'ziz. I'll get 2 bottles, 'cos I love you."

When Rolan comes back in, chuckling to himself, Tav doesn't say anything. She wants to ask what it means, but she's... distracted.

Something about the way the words sound when he says them is... enticing. She's not sure if she could repeat them without butchering them, but even if she could she's sure they wouldn't sound as delicious as when they come from him. It's something about the rich tone to his voice, which she's always liked, coupled with the harsher edge it takes on when he speaks the foreign language.

Gods, she's been spending far too much time with him,

She clears her throat, "drakon'ziz?"

Rolan turns to her, still smiling, " drakon'ziz , but close. It means dragon."

His lopsided smile, aimed at her, coupled with the gruffness of the unknown word, is a little bit intoxicating.

"What about the rest of what you said? Fa- Fazit something?"

"'Fazit drakon'ziz orum?' It means 'does a dragon want gold?' It's a tiefling saying, basically means 'yes, obviously.' It just sounds better in infernal."

Tav agrees. It sounds rather lovely in infernal, in fact.

When Tav doesn't reply, he raises an eyebrow, "I could try and teach you some? Infernal, that is. If you'd be interested. Tell me something you want to be able to say, I'll try and teach you how to say it."

She thinks for a moment.

"What if I want to call someone a shit-head?"

He barks out a laugh as he rolls his eyes, "of course you'd just want to know how to insult people. I think the closest translation would be uzterku'zereb.  That means 'shit-for-brains'."

Despite the small jolt her stomach gives as he utters the phrase, she starts cackling. "That's even better!"

~~~

It's been about a month and a half since they started cataloguing everything in the tower, and it's basically become a nightly occurrence that Tav stays for dinner with them. Rolan has finally sat down at the dining table, after bringing all the dishes and cutlery through, and right as he hits the chair there's a sheepish voice from beside him.

"... Rolan~" It's Lia, in a singsong voice, and he huffs.

"What do you want?" It's a question, but it sounds more like an admonishment.

"How could you?! Assuming I want something from you. My beloved big brother. I look up to you so much. Also I left my drink in the sitting room."

You and Callum both laugh, and he makes a very dramatic show of pushing his chair back out with a huge sigh.

"You're such a..." He flails for a moment, as if the word in common has escaped him, "an uztanatez. Next time, you're getting it yourself."

She laughs, "My dear brother, I would fall on my sword for you."

"Mhm." He grumbles, " gladiz zurzum kuluz ..."

Cal nearly falls out of his chair laughing as Rolan trudges from the room, and Lia has a grin on her face from successfully riling him up and getting what she wanted.

Tav is blushing.

"What did he say?" She feels hesitant to bring attention to herself when she knows she's bright red, but she's also too nosy for her own good.

Lia looks at her and opens her mouth to answer, but pauses as she takes in Tav's face. Cal, blissfully, doesn't notice.

"Well the first bit was him calling her a suck up," he laughs through his explanation, "and the second bit was him telling her exactly where she could shove her sword."

She laughs, and thanks him for telling her. Lia is still looking at her. Her face warms more.

"What?"

"Hm." Lia smiles in a way that looks slightly threatening; the way Tav imagines a shark would smile at a seal before taking a huge chunk out of it. "Nothing, really. Only, you weren't that flushed before Rolan spoke in infernal. Got a thing for the devil's tongue, have you Tav?"

Cal furrows his eyebrows in confusion, before his eyes widen and his mouth drops in an 'o' of understanding.

She's about to deny it but she can feel that she's even redder now, so instead she buries her face in her hands. "Don't you dare! Don't you dare say anything!"

"Say anything about what?" Of course Rolan would walk back in now. He places Lia's cup in front of her and turns to Tav expectantly, but Lia speaks before she can.

"Tav is just embarrassed because she didn't understand what you said, she felt left out."

His face breaks into a look of confusion, "You shouldn't be embarrassed by that, Tav, you don't speak the language. Uztanatez-" Tav sucks in a breath, and Lia snorts, "means 'bootlicker'. Gladiz zurzum kuluz means... well... 'shove your sword up your rear'."

Cal and Lia are both sporting shit eating grins. Tav thinks now is a good time to pick a God and pray.

~~~

" Pulch'zer."

He says it as she walks through the door to the study one morning.

"Sorry, repeat that?"

His eyes widen, and his face flushes a deep crimson colour. She's never seen him blush before, or at least she's never noticed because of his skin's natural shade.

"Sorry I was just..." He averts his gaze, looking back at the paperwork he's working on, "I was just thinking out loud..."

She chuckles lightly. "Ah, that text will be kicking your ass then. Pulch'zer. What does it mean?"

He looks up at her again. His eyes lock with hers.

"You're close, it's not pulch'zer, it's pulch'zer . You have to put more emphasis on the 'Z' sound."

Gods, she needs to stop asking. He always ends up correcting her, and she always ends up going bright pink. He pronounces the words more precisely when he's teaching her how to say them, it drives her insane.

"Pulch- Pulch? Pulch'zer."

He chuckles, stands and walks over to her. "You're close, but now you're putting too much emphasis on it." He's only an arms length away from her now. " Pulch'zer ."

She gulps. He needs to stop repeating it.

"P- Pulch'zer." She can't tear her eyes away from him, she stares right into his gaze as she repeats it. He sucks a small breath in, so small it's barely noticeable.

"Yes. Very good."

There's a pause.

"So. What does it mean?"

He's flushing again. "It... Well. It..."

She raises an eyebrow, "that bad huh?"

"... it means 'beautiful'."

Tav's face twists in confusion. "What about your book is beaut-"

Rolan surges forward and plants his lips on hers. She gasps into it, the rest of her words swallowed by her inhale and his tongue. She sinks into it. His hands fall onto her waist, and he uses them to drag her closer, pulling the whole length of his body against hers. When he pulls away it feels far too soon, but in his defence he's breathless. He only leans his chest away, his hips still against hers.

"I wasn't talking about the book."

The look in his eyes is vulnerable in a way she's never seen him before. As though he desperately wants her to understand, and yet is terrified that she will. Like he's scared to fracture whatever comfortable thing they've fallen into together.

"Well..." She takes a deep breath, rests a hand on his chest. "Then I'd like you to know that I think you're very pulch'zer."

He sucks in through his teeth and lets out a single disbelieving laugh. "That sounds ridiculously good when you say it, you know."

She snorts, dismissive, "please, it's far better when you say it. I love when you speak infernal."

He stares at her.

She feels her eyes bug out of her head as what she said hits her. "I mean! Not that- I don't mean that like-"

"You love it? What does that mean?"

She can feel the heat in her face. Suddenly everywhere he's touching her is too much, she needs to fall through the floor to a new realm and start her life over with a fake name.

"I don't- I didn't mean-"

As she fumbles over her words, Rolan's face starts to lift into an understanding smirk. "Oh. I see. You love it."

He leans forward towards her, and his lips brush her ear.

"Tibiz plazet link'zon mezoq ?"

She shudders, "Rolan, I have no idea what you're saying."

He chuckles lowly against the shell of her ear. " Zedzit'n, nul'umne? Zede illizquit diko ."

Gods, it's torturous. He's dropped his voice an octave, giving the already heavy words an even more gravelled tone. Her breath is coming out in pants and she whines. The way it's affecting her is ridiculous.

He doesn't stop, " morentez me'zam? Notzo'illi ."

"Rolan, please."

He grins against her, and she feels his length pressing against her body through his robes. " Quid plaket, dilekt'miz ?"

" Rolan , common tongue, please . I want to know what you're saying."

"I said 'please what?'"

Tav huffs in irritation, "I don't know."

He brings his lips up to brush hers, smiling against her as she tries to pull him closer.

"Do you want me to kiss you again?"

She swallows hard around the lump in her throat and nods.

"Mhm. Ask me nicely."

The noise she lets out is embarrassing, a high pitched whine that she couldn't stop if she tried, but she feels his breath against her lips as he exhales in excitement.

"Kiss me, Rolan. Please."

His smile is wide against her, "as you wish, pulch'zer."

When he kisses her, his lips are gentle against hers. Soft and pliant, eager but restrained. When he parts them slowly, she responds in kind and finds his tongue with hers, and he rewards her with a deep, sensual moan from low in his throat. His lips are warm and soft, his mouth tastes of spearmint, his breath flows through her. She feels her small-clothes growing damp.

As he deepens the kiss his movements grow more insistent, more intense, and he squeezes her hips as he grinds her into him. She moans in response and the noise flips a switch in him. All of a sudden his lips are frantic, the kiss turning messy and needy, and his hands are running up and down her body as thought they don't know where to settle.

He pulls back enough to speak, his breath dancing along her lips, his voice barely above a whisper. " Nezkiz quid'mih fakiaz. Volui'illi tamd'umne ."

Tav moans, long and slow as the words rush over her skin, "Gods, Rolan. I wish I knew what you were saying. Fuck ."

He chuckles quietly, "perhaps I'll teach you Comprehend Languages. Then again... Forzit adv'illi."

She groans. "Rolan, please ."

He grins, grinding his length against her, "please, what?"

The huff she lets out is impatient, "you know what."

His mouth traces the shell of her ear again and she shivers. "Perhaps. But tell me anyway."

She groans, "please fuck me, Rolan."

He needs no further invitation. Rolan undresses them both rapidly, swift and efficient just as he treats his work, and they're both bare before each-other in a few moments.

When he looks over her, sweeping his eyes across her form, he lets out a low noise of appreciation. "Hells, Tav, you're beautiful."

She feels nervous, all of a sudden, bare before him, but she smiles despite it. "So are you."

He's back on her, trailing his lips along her throat and collarbone, leaving teasing bites and grazes with his canines. She's a whimpering, writhing mess beneath him but she doesn't care. She can feel his length pressed against her stomach, can feel the grooves of the door on her back, and she's absolutely aching with need.

"Is this okay? Are you comfortable?" His questions make her chest ache with a different kind of need to the one pulsing through her core.

"Yes, Rolan. Please, for the love of- fuck me against this door."

His moan in response to her words is loud and wanton. " Hells , Tav. Lift your leg for me."

She does, and he grabs under her knee, lifting it up so it wraps around his hip, the heel of her foot against the base of his tail while her other foot stays planted against the floor. His other hand comes between them, grips the base of his cock and rubs it against her folds. She throws her head back as she keens, and at the same time he lets out a groan closer to a growl.

"Fuck, you're so wet. Is- This is still okay? You want this?" His voice wavers with lust.

Hearing him curse is almost as incredible as hearing him speak infernal. "Yes , Gods if you don't-"

He's sliding himself into her before she can finish her threat, and the rest of her words fizzle out into a high pitched moan as she throws her head back. His length is ridged and she can feel every notch as it slides into her. He works his way into her slowly, thrusting only an inch at a time until his pelvis comes to rest against hers, and he folds over to rest his forehead against her shoulder.

His first half of his sentence is muttered, the second half directed at her, "Tam strikta , fuck. Ita infek'tum strikta. Tell me when you're ready, dilekt'miz."

"I'm ready, please, fuck me."

He silences his own moan by clamping his mouth over the meat between her neck and shoulder, and begins thrusting shallowly. The slide of him inside her, the ridges on his shaft dragging against her walls, has her tightening her leg around his waist and dragging him closer. He grunts through his mouthful of her skin and starts to pick up his pace, until he's thrusting hard and fast into her.

She's a mess, and she knows it, but it doesn't matter. She's digging her heel into his ass and arching her hips away from the door to get closer to him, head thrown back and eyes wrenched shut. It's too much, but it's not enough. She grabs his hand that isn't holding her knee up and places it round the back of her other thigh. He's a quick study as always, taking a firm hold on the back of her leg and hoisting her other leg up around him, so she's held up against the door by just his weight against her and his bruising grip. It changes the angle, he drives deeper into her, and they both moan in tandem.

He's speaking again, infernal dialect spilling from him freely into her skin, " Nezkiz. Nezkiz quam di'tez vellem. Quamdiu korpuz tuum'kontraz petivi. Vid'tez habzeq. Miz'tib animez'umne ." He speaks the words with a reverence that that has her keening, clenching around him.

"Rolan, I'm so close, fuck don't stop."

He shakes his head, thrusts into her harder, "Hells, I won't, Tav. I won't, I won't, adv'illi, adv'illi -"

The utterance of more quiet infernal words against her tips her over the edge, and she finds her release around him. His movements become stuttered, desperate, " Tez amorez. Tez amorez taz'multo. Perfik'miz. Amaz, amaz, num'quam latuz dezeraz. Morent'illi anim defendam."

He follows her over the precipice and empties himself inside her. She tightens her hold on him with her legs and kisses his neck as his hips twitch through his release, and as he stills they both try to find breath against each-other's skin.

"Gods, Tav." His voice is hoarse, "you- that was- I-"

She chuckles, which makes her walls clench and his hips stutter as he gasps at the feeling. "That was amazing, Rolan. What... Um. What were you saying?"

She pulls away to look at him, and his face is incredibly red. His freckles are barely visible through the violent blush. "Oh, um. Nothing- Nothing, really. Nothing important. Just... babbling. You know."

She laughs, slowly lowering her legs to the ground, both shuddering as he pulls himself from her. He mutters a quick incantation and they're both clean.

"You're going to have to teach me Comprehend Languages, now. I'm far too nosy to leave it at that."

"Hm. We'll see."

~~~

Translations:

"Tibiz plazet link'zon mezoq?" ("You like when I speak to you in my native tongue?")

"Zedzit'n, nul'umne? Zede illizquit diko." ("But you don't care, do you? It's not about what I say.")

"Morentez me'zam? Notzo'illi." ("Moaning for me already? Aren't I lucky.")

Quid plaket, dilekt'miz?" ("Please what, my beloved?")(he lies and tells her it means "please what?")

"Nezkiz quid'mih fakiaz. Volui'illi tamd'umne." ("You have no idea what you do to me. I have wanted you for so long.")

"Then again... Forzit adv'illi." ("Then again... Perhaps I won't.")

"Tam strikta, fuck. Ita infek'tum strikta. Tell me when you're ready, dilekt'miz." ("So wet, fuck. So tight and wet. Tell me when you're ready, my beloved.")

"Nezkiz. Nezkiz quam di'tez vellem. Quamdiu korpuz tuum'kontraz petivi. Vid'tez habzeq. Miz'tib animez'umne." ("You have no idea. You have no idea how long I've wanted you. How long I've craved your body against mine. I have dreamt of having you like this. My soul burns for you.")

"adv'illi" ("I won't.")

"Tez amorez. Tez amorez taz'multo. Perfik'miz. Amaz, amaz, num'quam latuz dezeraz. Morent'illi anim defendam." ("I love you. I love you so much. You complete me. Please, please never leave my side. I would protect you to my dying breath.")

[nexysworld]

Chapter Summary: You wake up dazed and confused, no memory of anything he was saying. But it's Leon, and you can trust him right? Besides, maybe a vacation is exactly what you needed. Pairing: Yandere!RE4R Leon x Fem!Reader Tags: NSFW, Dead Dove, Dubcon, Kidnapping, Stalking, Smut, Unprotected Sex, Pet Names, violence, gore, MDNI, masturbation, murder, slow burn. Psychological manipulation, abuse of power, etc. no use of y/n. PTSD, flashbacks. There is smut this chapter. WC: 9.5k

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 It’d been a long time since you had such a good night's sleep, not even realizing the way you conked out completely on top of Leon. The even sound of his heartbeat in your ear – ba-bump, ba-bump, ba-bump – lulled you like the world’s best white noise machine. His warmth was comforting in a way no space heater could be. The smell of his fresh and spicy cologne was familiar. The combination was killer and before you knew it, not even the rumbling in your stomach was enough to keep you awake on top of him. It was reminiscent of the nights you’d spent in his apartment all those weeks ago after everything happened. Leon was your comfort, he was your safe space. After speaking with Dr. Birkin, while still not fully having come to terms with things, you were at least able to get rid of the guilt and lean into the man under you – leaving you weightless, at least for the moment. 

When you woke, it was due to the feeling of wind on your face, cold air stinging at your nose. The feeling of confinement made you panic, gasping as you clawed around until you realized you were no longer on your couch, but Leon’s jeep. 

“You good?” He asked, looking over to you. You were too busy looking around in confusion, panting as you tried to calm down. “Yeah I’m just… I’m confused.” “Confused about what?” He asked, cooly flipping on the blinker, his free hand making its way over to your thigh giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“We were on the couch, and now I’m in the car. What happened?” “That was this morning, don’t you remember?” You shook your head. “No, no I –” “Hey, it’s alright. Don’t worry about it. You’re probably just tired.” 

It was dark out, definitely well into the middle of the night if you had to guess. The only lights were the high beams of his jeep and the overhead moon — no familiarity of the city. Just thick trees and empty grass fields every now and then. If Leon hadn’t been with you, heavy hand on your leg, you’d have panicked from sheer lack of awareness. The sound of his voice cleared your head. “I honestly thought you’d have been out longer.” “I don’t understand.” You paused for a moment, fidgeting with the soft knit sleeves of your sweater — you hadn’t remembered changing clothes either. “We fell asleep on my couch after ordering food. I don’t remember anything after that . . . but I don’t get why I was tired again if we slept. Where are we even going? Leon, I’m really confused right now.” “Hey, hey. It’s alright.” He cooed, moving the hand that was resting on your thigh to gently pry your own from its fidgeting, kissing your knuckles gently. “Relax.” “That doesn’t answer—“ “I’m getting to that.” He assured, laying your hand back onto your lap with his on top. Whatever road you were on was long and winding, barely even speed signs posted throughout. “Sometimes people are just tired, it happens. After we woke up we ate the leftover food, you were talking about stress. I said you needed to relax, I suggested we go on a trip, away from it all for a change.” An odd uneasiness washed over you at his words. “I don’t remember any of that.” Flashbacks were coming to you the more you saw the pathway, the drive out to the camping spot with Derek, what came next. ‘That wasn’t real. That wasn’t real.’ You tensed, feeling a wave of nausea hit you. “We’re not going camping right?” “No. No, of course not!” “Where are we going then?” “To an old farmhouse.” He said casually. “It’s actually mine. Was left to me by someone I guess I’d consider my adopted father when he passed away. It’s old, but the land is beautiful, there’s tons of cute critters you can see too. Hey, you alright?” “I don’t know. I guess I’m just held up on the fact that I don’t remember any of this.” “Well you know, gaps in memory are a thing. That’s what the Doctor said, right?” “Yeah I guess, but this just feels so immediate. I mean — my job requires two weeks notice. It just doesn’t sound like me to do something so abrupt.” “I took care of it.” “What?” “Your job, I took care of it for you. You brought that up as your first concern. And then your meeting with Doctor Barkin. I have you covered on both fronts, he can do virtual sessions.” “Oh. Ok.” A thick silence overcame you both as you settled back into the carseat, rubbing at your tired eyes. “What about Mrs. Wilson?” “What about her?”  “I was still checking in on her when I could…even after…you know…when my leg was hurt. At least I tried to.” Truthfully it had only been a few times over the course of those weeks that you managed to make it over to the old woman’s apartment. But you did call more often to check-in, ordered groceries and other items she needed. “Don’t worry about that either.” “You sure?” “Yeah. I promise, I have everything taken care of. All you need to do is relax, rest. It’ll be alright.” “Ok.” What else could you say? It felt strange, the whole situation felt strange, but everything always did. There was no point in questioning him further or arguing, so you instead focused on the drive, sitting quietly in your seat. 

“We’re almost there.” He added, breaking the tension. “Maybe 30 more minutes at most.”

You nodded in response, returning to leaning against the doorframe watching the scenery pass by. The road had narrowed out into an open field, the pavement replaced by a dirt road that expanded farther out than you could see past the headlights. It felt eerie in an existential way, the expanse of field, being the only two alone on the empty road. It made you feel small and uneasy. True to his word, no more than 30 minutes later, the dirt road narrowed further into a tight path of trees with only enough room for one vehicle to pass. The dark tube of greenery opened up to reveal the house, just as Leon described. An old fashioned farm house — two stories with a gigantic wrap around deck. In the dim light it was hard to make out much more detail than that. “Here we are.” 

The inside was nicer than expected — but then given the upgrades Leon had made to his apartment, maybe it shouldn’t have come as a surprise. The plush sectional in the living room was huge, followed by a large TV mounted to the wall. Unlike his apartment there was more decor hung to the walls, little knick knacks scattered around. The place looked nice, lived in. 

You felt his arm wrap around you from behind, gently corralling you towards the staircase. Opposite of the stairs was a door, it looked different from the others you’d seen so far, too sturdy looking. A keypad type lock was above the hook-styled doorknob. “That’s fancy.” You pointed out as you let him guide you further up the stairs.  “Oh yeah – I keep some work equipment down there.” He replied quickly, his other hand adjusting to lift the bags he was carrying, ensuring they didn’t smack the stairs as he went.  The top floor plan was simple, two bedrooms, a large open area that connected to an upstairs balcony, and of course a bathroom. The bedroom was different, less modern than the setup of the downstairs. It was like it was ripped out of a vintage magazine, a fancy blue duvet set and a sturdy dark wood bed frame holding the king sized bed all together. No closet to be seen, but there was a matching dresser and wardrobe set. It was cozy. 

You followed Leon’s lead, setting your phone on the nightstand before unpacking your things. 

“You hungry?” He asked, folding the last of his things into the dresser drawer.  “A little, yeah.” 

“I can do breakfast for dinner. Tomorrow we can go to the store to get some actual groceries.” “Sounds good to me.” 

You followed him back downstairs, leaning against the island, watching as he flicked on the burner to heat up the pan. The smokey scent of bacon and the popping sizzle of grease filled the kitchen, making your stomach rumble. It felt domestic in a nice way, normal. You watched his broad shoulders from behind as he focused on cooking. You had the urge to hug him from behind, press a kiss to his back – you didn’t act on it though. 

The relationship between you was still strange, you weren’t able to put a label on it. Whatever the two of you were was trapped in some liminal space between couple, friends, and caretaker. It made you freeze before initiating on your end, even if you’d never deny it when he does it. To not have to deal with the feelings, you chose to take a better look around while you waited. Circling the living room a few times, running your hand over the soft fabric of the couch, before swinging around through the french doors into what looked like a sunroom repurposed into a library. The walls were covered in large bookshelves, each filled. Most were encyclopedias, college textbooks, science books for things you didn’t quite understand. There was a desk in the corner, an older looking laptop caked in dust sat on it. 

Nothing was really interesting to look at, you were going to return to Leon when you noticed an open shoebox settled on one of the shelves, almost missing it as it sat atop some shorter books. It felt like snooping, but your curiosity got the better of you, pulling it down to peek. It didn’t have a lot, some documents with a few pictures scattered. 

The first was an image of a younger looking Leon, same cropped hair and smile, but with far more boyish features. He was standing next to a stern looking man in a police uniform. Leon was holding what looked like a diploma of some kind. The next was a much more recent photo, dated for only a few months before you and Leon had even met. He was wearing that suit you saw him pack for work. “Oh shit –” You muttered to yourself, noting the girl standing next to him. “Ashley Graham?” It made sense, he worked for the government, but still, the president’s daughter? It seemed more than professional, the way he smiled at her, hand on his shoulder. 

You went to toss both images back into the box when you realized that the first had another stuck to it. It was just a picture of a girl, brown hair pulled over her shoulder as she looked off into the distance, sitting on a bench. There was nothing really noteworthy about it, no label or date either.  

“What are you doing?” Leon’s voice nearly made you jump out of your skin, seeing him standing in the doorway. “Sorry, I was just looking.” “Where’d you get those?”  “They were just in this box, sorry, I shouldn’t have looked without asking.” He took the photos from your hand eyeing them before tossing them back into the box for you. “It’s fine. I thought I’d tossed them all anyway.” He said, chucking the whole box into the trash on his way back to the kitchen.  “Why’d you do that?” 

“They’re just memories I’d rather not remember.” He said coolly as he set the plated food out on the kitchen island. 

“I can respect that.” You replied, not questioning him further. If there was anything you understood, it would be wanting to rid yourself of certain memories – though his were real pieces of his life. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The following morning started off rough. Out of habit you went to grab your phone off the nightstand the moment your eyes cracked open – yet all you felt was the hard wood of the table. You slapped your hand around a few times, still not feeling it. By the time Leon had woken up, you were buried into the wardrobe, digging into pockets of your own clothing, searching the bags too.  “What’s up?” He asked with a yawn, scratching the side of his head. Parts of his hair stuck up a little unkempt from sleeping. You frowned at him, shutting the wardrobe’s doors. “I can’t find my phone. I had it last night.” He nodded at you, rubbing some sleep from his eyes. “You sure? I don’t remember seeing it.” “Leon don’t… don’t say that please.”

“Ok, ok. Let me call it.” He plucked his own phone up, you could hear the quiet dial tone and ringing through his speaker, but no vibration or ringing anywhere else in the room. You chewed your lip out of frustration, tapping your foot on the ground. He rested his hands on your shoulders giving them a light squeeze. “Look, it’s almost time for your appointment with Dr. Birkin. Why don’t you focus on that and I’ll look for it?” “Well how am I supposed to even go to said appointment witho–” “I got you covered.” He said, placing a quick kiss to your temple. “Laptop downstairs, already logged in. Set it up last night.”

“Alright.” You conceded, not having much choice in the matter anyway. 

The appointment itself was standard. You talked about your feelings, he asked questions here and there. You answered. It didn’t feel nearly as emotionally heavy this time as before, and if anything you left feeling better having spoken about things again. It was also another sobering reminder of how much you needed Leon – how out of it you’d be without him. 

Stretching from the hour of sitting in an office chair, Leon knocked on the door frame to get your attention before making his way to you.  “How did it go?” “It went well.” “I’m glad to hear that.” 

“Did you ever find my phone?” “Unfortunately not, I checked everywhere, including the jeep.” “I guess I must’ve left it at home.”

“One less distraction from your mini vacation.” “Mmmm true.” You conceded, following him out the library. “You still need company for that trip to the store?” “Would be lonely going alone. Might even get lost in one of the aisles.” He said with that signature smirk of his. 

You couldn’t help but laugh in return. “Can’t let that happen.” The air outside was a little nippy, not wanting to change you asked if you could borrow a jacket. He pointed you to the hall closet, the one just inside the front door. You prodded around, there were several of what you assumed were Leon’s hanging up. A leather one with white stripes on the arms had your interest, you almost grabbed it when you saw a different one next to it. The bright red color caught your eye as you moved to pull it off of the hanger. It was smaller than the others, a woman’s styled leather jacket. You wondered for a moment why he would have something like that – an unfamiliar feeling of jealousy sparking up for a moment, you pushed it away telling yourself it didn’t matter. You slid the jacket on, fitting like a glove. It still had the lingering scent of perfume on it, one you recognized as your own. Not lingering to think about the situation further, you ran back out to the jeep. “There you are. Took so long I was starting to think you got lost in there.” When Leon lifted his head from the radio to look at you, his expression changed entirely, posture stiffening up like a cat.  “Yeah, almost found my way to Narnia.” You joked, settling into the carseat. “Why are you wearing that?” His voice was sharp, sounding like some kind of accusation, not a question.  “Well all I found were heavy winter coats and leather jackets. I saw this and thought it would be a better fit.” His knuckles turned white as he grasped onto the steering wheel, vision straight ahead at the house. He held his breath in for a moment, like a cartoon character about to pop and let steam out of their ears. “That belongs to her, it isn’t for you to wear.”  You weren’t sure how to respond to that. Immediately you were on edge, swallowing down that nervous dryness in your throat. “I’m sorry – “ “Take it off.” “Right, I can go grab another —” “No, give it to me.” He said, putting his hand out expectantly. 

Not wanting to argue with him, and more confused than anything, you quickly unzipped the jacket, sliding it off and handing it to him. Shuddering a little from the cold breeze hitting you now. He took it, tossing it into the back seat, his other hand still glued to the wheel, squeezing it tightly.  “I’m sorry if I did something wrong.” “I think it’s best if you stay here.” “But Leon “ “Out of the car!” He snapped, this time pointing back to the house. The sound of his voice made you jump in your seat, scrambling to open the door and step out onto the grassy ground. The moment the jeep’s door was shut, he was backing away so loud the tires whirred loudly, kicking up some of the dirt on the ground as he spun it around and took off down the road, leaving you where you stood, some mud specks on your face.  It reminded you of the movie theaters, getting left there out in the cold. The hurt and anxiety you felt after. But this was really happening, and you had no idea why. Standing there for a few seconds, like a lost child, you looked around taking in the place now in the view of sunlight. The dark trees that wrapped around the property danced in the wind. The house itself is more visible, the wooden exterior plated over itself, white painting chipping from the sides. You moved to stand on the wrap-around patio, following it around the house and towards the back yard to get a better view of the property you couldn’t see in the shadows of the previous night. 

There wasn’t much to see from where you stood. A small garden in the back that hadn’t been maintained in sometime from the wild weeds and flowers that were scattered about. A decorative white fence latticed in vines and other foliage wrapped around the backyard, separating that section of land from the rest. Your standard hammock like bench-swing swung idly in the wind on the back part of the patio.

With nothing more to see and the chill of the outside creeping up again, you made your way back inside, relishing in the warmth of the house. Not sure how long you decided to stay outside, or even what time it was, instinctively you reached for your phone, patting at your pocket before remembering that it wasn’t with you. ‘Shit.’ You cursed inwardly, pinching the bridge of your nose. 

Without Leon around, the house felt huge. It occurred to you that you were really all alone out in the middle of nowhere. No vehicle, no Leon, and not even a phone. It made your spine tingle, you squirmed a bit in place to get the feeling to go away before deciding to flop onto the couch.

‘I don’t get why he’s so upset. I would’ve just changed.’ You thought to yourself, mindlessly flipping through streaming apps. ‘Who is she anyway?’ The thought of Leon being angry with you made you want to cry. You didn’t though – managing to keep it together enough to idly watch some stupid show. 

You hadn’t really paid attention to how many episodes you watched or how much time had passed. The soft rumbling of your stomach was the only other indicator that it had been awhile. As if on cue, you could hear the familiar sound of the jeep’s engine outside, whirring to a stop. Next came the inevitable footsteps on the porch, followed by the door opening. 

Like a puppy, you bounded from the couch over to the sound, careful to get too close, scared he was still upset with you. There he was, hair slicked back slightly, multiple bags of groceries dangling on each arm.  “Is that all of them, I can help –” “I got it.” He said flatly. The words cut you, deflated you.  “Oh, ok.” You heeled back a bit, not moving from your spot. ‘So he is still mad.’ Tearing your eyes off of him, you looked down at the floor, fidgeting with your hands as you worked up to the courage to do or say something. The consideration to return to the couch won and you scurried back to sit and go back to your show.

A while later, the smell of food filled your nose, and a plate was held before you. Your eyes trailed up the muscular arm to meet Leon’s gaze as you took it from him. “Thank you…and hey look about earlier, I’m sorry.”

He sat next to you on the couch, his entire posture more relaxed than earlier. Setting his own plate down on the coffee table, and leaned back, one arm slung casually over the back of the couch. “Don’t even worry about it. It’s over with.” You nodded, taking a small bite of the pasta you twirled up on your fork. The silence lingering over the both of you made you feel heavy. Against your better judgment, you looked over to him and prodded. “Can I ask who she was?” He looked a little short circuited as he processed the question, like he was deciding what the right answer was. “An ex.”  “Oh.” “Let’s just say things didn’t end on good terms. I don’t really want to talk about it.” “Right, I’m sorry.”  “Don’t be. You didn’t know.” He leaned over and pressed a quick kiss to your cheek before grabbing his plate to eat himself. “You know.” He added, “It’s still early enough in the day. I was thinking we should still get out of the house.” “Sure. Did you have something in mind?” “Yeah, a surprise.” He added with a big smirk.  You couldn’t help but match his smile, the corners of your mouth tugging up instinctively. “Sounds good.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was the late afternoon, nearly early evening when you found yourself out by the lake. There was a small dirt path that led from the backyard and down through the woods. It had opened up to a small clearing by the water, some crude seating and a stone-campfire set up already there. 

Initially there was trepidation on your part, worried that the site of the woods might stir some of those bad memories up. He managed to convince you though, promising to take you back the moment you became uncomfortable if you wanted. 

So far things were ok. The last of the warm sun beat down onto your back as you laid out on the soft towel beneath you. It was refreshing and relaxing – it’d been so long since you’d had that full sense of pure normalcy and relief.  Arms crossed under your head, you watched Leon as waded through the shallower part of the water. He stopped when the water landed just below his navel, looking out towards the trees behind you. 

Your eyes ran from the dusty blonde happy trail upwards, over his abs and to his pecs, before finally landing on his eyes. The way the warm tones of the sunset casted down onto him, made him look beautiful, like he belonged in a painting. The blonde in his hair was contrasted by the different shades of purple and orange that lit his right side. Before the light of the day was finally gone, you wanted to get closer – see if it did wonders for the pools of blue in his eyes. 

Stretching out like a cat, you languidly crawled to your feet, wading into the cool water. A slight hiss escaped you at the abrupt change in temperature, but you continued forward until you reached him.  “Well hello there.” He looked down at you running his wet thumb over your collar bone slightly. “Almost thought you were sleeping over there.” “Almost was.” You confirmed. “But that was before I realized there was a view to admire.” This moment felt familiar, safe.

“Why do I get the feeling you’re not talking about the lake?” That damn smirk again, got you every time. Your theory was right too, the specks and hues of blue stood out under his thick eyelashes as he looked down at you. He was gorgeous. So very Leon.  “Well maybe that’s because I’m not.” Placing a hand on his chest, you moved a little closer to him. 

“You’re not talkin’ about me are you?” “I just might be.” Leaning real close, you nearly stood on your tip toes, lips so close you could feel his breath gently fanning your face. You could see what he was expecting as his lips twitched. Unfortunately for him you broke the tension by splashing some water on him, your own smile twisting into an amused smirk.  “You play dirty.” He accused, splashing back at you. “Get back over here coward.” He said playfully, following you as you cowered back to shore to avoid his onslaught of water, stopping every now and then to launch a counter attack. 

Your back hit the soft sand of the shore, him on top of you, elbows on either side of your head. You couldn’t help but laugh at the cheesy exchange, genuine happiness rumbling in your chest. “Very cute, sweetheart.”  “I’d like to think so.” 

Again you were close, face to face, but it was his turn to deny you. He pushed himself up and out of the water. “It’ll be dark soon. You want to go back?” Pondering the question for a moment, you shook your head. “Not yet. I’m having a good time.” “Glad to hear it.” Digging around through the bag he’d brought out with the both of you, he pulled out a zippo lighter and some bundle of what almost looked like tumbleweed tied together. He held the small flame to the fire starter before tossing it into the bundle of wood that had been left in the fire pit. 

Everything was fine at first until the licking flames picked up intensity, the entirety of the pit filling with the dancing orange and yellow lights – high enough for the heat of the flame to slap against your face. A tightness in your chest formed, freezing you in place like a statue. Your throat dried and contracted like trying to breath in dust.  

“My head. It’s splitting my head.” Your head turned side to side, scanning for the source of the voice. The world around you black besides the flames. 

“IT’S SPLITTING MY HEAD!”

The words were so loud it was like a flashbang against your ears, brain rattling in your head. You couldn’t focus on anything, the hazy colors before your eyes turning into a kaleidoscope from the water forming in your eyes.  “IT’S SPLITTING MY HEAD!”

You couldn’t breathe at all now, gasping desperately for air. Every time you blinked a shadowy figure moved in the fire, a tentacle-like outline whipped about above it. ‘Leon. Leon please I’m scared.’ You couldn’t get the words to vocalize out of your mouth, trapped in your throat. 

“Sweetheart?” Leon’s voice whispered in your ear, two large arms snaking around you from behind to hold you close. “It’s ok. Breathe baby.” He cooed. You squeezed your eyes shut, gulping down as much air as you could. “There you go. There you go.” You did it a second time, and a third, until your breathing evened out and you could ground yourself where you stood. The heat of his torso was pressed against your back, the weighted feelings of his arms. “I’m right here. You’re safe.” 

When you dared to crack your eyes open again, the world was normal. No shadowy blackness, no bleak figure, just the fire crackling in front of you. The trees swishing back and forth, lit up by the twinkling stars and moon, sun having fully set. And of course, Leon. You spun in his arms, wrapping your own around him, he tightened the hug holding you close. “God I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry…I….god.” “Shhh. Shhhh.” He rubbed your back softly. “Why don’t we head back?” “No!” You snapped, looking up at him. “No, I don’t want to go back yet.” He flashed you a confused look, opening to say something, but you cut him off. “Please. I was having such a good time. I’m sick of being crazy. I…it was just one incident. I don’t want to go yet.” “Ok.” He agreed. “Ok, we won’t go yet.” Conceding his tucked some of your hair behind your ear again, clearly still concerned, but not pushing it. 

You plopped down onto the towel, facing the fire. No more threatening images for the time being. The two of you sat in silence, his hand over yours on the ground. It took a while for your heart rate to fully go back to normal, for the feeling of being on edge to fully dissipate, but once it did you felt like you were floating, just sitting next to him – like his hand was an anchor and without it you’d just drift away into the vast emptiness of the sky. You didn’t deserve him but  God you were sure you loved him – the first time you could admit it even inside your own thoughts. It was freeing. No guilt or shame attached, just the gooey feeling of contentment.

 “Leon?” “Hmm?” “Thank you. For all of this.” “Don’t mention it.” “I mean it.” “I know.” He lifted your hand to his mouth, kissing it gently.  “I like you.” He let out a soft chuckle against your knuckles. “Well geez, I’d hope so. I like you too.” 

It felt a little pathetic to announce yourself that way. “Can I ask you something?” “Shoot.”  “What are we?” 

He looked up to meet your gaze, his expression soft but serious. You watched Adam's apple flex as he swallowed nothing, analyzing the question. “What do you want us to be?” “Maybe more than friends?” You offered a non-absolute answer, nervous of any true rejection.  “I think we already are more than friends.” “Well yeah, true.” You tapered the conversation off, not brave enough to ask for more definitives just yet.

He dropped your hand in favor of scooting closer to you, wrapping his arm around you to pull you onto his lap. “Why don’t you tell me what you’re really feeling.”  “Why are you so perfect?” Your words were barely above a whisper as you slunk your arms around his shoulders.  “Far from it, actually.”  “Disagree. God I disagree.” His retort stopped dead when you blurted out the next words so quickly they shocked even yourself. “I think I love you.” You’re not sure you’d even seen him with such a deer in the headlights expression on his face before, it made you feel the urge to backtrack, suck the words right back in. “I’m sorr –” He pressed his lips against yours, silencing any apology. Your heart skipped a beat, blood feeling boiling hot each time it pumped through you. You returned the kiss this time, softly, slowly. It wasn’t like the quick passion at his apartment. “Can I have you?” You whispered into his neck, kissing at his pulse.  “I’m already yours.”  You responded by nipping at that same spot. “Take me?” 

He sucked in a breath at the sensation, squeezing you a little tighter to him. You could feel his cock twitch in his swim shorts. “Are you sure?” His voice was low. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable again, move too fast.”

“I’m sure this time. Very sure. Please, I just want you.” 

He pulled you back from him just enough to scan your face, giving you one more moment to back out. When you didn’t say anything else, he kissed you again, this time leaning forward with you until you were laying on your back. His lips were as soft and plush as you remembered them, making you want more. “You’re so beautiful, you know that?” He asked, mouthing more kisses along your neck and chest. He made quick work of your bathing suit top, sliding the straps out of their tied knot and tossing it gently to the side. Arousal mixed with the light breeze blowing the warmth of the fire past you made your nipples perk up, sensitive as ever. It didn’t go unnoticed by him as he took the opportunity to run his tongue along your collarbone before following down the center of your chest. The trail of saliva left behind drying in the outside air making your skin tingle in the best possible way. 

He pressed another kiss to the side of your right breast before he teased your nipple, flicking it with licks of his tongue a few times before sucking it into his mouth. The sensation made you squirm beneath him, thighs squeezing together around his leg that was planted between them. By the time he’d moved on to your other tit, you were rubbing yourself against his leg for some relief. He chuckled, popping off with a smile. “So needy baby. Must’ve been pent up these last few months.” “Mhmm” You nodded, eyes already hazed over with lust, mind empty of any critical thought.  “Don’t worry, I’ll make you feel really good. Scouts honor.” He punctuated the sentence by moving down to nip  at your hip making you buck up a little. Amused by the reaction he did it again, this time on the plushness of your inner thigh while he worked the ties of your bottoms off as well, discarding them with the top. He returned to what he was doing, this time sucking a bruise into the soft skin. Then another, each one a pleasurably dull kind of pain. He flattened his tongue to each one, helping soothe out the pain. “Purple’s really your color baby.” He cooed, admiring his work. 

Your clit throbbed with need, hole begging for attention. He rested one hand on your hip, rubbing soft circles into it as he continued to tease you, pressing a kiss to your mound, another on the opposing thigh. “Leon.” You whined. “Please I need more.”  “I know, I know. I’m getting there sweetheart. Just wanna take my time, been imagining this for so long.” He rewarded your please by dragging the tip of his tongue down before flattening it against your clit, lapping at it gently. The sugary heat radiated out as you moaned, fingers working their way into his soft hair, gripping at it. 

It should’ve been no surprise Leon was good with his mouth, circling your bundle of nerves with his tongue before sucking on it gently. You’re not sure you’d ever had a lover so attentive before, not even in your false memories. “F-fuck, so good.” You closed your eyes, focusing on nothing but the pleasure he was giving you. You felt him sink a digit into your slicked pussy. It wasn’t enough, but it was better than the nothing that was there before. He added another finger, pumping them as he worked your clit with his tongue. 

He curled his thick fingers just right, reaching that special spot inside of you. The one that made your legs tense, clit pulse. What blood was left in your head soared to your lower half, a weak gasp escaping your mouth as you came. Your legs trembled around his head, thighs clamping shut, you’d almost be worried about crushing him if you were capable of thought. He continued to gently work you, not enough to overstimulate, but the perfect amount to draw out that pleasure until it faded to just tingles at the tips of your toes.

You were left breathless, panting as he pulled away, wiping his chin off on the back of his hand. Your eyes landed on the now fully formed tent in his shorts, expecting him to move to get it out, to fuck you into the ground. Instead, he leans back on his legs, looks down at you. The silence feels strange, and you're suddenly reminded of your location – outdoors – as the crickets pick up their chirping, the leaves of the trees crash into each other from the wind. You shiver from the breeze, until it blows in the opposite direction, sending a wave of heat from the campfire washing over you.  When he still doesn’t move, you quickly become self conscious, scared that he was changing his mind. Worry takes over your face as you prop yourself up on your elbows, before you can say it, he leans down to kiss you again. This time he  makes a point to slip his tongue into it, letting you taste yourself on him. He wraps his arm around you, holding your head in place to kiss you sloppily. He grinds against you slightly, groaning into the kiss when he does. “Don’t worry princess. I just needed to take a moment after that. Was too good, so perfect, had to take it in.” He knew you so well.  “Want you.” You mumbled against his lips. “Want you in me, wanna feel you. Wanna be close.”  “I know.” He said, reaching his hand down between you both to undo the drawstring of his shorts. He tugged them down just enough to free his erection, thick and throbbing. You couldn’t see it perfectly in the deep shadows that the fire made, but you could feel it. He ran the head along your slit a few times. “Can tell how bad you want me, she’s practically crying for me.” 

You suck in a breath at his words, feeling arousal begin to twinge between your legs again. He gently pushed the tip into your soaking folds, the stretch stinging slightly despite his earlier actions. “Oh.” You gasped as he pressed each inch slowly into you. You’d never felt so full before, like he was in your ribs – it was overwhelming and comforting at the same time. “O-oh.” You moaned, feeling him pull out again, grasping up at his shoulders.

He gave a few more slow but deep thrusts, giving you the chance to adjust and accommodate him. “That’s it baby, so tight.” He flattened his palm against your belly, pressing down making the full feeling intensify. Your back arched into his palm, adding to the sensation.  “S’big.” You whined.   “Mhmm. Just relax, you’re doing such a good job. Already taking me so well.” He readjusted your position, leaning forward and pulling your legs up at the same time to hook over his shoulders. The shift made him feel even deeper inside of you, head of his cock pushing against your cervix with each thrust. 

You didn’t even know you were this flexible when he practically folded you in half while he fucked himself into you, making sure he was close enough to pepper your face with small kisses when given the opportunity. You heard him mumbling sweet compliments between his increasingly erratic breathing, but you were too blissed out to even register the words.  “God….god…oh my god!” You squeezed the towel beneath you,, bunching it within your fists as he continued to roll his hips against you, wiry blond hair and his pubic bone bumping into your clit as his cock rubbed past that spongy spot, more sensitive now from your first orgasm.  “That’s my girl.” He sped up his pace, the sound of skin slapping mixing with the cackle of the fire as you moved from death-gripping the towel to clawing at his back, desperate for your next release, desperate to be as close as possible to him. “My pretty Bunny.” 

The pet name clicked something in your brain, and you lost yourself again, muscles tensing velvety walls tightening around his impossibly big cock as you came again. His own eyes closed, a bead of sweat dripped from his forehead to between your breasts, his own quiet noises picking up in volume, his pace erratic as he chased his own high this time. Pulsing with the aftershocks of your second orgasm, you could feel as he throbbed within you, painting your inside white with his hot seed.  Half asleep and sated, you let out a noise of disappointment when he finally pulled out, wanting to stay as close as you could to him. As if he could read your mind, he immediately pulled you into his embrace, rubbing his hand against your stomach as he spooned you from behind. 

The visual of the campfire became blurry the heavier your eyelids grew, and it wasn’t long until you were out like a light, curled against him. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You woke up some time later, scrunched up in bed. It was still dark out when you sat up to rub your eyes and yawn. You didn’t remember the journey back but you weren’t surprised Leon had managed that, likely carrying you back in your sleep. If not for your dry throat and desperate need for a glass of water, you’d have flopped right back down to resume your unconsciousness. 

Instead, you pushed your legs over the side of the bed, still a little wobbly and exhausted. In your half asleep state it took you an extra minute to register the fact that Leon hadn’t been next to you. “S’weird.” You muttered to yourself, sluggishly moving towards the door and down the hallway.  The house was dark, no light to be seen, not even from the bathroom – which you noted was open, no Leon inside. As you took a few steps down the staircase, you could see from above the living room was also dark and silent, not even the TV’s screensaver was on, and the only light emanating from the kitchen was the small light above the stove. 

A more awake version of yourself would’ve been a little more worried with his whereabouts, but for now you only had one mission – water. The moment the tap finished filling up the glass cup, you gulped it down, and then another. Soothing the cottony feeling in your mouth and the soreness of your throat. 

Relieved and quenched, you exited the kitchen heading back to bed. Though still tired, you were slightly more alert now, rubbing at your eyes again while you walked. Passing the double doors to the library room, you heard Leon’s voice, and it stopped you in your tracks.  “I miss you.”  “Huh?” The words caught your attention instantly. One of the double french doors was cracked enough that you could peer through without much effort. While the initial reaction had been jealousy, the fear he was talking to another woman on the phone, you were left dumbfounded by the reality.  He was sitting at the desk, the red jacket in his hands as he spoke. “You know I didn’t want things to end this way. I thought you were perfect for me. We could’ve been so great together.” He brought the jacket to his face, taking in a deep inhale of it, holding his breath before finally exhaling. “I blame it on him, putting those awful thoughts in your head. Tearing you away from me.” His grip on the jacket tightened so much you could see the vein in his arm flex even with just the dim lamp on the desk and the distance between you. 

‘What the hell?’ You weren’t sure what to make of what you were witnessing, but you knew it didn’t sit right with you. It was just…weird.

“I wish you didn’t force me to end things. But it’s alright, I’ve moved on. I know you’d be happy for me.” He spit onto his hand, moving it beneath the desk. A whimper left his mouth, needier, different from how he sounded above you. Wet schlicking noises told you exactly what he was doing as he sniffed the jacket again. “You both wear the same perfume. Love it so much.” He added between grunts. “God. Might take me a minute baby. Already blew a load earlier.” The sounds picked up speed.

It felt wrong to keep watching, whatever was happening was a clearly intimate moment you didn’t belong a part of. You took the opportunity to gently back away from the door, and as quietly as you could made it back up to the bedroom, pulling the thick blanket over your head, like a child fending off the boogie man.  “What. The. Fuck.” You whispered to yourself. It left you with a million questions you weren’t completely sure you wanted answers to. An amalgamation of emotions swirled in your head, confusion, worry, jealousy? You knew the jacket smelled like your perfume, but the confirmation as he jerked it to his ex made you shudder. “Gross.”

Your sleepiness had worn off, leaving you to lay awake with your thoughts. It wasn’t long after that the bedroom door creaked open, the sound of soft padding across the floor was heard before the weight of the bed sunk in behind you. Leon’s arm wasn’t comforting as it wrapped around you this time, it felt more like a weight forcing you in place. You wanted to pretend you were asleep, but the claustrophobic feeling was too much making you move a little on instinct.  “Why were you downstairs?” 

The question made the hair on your neck stand up despite his warm breath. “I needed some water.” “Mmmm, you going to lie to me now?” “What? I’m not –” “I know you were watching.” His grip around you tightened, squeezing you against him. It felt threatening in a way you couldn’t explain. “I didn’t mean to.” “It's not polite to stare.” 

“I know.”  “What were you doing downstairs?” “I told you I was just getting a drink.” “Then why were you watching?” “I heard your voice. I didn’t know where you were. I’m sorry.” Tears formed quicker than you expected. He sat up slightly, rolling you to face him. His hand gripped your jaw slightly, you could barely make out his figure in the dark room. He pressed his lips to yours. “Don’t let me catch you spying again.” 

“I’m sorry.”  He didn’t reply, instead laying back down, pulling you against his chest. He rubbed your back like he normally did when you fell asleep, but no comfort came from it. The whole thing had you wigged out, bad. 

“Leon?” “Hmm?” “Is there any way we could head back tomorrow?” “We have a whole trip planned.” “I know. I just wanted to get my phone, I’ve been feeling weird without it.” You let out an awkward laugh, hoping to play it off. Really though you were desperate to be closer to other people.  “Sorry I’m not good enough company.” You couldn’t tell if he was joking or not. “No really. It’s nothing to do with you. Please, we can come back, I just really want to get it.” “No.” It was so firm it threw you off completely.  “But Leon that’s not f–”

“Leon –” “I said no. I’m not driving you hours there and back, wasting gas because you forgot your phone. You don’t even need it.” “It’s not about needing it. I’d just feel more comfortable if I had it.”

“We’ll talk about this tomorrow.” “I don’t want to talk about it tomorrow, I just want to go home and grab it.”  “I already said, no.” You yanked yourself away from his space, to the other side of the bed, flicking the lamp on. You can’t remember ever actually having argued with him before, at least not in a true capacity. “You’re making me uncomfortable.” “You’re being ungrateful.” 

His words sliced you like a knife, you frowned. “I’m not –” “You are.” “I want to go home. I don’t want to stay here anymore. You can’t just keep me here if I don't want to be.” “Sweetheart –” “No, I’m serious Leon. I’m not staying. I don’t know what’s up with this weird thing you have with your ex, or anything else. But I don’t want to be here anymore. I need to go home. I need space.” He clicked his tongue, sitting up. “We both know that you don’t know what you need. Just come back to bed.”

Resistant, you stood out of the bed staring down at him, face red with anger and upset. “No. Take me home right now.”  He didn’t respond immediately, scanning you with his eyes. “Sweetheart, you’re not going anywhere. Not tonight. Not tomorrow either.” “I –” He was making you so frustrated. “If you don’t take me home, then I’ll figure out a way home myself.” “No, you won’t.” He threw his own legs over the side of the bed, righting himself. When he turned to face you, you felt cornered. To combat the feeling you sidestepped closer to the bedroom door. “Stop.” You said, putting your hand out in front of you, palm open fingers spread out as if that would magically keep him distanced from you. “Stay there.” “Baby.” He said unamused.  “I mean it.” “What’s gotten into you?”  “I told you. You’re making me uncomfortable.” His brows came together as if he was considering what you were saying. You took the opportunity to back up from the door into the hallway. “I think you’re having an episode. I think you need to calm down.” ‘The fucking audacity.’ You thought to yourself taking another step back. Lightning lit up the hallway from the window, the boom of thunder following close behind. Rain pattered against the windows as silence took over the situation between you. He didn’t move from where he was standing in the bedroom, you didn’t move from where your feet were planted in the hallway.

“Please come back to bed?” His voice was soft now, pleading. “I’m really not sure why you’re acting this way right now. But I’m concerned about you. I’m sorry if you’re uncomfortable, just come back ok?” He reached his hand out gently, as if he were taming a wild animal – the only result was you taking a step back. 

Defiantly you shook your head.  “Sweetie.”

You took another step back. He sighed, taking a step forward. You felt sick somehow, legs telling you to run again, run before he did something. Run before you’d be stuck just like in the woods. Fear you couldn’t explain. You knew you were being dramatic. It was Leon, there was no reason to be this on edge, even despite the weirdness of the evening, but your nerves told you differently.  “Are you going to take me home?” “No baby.” 

That was it, you bolted as fast as you could, feet skittering across the polished wooden floorboards. If you hadn’t used the bannister, you’d have face planted with the quickness you used to get down the stairs, missing the last few steps entirely. There was no immediate sound of movement behind you, at least none you could hear through your own pulse thrumming in your ears. You tore through the living room looking for a home phone, his cell, anything.  Finally his flat steps were heard coming down the stairs

Your search came up empty. You knew there was nothing in the kitchen. Nervously you slid into the library, slamming the double doors shut and clicking the little turn locks on the inside knobs, just in time for him to be on the other side, gently twisting the knobs.  “Baby, just come out here.” 

“No.” You said weakly, looking around the room. The laptop was no longer on the desk, but you did see his keys tossed on the corner of it. With a shaky hand, you reached out and picked them up, tucking the fob into your palm, the metal part sticking out between two fingers as a defensive weapon. He stopped attempting to twist the knobs and instead knocked gently. “Why don’t you take a minute to calm down?”  “No.” You repeated again, looking for a way out.  “You’re not acting rational.” He added.

There were no other connecting doors besides the ones leading out into the living room area, and you knew you couldn’t make it past Leon that way. The windows to the office were large, missing screens like with most old homes. It wouldn’t take much to slip through one – ‘but which of us would make it out to the jeep first?’ 

“Just leave me alone!” You yelled back at him, clicking the little latch on the window sill. You waited for the next crack of thunder to make the move. Despite the old wood, the window lifted easily, giving you a view to the patio.  “I can’t do that. You know that.” He replied, seemingly unaware of your plan.

You went out leg first, making sure the key was tight in your fist. Rain was beating down on the ground so hard the yard had practically been rendered all mud, running through it barefoot was going to be a challenge. ‘Just get to the jeep. Just get to the jeep’ You repeated in your head, stepping out into the disgustingly wet dirt, cringing when it mushed between your toes. 

Without a second thought, you took off running towards the front of the house, feet slapping into the wet surface of the ground, tshirt and hair soaked in the rain. You tripped over a rock, tumbling flatly splashing up grass and more mud into your face and torso. Not giving up, you righted yourself completely, half falling again as you ran to the car.  By this point Leon had already figured out your plan, the front door of the house slamming open. You looked back only long enough to see him walking towards you as you grabbed the door handle to pull yourself back up and over into the driver's seat. Trembling, you dropped the keys trying to get them into the ignition. “Shit. Shit.” You felt around on the floor, grabbing hold of them again, this time successfully managing to stick them in the ignition and turning the jeep on. 

“You’re being so dramatic right now.” He called out, halfway to you. “You’re acting terrified. Just come back inside.” You shook your head, pulling the gearshift out of the parked position and into reverse, careful to not let it slip in your shaking and wet state. Slamming the gas pedal didn’t go in your favor, instead of moving, the vehicle roared in place, tires spinning against the soft earth, mud flying about, some flinging backwards smacking into you.  “No…no…shit no..” You squeaked, slamming down on the pedal harder, turning the wheel. It still wouldn’t budge, mud and grass going everywhere in the rain. You tried putting it into drive, the whole vehicle lunged forward an inch before getting stuck again. “Come on. Come on.” You begged the universe. Too focused on the jeep, you had lost focus of Leon.  The door opened and he reached over you, pulling the keys out and tossing them into the passenger seat floor somewhere. You went to dive for them when he scooped you up instead, holding you tightly as you kicked and squirmed, clawing at him to get out of his grasp. He didn’t speak, but held firm as he made his way back inside with you, depositing you onto the floor of the entranceway. 

You stared up at him, trying to scoot back. There was a claw mark on his face from your nails, a little blood beading up there, a matching one on his shoulder. He knelt down to look at you, face full of concern. He cupped your cheeks in his hands, stopping your movement. “Good god baby, look at you. I mean really, look at you. This isn’t what a sane person would do.” His voice was so sickly sweet, it made you choke out a sob.  “Y-you scared me – I.” “I scared you? Baby I’m bleeding because of you. You tried to steal my car. You’re soaked, covered in mud….God baby, see this is exactly why I had to bring you out here. Could you imagine what would happen if you acted like this in front of other people?” “But I –” You looked into his eyes, then at the stripe of blood on his cheek. You looked around, then down at your mud covered body. You felt pathetic. He was right, this was ridiculous, you were ridiculous. “I’m sorry Leon.” You said, face scrunching up into an ugly cry. Like a toddler you sat in front of him sobbing, soaking wet. “You’re right, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” 

“Shhh. Shhh.” He hushed you, one hand leaving your cheek. You felt the sting of something in your side, but were hazy before you could even register anything. 

You managed one more snotty sob before your vision was spotty, head becoming harder and harder to hold up – then the relaxing tug of unconsciousness overtook you.

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[90sbee]

Dying is not an option (when you're by my side)

Leon S. Kennedy x Gn!reader

1k words. Also on a03

Soft fingers caress his lips, keep his body warm, his belly full and his back massaged.

“I’ll always have a home,” Leon finally manages to get out, a complete sentence, voice without hesitation.

He closes his eyes, kisses the skin of your shoulder.

Hell, he is trying.

When his mind seems to get too clouded by the visions of monsters, you pull him out of the depths of his trauma. He does his best to love you. He tries.

Or the fic in which you make Leon repeat comforting phrases so it finally gets in his head that he is loved.

Just a very soft idea that wouldn't leave my head and that's been too long in the wip folder. The warnings make it seem worse than it is, but happy ending I promise!!! Had re4r in mind for this one but can be read with other older versions of him. (Though the older the Leon, the angstier it gets lmao)

Content: No use of y/n, very very soft love, hurt/comfort, some angst, established relationship, living together, sitting on his lap, a tiny bit of possessive Leon (yay!)

Warnings: +18 ONLY. No smut but some suggestive lines. Mentions of blood, suicide, guns and overall (some brief) gore. Leon's mental struggles (depression, anxiety). I'm not a native English speaker but I (lazily) proofread and edited this one.

You lean forward, just a little closer to his body. Leon groans, his face unreadable still.

“Don’t want to,” he muses, kind of annoyed at your proposal.

“Just trust me.”

He reluctantly nods, as you get comfortable on his lap. His firm thighs under you, the warmest and comfiest seat you could ever ask for.

You worry about him, worry so much.

You know now: know what he does, what he works as. At first it was hard to believe it, the stories about human turned monsters, about creatures that linger between heaven and hell. But you had to believe him, you were forced to the first time Leon crumbled down in your arms, sobbing the entirety of the night, the immensity of his body reduced to shivering and tears.

“I love you,” you had told him that time. “I’m not letting you go. I’m here. I’ll always be here.”

You whisper the same things again now, your voice reverberating close to his ear. Leon eases the grip on your hips, replaces it with a soft touch. He tries to calm down, closes his eyes for a moment too long.

“You love me,” he seems to ask, as if trying to convince himself of it, as if trying to find himself worthy of such a feeling from someone like you.

“I do,” you confirm, cupping his cheeks.

He nods, though his heart is thumping in his chest still. Your hands move to his shoulders, then to his arms, caressing the skin with soft strokes.

“I love you… Look at me.”

He obliges, eyes like the ocean, marked by the heavy and dark eyebags.

It breaks your heart to see him like this. Your lip trembles as you lean closer, shortening the distance.

It is entirely possible —as you’re so much aware of— that one day you’ll come home to an unlocked gun and his body in the bathtub. Or maybe it would be the rifle, the carpet stained with blood and pieces of what used to be his jaw.

A jaw that you love so much, that you kiss now.

Leon sighs, seems content with such affection, his hands getting lost down your thighs.

“Listen to me. You’re gonna repeat as I say, okay?” an attempt to get him out of his head, to remind him of who he is.

“ …‘Kay,” he mumbles, seemingly distracted.

“I’m… good.”

He scrunches his nose, pinkish lips downturned. Naturally, he doesn’t dare to say those words. He doesn’t want to trick his brain.

“C’mon,” you egg him, patting his shoulder gently.

The action seems to at least make his lips curve slightly.

“I’m good,” he whispers, his voice insecure.

He tries. You can see how hard he does it: coming home as much possible, the dirty laundry now clean and with a soft cinnamon scent. A sunflower in the kitchen vase next to the window, the coffee mug always clean even when you leave it in the sink, ready to be washed in the morning.

“I’m a good partner,” you resume, reminiscing.

That does stops him in his tracks, a gentle blush rooting on his cheeks, the smile more pronounced now. Leon presses his face against your neck.

“… Do I really have to say it?”

“Yep.”

He breathes on your neck, as if trying to take in a bit of your kindness, a bit of your peace. He closes his eyes, tries to control his breathing. But his hands grip your hips harder.

He fucking loves you.

Leon is not sure he deserves this yet, the warm body on the bed, the pretty smile that kisses him goodbye, lets him go away even in the middle of the night.

“I love you,” he backtracks, pressing a kiss on your neck.

You chuckle, and allow him that admission.

“Very cute but that’s not what you had to repeat.”

Leon raises his eyebrows, feigning annoyance. He keeps his fingers on your hips, dancing on your skin, drawing patterns as he keeps you close. He wishes he could sign his name there, mark you forever so you’d never get too far away from him… So he’d always have a right to come back to you.

“But I love you…” he pouts.

You grab his face with utmost care, force his cheeks to look upwards at your face.

“I love you too. Lots.”

You kiss his forehead. His body melts under that touch.

“ ‘m a good partner” he mumbles, quickly.

“My baby loves me.”

Now Leon chuckles.

“My baby loves me,” he hides again on your neck, his smile etched constantly on his face now. You hug him closer, kiss his forehead once more, as if sheltering a lost angel in your arms.

“I’ll always have a home.”

Oh, that one seems to break him a little. Leon immediately whines, his hands gripping your body with ferocity against his. He can’t say… He shouldn’t. He… he can’t and…

His heart starts beating faster and he gulps.

“You can do it…” you encourage him and he wants to try. He knows, deep inside, that is true and that he is now safe. It takes him several minutes until his anxiety dissipates and he can look up at you, your eyes encapsulating warmth that he had never experienced with anyone else.

Soft fingers caress his lips, keep his body warm, his belly full and his back massaged.

“I’ll always have a home,” Leon finally manages to get out, a complete sentence, voice without hesitation.

He closes his eyes, kisses the skin of your shoulder.

Hell, he is trying. It is seen not only in how much he makes time for you, but also in the way he follows along with your little silly ideas, suggestions to try to build himself up again.

And though he wouldn’t directly admit it, since you two are together he has promised himself to fight his hardest in every mission. He spits his own blood, wipes off the exhaustion from his face and keeps pushing forward. Because, he’ll be damned, he wants to see you once more. And once more. And again and again… And when he comes home, to you, Leon immediately checks —for the tenth time— the safety on each gun and leaves them in locked boxes, his fingers slowly forgetting what it’s like to toy with weapons in the sanctuary that you’ve built for the two of you. The cold of the metal is now replaced by the warmth between your thighs, the flesh on your hips, the softness of your hands.

Hell, he is definitely trying.

And it’s fucking working.

God to be on his lap honestly!!! A dream. And if you've made it to the end, thank you!! Mwah, sweet soul 💙

[silovsmenot]

Foreign Language | Artūrs Šilovs (Part Three)

PART ONE | PART TWO

SUMMARY: As the first round of the Stanley Cup Playoffs are nearing conclusion, the reader makes the trip to Nashville for game six. WARNINGS: Spicy make out. PAIRING: Artūrs Šilov & reader (f!reader implied). NOTES: I have written anything spicy in a while, so it's not great but hey ho! I might just turn this into an A03 book one day because I have constant thoughts. IF YOU WANT PART FOUR, PLEASE LET ME KNOW! WORD COUNT: 2724

It was a decision which you made early on, and one that Arty made no attempts to sway you from — quite the contrary, he melted at the mere suggestion when you first made it.

If this series went back to Nashville, you wanted to be there. This was his first playoffs, and if there was a chance to clutch it in Nashville, you’d be there to cheer him on. In that sea of yellow, you’d wear your 31 Canucks jacket with pride.

You’d thanked the team profusely when they’d managed to get you your jacket on short notice, Arty not originally making the poor team aware of your ‘official’ status until he noticed the other wives and girlfriends with theirs. Better late than never, you thought.

And you weren’t the only partner who wanted to make the trip — a number of the younger partners without children were quick to take up the offer of the trip to Nashville. You’d become quite close with Monique, Teddy’s wife as both Latvians were quick to find the other. You were often with Monique now.

It was a nice change to not have to kiss Artūrs goodbye that morning. To have two bags by the door instead of one.

He’d still got out of bed before you, kissing your forehead as he whispered for you to stay in bed a little longer. You watched him leave with the comfort that he wouldn’t be far away, that you’d leave your bedroom soon after and he’d still be there. The light fluttering in your chest only grew as you heard the sound of pots and pans moving upon the stove top. You knew he could cook, but this would be the first breakfast he’d made you.

Hands clawed over the side of the bed, reaching for rogue items of clothing that now littered the floor from last night. It would be his old shirt that you’d find first, worn and smelling of him. The large shirt hung from your shoulders, grazing your thighs as you tiptoed from the bedroom. You’d linger in the door frame for a moment, simply enjoying the sight of him with a frying pan in hand, not a single thought or stress on his mind. He looked so carefree, and you were swooning hard.

“Ka tev iet?” You spoke quietly, breaking the silence as his chocolate eyes would rise from the frying pan and find you. The smile broke his calm features immediately, that familiar grin that still made your heart skip a beat. And those ice cold veins of the Latvian goalie would melt in the very instant that you spoke Latvian, his toothy smile breaking free as he made no attempt to correct your grammar or pronunciation, as you’d done it perfectly.

“Labi, paldies.” He would softly reply, voice gruff and sleepy but the smile unmoving from his lips as he watched you cross the room. He always did have an infectious smile, and you quickly mirrored the grin. “I told you to stay in bed.”

You gave a light shrug with your shoulders, a look of mischief upon your features as you’d slot in behind him –— your arms snaking around his chest as you’d hold tight to him, your head resting upon the flat of his back.

“We’ve got some time before we’ve got to get to the airport, are you up for a quiet morning?” You suggested with a soft hum, words muffling into his back. You couldn’t see the smile which was constantly plastered to his face when you made suggestions like that — no motives, no ideas, just spending time together. It was simple, and it was wholesome, but he loved it. He had his hobbies, but they were nowhere near as important to him as it was to just spend time with you. Both of you sitting in silence reading? He loved it. Gaming together, even though he won every time? He couldn’t get enough of it.

But after last night, he had something else in mind…

“How about…” Arty didn’t finish his words, he didn’t need to. He turned slowly, lowering himself to press that first, delicate kiss against your lips. He couldn’t catch you off-guard anymore, but he knew how to speak without words.

You were quick to respond, your arms rising to snake around his broad shoulders and reply in kind — single kisses became longer, his tongue trailing upon your lower lip before you allowed entry. 

He simply melted into you, his hand upon his cheek as your head was tilted back to find the perfect angle against his lips. The short hairs of his moustache and play-off beard tickling against your skin with each movement. Every movement was intoxicating.

The way his hand separated from the delicate skin of your cheek, both of his hands lowering to rest upon your hips — giving them a gentle squeeze as your lips danced hungrily. There was no hesitation, or struggle, as he lifted you upon the counter, lips not breaking for a second in the motion.

Sat upon the counter, he stood tall between your legs — one hand lightly gripping your thigh while the other returned to your cheek, Arty unwilling to waste a single moment away from your lips. Fuck, you wanted him, and he wanted you.

The smirk was already at your lips as you nipped at his lower lip, dragging your teeth against it as he, ever so slowly, pulled back to catch a glimpse of your gaze. His heart racing in his chest as the grip on your thigh became a little tighter with his excitement.

You were the one to reconnect your lips with his, hand reaching to grab the collar of his clean shirt and pulling him back down to you — however intoxicated he was by you before that point, it multiplied by that single motion. His hands moved hungrily to your cheeks as he kept you close to him, lips rough and overpowering. You lightly moaned into the kiss, your fingers curled into his shirt as though you were never close enough to him at that moment.

A longing sigh parted your lips as his starved kisses began to trail upon your skin, along your jaw, down your neck — his hands pulling at his shirt upon your shoulders to reveal more skin at your collar. The goalie silently damned his own shirt for being too high upon your collar bones. Your skin was burning beneath every kiss, quiet moans and heavy breaths cascading through your parted lips with no control over them. 

“Uh — guys?” You heard the voice, but it took you both a minute to register the sound. Your roommate stood in the doorway, laughing to herself with arms full of shopping bags. Artūrs moved first, straightening up and releasing the shirt with a heavy red tint to his face, his lips parted to speak but no words came out. He simply looked at you, also pink in the face, and pleaded for you to speak.

“Morning.”

That was all you could come out with, your boisterous laughter quickly joining the sound of hers as Arty stood sheepishly between your legs. Your roommate shot you a quick wink, turning to her room with the sound of her laughter following her, even once the door was closed.

Arty turned back to you, his own quiet laughter finally falling free as his shoulders dropped. He leaned forward, his forehead touching upon yours without a sound — only the contented sigh.

“If you burn that bacon, Art, you’re in big trouble.” You whispered against his lips, hiding your disappointment behind the mischievous demeanour. 

“You’ve got it, boss.” Artūrs spoke as he planted a final, chaste kiss upon your lips. He was doing his best to not show his own disappointment at the interruption, but you both would’ve liked some extra time to yourselves.

Before long, you both sat upon the couch at opposite ends. In the middle, your legs were tangled beneath the blanket and you both sat quietly as you ate your breakfast. Occasionally you’d catch him glancing in your direction with that familiar cheeky grin. He’d quickly look away each time like a sheepish teenager, which only served to make you quietly laugh — and he knew it. He loved that sound.

The group of Canucks wags was unmistakable as the group strode, heads held high, in the team jackets. You held the sleeves of your jacket tight as you walked, watching as the eyes of Nashville turned to the group. Monique walked at your side, brow raised in bemusement.

“I’ll never get used to the looks.” You quietly said, leaning into her with a soft laugh that she quickly joined. Your place was always behind the camera, no eyes or attention upon you, and that was how you liked it. But this relationship came with something of a spotlight, especially now.

Despite the offer from management to rent a VIP box for the group of you, all opted to be within the crowd. You formed a perfect clump of blue in the sea of yellow — a clump that the players could see if they looked for it.

And all of them would look, especially those whose partner made the trip. Artūrs was looking for you before he took that first step onto the ice for warmup, and felt the familiar comfort of knowing you were there at the sight of the Canucks clump. He couldn’t tell each of the bodies apart, except the obviously different hair colours, but he knew you were there and that was enough. You all huddled close together as the puck was dropped to start the game, crossing everything that you wouldn’t be going back to Vancouver for game seven. You weren’t sure if your stress levels could take it, to be honest.

Needless to say, you were on edge for the whole game. You winced with every shot that Arty faced and every shot that the boys made on Saros. Nothing was finding the net for either time, or it was and the goalie was quick on the glove. Every save and shot came with a sound from the crowd, the wags included. There were many drinks consumed throughout the game and you were tipsy by the third period.

As the clock ticked down on the third period, overtime looked all but confirmed. All of the wags, sat together in shared stress, preparing their drinks order for the break with a healthy mix of beers and wines. None of you were calm in your seat.

You almost missed the goal — blinking to see the red lights lit and the puck in the back of the net. You could see the instant dropping of heads from all in yellow, on and off the ice… But you couldn’t spare a second.

Sutter was engulfed in arms from all on his line, the collection of partners launching upon their feet with cheers and shouts of pride, and some relief. With just over a minute left, this could be it.

You found yourself clinging tight to Monique, as she too clung to you. Both of you stared in panicked disbelief as the Predators threw everything they had in that last minute. A pile-up in the net, Arty without his stick and only five seconds left . . . And the end of the game horn would sound.

You couldn’t have cheered louder. The Canucks had done it, with Artūrs claiming a perfect shutout. 

Your arms were in the air, your body pulled into embraces each and every way by the wives and girlfriends. They’d done it, and there would be some serious celebrating tonight.

You may have a shed a tear as you watched them celebrate, quickly flicked away and denied if any would ask. Someone had pulled the helmet off your boyfriend’s head as they hugged him. His hair flicked and messed with the various gloved hands that ruffled the brown strands. 

None of you could stay still after the horn. There was too much excitement and celebration to be done — the team would have a few days off before the beginning of the second series against Edmonton. Plans were already being made between partners. No doubt none of the team, nor their partners, would be sleeping much tonight.

Within the flood of Canuck ladies, you made your way down to the team area where bodies would collide into embraces once more. Team staff who had become friendly were cheering and celebrating as you waited to see Arty emerge. And it wasn’t long before a number of them would run out, half-dressed or lop-sided with one skate on, to find their partner. Artūrs pushed his way out with his chest and leg pads removed, leaving only the massive goalie shorts which made you and a number of others laugh. But neither of you cared, you weaved through the crowd of Canucks and collided into his sweaty body within a tangle of arms.

“I’m so proud of you.” You shouted over the surrounding crowd, doing your very best to ignore the smell of all those hockey players. You jumped and danced within his embrace as the second round was confirmed, a chance at a cup remained. 

The little bar in Nashville was alive that night, more alive than it had been within recent memory of the owner. While Nashville mourned their exit from the playoffs, the small group of blues celebrated.

The wives and girlfriends had arrived first, essentially warning the bar of what was to come and they appreciated the warning once the team of Canucks players descended. Bodies collided in embraces once more, and you just couldn’t get enough of it all. You knew there would be downs with this relationship, hockey was an emotionally charged sport and that would affect your relationship — but the highs were so sweet.

Arty and Teddy walked into the bar last, arms wrapped around the other’s shoulder as they were deep in conversation. It left you and Monique, with cocktails in hand, to talk about the coming summer.

“Has Arty asked you to go with him to Latvia yet?” She shouted over the music and bustle of the bar. It was a question you’d been preparing yourself for, to a degree. Your ex may have been Latvian, but he’d never invited you out there to meet family. Artūrs was very different to your ex, and you suspect that he would.

“Not yet, I suppose we’ll see how the next round goes first.” You replied with a large sip of your drink. At the bar, the majority of the guys stood. All with drinks in hand and arms around others. You’d say yes if he asked, you knew you would. You rarely took time off work, and you wanted to experience the whole thing.

The two Latvians were the first to find their way to a table, sloshing drinks around before they were placed upon the table with a heavy thud. It hadn't taken the players long to become tipsy, at least. Art was quick to slide in beside you, a sloppy kiss upon your cheek which you quickly, and dramatically, wiped away with a squeal.

Conversation turned to the next round, the two Latvians asking for your opinions and thoughts. Whether you thought they could do it — of course, you did. You had absolute faith in their abilities, they just had to do themselves proud. And Artūrs had to continue with the quick glove and sprawling saves that had become his trademark.

J.T made a few appearances at your table, telling you a few times about the pink shirt incident that you saw first hand. The assistant captain singing Arty’s praises in your ear with slightly slurred words. You loved every minute of that night.

“I think we should get out of here, we can finish what we started yesterday.” He spoke directly into your ear, tone turning immediately more playful.

You didn’t need to hear anymore from your boyfriend. The clock was nearing 1am and most of the guys were nearly drunk — if they asked, you both had a plethora of excuses for your leaving. None would ask, you both gave the Blugers a tight squeeze and slipped from the bar with a spring in your step, hands intertwined.

You’d get no sleep that night.

Ka tev iet? = How are you (doing)?

Labi, paldies. = Good, thank you.

[bamsara]

A03 Questions Tag Game

I got tagged by: @kagedbird I tag: @onethirdofimpossible, @coffincrows, (first two that come to mind) and anyone else who wants to do the game

1 – How many works do you have on AO3?

At the time of writing this post, currently 30 fics. (Not including any fics or written works that are not posted to AO3)

2 – What's your total AO3 word count?

1,066,633

3 – What fandoms do you write for?

Formerly: Don't Starve, FNAF, Dragons Dogma, Invader Zim

Currently: Cult of the Lamb

4 – What are your top five fics by kudos?

Solar Lunacy, Celestial Omens, Bytes of Lunacy, The Rehabilitation of Death, Saturday Insomnia

5 – Do you respond to comments?

I try to but I also get very nervous responding because I often don't know what to say back and I feel like it's almost rude or disrespectful to respond to a comment, esp the very nice ones that are long and in-deph with just a keysmash or a bunch of emojis, but I do read every single one since I have email notifications on for them

I'd like to sit down and respond to many but I really don't want to make it awkward so pls dear god readers forgive me

6 – What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I don't like unhappy endings. I enjoy angsty stories but I like when it's at least ending happy to me

7 – What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Not posted? Solar Lunacy

Ongoing? TROD

8 – Do you get hate on fics?

Not really? Most adults (in my experience) know the 'don't like don't read' rule and know basic online etiquette. I've gotten some for discontinuing a fic or switching fandoms though

9 – Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I don't write or draw NSFW! I like to make some suggestive themes sometimes, but I'm a very ace person, it's not something I do often. (I do have a current running goal that if my friend reaches their donation goal for their medical bills that I would give NSFW a shot, but again its not really my cup of tea)

10 – Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

Nah I haven't written any cross overs, but I do draw them sometimes. Recently I've been spinning a Alice in Wonderland x COTL crossover in my head.

11 – Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Yep. I've had people copy and paste my work, go in with a thesaurus to change a few words (like changing 'angry' to mad, 'upset' to 'sad', and so forth) to try and avoid detection and re-posted my written work under a different title name. AO3 staff took them down for violating their policy against plagiarism though

12 – Have you ever had a fic translated?

No. I wouldn't mind it so as long as I'm asked before hand, though not on anon so I can actually work with the person to prevent any mistranslations or mishandling, and that I don't want my work posted to other websites

13 – Have you ever co-written a fic?

I think I did when I was a teen but I cannot remember now

14 – What's your all-time favorite ship?

Eh I don't have any favorites, just ones I really focus on for a long while

15 – What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Pass.

16 – What are your writing strengths?

I can sit down for hours or several days and work on a writing wip completely in the zone. I cant do it on command but its at least something I can do

17 – What are your writing weaknesses?

Spelling and grammar, and sometimes long running sentences. I just kinda write, theres not really a goal for it to be perfect though so as long as the story gist and vibe is right, im fine with it

18 – Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I've done it before but only minor, had a friend help me with it (one or two lines of dialogue) Aside from that, I'm not comfortably fluent enough in anything to do it again without assistance

19 – First fandom you wrote for?

Soul Eater, when I was wayyy too young to be posting anything on the internet. My fanfics I wrote are still on fanfic.net to this day

20 – Favorite fic you've written?

It's inbetween TROD and EE&E right now

[dp-marvel94]

Graveyard of Identities- Chapter 1

Summary:

Danny should feel lucky to be alive. After a month held captive by Vlad, barely remembering his life before, and nearly dying in his escape, he is finally safe, with friends in the Far Frozen. And yet, dread gnaws at him- a massive revelation at the edge of his consciousness, forgotten until the dead of night. It was a lie. All a lie. His past, his memories: all false. Amity Park, his friends and family: all real but… not his. The secret locks in his throat, unthinkable. He stays silent while the yetis welcome him as one of their own. But they do not know. And he can not tell them. He is not the Danny they think he is. He is not Danny at all.

Word Count: 3346

Next Chapter->

Also on A03

Note:

Hello lovely readers! Welcome to my story for Invisobang 2024! It has been a long time coming and I am so excited to finally share it with you all!

As you can see, this story is the second in a series. For those who read "Hope Can Be Heavy Thing to Hold," this is its much anticipated (by me at least) sequel! Part of me doubted this day would ever come. It's been almost 5 years since I wrote Hope and while I always planned that there would be more to the story, life (and other phic ideas XD) kept side-tracking me. My writing has changed and improved at lot since the end of 2019. And I really hope those lessons produced a better story than otherwise.

For those joining from Invisobang, welcome! Please do not feel intimidated by the fact that this is a sequel. My hope is that this will be a enjoyable story, even without that background. (Though if anyone gets curious and checks out the previous work, I will not complain of course XD)

Since this work was written as part of Invisobang, I was lucky enough to work with two wonderful artists. @suzukiblu made this lovely artwork and posted it here . @mysterious-ink-slime made her own piece, link to be added once it's posted. A huge thanks to both of them! Go give their art all the love!

Also, a special note on the title! For years, I had my heart set on naming this sequel after this particular GFM song and now I have! Graveyard of Identities by Gold, Frankincense, and Myrrh; you can watch the music video here . This song is about the transforming power of pain, letting the old die, and rising as someone new. To me, it compliments the theme of this story perfectly. Special thanks to CJ and Maggie for inspiring me with their art and listening to me talk about my own.

And the specialist thanks to my sister, @nervousdragonrebelpie , for listening to me ramble about this story for months. This story is much better thanks to her listening ear and thoughtful suggestions.

Finally, thank to all you readers. I love and appreciate all your support and encouragement. And I eagerly await all your thoughts and feelings and screaming at me in the comments. XD Happy reading!

Was this… death? 

Floating sightless, soundless. Almost without thought. Too far away and hazy for fear. Just the numb warmth of darkness. 

Drifting without form, the fragile center lay exposed. Something gently brushed. Cradling mist; Soft pin-pricks of cloud. Smell-sight-taste of green, old pennies and lime. The feelings arose, more shapes of ideas than anything real.

The world shifted, brightening into bleary focus. Something inside stirred, the sensation like blinking without eyes. Awareness flickered sharper and then dim. Sharper, then dim. 

A vibration caught on his consciousness. Many and small and gently plopping like… rain. Rain, streaming down, around, through. Understanding slowly dawned and then… awe.

Green, crisp and bright as a spring day, overcame him. It flowed in, warm and safe and all encompassing. It filled his mind, every part of himself. 

And… Mind. He had a mind, a self. He existed. He was a person. He was still here. Maybe he wasn’t-

Darkness rushed back, like a wave crashing on the shore. A gentle death-like sleep took him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Suddenly he was falling. Air rushed passed and bonelessly, he impacted. 

The shock of cold stole his breath more than the crash. Something light and airy cushioned his fall, his face half buried in the chill.

Heavily, his eyes dragged open. White filled his dim vision. In the distance…. The sound tickled his ear, an electric roar. Struggling, his gaze drifted up. Blurry silver and blue shapes quickly approached. 

His mind crawled, thought unreachable. Unable to process, unable to move, mind and body weighed down by crushing exhaustion. 

But confusion chipped at the edge, clawing for purchase. Fear, familiar and ever present, lingered under the surface, though neither rose to awareness, the fatigue too great.

Darkness pulled him down again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Beeping near his head crashed through the darkness. He was lying down, soft plushness underneath him. Familiar… too familiar…. 

A slimy voice echoed in his head. ‘Son, you're awake.’ 

The boy’s heart rate spiked, a jolt of panic. Burning red eyes flashed in his mind, a clawed hand squeezing his wrist. 

He gasped, whole body flinching. Blurry eyes flickered open to all consuming white. Dread surged. No. This couldn’t-

The beeping grew louder, followed by the cacophony of pounding feet.

The boy flailed weakly, heavy body struggling to move. In his elbow… something hard and cold. His arm jerked violently, other hand scrambling. A stab of pain, a release of pressure. Cold wetness welled up, a flash of green on pale skin. 

‘Now Daniel. Stop being difficult.’

No, not Daniel. Never Daniel. Danny. His name was Danny.

“Great One, calm down. You are safe.” A calm voice cut through A furry, horned face… wearing a surgical mask?

Panic swelled. Who? Where? What? This wasn’t-

A different, higher voice. “You are safe, Great One.” 

Great One? No, that wasn’t… His mind scrambled for purchase, words and thoughts slipping. 

“His ecto-pressure is dangerously elevated.” “He’s going into shock.” “Sedate him.” 

He didn’t... Where was he? Where was Vla-

The pinch of a needle, jabbed into his neck. No! He would be good. He didn’t need to be punished again-

Consciousness ripped away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

An unknowable time later, Danny drifted up through the darkness. Soft and gentle. His heart beat slowly, a calm, even timbre. And he was, at last, aware.

Soft fabric under him, wrapped around his body. The quiet, ambient sounds of lights buzzed in his ears.  Far away water dripped. His own soft breathing. Soft white light ghosted over his eye lids. 

Said eyes blinked slowly, half-lidded. They felt so heavy. An experimental wiggle of his fingers… the boy groaned, sudden sensation hitting him. Everything ached, from the top of his head to the bottom of his feet. Every inch of his skin felt raw and fresh, like it had been removed in pieces and now was newly reassembled. Like a weird gross puzzle.

Danny laughed at the idea and a second later, his lungs spasmed painfully. He let out another, louder groan.

“Great one?” A loud, worried voice cut through the air. 

His heart skipped a beat, the surge of fear returning. He’d woken up earlier, hadn’t he? Laying on his back, beeping by his head, all consuming white. And now… He finally registered the towering figure at his bedside. 

“Who…?” His voice shook, weak and unused. “Where…?”

The figure leaned closer, the face becoming visible. A furry muzzle, sharp teeth, icy horns. 

Danny tensed, a flash of panic. But… the wide, concerned blue eyes. A memory bloomed in his head.

Tightly hugging a white, furry yeti in an icy place.

Instantly, the boy relaxed. “Frostbite?” The names came out with hardly a thought, the knowledge just there in his head.

The yeti’s expression softened, visibly relieved. “Yes, it is me.” A gentle paw gripped his shoulder. “Relax. You are safe.”

Safe…. The word ran in his mind. It felt like an impossible improbability. But… Frostbite was a friend, right? The yeti’s kind eyes and jovial laugh rose in his mind, the image strangely distant. 

Danny let out a breath, a surge of relief coursing through him. But the action made him grimace, nose wrinkling.

“Are you in pain?” Frostbite asked eagerly. “Here, allow me.” He fiddled with one of the tubes attached to Danny at his elbow, just passed the sleeve of what was maybe a hospital gown. A plunger depressed. “That should dull the ache.”

The boy gasped as something cold entered his vein. He blinked rapidly, surprised as the pain dulled to a small pin prick in the back of his mind.

“Wow…. That’s… that’s so much better.” He smacked his dry lips.

“Water?” The yeti offered. A glass with a straw appeared and with a flip of a switch, the bed shifted under him, allowing him to recline.

The cup lifted to his lips, Danny drank shakingly. The cool water soothed his sand-papery throat, a blessed respite after… after….

He couldn’t remember. That sent a stab of worry. But he was here with Frostbite, one of his friends. Allies? The shape of that felt right. He’d gotten here, somehow. Wherever here was.

Finally the boy swallowed. “Where am I?”

“In our medical facility.” Frostbite answered. “You have been in and out of consciousness for quite a while. This is your first time being coherent on awakening.”

Quite a while…. It was coming back to him now. He only remembered waking up that last time, panicked at the sound of the beeping by his head. His eyes flitted to the device… a heart monitor. 

That was… strangely familiar. His stomach twisted with dread, echoes of previous panic. The heart monitor reminded him of before. He had been… somewhere, somewhere bad. His mouth felt dry, the memory just out of reach… 

Danny swallowed. “How did I get here?”

“You triggered a perimeter beacon.” The yeti said, voice taking on a grave tone. “A patrol found you in the snow, unconscious and dangerously unstable. The guards rushed you here and we attended you. It was… We were worried for a long while, that your injury was too great.” His voice wavered with emotion, an air of heavy grief. “That you would… leave us. But…” A watery smile bloomed. “The most dangerous part has passed. You are recovering wonderfully. And you are finally awake.”

“Yeah….” That was… a lot. Danny’s brow furrowed. His mind swam, relief, sadness, and… a mounting unease clashing. 

Frostbite seemed to pick up on the feeling. “What is it, Great One?”

“I don’t…” He bit his lip. “That’s… a lot. Thank you for finding me and saving me. I’m grateful, really grateful. I…I know I’m safe. But…” His insides twisted, a queasy feeling. “I…I apparently almost died and I don’t… don’t remember what happened.”

The yeti’s eyes rounded, the concern turning worried. “What is the last thing you remember?”

Before… the heart monitor beeping near his head, a room with white sheet and fancy wooden furniture. A man with white hair, a smug smile, and red eyes.

“Vlad.” The knowledge hit him like a truck. “I was at Vlad’s mansion!” Danny jolted, trying to sit up more fully with a wince.

“The other half ghost?” Frostbite put a paw on his arm, gently lowering him back to the bed. “You are enemies, are you not?��

“He… he kidnapped me.” More images flashed. The plain, impersonal bedroom. The metal panels of the training room. The trap door in the greenhouse. “Vlad kidnapped me. He was…keeping me captive.” His face wrinkled in a grimace. “He made me call him Dad and train with him and watch football…” 

“Plasmius keeping you captive.” Frostbite looked just as stricken. “That is worrying….”

Danny’s stomach turned, sickened. “He… he hurt me.” Vlad’s hand across his face, electricity searing his limbs, locked in a small dark space. “He did something to my mind.” The jar of Lethean water, the tree with red and blue berries. “I didn’t remember anything. He was trying to brainwash me into being his… his perfect son but…”

He was missing something, something big. The gap loomed, dark and constricting. His voice quickened, from something uneasy and wary to panic. “I can’t… I can’t remember.”

“It is alright.” The yeti tried to soothe. 

The calm voice failed to ease the distress. “I can’t remember.” But… the dark, earthen passage. The lab, bathed in green portal light. Jars and beakers, tables and weapons. The foreboding door. “I was… I was in the lab. I was trying to escape but…” Broken glass and metal, spilled ectoplasm. Vlad’s mocking voice. “He… he interrupted me.”

Danny’s blood chilled, dread dropping in his stomach like a stone. He saw it as clearly as Frostbite across from him.

Vlad’s face set in a sneer, as hellish as the vampire he played at. The taser in Danny’s hand. He jabbed with it but… too late. The man caught his wrist, fingers squeezing. ‘You oppose me at every turn.’

“Vlad… he broke my wrist.” Numbly, the boy stared down at his right hand. The wrist was unwrapped, no sign of the fracture. He felt sick. 

“I tried to fight him.” Electricity pouring from his hands, Vlad twitching on the floor. “But I wasn’t… wasn’t strong enough.”

Harsh, hateful words echoed in his mind, too far away to remember. Tears had been on his face, back there in the lab and…. Now, here in the medical wing. 

Frostbite said something, paws moving toward his face but all Danny could see…

On the floor, Vlad looming over him, his eyes insane, full of dark possessiveness. Agony gnawed at Danny’s heart, the feeling of his world crashing down around him.

“He held me down, electrocuted me.” Danny trembled, the tears falling. “I couldn’t move, couldn’t fight back. It… it hurt, my core hurt so much.”

A look of understanding, of revelation flashed on Frostbite’s face. But the boy barely registered. Just the comforting furry arms moving to embrace him.

Hands and feet, cold and tingly… then wet. Ectoplasm welling, sickly neon green. “I…I started melting.” Danny froze in Frostbite’s hold, eyes wide and devastated. “Vlad shocked me and I started mel.. melting.” 

His hands and feet dissolving away, staring at the ceiling through his tears. “Vlad… he tried to… to kill me. He tried to kill me.”

That was it. That must have been it, the earth-shattering thing he was forgetting. The green spreading to his shoulders, his hips. His core locking up, shaking with agonizing shocks. 

In his mind, Vlad hovered over him, shouting. A boom, metal crumpling, sudden icy chill. He couldn’t move. Helpless. He was going to die…

In Frostbite’s arms, Danny shook. “I… I thought I was going to die.” Sudden silence. A figure kneeling over him, unseen through his tears. “I was melting… I… I couldn’t move.”

His heart ached with longing. Familiar faces flashed in his mind. His parents, Sam and Tucker, Jazz. “I…I just wanted to go home. I barely remembered them, barely remembered who I was.” The memory flickered, finding his parents’ picture in the book in Vlad’s office, his real name printed in the pages, and the sheer joy that had overtaken him. “I just wanted to go home.” He was trying to go home to his friends and family but… 

In the lab, a mouth hung above him, lips making the words ‘I’m sorry.’

Danny recoiled at the memory, burying his face into Frostbite’s fur. It… it didn’t make sense. Vlad would never say he was sorry. He couldn’t remember… but he was dying, his mind swimming, far away and terrified and- 

“I didn’t want to die!” The boy practically screamed. The force of the words, the sudden realization had him violently pushing himself from the yeti’s arms. “Am I dead?!”

“No. No. No.” Danny pulled at his hair. He’d barely gotten to live and now he was dead. “I can’t… I can’t be dead.”

“No, great one.” Frostbite’s paws appeared on his arms, gently pulling his tugging fingers from his hair. “You are not dead.”

Danny blinked, the panic rushing out of him. His heart, or the illusion of one, still pounded, yet shaking arms gently lowered “But…. but I melted.” He flinched at his own words, the next coming out quiet, pained. “How?”

The yeti chief’s brow furrowed. “You said you were in your enemy's lab when this happened. Perchance, do you remember a portal there?”

The boy’s brow furrowed, surprised by the question. “Yes?”

Frostbite nodded gravely. “I suspect you teleported into the Realms.” Danny’s lack of understanding must have been obvious on his face, because the yeti’s expression softened, voice soft and slow like he was talking to a hurt child. “Teleporting is one of your abilities, even if it has not developed fully yet. When your body… dissipated, you would have been reduced down to your core.”

“My core?” Danny looked down at his chest, raising a shaky hand to it.

“Yes.” The yeti nodded. “Grievous injuries will condense a ghost into their core. As long as the central part of their being remains intact, a ghost can survive. But,” Worried eyes fixed on the half ghost. “Cores will crack and fade if there is a deficiency of ectoplasm.”

The boy’s mouth felt dry. “Like in the human world.”

“As in the material realm, yes.” Frostbite agreed. “In a last ditch effort to save you, your core mostly likely used the last of its energy to teleport into an ectoplasm rich environment.“

“So I went through the portal.” Danny bit his lip, voice shaky. “But…I don’t remember that. Why don’t I remember that?”

The yeti gently reached forward, pulling the ghost boy once again into his arms. “Most ghosts do not remember the time spent as just their core. It is like… your human sleep, I believe. Or unconsciousness.”

“Yeah…” That made a type of sense. Distantly, Danny remembered darkness, the feeling of drifting, disconnection from his senses. He swallowed. “So I ended up in the Zone. What then?”

“You presumably drifted for a while.” Frostbite motioned to the boy’s core. “The scans of your core we took while you were unresponsive suggested you had recently re-formed. This is consistent with your lack of external injuries. You most likely came back together in the ectoplasmic nebula near our island.”

Danny’s brow furrowed for a long moment, mind processing. Finally… “I… re-formed? What… what does that mean?”

“Your core rebuilt your body using the surrounding ectoplasm.” A large paw patted the boy’s back. “You are fortunate you drifted into a nebula. The plentiful, active ectoplasm creates a rich, bountiful area for injured ghosts to re-form, and for the new creation of many others. And you found yourself so close to friends…” Frostbite smiled encouragingly. “The Divine must smile on you, indeed.”

The half ghost did not feel very encouraged. He stared at his hands, insides twisting. “So this is a new body…” He shakily removed his gloves, eyes trailing over the familiar fingers. The short, round fingernails, the light green skin, every crinkled line in his palm… everything looked the same as he remembered but… “Are you sure I’m not a full ghost?”

Frostbite squeezed one shoulder comfortingly. “Yes, I am sure. I myself saw your internal anatomy continues to reflect that of your human body. And on your core, the ability to transform between your two forms remains visible as well.”

Danny let out a sigh of relief. He looked at his hands again. Suddenly… he needed to be human again, needed to see that he was still alive. His aura flickered, mind searching for the trigger.

“Do not try to change yet.” The yeti gently reprimanded. 

Disappointment rushed through the boy, guilty unease flickering. Had he done something wrong?

But Frostbite continued before he could ask why. “The potential for your human form still exists, but without real world matter to reassemble it, it is inaccessible. We have been providing material world water and nutrients to you intravenously but your body still requires more time to recover.”

“Oh.” Danny nodded in understanding. “That makes sense. Wait..” His eyes widened, his nose wrinkling in distaste. “What do you mean you saw my internal anatomy yourself?” He side-eyed the yeti.

With that, Frostbite’s face turned apologetic. “My apologies, Great One. I mean, we had to perform surgery.” His expression turned serious, crinkled with worry. “Our scans found a foreign object embedded in your core. It was periodically electrocuting you, causing… dissolution in your extremities.”

The boy’s eyes widened, stomach twisting. Frostbite had said at the beginning that it had been touch and go for a long while there but…

“It was worsening so…” The yeti paused for a moment there, arms gently squeezing the shaken boy. “The other doctors and I performed surgery and extracted it.” 

Well, that was a relief. After a moment, Danny swallowed. “Can I see it?”

Frostbite paused, giving him a searching look. “Are you certain?”

Decisively, the boy nodded. “Yes.”

“Very well.” With that, the chief opened his arms, gently placing Danny back on the bed.

The boy had a long moment to blush, just realizing. He’d been sitting in the ghost’s lap for most of that conversation, like he was a little kid. He wiped his face with his hands, trying to shrug off the embarrassment.

Meanwhile, the yeti stood, rifling through drawers. After about several seconds, he returned. Frostbite gravely presented the jar. 

Wordlessly, Danny took the container between his hands. He studied the contents. A tiny metal strip laid there innocently, y shaped and as long as the end of his pinky. “This is it.” A lump formed in his throat. “This is what Vlad used to… to try and kill me.”

The full ghost’s face scrunched up, eyes alight with anger. “I had suspected this device was the cause of your injury. To violate one's core like this…” His nostrils flared, expression positively murderous. 

Danny swallowed, eyes just starting to widen.

Then Frostbite sighed. Again, compassionate eyes turned to the half ghost. “I vow Plasmius will never touch you again, not with the might of the Far Frozen standing beside you.” He shook his head. “Still, I am relieved you escaped.” A paw squeezed his shoulder. “The Divine delivered you to our paws and found you safety. I am much joyed to see you recovering.”

Danny’s heart squeezed, warmed by the words. The boy slumped, heaving a sigh. “I… thanks for taking care of me.” Still… his insides twisted, overwhelmed by it all. 

“It is my pleasure, Great One.” Frostbite beamed.

The boy grimaced. “Can you call me Danny? Please?”

“Danny, then.” The yeti nodded seriously.

The half ghost forced a smile. He really was grateful to Frostbite. He appreciated the comfort, but… 

The boy yawned, a sudden tiredness coming over him.

“Ah, I should leave you to rest.” The chief stood. “Press this button if you are in need of any assistance. Sleep well, Danny.”

“Thanks.” The half ghost nodded. 

With that, the yeti left. The door closed and Danny was alone. Soon, despite his anxiously twisting insides, sleep took him again.

[astoryisaloveaffair]

Fix You - Chapter 16 - Genesis

Pairing: Frankie “Catfish” Morales x Fem!Reader

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Read on A03

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Chapter Summary: 🤷‍♀️

Word Count: 4K

Rating: Explicit

Chapter Warnings: cussing, graphic violence, mentions of sex. I'm not giving more warnings than that, sorry.

A/N: Hey all. First I want to say I'm sorry. I literally had no time or motivation to write this. I'm gonna be honest, this is a really tough chapter, and it was hard to get in this headspace. Suffering a recent heartbreak, things in this chapter are things I have thought also, and so it was really hard for me to voluntarily want to address that. I also started working in veterinary medicine, i do not have the spare time that I used to. We also recently adopted a puppy who we named Bucky! And if you read my earlier posts, you know that I was SA'd last January. All that to say, sorry I couldn't do this faster.

Also want to wish a happy birthday to @musings-of-a-rose, my beloved, my bestie, and my constant support. This is for you. Sorry it's not a happier chapter....

* If a character is speaking fully in Spanish, I will put “[ ]” around the dialogue. I speak pretty decent Spanish but not good enough for this

Suggested Songs: "Exile" Taylor Swift feat. Bon Iver, "I Love You" Billie Eilish, "Vampire" and "Logical" by Olivia Rodrigo, "The Night We Met" by Lord Huron and Phoebe Bridgers, "Genesis" by Grimes

You didn’t even flinch at the landing, which was rough, so that’s saying a lot. When the janky cargo door (which looked like at any time during the flight would be ripped right off) opens, you barely even lift your eyes from the floor. You felt heavy and hollow, somewhere suspended in between shock and just not giving a fuck anymore. The only thing you could still fell was the pinching in your heart. It was still broken.

At some point during the journey, the co-pilot had taken pity on you and untied your arms from behind your back and bound them in front of you instead. You hadn’t struggled. There was no point. Where would you go? Jump in the ocean? You weren’t that great of a swimmer and you loved sharks and everything but the open ocean is not where you are supposed to be.

You have no sense of space and time, so you have no actual clue where you are other than not the mainland. You’re dehydrated as fuck, groggy, your vision’s blurry and you’d figured out the sticky moisture on your face was your own blood. 

Because when you had suddenly blacked out it was because they’d hit you, and had absolutely no hesitation doing so. They did not care about you, they did not see you as a human being, they didn’t even bother strapping you into a seat so you had been sliding around the cargo bay the entire flight, bumping into everything. You were in deep danger, any hope that you would have some ransom protection had pretty much disintegrated. You had hoped that the boys wouldn’t come for you at first. Then you had hoped that they would, because if you’re ransom, even if at the very least you’d be alive until then, right? But “alive” doesn’t mean unharmed.

A shadow looms over you and it finally makes you look up, squinting to adjust your eyes to something so close, as well as the brightness of the sun. It feels like it takes you 10 whole minutes to process that you were being spoken to in English.

“Eh!” The man leaning over you snips, and when you simply blink in confusion and don’t answer, he slaps you lightly on both cheeks. You’re stunned enough to finally look at him, his oval face, beady eyes and unique sideburns seeming so familiar to you but quite frankly you wouldn’t trust yourself with recognizing even your dad at the moment, so you push that thought aside.

He kneels down in front of you. “You listen to me. We don’t want you. We want the money. This means if you don’t fucking piss me off, I might be nice and not kill you, you understand? Be a smart little girl, eh?.”

You nod, you probably should be feeling some sort of panic setting in but you don’t. Whatever. Who even cares anymore.

He takes your silence as submission. “Bueno.” He whispers, leaning down and grabbing you by the arm, lifting you until you are back on your feet. He tilts his head and steps to the side, revealing 5 additional men with AKs pointed straight at you. From behind, you feel the sharp tip of another poking your back, urging you forward and down the precarious ramp. The pilots.

You didn’t trust that they wouldn’t hurt you, but you knew you had no other choice. Trying to fight was asking for it, and once you step out of the hold and realize you were in the fucking jungle, there would be no sensical place to go even if you did get away.

You step out of the plane onto a rickety steel ramp that bounces as the footpad of your sandals touches it and shuffle slowly down it. You feel suffocated sandwiched between four men, your hands chafe where they are tied and you have been in the same positions for so long your whole body is sore. Every touch and movement hurt.

You stumble as the ramp ends but one of the men grabs your arm and yanks you so you don’t fall. It wasn’t kindness. It was a way to hurt you that he could get away with. The tiny dirt landing strip is almost canopied completely by the jungle trees, leaving large patches here and there where the plane flew through, not noticeable from far above. It looks like you’re walking to nothing, just a dirt road that ends right into the thick middle of the jungle, but you don’t stop at the edge. You push through.

It’s hot as shit and you felt sweat buildup in every crevice of your body, your thighs are rubbing raw from your asinine decision to wear short shorts to the fair, and you could feel a heat rash growing under your tits that you couldn’t even scratch because your hands are bound.

You walk for forever. You walk until the friction rash on your inner thighs turn to lesions. You haven't drank water in almost 48 hours and it feels like 150 degrees out, with full humidity. You’ve had to stop twice already to vomit from heat exhaustion and you still occasionally gag even though there’s nothing in your stomach to come up anymore. All the years that you did not appeal to insects are making up for it now, they’re all over you and you can’t walk 3 steps without one getting in your eye.  The jungle gets tighter and you can’t breathe because it’s pushing in on you almost as tight as the hands on your shoulders pushing you forward..

You start crying. At least, that is what you tell yourself as you whimper and sob as quietly as you can. You know you’re strong, but this is just beyond reason that any normal person could take. And when you think about how this is probably what life was all the time in Delta for the boys, you cry even harder because you feel guilty, that you have no right to complain.

Finally, after what feels like forever, the tightness of the jungle seems to loosen. More open. You notice some of the trees look more oddly arranged than others. As you get closer you realize they aren’t trees at all, but tents and dilapidated buildings built into the shadows of the trees.  The huge roots and overhanging canopy of the jungle transformed a bustling camp into what looks like a little village. At the entrance, a line of guards in jungle fatigues that were impossible to detect until you got right up to them. You hear someone speak above you, alerting you to a man up in the trees on a platform tucked between the branches. There was another in the tree on the opposite side. He calls to the man with the sideburns, saying something in Spanish you can’t interpret fast enough, but it’s jovial and they laugh, and it makes you feel like you’re going to go mentally insane. 

It’s like it’s not even serious to them. And it’s so serious to you.

You are pushed through the camp quickly, but not quick enough that you don’t see the insane amount of cocaine packages piled up in the makeshift buildings, sheds, and tents toward the back. Men were milling about checking them, moving them and glaring at you as you walked past.

You continue past the main camp, crossing over a bustling creek whose bridge was literally just planks of wood, but you noticed there were tire marks across them so you felt at least safe it could handle a car’s weight. Across the creek, an old stonework manor stood. You can tell at one time it must have been glorious, but the white stone-worked walls were dirty and crumbling in many places, the fountains out front had dried crusty palm fronds and dirt in them and looked like they hadn’t sprayed water since the 1980s.

It was still oddly beautiful. You thought about how this house came to be, what it might have looked like when it had been first built. A beautiful Caribbean sea mansion. A jungle that hadn’t closed in on it yet. Fountains spraying and colorful birds resting on the rooftops. But then you  realize that this place has probably always been used for what it is now. Someone like Carl Lehder probably lived here and ran an entire cartel within this very jungle. Maybe it was the same one, just run by someone else.

There was a shabbily made shack to the left of the manor with padlocks, piles of debris piled next to the door. You assume that’s where you would be taken, but you were instead led up the stairs to the manor proper. And as your eyes focus in on the ground while you were being guided to the mansion instead, you realize the heap of matter by the shack that you thought was some dying plantation was actually a crumpled human body. A boy looking not much older than 17, shot execution style in the head and left to rot.

Then smell hits you, your knees buckle and you vomit on the stonework stairs, a scream of shock and realization pierces the jungle, making the nearby tropical birds explode from the treetops. When the sicarios pick you up and carry you through the mansion door, you’re still screaming.

Eventually whoever was carrying you became fed up, and simply dropped you at the bottom of the stairs and dragged you up backwards by the armpits instead. You didn’t even feel the step edges hitting the small of your back all the way up, but you would later. 

You were tossed stricken and shivering on a disgusting, top-sheeted mattress on the floor in the corner of a room, your feet still bound together and your rope-bound hands looped through a radiator that was long enough only for you to lie down or shuffle over to a bucket for your business. Everything stank and you still had vomit on your chin so you curled up in a ball and slammed your eyes closed, hoping that in time the voices and smells and fear would give way to just simple numbness. You didn’t hear a female voice speaking to you for several seconds.

Your eyes snap open, skin pulled taut from dried unwiped tears,and you jolt upright to look in the direction of the voice. A woman who wasn’t even tied up was propped up against the adjoining wall, and as you take in her condition you could understand why they hadn’t even bothered. She wouldn’t have been able to run.

Her legs look..wrong, splaying at angles that shouldn’t be possible. They look like they could be broken, but you can’t tell for sure because she was wearing jeans that cover up most of her skin. The jeans were ripped in some places and stained with dark blood spots, the color turning brighter wherever her skin shows through the tears in the fabric. She’s missing several fingers on her left hand that had been burnt at the ends to cauterize, and her face was black and blue, swollen and smeared with more blood that seemed to be coming from her scalp somewhere. Her lips are pale and cracking and her eyes are glazed over and barely open. When she speaks, she already sounds like she is dead. 

She swallows and winces slightly in pain, then licks her cracked pale lips.“Is…my…her–my brother. Did you see him? Out there?” 

Your face scrunches in confusion, which actually hurts a little and you’re not sure from what specifically. Perhaps you look just as bad as the other girl. “Your–I—I don’t understand.”

She’s too exhausted to even be annoyed with you. “My brother. They took him from me days ago. They do not talk to me anymore. They don’t—need me anymore.” A single tear falls down her swollen cheek and you suddenly feel so much connection with this woman and how  incredibly fucking strong she is. Her eyes roll over to you, meeting yours for the first time. There are burst blood vessels in them. 

“I think that they killed him.”

Your lips part and you utter a shuddering breath as you connect the dots. There’s no point in sugar-coating it. You nod slowly. “I think so. But it’s not…recent.” You look away as her eyes slowly close, the additional tears she was holding back finally spilling over and cascading down her cheeks. 

“Bueno.” She says. “Then at least he is not suffering like me.” 

You both fall quiet and you look over her again. Her pants aren’t completely done up and her t shirt is ripped at the neckline, exposing a gashed shoulder. Almost like…

You start crying again, and you feel even worse about it this time because you have in front of you a woman who has been through much worse and is somehow NOT crying. You curl tighter into yourself to try and hide. 

But she simply asks. “Who are you?”

You swallow, raising your head up off your arms, quickly wiping the access tears off on your sleeve. It’s incredible how adrenaline and fear can sometimes make you the most clear-headed you’ve ever been. Your thoughts are swirling but you knew one thing for damn sure, if they didn’t know your name yet, you weren’t going to say it now. 

If I look forward I am lost. Focus on right now. Nothing else. It’s my best chance.

You know enough about trauma that compartmentalizing this moment is your best chance. You can’t think what will happen if you don’t escape, if you aren’t found, if they never come for you. You need to stay focused. You need to keep hope alive. You need to stay coherent, because if a chance pops up, you need to be able to think quickly.

“I’m no one.” You mumble. “Just happened to be dating the wrong person.”

She sniffs and looks away, but it’s muffled because her nose sounds congested. You don’t miss her tone though. “Mmmm. His new one then.”

You blink. “What?”

Her glazed over, discolored eyes snap back to yours. “Pope.” She spits. “Your man. Santia—”

“NO!” You cut her off with a shout, you know there is a guy who is in the area and you still don’t know how much these men do or do not know. “Don’t. Don’t give them names if they don’t already know it.”

“I don’t give a shit about Agent Garcia, or his friends, or anyone else, it’s their fault I am here and it’s their fault my brother is dead and..” She finally, finally starts to cry. “I told him I didn’t want to do it. They said they would let us go if we gave them what they wanted.”

“It was you.” You exhale with a shuddering breath. “They found us cause of you. You told them.” You shake your head, and for some reason you feel betrayed by this woman even though you’ve never met her.  “How could you?” 

“Because all I care about is my brother, do you understand?! I wish I’d never met him, Garcia, we would have just snuck away and no one would never seen us, but no, instead we listened to him and helped them steal from fucking Lorea, and now they found us and I knew they would, and YES, I gave them EVERYTHING because they said they’d let us go so long as they found you and–”

“Eh!” A voice trails in with a watchman you knew was hanging out somewhere in the hallway beyond. He slips through the doorway, a smaller man you were not expecting from that voice, and leans against the deteriorating door frame. He crosses his arms and his legs and it makes the handgun on his hip jut out prominently from his skinny hips. “No talking to each other.” His voice is silky and the words all slide together so it sounds like ‘no talkintoeeachother.’

You shrink back into the dirty wall behind you as your associate spits a bloody phlegm ball in the man’s direction. “FUCK you!” She snarls, a tirade of cuss words in Spanish flying from her lips. 

A loud pop almost bursts your eardrums and your heart and you exclaim in terror as your associate is shot point blank in the head, her back slumping against the wall and her head hitting with a bang, pieces of blood and brain tissue spraying over the back wall with pieces flying in your direction.  

The man remains completely motionless with his arms still raised before huffing a laugh to himself, putting the gun back on his hip, and looking at you with the such an unaffected gaze it leaves you feeling dizzy and you scream and scream and scream yourself hoarse, crumpling onto your mattress in a terrified heap, arms over your head, sobbing hysterically.

A gentle but firm palm wraps around your forearm, yanking you back up to a seated position. You look away, but the man’s other hand takes you gently by the jaw and makes you look at him. And just behind him, the woman slumped in a pool of blood and brain matter. You try to wriggle out of his grip but he tightens ever so slightly, and you can’t help but notice how different it is when Frankie would grab you like that versus this man. Frankie held you the same, sometimes harder, but you had trusted his domination and his care of you and because of that, it made it arousing. That same motion with this man has you more scared than you ever have been in your life. 

“Bebita.” He coos, thumb lightly caressing your jaw. He wipes at a small speck of blood you don’t know is even there. You can feel yourself shaking and breathing so fast you can see his half waxed back tousled locks that hang past his temples are blowing in its breeze. You can’t answer him. “Look at me.”

You do. His eyes are a dark, almost black chocolate brown, shape mismatched, a scruffy beard and goatee and thin lips. In another world you would find him devastatingly attractive and the fact that you do makes you feel absolutely violated and disgusted with yourself. 

“Do not cry.” He continues. “You have no reason to if you behave, si? You be good and you listen and I will keep you safe you understand? Well, at least for now.” He shifts closer to you, you can smell his breath. It smells like orange and cloves. “There are a lot of men here Bebita. I am sure you understand what this means, si? Answer me.”

“Yes.” A final fat tear spills from one of your eyes, and it stings as it mixes with your sweat and the raw skin around your eyes. 

He juts his head in the other woman’s direction. “This one, she fight the whole time. I like a easy job. Make my job easy, I make sure you always deal with me. Do not make me call in the other guys, they are not as nice. Understand?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” He releases your chin and you scoot back quickly as he saunters over to the other woman’s bloody body, grabs it by the arm, and casually drags her as dismissively as possible out the door and out of your sight, leaving a bloody trail behind.

At first you just sit there in a slump staring at the opposite wall,, you don’t know for how long. Probably hours. Maybe days. The man, whose name you figured out from when he spoke to someone else in the hall, is Angel. Sometimes he would sit up and watch you, as if figuring you out, your body and the way you shift and switch positions when you are uncomfortable, what it looked like when you were crying and trying to keep quiet and unnoticed. But most of the time he ignored you. Occasionally others would come into the room and either speak to him or approach you, but upon noticing Angel watching them they would hiss or spit a curse and slink off.

The room reminded you of those old houses from the 70s that had those drafty unfinished basements that were simply concrete floors, painted stucco or white brick. To the sicarios, it served as an overflow area, there was a rotting desk along the side wall with a metal folding chair and piles of scattered papers and random household tools on them. Against the opposite side wall was a pretty nice tv, considering, which was always playing soccer. Angel seemed to make that his home base, his lithe frame sprawled across a grandma-fabric sofa, head resting on one of the puffy arm rests. He binge-smoked cigarettes and his right hand was always stretched over his head resting against his forehead in the direction of to an end table with an massive overflowing porcelain ashtray on it. You didn’t used to mind the smell of cigarettes too much but now it makes you feel sick.

You’re ashamed of how little you actually think about your current situation and like the hopeless romantic idiot you are, mostly all you can think about is Frankie. The things he said–you knew he said mean things when he was mad, or things he didn’t mean, but isn’t there always some truth to things that are said in the heat of the moment? That was enough for you to silently spiral. You thought about every memory you had of him and how it could be viewed through the lens that Frankie just wanted to fuck you. Your self confidence was low enough it was believable, and your mind races through every instance of an older man being in a relationship with someone much younger and how of course it was predatory, and how could you not see it, that you didn’t have anything in common? It’s a tale as old as time. He just wanted to fuck you, he wanted to fuck you and dominate you, his dark desires seducing you into feeling so wanted you can’t believe you thought he loved you and didn’t see right through it. 

And his friends, well, they were all in on it weren’t they, because why would they want to hang out with someone like you either? Why would men such as that actually want to be friends with you when you have never experienced half of what they have.

Fuck him. Fuck him and his lying ass, he was a fucking loser addict and you’re pissed at yourself for even considering him. Like how lonely were you?? To choose an old man with a kid who served in an institution that represented everything you hated about this country? To be so easily blinded by pretty words and love bombs to immediately take your clothes off. Because how, if he actually loved you or even like you, could he possibly have lied about something so big?! Or bought you something nice with all that fucking drug money he stole. Not that you’d want it or expected it, but why wouldn’t you want to treat someone you love as much as he claimed to? 

How could he sit there and make up what happened to Tom like that, when you were being so coddling and trying to be a caring ear. And Benny…Pope...if they were your friends they should have told you, that’s what real friends do…

But they weren’t your friends. They were never your friends. 

And if you went the other way, and considered that it was all true, that he did love you, that they were all your friends, and that he lied to you and threw stones to hurt you and push you away, how was that any better? You couldn't even think about a future not being with him, but obviously he could. He could watch you cry and question him and not even look at you, completely ignore you, then not even think about you again. No texts, no calls. No “I’m sorry, please come back.” Silence. 

How could it be so easy for him? How can he just go about his life like you never happened? Why did you still care?

Why did you still want him? 

Why did you still love him so so much. Part of you wishes they’d get on with it and just kill you. At least then you wouldn’t have to feel this excruciating pain. You wouldn’t have to see him show up to rescue you because he has to, to have to see his fucking face and every line, crinkle, scar, the bald patch in his beard and the tousled little curls that pop out of his hat…only for him to save you and then leave again, or die and then you have the guilt of killing a man who no longer loved you.

Yea. You think you’d rather die.

You feel like you’re going to throw up again. You’d let him force his cock in your mouth as far as it could go, let him tie you up and fuck you hard enough to leave bruises you had thought of as a badge of honor. You’d let him cum on your face. You’d let him fucking cum inside you! He’d gaslit you so you actually wanted him to tie you up with zip ties—-

Your heart almost stops. You can picture how his face looked exactly when he said it.

Sometimes rope can give over time.

That’s why we always used zip ties.

You look down at your bound hands.

They’re bound with rope.

[clawbehavior]

Continue the story: The Devil Judge/Gahan edition

Fellow fandom folks,

We're doing a collaborative fic on A03 for The Devil Judge and Yohan/Gaon and we'd love for you to join. Here's how it works: each person writes one chapter of the story based on a topic we all voted on. You can write whatever you want in your chapter as long as it connects to chapters before it. This is a nice way to close out the third rewatch, get your creative writing juices flowing in a low-stress place, try your hand at writing if you're new, and importantly, celebrate jinyoung's impending return from the military on November 4th!! If 8 people or more join, we'll be writing until then!

How to join: Reblog or comment here if you want to write a chapter with us! Make sure to sign up by Thursday, September 5 if you want to write!!

Vote here: Answer this poll to vote on what our story will be about. Feel free to suggest other ideas. The topic with the most votes will get selected.

Writing logistics: After everyone signs up, I’ll put our names in a random generator to pick the order of writers.

How it works:

Publishing: You’ll have 1 week to read what’s been written so far and write your chapter. Chapters are due by Thursdays at 9 AM KST. I'll post a schedule.

Word count: Minimum of 2 sentences and not more than 500 words. This is a loose word count specifically to keep it chill. Don’t stress about making your chapter perfect. The idea is to have fun, go with the flow, and write whatever comes to you!

Posting on ao3: We’ll post the fic as one story with multiple authors. I’ll help you out when it’s your turn to add your chapter.

Keeping in touch: We can use a Tumblr post to brainstorm ideas and talk story stuff, or, if enough people are interested, I can set up a discord to chat

The goal is to have a good time and see where everyone’s creativity takes them.

Reblogging anyone I can think of to increase reach but obvs don't feel compelled to join if you're unable to. Please share so we can include everyone who's interested!!

@jehan-d-art @thedeviljudges @technitango @tenderlywicked @uhhhhmanda @mid-n0vember @yohangaontdj @gayautisticraccoon @briwates @ladykyrin @godotismissingx @yohanmoon @kingkangyohan @yohansgaon @fr-wiwiw @caroldanverscanrawme @chu-fei @neurotic-nereid @rageprufrock @bellarkeandclintashaandsuch @eyesof-kkomi @wildelydawn @rorapostsbl @fourth-quartet @knight-of-tuxedo @yohannoir @little-arcadia @absolutesuffering @itsza @onahita @mymediacollection @amethystina @naaginaqueen @alxina @femmefatale11

[bewiiitched]

Sex doll (Logan Howlett x reader)

Ever since I saw the movie I haven't been able to shake my obsession with Wolverine, and I got this idea after reading several fanfics on a03 that are unfortunately on hiatus.

Summary: Wade and Reader have a past thanks to the Weapon X project, after escaping from there, she becomes his neighbor, being able to know peace until she runs into Logan and brings back memories of her original version.

Disclaimer: English is not my native language, I apologize if there are any mistakes.

Warnings: This is a +18 fanfic, it includes several dark themes such as rape, drug use, and more adult content.

Oral sex (both receive) P in V, chocking, rough sex, dom!logan, soft!Wade (mostly), friend!Wade, ass play, a lot of angst, age gap (reader is mid 20's)

/////

INTRO:

It was midnight when they both returned covered in sweat and blood to the apartment and after several attempts to convince Logan to stay, he had finally decided to spend a few days in the building until he could adapt.

Living one floor below the apartment she shared with the blind Al, Reader rarely missed any of the discussions that undoubtedly arose because of the mercenary and yet, even if her senses were not enhanced, she doubted that she could pass for his familiar voice that had so exasperated her superiors in the past.

Turning off the tap suddenly and leaving the dishes half-cleaned, she almost lunged towards the door, throwing it open with an accusatory look as she watched the red silhouette of his suit disappear down the hall towards the stairs. — WADE WILSON.

She exclaimed, making the mercenary freeze with an innocent smile and his hands raised in a placating gesture as he turned towards her. — Doll-

He began only to abruptly shut up, noticing the shocked look on her face as her gaze passed between them in a range of emotions.

— What the hell? — In contrast to the mercenary's wide smile, who moved his non-existant eyebrows in a suggestive gesture, reader's gaze darkened as she looked at Wolverine for a moment, causing him to frown in confusion and perceiving a strong scent of regret.

Determined to lighten the tension, Wade turned his face slightly towards Logan in a gesture of recognition.

— It's not the original. — He clarified, earning a raised eyebrow from both of them, which didn't affect him too much as he continued with his tirade of explanations. — Logan, this is Reader, a mutant with sadomasochistic powers who had an affair with your version of this world.

— I should have accepted that mission just to not hear you anymore…

The aforementioned hissed, glaring at him and avoiding the older mutant's scrutinizing gaze. Ignoring the mercenary's feigned expression of pain as he held his hand over his chest in an offended gesture, she leaned against the wall with her arms crossed.

— Doll, this is one of Logan's versions, darker, more broken, surely your type, oh god! You would have loved Calverine.

He spoke, clasping his hands over his chest in an enthusiastic gesture. With a snort, she turned around avoiding looking at the mutant behind the mercenary and determined to return to her apartment. — I don't think there's much of your stuff in the apartment, Al said something about taking advantage of the space now that you were gone.

She mocked, listening to his muffled gasp before closing the door with a shaky sigh.

(…)

— What the hell was that?

Logan's dry tone makes Wade laugh, now that they are at a safe distance from her enhanced hearing, the mercenary has no intention of letting the opportunity to mock her pass by.

— the what? The devilishly sexy neighbor downstairs with a destructive past who has her eye on you? You know, if you had the mask on I wouldn't doubt that-

— Christ, shut up. Why does she stink of guilt?

Wade smirks as he takes a step back dramatically. — When I joined the weapon X she was already there, working for the project's superiors along with poor Francis, together they were terror personified.

The nuance in his tone changes and his voice gains lightness as he thinks of those days when his powers were put to the test. — She can control the nervous system of people, animals and mutants. and, you know, make you feel a new world of pain. Oh and something about aphrodisiac fluids!

He speaks, winking before continuing: — The thing is that at some point Francis gained more importance, of course, not having nerves to control helped and she was left in the background and under his surveillance doing minor missions.

There's a look of understanding on Logan's face as his brain tries to process the information he's received and the words "sado-masochistic powers, and adventure" echo in his mind, raising more questions.

"That doesn't explain…"

He begins, frowning at the mercenary's suggestive expression. "Forget it."

He growled, wrinkling his nose as if he could still smell her scent full of guilt and shame.

(…)

Despite the initial shock, Reader had adapted to the mutant's presence quite easily, as she had occasionally crossed paths with him in the hallways of the building without sharing more than a few words. Which was fine with her, since she had no intention of crossing the cordial barrier either.

However, Wade Wilson had decided that it was a personal offense not to attend his resurrection dinner after having saved the world as the Marvel Jesus, so it was not until said party ended that the mercenary entered her apartment.

Rising from the bed abruptly when her ear caught a second beat, she wasted no time in grabbing the lamp that rested on the nightstand and throwing it in the direction of the mutant who grabbed it before it could break.

“That's no way to receive guests.” He scolded, dropping the lamp on the bed and turning on the light, letting both hands rest on his hips. “Traitorous bitch.”

He grumbled, watching as reader looked at him impassively. “Cry me a river.”

— You can't avoid it forever. Avoid me.

He emphasizes, smiling sideways when she rolls her eyes in his direction. — No one can avoid you.

She murmurs resignedly, getting out of bed now that the discomfort returns to her. — Look, I'll go to the next dinner…

— Tomorrow.

— What? No.

— Tomorrow, or I'll drag you out. Come on, we'll only be a few people.

— How are things with Vanessa?

The mercenary's menacing smile trembles and disappears with a withering look. — That, that was a low blow.

He reprimands her with the same tone he would use to reprimand a small child, earning a disdainful smile. — Looks like the two of us can't avoid it forever, huh.