#after grief and guilt strip them bare

[chaos-smh]

Closure

a/n: i love arthur morgan. this is very angsty. i sorta imagine this as a father/daughter relationship but you're free to interpret :) i would love to make this a longer fic well!

pairing/s: arthur morgan x reader (platonic)

content: mentions of death, grief, lots of angst, cuddly arthur! readers childhood best friend dies and arthur comforts them

word count: 861 words

Nothing but the flicker of a candle accompanied you as your chest heaved and stuttered with each sob that broke through you. Despite the nearby glow, a certain darkness seemed to shroud you, with your hands shivering against the crumpled piece of paper. Grief had always been a mysterious force that had weaved its way through your childhood but part of you had believed that those days were finally over. From what you had believed, there was hardly anybody left in your life that you held so close to your heart but you had never been so wrong. On some particular day, you had been drawn to the obituaries and there you had discovered that there was in fact someone left. There were hardly any words to describe how the news had left you but you knew that something inside of you had changed. You had always believed that the only form of grief was sadness, with melancholy people shrouding graves and draped in black but nothing could prepare you for the bitter waves of guilt that rattled you. However, with your current occupation, you were forced to bury your grief and managed to cover your mixed emotions with a certain tilt of your hat. You managed to retain your reputation in the gang but the sacrifice you made was becoming too much to handle. The dreary nights grew darker and longer with your heavy heart seeming to suffocate you as you would watch the sun rise day after day.

A brisk cough managed to bring you back towards the glow of the candle, your eyes stuttering through the darkness and towards the entrance of your tent. Part of you desperately wanted to maintain your guard and push through the pain but it suddenly felt too difficult.

“Arthur- I,” You croaked out. “This is too much.”

“Come ‘ere, kid” The older man almost sighed, his voice worn out but with a certain tenderness lingering with in it.

Arthur stepped through the tent with his weathered hand cautiously removing his stained hat as he settled down on his knee in front of where you sat on the cot.

Arthur gently grasped at one of your quivering hands with his thumb tracing subtle circles against your palm. For a moment he paused, unsure of what he could say but he was able to notice how quickly you started to settle down in his touch. Tears continued to spill from your eyes but the chorus of broken sobs eventually descended into quiet whimpers.

“I knew something weren’t quite right with you, kid,” He murmured in low voice, being careful not to disturb the secure silence that had formed between you both.

“Now— what’s happened?”

Despite the ache that lingered in your heart and the grief that clouded your own thoughts, it all started to clear as Arthur spoke softly to you. Even when you had first joined the group and everybody had been so sullen towards you with their persistent stares, Arthur had been there to welcome you. He had taught you many things about their way of life but you barely shared any words and you struggled to reach out in a way that you desperately yearned for.

“We grew up together— I loved her,” You sobbed out as you unclenched your fist, revealing the crumbled strip of newspaper.

There were so many words that swarmed in your mind but you struggled to form any kind of coherent sentence to explain what had happened.

Arthur scoured over the brief passage of text where a young girl’s name was printed in bold with the usual proceedings. When his narrowed eyes flickered over the recent date of death, he tightly squeezed your hand and a deep yet steady sigh slipped from his lips.

“I’m real sorry, y/n,” Arthur finally spoke with his words brief yet comforting. It was the way that he uttered your name that caused your heart to finally warm up.

“You come ‘ere now. I ain’t leaving you alone.”

Arthur reached out towards you but before you could say anything, you were pressed up against his chest with both of his sturdy arms wrapped around you. There was something about the way he hugged you that caused another sob to break through your chest but this time you were unable to tell whether it was your own grief or his sudden affection. Your eyes drifted shut as you focused on the steady beat of his heart and the rhythmic crackle of his chest with the echoey noise seeming to lull you back to peace. The stench of leather and burnt tobacco was strong but for a brief moment it reminded you of your distant childhood and you were suddenly back home, basking beneath the sun on your front porch with not a single care in the world. Despite your fractured cries, you both shared a comfortable silence and for once you felt as if you were finally safe again. He traced one of his coarse hands across your back, his actions almost speaking for him. He was there for you and you were beginning to understand that.

“I got you, kid.”

[taldigi]

Nullification.

In order to create Akuma, someone must be nullified- or, have their emotions and color completely drained from them. From there, the Akuma go and seek another host to infect and transform into a monster. Once the Akuma is defeated, the emotions return to the Nullified- which is deeply shocking and often painful as they are forced to feel everything all at once.

There is no purification ritual, and they simply need to be defeated. Not all Akuma must be defeated physically- some may be dispersed by solving a problem- often related to the emotion that corrupts the victim. The death of a nullified person will disperse the Akuma. This is an extreme scenario that the heroes never take, but the villains may use if the Akuma get too far out of hand. The posessed, however, is spared.

Nullified aren't completely emotionless, and are often left with just enough trace emotion to function at bare minimum- stick to routine, care for oneself. After all, emotions like shame and fear keep us together.

Null, the fae of Nothingness, is able to offer a contract that grants a user the ability. Adoni Duther is Null's current contract holder- who ends up using this ability to assist Richard Sphinx with his goal to free Null from it's imprisonment and end the world. She also makes use of this ability at his request, as he desires to stop feeling emotions as grief over his lost wife- and eventually escape guilt that had been built from his criminal activities

However, in a final bid for power, Adoni makes full use of the ability to truely strip Richard Sphinx of all emotion, resulting in an incredibly powerful Akuma that essentially leaves him brain dead- even after it's defeated.

-

an exploration on how Adoni's powers could work and how they may be used in a meaningful way

[lasarcasticpanda]

so on an adjacent side to the "villain" motivation for this movie, there's the motivation for the many Spiders and why they expect Miles to allow his "canon-event" to play out. because my friend mentioned how peter wouldn't just allow or expect that.

but i think peter would. peter b parker is the one we've gotten the most exposure to in this setting, so:

like, this dude has been a hero for so long, alone. experienced love, hero-worship (from both others and himself, worshipping his job), burn out, burying his aunt, divorcing his love, and the loss of that drive for this hero thing, all alone.

and he did the peter parker thing and he kept going and he kept to himself and he kept on keeping on. even as his world shattered and he seemingly lost all control on it. like, IMAGINE. you constantly put the good of others before anything for yourself, you are constantly trying to do right by the one person you couldn't save who helped you on this path, you still cant save everyone but you try, and you're still alone.

and then Miles happens and the whole elite squad happens and he learns about canon events.

and he learns that uncle ben was always going to die, he was apparently necessary to die for spiderman to happen.

his greatest failure was always inevitable. can you imagine the weight of that guilt lifting, even only slightly, from someone who experienced all of this? there was nothing to do to save ben, because his death gave birth to spiderman, and in turn saved countless more.

it's the first loss of control that allows him to breathe. and all peter parkers most likely feel this lift, feels this touch their deepest grief, because of course they all carry this like a second skin.

it's incorrect of course - not completely, not in the metaphorical sense that "terrible things happen but you learn and grow" kinda way, but in the concept that spiderman wouldn't exist without uncle ben way. (Terrible things happening and having to move on despite those things is not a spiderman thing, it's not even a hero thing, it's a life thing).

spiderman exists because the people who get the power choose to do so. peter parker, when bitten, will always choose that path, regardless of how he figures that out- uncle ben dying is not needed for that, its just one way.

in the one universe where gwen gets bitten instead, when she lives and gets the powers, she chooses to do so, even before her peter dies.

in the anomaly situation, one outside of the canon events and expectations, miles gets bitten and chooses to be spiderman. he chose that before his uncle's death, he actively chose this against his fear.

that is what makes spiderman. the choice.

the question Miles lobs at peter, "you're saying you wouldn't save uncle ben if you knew", is exactly it, it knocks that quiet complacency on its ass.

of course peter would've tried to save uncle ben if he knew, he tried to save him when he didn't. all Peter's did, across all universes. its what defines spiderman, not because uncle ben died, but because peter still tried.

loss shapes us, it does - it changes us, it can strip us bare and force us to move. but it doesn't create a new us, we have to do that part.

assigning the existence of spiderman solely to uncle bens death is a disservice to the person who actually wears the mask. which, again, very peter parker, sanding down the good you do and the good you are to punish yourself silently.

there is no reward for silent suffering.

Miles' refusal to do so, his refusal to accept this status quo simply because someone told him it's what must happen, is the most spiderman thing done the entire film. because spiderman might not be able to save everyone, but he will never stop trying.

but man, the appeal of accepting that "these awful things are supposed to happen, so i could never have saved them" idea after so long going at it alone would be hard to resist, especially when good things start creeping up again (because peter CHOSE to chase them, because he chose to try is a quiet thing, acknowledged only between miles and peter "i wanted her to be like you, i met you and chose to try for happiness again").

and so much of this is quiet context! this is just my perspective, one way to take that in and call bullshit on the whole thing but find immense sympathy in wanting to fall in line, but it makes such brilliant use of the casual and die-hards knowledge of peter parker as a character.

spiderman is such a sympathetic hero and character and this movie does a brilliant job of painting everyone with a level of sympathy, of understanding, even when we don't agree, even when they're wrong.

[renlyslittlerose]

💌!

Thank you, peach! For this Ask Meme!

💌share something with us about an up-and-coming work (WIP) that has you excited!

I've been working on that infamous 1980's fic for a little while. Despite how flippant I've been about it, it actually DOES have a storyline beyond Anakin looking cute in short-shorts and cut-off shirts with white tube socks. Obi-Wan is swallowed up by grief and depression when he loses Qui-Gon suddenly in an accident. Unable to move on and to properly heal, and feeling guilty that he can't just Get Over It, he ends up developing a bad drinking habit along with other reckless coping mechanisms. After about two years of a very bad downward spiral, he divorces Satine, quits his job as a professor of Classics at the University of Coruscant, and moves into a small town in the middle of nowhere to escape a life he doesn't feel he deserves anymore.

There he meets Anakin who is his nineteen year old virgin neighbour who tries to (and successful does) seduce Obi-Wan. What starts out as casual, lust fueled relationship between the two, slowly develops into something more - something that maybe makes Obi-Wan want to start trying again.

So basically, lots of graphic, filthy smut scenes intercut with deeply emotional scenes and an attempt at character study, haha.

Obi-Wan placed his hands above Anakin’s and stared at their joint reflection. His wrinkles seemed more stark in that moment, branches of them collecting around the corners of his eyes and along his brow. His skin was dotted with freckles and tiny little scars collected through years of living - the most pronounced being a slice across his collarbone from an irate cat he’d tried to pet when he was twelve. Every time he saw his reflection he noted more greys, flecks of them sprouting from his temples and in the corners of his beard. But his eyes told the real story - of a life lived well before it wasn’t, before it fractured and crumbled and fell apart like jagged glass. When he stared in a mirror he used to see a man who loved and cherished those around him, and who was loved in return; a man who was engaged and present in the moment; a man who lived his life as completely and fully as he possibly could, a man who wanted to be there. Now all he saw was someone who would barely be called a man; someone who took rather than gave, who retreated rather than jumped head-first into the challenges before him. He saw someone who drank because it was easier than feeling, who isolated himself because opening up to others meant having to return a love he didn’t think he deserved, and who toyed with a young man because it was easier than making an honest, truthful connection. Slowly but steadily he’d been stripped of whatever it was that made him who he was by the monster that had no face, no name, no form, save for how it made him feel. Like perhaps things weren’t worth fighting for anymore. “Obi-Wan?” Obi-Wan blinked and locked eyes with Anakin’s through the mirror. His brows were furrowed, lines cut deep across his youthful features. For a moment they matched, both in sorrow and loss, before Anakin closed his eyes and kissed Obi-Wan’s temple. “Lost you for a second,” Anakin whispered. “Are you okay?” “Just thinking…” Obi-Wan said, his voice hoarse. “Sometimes I wonder what goes on in your head…” Guilt; misery; loneliness; a desperate longing for things to be different.

[meaninglessblah-writes]

I was tagged by @sassydefendorflower to share the first few lines of my last 10 fics. You should check out their first lines too. Please enjoy! 

1. Perspective (Jason & Bruce) 

"Thanks again, Mr Batman," the bright cherub of a boy in the seat next to him says, "for saving me."

Bruce steals a glance over at his passenger, leaning over between two intersections to tug the seatbelt back up over his bony shoulder. "You're welcome," he replies gruffly, without taking a hand off the steering wheel.

2. Snap My Choker (Jason/Bruce) 

“All the kids are doing it these days,” Jason says, bent over Bruce’s desk, fingers skimming the keyboard as he reconfigures the camera embedded above the screen. It blooms into full resolution, a close up of Jason’s crooked grin filling the screen as he straightens. “Come on, old man, you trust me?”

Bruce’s expression is nothing but reserved. “Of course,” he says, and doesn’t approach. 

3. An Honest Mistake: Chapter 6 (Tim/Jason) 

Tim hasn't seen any red-themed vigilantes in a fortnight. So he's a little surprised to find his apartment door ajar when he gets home from a grocery run.

It's his day off, so he figured some late-night shopping was a good close to the day. His initial thought is that he's been robbed, because well, that's the neighbourhood for you.

But there's no forced entry, so Tim suspects the lock's been picked, and no two-cent criminal is that considerate. 

4. Guilt (Redlich/Rueger) 

Rueger has seen grief sit over a man, knows how it darkens his countenance.

Moreover, he knows how guilt eats at Redlich. The gnawing, ravenous need to know if his faith was misplaced, if he erred in his judgement. If he failed in his duty to his family, to his brother, to his nephew, to himself.

5. Tying Knots (Jugend/Kanin/Alte) 

“I think,” Kanin says with bemusement, eyeing Alte where he sits equally bewildered next to him. Above them, a woman twists through the air, the buckles of her heels and the silver in her ears catching the roaming lights. Her hair falls about her in a cloud of dark strands as she inverts, toes pointed towards the ceiling. 

Kanin shakes his head slightly, and watches her roll in midair to straddle the glistening pole more effectively.

He leans closer to Jugend’s ear, to be heard over the thrum of the bassline pounding from the speakers. “I think it’s customary to buy a stripper for one’s bachelor’s party. But I wouldn’t know.” 

6. Regurgitate (Tim/Jason) 

Dick visits Tim on the second morning after the broadcast. He pushes into their house with a blistering smile and a dangerous glint to his eyes, and he must say something about it being at Slade’s request, because the PR agents pale when Dick asks if they want to contact him to check.

He’s left to wander the manor freely after that, and he all but beelines for Tim where he’s curled up on the sofa, wrapped loosely in a shawl and watching reruns of a program that doesn’t make it past his eyes. 

7. Stripped (Harvey/Bruce) 

Harvey only manages to get one sock off before Bruce runs out of patience. Fingers tickle at his waistline, shoving up under his undershirt. Shucking it over his stomach to bare skin to the cold.

Chuckling, Harvey braces himself on the headboard, curled over Bruce as he maps out Harvey’s skin in nips and kisses. The cool air caresses his back, cooling the prickle of sweat there as Bruce’s fingers layer over his hip bones, holding him in place. His lips are warm and velvet against the soft skin of Harvey’s stomach, making the muscles twitch with every drag. 

8. Touch (Cass/Jason) 

Cass’ teeth scrape up the curve of Jason’s neck where his head hangs between his shoulders, lips closing over incisors to press a deep kiss at the peak of his spine. “You’re nervous.”

Jason forces a laugh that’s a little breathless, shifting restlessly. “Wouldn’t you be?” 

9. Boy Hostage (Dick/Ivy) 

Dick didn’t earn the name Boy Hostage by playing hard-to-get.

Well, that’s not entirely true. He plays just-hard-enough-to-get; turns out Gotham’s criminal masterminds like to earn their share of his ass, like to feel like they put in the effort to subdue squirming, kicking, biting Robin. 

He’s amazed no one’s worked it out by now, how much he likes being tied up. 

10. Crisscross (Tim/Damian) 

Tim’s favourite thing about his office is the privacy.

For how large a cohort Wayne Enterprises boasts, there’s not a soul who passes through Tim’s office doors without his say so. The only people who manage to make it past his well-equipped secretary and the two security personnel posted at the end of his hallway are the people who Tim wants to see personally.

Damian is the sort of person Tim wants to see, personally. 

I’d like to tag @forestdarkgreen @scandalsavagefanfic @setsailslash @does-it-really-matter @sharpbluejay who are all fabulous writers with a whole host of recent fics you should check out! 

[new-eyes-extra-colors]

VIII, X, XXIV, & XXVIII for Nora?👀

Under a cut for mentions of graphic violence, suicidal ideation, and also because there are parts of fic in here making this post monstrously long.

VIII. The Lionsmith What is the cruelest thing they’ve done that they do not regret?

Nora beats Kellogg to death with the butt of a rifle, and Nick has to pull her off him. After, she recognizes in the moment that she lost control, but absolutely does not care. She mentions a few times after that she thinks he deserved it and she'd do it again. This kick starts a particular struggle for her--finding the line between where violence is and isn't the right answer.

X. The Beachcomber Describe a grudge, intrusive desire, anxiety, or other similar negative emotion they nurture. Are they willing to give it up? If not, what could force them?

Have a bit from the fic, during Nora's visit to the Memory Den after killing Kellogg:

Somewhere far away, Amari said her name, but she could barely hear it over her own ragged breathing. Her throat burned. Her hands trembled. Tears stung her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. Grief cracked open her chest and pulled out every part of her that mattered, leaving her gutted, as dead and cold as her Dana the moments after Kellogg had pulled the trigger. The only thing left was for Kellogg to turn his gun on her, but he hadn’t gotten the memo, had just smiled at her through the glass and walked away.

And her body hadn’t gotten the memo, either. Somehow, she was breathing, shaking, crying, but shouldn’t have been, because she wasn’t even a person anymore. How could someone be stripped of so much and still alive? Her family was dead, so she wasn’t a daughter, or a granddaughter, or a sister, and the world had ended, so she wasn’t a lawyer, and her husband was murdered, so she wasn’t a wife, and her baby was taken, so she wasn’t a mother.

After all of that, of being scraped down to her core, what else was even left?

There was grief, but grief burned, and then festered into hatred, hot and vicious like a chemical fire. She hated Kellogg, for murdering her husband, and hated the Institute, for ordering him to take her baby, and most of all, worst of all, she hated herself, for letting it happen, for not stopping it.

She should have been the one carrying Shaun. It was that simple. Every decision before had been like a line of dominos, stacked up so perfectly that whether she or her husband lived or died depended on the flip of a coin: someone deciding today wasn’t the day they wanted to end the world as she knew it, turning away the Vault-Tec salesman just once more, how quickly they left for the park that morning, the particular night Shaun was conceived, even something as inane and out of her control as the genetics that left her susceptible to a dangerous condition during pregnancy that necessitated her c-section.

If she had carried Shaun that morning, then it would have been her on the wrong side of Kellogg’s revolver, and she would have failed to protect her family then, too, but at least then she’d have gotten what she deserved for it. Dana would have grieved, but he’d have found Shaun by now. He wouldn’t have needed her, and he wouldn’t have needed Preston, or Danse, or Piper, or Nick, or Deacon. He would have caught up to Kellogg faster, or found the Institute already, and made them all pay for what they did to his family, and then it would be over.

If she had done just one thing differently.

If she had just carried Shaun…

Guilt and self-hatred eat at her a lot. She is forced to consider letting this go, eventually, after Shaun tells her that because of a particular quirk--fetal microchimerism--the Institute was never going to have her killed. She was always a pawn in his game.

XXIV. The Flint What is their most destructive tendency?

As mentioned in this post, Nora lets certain things fester. If she thinks something will drive a wedge between herself and a friend, she'll let guilt consume her without bringing it up and therefore opening herself to the possibility that her friend will cut ties with her. This makes her jumpy, wary around her loved ones, and then she lets more things fester, etc. It's a vicious cycle.

XXVIII. The Mare-in-the-Tree Describe them at their most dangerous.

Nora is most dangerous with her back against the wall. If she can't find another solution to a problem, she picks violence. If she's anxious, she may jump to violence before properly assessing all her options.

One of the things she struggles with in my fic is shooting X4-18 in the back during the battle at Bunker Hill. Up until that point--and as much as she can after, especially after growing close with X6-88--she advocates that the Railroad do what work they can not killing coursers. Still, she winds up killing several of them because the choice was between their lives or the lives of Railroad agents.

[lauvra]

Lost/Found Notes Pt. 11. 17/02/22 Remembering the body communicates it's needs, I wonder why mine suggests I swallow the ocean. Is this what they call the mind's corruption? This renewed ease in turning away? Is living in accordance with the true nature of things to devour, after all? Perhaps I am to rewrite the mind in order to allow others leave with their lives. Swim free, you functional scaly holograms. Reprogram me, I want the flicker of system failure just long enough to fall off the ladder. Maybe I'll wake as a pixel glint in the eye of some anonymous user's design. I can barely reason with deniers of reincarnation, it's all that's ever made much sense to me, naturally. I saw the Vulture on screen at the movie theatre last night and cried in silence. What gives any the grand belief they'll come back breathing? Maybe I'll return as the moment Donkey Kong's adversary realises he's been struck by a barrel. Just one pause out of trillions of indistinguishable discoveries. 23/2/22 A new freckle fell from the sky and landed on my arm. 26/2/22 I can't bring myself yet to contest my peace, it has been so long wandering toward this clearing in which I finally find myself and I know I'll not stay long, for even if I do, time will eventually overtake. The sun and rains will tempt the clearing into overgrowth and I will become again entangled. So I'll just sit here, and not drag guilt or grief into this field. 8/3/22 On my street the trees are emerging through the asphalt, victorious. Reclaim us. 15/03/22 I wake at intervals in defiance. In dreams I am chained inside frames that make me make sense to others. I wake at intervals to poetry unfolding faster than I can tack it down. I wake at intervals as what I am. I strip in my sleep, waking naked and for an instant I can see. I wake with a saintly grace, then forget myself. 15/03/22 People don't want to be wrong about even their worst assumptions. 17/3/22 Some people had no chance against intellectual thought. He says I'm to wait two weeks for the next book we'll read together. I like to visualise laying beside somebody, reading our respective books in peace, reaching over to pat the curvature of soft linen every so often, just to be sure. In this time I've read Lispector's 'An Apprenticeship or the Book of Pleasures', it's about Lori, a disconnected teacher who meets a philosophy Professor who waits. People don't wait for each other anymore, I've been guilty of it. What happened to courtship? I've been reading Andy Warhol's book. I read it a decade ago, but I was different, then. I'm so taken by what reads as his accurate portrayal of his own aura and presented vision that I sat the book down to contemplate what I'd say of myself. How could somebody so fixated on nothing, be so well drawn? Where does the time go when I do this? I devour it, yet it shits me out? Okay. 18/3/22 My friend said "Mirrors don't work for you like they do for other people." 23/03/22 Intimate understanding of another has only ever been a brief illusion, a beautiful idea. Temporary commonality found on grounds ever shifting. I believe we are alone.

4/4/22 [BTW, for as long as you allow them.] How many times do people think they can dismiss you and expect you'll still open up about your inner life to them? How many times can someone mock your belief system, judge and mischaracterise it, claim to hold the answers as only a radical would and find you capable of coexisting? How many times can someone show appreciation for all your tolerance, then decide at a whim they're unique and dismiss where the similarities really lay. People think love bombing isn't sincere, unfortunately it often is. That's why it works. People think devaluing is a momentary lapse, but that too is also authentic, at the time. I don't want to hear how great I am, the negative cycles back around and I hear the same insults, again. If you think I should ignore recurring behaviours that impact me negatively, that you exhibit compulsively, then you're the problem. My problem is that I keep thinking I can explain this to you. No one should expose themselves repeatedly to people who don't respect them. 17/4/22 Triumph of comprehension.

[anxiouswriterwritings]

A Random Edgy Story Pt1(Maybe)(TW:SelfHarm, Death, Poison, Fire, Abuse)

The sun rose on the barren land that the village called a field, their crops long dead as though a demon had cursed the land itself. Farmers still worked with their hoes on the dusty soil, a strip of cloth around their head to keep the sweat out of their eyes. They did this every day, hours upon hours, weeks upon weeks, and years upon years, barely making enough to feed their families let alone themselves. 

As one of these farmers, an average middle aged man, was working at the plot of soil he had been cultivating for the past 3 months. A few sproutlings of cabbage he had planted had started to appear. He chortled to himself proud of his luck, but muttering about how it was too little. During his distraction an acrid smell, sweet and pungent filled his nostrils, he looked up to the village not so far away and saw plumes of black smoke. The smoke, a dark tower in the spring heat, he ran. There were not many people in the village, but there were still people, people he knew and helped him get adjusted to his life here. He ran, his long legs taking as far as he could until he got to the house whose smoke was filling the sky. It was his neighbors house, the Rainmors, they often took care of him, sharing part of their food and sometimes their roof with him when it got too cold to stay in a hut by himself. They were a small family, a Father Gran Rainmor, a mother Jaine Rainmor, and their young daughter who he often looked after while the parents went to the Keep every fall to sell whatever goods they could share. Her name was Sara, she is still but a young child, only up to his hip, but full of enough curiosity to satisfy a whole court of scholars. 

The burning house, though it was more of a hovel, was roaring. In a panicked state the Man looked for the Rainmor family who had done so much for him. After pushing his way through the small crowd he could see Sara, holding the doll her mother had sewn her the past Winternight as a gift, staring with wide eyes, her mouth moving but no words coming out. The man gently walked up to her “Where are your parents Sara? Are they inside?” He put a hand on her shoulder to hold her attention, her eyes seemed to look through him as if he was not really there. She nodded, and with a trembling hand she pointed inside. Without a moment's hesitation He ran inside, shouting their names, attempting to peer through the thick greasy smoke. At last he had found them; it appears as though the mother was resting and the father was crying over her. “Gran! Come! We need to go! It’s too dangerous here!” Gran stared up at him with empty eyes. “Ran, she’s gone, did you know that Ran?... I wish to go with her… Did you know that she was saving money and keeping it from me? She was going to run away… I couldn't allow that!” His face held a twisted look as though he had eaten something bitter. “So I had her drink some tea that I made… Very relaxing, made from a herb growing in the marsh, and while she was asleep…. Take care of Sara, do not let her know what I have done” His eyes took on a look of guilt, as if he intended to pay for his crime with his own sacrifice. Ran felt a twisting in his stomach, the mixing of all the emotions he had been feeling up to this point. Did his friend, who had always offered him a place to eat and rest, who had brought his daughter books from the Barons Keep to read, kill his wife? And as though taking his silence as an acknowledgment Gran picked up the stone that they kept by the fire, and started hammering in with a force that could not have been natural, he kept hammering and hammering. And Ran watched, as the smoke burned his lungs, as the fire started to eat at his flesh, through the tears of pain, and grief, and confusion. He watched. Then he left.

[storyphoria]

Review | Criterium : Extended Edition by Tyler Jones

Author: Tyler Jones

Title: Criterium : Extended Edition

Genres: Horror, Novella

Page Count: 178

Published: 08/25/2020

Addiction is a horrible thing and Tyler Jones explores it with brutal and painfully beautiful storytelling in Criterium : Extended Edition. From seeing what rock bottom REALLY looks like to understanding that hope is rarely ever discovered within, this story takes you on a dark ride through hell and back as we traverse the darkness of addiction.

To get the important details out of the way real quick, Criterium : Extended Edition is written by Tyler Jones, published by Dark Room Press and contains TWO stories versus the original run which was ONLY Criterium. This extended edition(which takes the form of a fast paced read in Novella length) includes the title story, Criterium, and the story Enter Softly, which is a story featuring a different character yet is set in the same place and time as Criterium. I won’t tell you what that crossover is, exactly, because it’s a nice reveal and addition to the main story, but just know they ARE tied together as a pair. Though it’s not QUITE a continuation or sequel. Think of it more like another side of the evil within.

Criterium begins with our main character, Zach, hearing his parents having yet another fight. His Mom works hard to keep things together for the family and his Dad is hopelessly addicted to drugs. When his father leaves after the argument, Zach follows him out into the street only to find him later in front of that Old Gray House on Archer Way.

Burned to a crisp after zooming down the streets, screaming, inside a ball of fire.

Three months later, Zach finds himself trying to escape his grief. He never wanted to follow in his Dad’s footsteps but yet…he’s turned to drugs to numb the pain. Now, that addiction has Zach in it’s grip and it’s fueled by grief and guilt. Guilt of the pain he’s putting his family through.

As he tries to break free he finds that what he thought was rock bottom is really a rotten swamp, and he’s sinking to depths he’s never imagined possible. Worse, he’s going to drag those he loves most down with him. There’s little hope that the sinister evil sinking it’s claws into him, will actually let him go.

There’s a lot about this book that was SUPER uncomfortable to read, in the best ways possible. The language and wordplay that Jones uses are, at once, ultra disturbing and exquisitely beautiful. Here’s a couple quick examples, but don’t worry, there is nothing to spoil the story for you.

But Mom’s silence had a certain sound to it, a sort of psychic ringing and rush of exhaled breath.

Jones, Tyler. Criterium: Extended Edition (p. 18). Kindle Edition.

The clothes, if it had been wearing any, were gone. So was the hair. The entire corpse was black, except for the teeth, which were bared in a horrifying lipless grin, and the bright-red, wet-looking strips where the skin had split open and exposed the tissue underneath.

Jones, Tyler. Criterium: Extended Edition (p. 31). Kindle Edition.

A breeze blew and scratched dead leaves on the sidewalk.

Jones, Tyler. Criterium: Extended Edition (p. 36). Kindle Edition.

So he kept walking, each step farther from the house a little nail in the coffin that held his conscience.

Jones, Tyler. Criterium: Extended Edition (p. 39). Kindle Edition.

Ok, you get the idea. There are so many great examples I’d love to share, but we’ll be here all day if I do. Besides, if you like those, just go pick up a copy and read the book for yourself. That way you can savor them in context of the story. Anyways, back to the thoughts on the book itself, shall we.

There is a lot to love about this book. Jones takes an already dark subject, one more than a little uncomfortable for most people to digest, and presents it in a way that is equally brilliant and disturbing.

Through the first third of the story I found myself wondering if it was going to include anything OTHER than the real world horrors faced by those battling addiction.

But Jones kept dropping hints and references to things that seemed not quite right. Be it someone screaming down a street in a blazing fireball as they’re burned alive or the Old Gray House on Archer Way, we’re left to wonder. Is it really supernatural? Or are they the drug induced hallucinations of an addict stoned out of their mind?

Soon enough though, Zach finds himself trapped by a supernatural item. Beautiful on the surface, but coldly terrifying. An item that beats the shit out of him, drags him to the pit of hell and threatens to do the same to those he loves. The evil is punishing, brutal and uncaring. Evil like that doesn’t NEED a reason or motive, it just IS.

Jones blends the real life horrors of addiction with the horrors of the supernatural world and leaves you feeling the anguish and despair of his characters. Capturing the essence and feeling of the characters state of mind (be it sober, high, terrified, grief stricken, guilty or depressed) this story grabs hold of you and drags you through hell with them. As if YOU were the one feeling the pain and terror they are experiencing.

Whew.

That was a long, run on sentence. Sorry about that. Once you read the story though, you’ll understand what I’m saying.

When Jones is writing about Zach feeling guilty, as a reader you’ll notice a shift in the “voice” of the story. When Zach transitions from being sober to the high of the drugs kicking in, the “voice” of the story changes to reflect it.

This is even MORE pronounced with the second story, Enter Softly, with the main character of Lisa. A trauma nurse facing her own demons and her own battle with the sinister evil that beats the hell out of Zach in Criterium.

Lisa’s story hits on a different level because it’s coming from the viewpoint of a parent that has made a single, terrible mistake. A mistake that leads to another…and then another, until the evil and addiction has a firm grip on her in much the same way it did for Zach.

I enjoy how Jones doesn’t rely on the more conventional horror aspects of evil. There’s no backstory to the evil, no tropes of gory monsters in the night. The real terror here comes in the form of the gritty, punch you in the gut just because it felt like it – no backstory required, kind of evil.

It’s an evil at once understandable yet completely mysterious. It’s never explained, there’s no motive and no reason WHY this darkness is doing what it’s doing. It just IS.

One thing that never quite settled for me with this story was Zach’s age. Jones hints that he’s probably around high school age, his sister seems much younger. Most of the story finds Zach anywhere BUT in school. In general it seems he’s around 16-18 years old. Yet there are other times he seems younger, much younger. During the span of 3-7 months it’s like he’s suddenly gone from being 16(ish) to being out of high school and a young adult. It’s a minor quibble, but feels like a tiny pebble in your shoe that nags at you the whole journey.

The Bottom Line

If you like heart-wrenching, despair-filled horror stories that don’t rely on the typical “horror tropes”. Stories that blend real world horror with a touch of truly sinister supernatural evil. Then you’re going to enjoy the ride this story takes you on.

I give Criterium : Extended Edition by Tyler Jones a 4 out of 5 stars.

It’s a solid horror novella with two horrifically fun stories. Stories that make me want to know more about the nature of the bike and hear more tales of that Old Gray House on Archer Way.

Seeing a LITTLE more about what’s behind the evil or where it comes from would have been great, our minds crave a motive. But the reality of it manifesting in the darkness that lies within all of us, via human nature, addiction, grief, loss, or despair, well…that’s more terrifying than any fictional monster could ever hope to be.

[tennessoui]

Pb Cody kills me! Does he know Anakin is dropping really hard right now? Since obi actually specified that they were in a scene? he can’t even troll Anakin right now so I like to think this this is the real proof that Cody secretly cares for Anakins well-being

He probably absolutely does know Anakin is dropping, but he’s also very good at prioritizing and after like. 4 years of being exposed to his bff’s kinky sex life with the most annoying twink in the world. Most of his groans and eye rolls are very real because ew but also very exaggerated.

The entirety of Vowbreaker is going to be like. Cody treating Anakin strangely delicately and holding him back from his worst violent tendencies and also like. Sitting next to him quietly

(All so Anakin can feel even more betrayed when he finds out that Cody knew all along 💔)

[embrassemoi]

𝐀𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐒 𝐒𝐄𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐒

In a world where soulmates can feel each other’s pain, Bruce experiences the death of his soulmate.

Bruce Wayne x Fem!Reader

Prompt: “only love can hurt like this”

Contents: soulmate AU, heavy angst, hurt no comfort, character death, terribly sad Bruce, mention of torture, 1.3k

Notes: I’ve been meaning to do something like this forever! I’m happy to finally do it. Anyway, cheers! Hope you enjoy

Bruce’s feet shuffled, drawing in rigid lines from his desk in the Batcave to the wall at the end of the room, turning sharply and back in long strides. His armour was on aside from his gloves and cowl – which remained clutched in a tightly balled fist. The clanking of his boots hitting the ground was synchronous with each ragged breath as his shoulders remained hunched and tense – blinded by frenzied panic from the pain flaring and intensifying across his chest and head. 

Everything hurt; his body unceremoniously tearing itself open at the expense of himself. Of his soulmate. It rendered him barely able to function, the tugging on the soulbond continuously pulling, each time becoming weaker as he felt his soulmate pleading for help. For him. 

And he was unable to do anything but endure her suffering. 

In the distance, Alfred could be heard tapping away frantically on a keyboard, searching for any possible clues about her whereabouts they might’ve missed. Dory came frequently too, doing the best she could. 

It had been like that for several long weeks. No leads, no clues, nothing from GCPD, nothing but a few stray videos from surveillance cameras catching moments before her disappearance. The videos were blurry, each lead was a dead end after another and all motives remained unclear. At first, it had been money – a forty million ransom for her safe return, which soon doubled, then tripled and became apparent it was used as a means to waste time and toy with Bruce — only sending him untraceable videos of her. Some were of her crying, others screaming as they were beaten and tortured. 

Bruce hadn’t slept for more than a few hours a week, continuously pushing himself in search of her. Even if he attempted to, guilt consumed him as the slotted space next to him remained cold and bare as inexplicable pain jabbed him. Invisible wounds lacerated his body in vicious cruelty, inundating him in consuming pain that cracked and bubbled under thin layers of skin and bone – hallowing every corner of his mind and body and stripping it void. Shadows somehow appeared darker, submerging and latching on Bruce that tainted every bit of dwindling hope. 

He felt her pain like his own, compounded by unspeakable grief and agony. He trembled with it, leaving himself breathless and bracing against rusted railings and edged walls. His body screamed at him for his own mistakes, an outrageous injustice that ate away, peeling and dissolved into nothing but choked blood and lack of mind. 

It limited Bruce and his efforts as the Batman. 

Thoughts looped, paused, rewinded and played while examining the little evidence he had, again and again. It was torturous, knowing they took her and was in danger because of him. She was nothing more than a pawn to them and a means to control him. 

And they were successful. 

Alone, Bruce could hardly live, the pain possessing his body, taking tremendous effort to stand, to breathe – paralyzed by loneliness, withdrawn into solitude. The only thing that kept him going was Alfred, thrumming adrenaline and fear. 

Intense, horrible fear. 

Alone, his body failed him. Alone, he was directly failing her. Alone, both were manipulated by her attackers. 

With a prolonged exhale, he turned back towards the desk, peering over Alfred’s shoulder. 

“Anything?” 

“I’m sorry, Master Wayne,” Alfred said pitifully. Bruce could see the dark circles engraved on the old man’s face — weighed down by her disappearance. 

Alfred could hardly look him in the eye, almost as if he was just as ashamed as Bruce was towards himself. 

He clenched his jaw, nodding stiffly and pulled his lips between his teeth before peering back at the screen. However, his eyes wandered to the border where photos were taped. It was instinctive, the sight making his heart pang while reaching out to pry them from the screen. 

The faded edges of the photo felt dull against his fingertips, worn and bent. The first photo was blurry, but the memory was ingrained in his mind. She had purposely worn dark lipstick, pressing kisses to his face as his arm poorly shield himself from the bright flash of her camera. He was looking up at her, face flushed with pink while she beamed at the camera. 

The second made him pause and study for the longest. It was the night of their first anniversary, taken by Alfred. They looked at each other, a rare smile flashing wide across his face as her left hand rested on his chest, her right tangled with his own. Their bodies were so close and even then, if he closed his eyes and focused, could almost feel her pressed against him; could feel her heartbeat fluttering just like his. 

Her lips were parted slightly, about to tug into a matching smile as she whispered praises and small declarations of love to him. And he wished nothing more than for that photo to spring to life, utter those same words to her. 

Sometimes he was convinced he was born for two reasons. One, to protect Gotham and two, for her. 

He couldn’t recall the last time he cried – properly cried, but there, Bruce struggled to push down tears and swallow a scratchy sob as he waited for the inevitable breakdown to come flooding. 

Fuck, he couldn’t stand there anymore. 

With shaky hands, he pressed the photos to his lips before returning them to their spots and turned, marching up to the batmobile. 

“Master Wayne,” Alfred’s voice came sternly. “Master Wayne! Where are you going?” 

“I have to do something,” he gritted, already slipping his gloves on. 

“You’re in no condition to –” 

Bruce’s scoff interrupted him at the mere thought. Hidden underneath his anger, the hurt, both internally and visually, bleed onto his features, face clear despite the darkness in the room threatening to envelop him. 

His mouth opened to retaliate but fell silent as his knees buckled, losing balance and staggered back just as his hand grazed the handle of the car. A sharp, piercing ringing roared in his ears – rattling around his mind. It was a tortured sound of a soul, aching, biting, thrashing against restraints and fuelled with wrath and endless sorrow. 

The surroundings blurred, his chest beginning to heave with large sobs lodged in his throat. Something was wrong – felt it rush through him like a sharp razor, jagged edges piercing his skin and striking down in a swift motion like a scalpel splitting his body in half. 

Bruce was on his knees before he could process it, doubling over and on the verge of hyperventilating. His fingernails dug into his palms so hard he felt blood trickling out and seep between his fingers and coagulate in the creases of his palms. 

Bruce had always had a high pain tolerance, but this was debilitating – mangling his throat with each sob torn from his lips. He couldn’t stop screaming – voice cracking from the force of them with eyes cascading tears like a broken dam. 

He doesn’t register the bustling noise of Alfred rushing to his side and Dory barreling into the room. 

Bruce’s hand flew to his chest, feeling something snap and hit with a sudden emptiness. Anatomically or psychologically, he couldn’t tell, but the pain was more painful than anything he had experienced, surpassing every bullet wound or explosion. An excruciating pain spread throughout his body that made his arms and legs grow numb and buzz, like static, through and submerged him in mind-numbing pain. 

“Bruce!” yelled Alfred, trying to touch him. But he kicked, raged against anything binding him and shook violently. 

The warmth in his chest felt different, felt scoldingly hot before dampened with an impenetrable chill cracking. It was as if a branding iron had been pressed against his chest, scraping down and melting his metal chest plate down to flesh. 

There was nothing softer than a heart, and the crack splintering down the middle of his soul was felt across separating souls and snapping the invisible string attached between them. 

His soul suddenly hardened. 

The realization came instantly. Soulmate bonds could only be broken through a few circumstances. By choice or death. 

And Bruce hadn’t chosen to sever the tie. Only love could hurt like this. 

[bellsyafterdark]

It's Paz whump hours: while Din is away on his long, protracted "court all the mates with meaningful gifts" mission, Paz is abducted.

It's not an easy feat. He's a big guy. Boba and Fennec might not have believed it without the fact he went down protecting Drash on their walking patrol of the town, and when she woke up in safe shelter of the locals, they told her they saw him dragged away unconscious.

Boba and Fennec are livid when they find out: Boba gently examining Drash's bandages to focus his ire and worry somewhere as Fennec summons Krrsantan, hatching a plan. If there's one thing this pack of former bounty hunters know how to do, it's find people.

They know they have a limited window. The longer Paz is missing the lower their chances of finding him-- alive or at all.

The palace is shut down, all business is routed through Garsa with Krrsantan and the modders supporting her. Boba and Fennec depart to find their would-be mate. They all agree not to tell Din until Paz is home safe... or his body recovered.

The alphas' search takes them deep into the unmapped regions of Tatooine's desert which is almost as difficult as if Paz had been taken into space. Boba has never been more grateful for the burgeoning network and alliance of the Tusken tribes.

Their search leads them to an old munitions storage bunker neither of them even knew existed. It looks like part of an abandoned town almost buried beneath the sands. There are transports parked nearby. Unfamiliar figures stream in and out. Fennec sends in her miniature reconnaissance droid.

They find Paz. He's been stripped of his armour, strung up and appears he was beaten like an interrogation. His helmet and armour is being poured over and priced by a cluster of what looks like surviving members of the former crime families, the ones who would not accept Boba's rule. The drone only captures still images to provide a scan. It's impossible to tell if he's alive or just unconscious.

Boba barely strangles the keen in his throat. They must have done this in retribution against him. Fennec's cold anger focuses his grief like a laser sight: it doesn't matter if it was for revenge, the bounty of his armour, or their personal enjoyment. These people took what is theirs, they desecrated his honour, and they are going to die.

It takes them almost an hour to cross the remaining distance at march. Thanks to the borrowed robes of the sand people, their approach is undetected.

Their careful, steady pace breaks into a run when they hear blasterfire, the muffled boom of an explosion. They finally reach the storage munitions' tall blast doors as the rusted, jaws of the door shudder open.

Paz staggers into the late Tatooine sunlight, bloodied, bruised, the tatters of his flight suit pulled to his waist, half his armour re-clad and the rest dragged in a sack at his heel. His helmet is back on. His other hand is clamped over a blaster shot at his gut. More score marks of burnt flesh litter his exposed skin where his captors clearly tried to stop him when he refused to go down in a last, desperate bid to live.

Paz has the constitution to take the damage. Privately, he's glad it was him and not Din.

The moment he sees Boba and Fennec, he collapses to his knees, the remaining fight and adrenaline leaving his body.

Boba and Fennec are immediately at his side, checking over his shoulder for lingering threats.

"Dead," Paz croaks, voice destroyed from days of dehydration, starvation and torture. "A-all dead." He's a Mandalorian, after all, it just took him a while. He slumps forward, burying his visor against Fennec's soft front and shaking as his alphas carefully wrap themselves around him, mindful of all his wounds. "W-what are you doing here?"

Boba and Fennec exchange a pained look over his head.

"We... we came to rescue you," Boba says, guilt choking his throat because their failure is written all over Paz's body. And those bastards took his buy'ce.

Paz could truly never return to the covert now.

"Oh." Paz's arms close around Fennec's waist, holding on. "Thanks."

Fennec clutches him back, arms carefully wrapped around the back of his helmet. Her mouth pulls in an involuntary grimace of pain. "We're going to take you home."

Paz's arms tighten around her and he nods.

[beels-burger-babe]

A Pain You'll Soon Regret - Pt. 3

Poly!MC Summary: MC and the demon lords get in a fight resulting in MC leaving. They planned on going to Purgatory Hall until things cool off, but they never quite make it there. TW: Heavy Angst, Violence, I don’t know what to tag this, but there is a pretty nasty verbal fight, Gore/Injury

***I legitimately teared up while writing this. This...This is heavy folks. Please remember to take care of yourselves before, during, and after reading this fic. Be safe lovelies ❤ -B ***

Part 1: HERE, Part 2: HERE, Part 4: HERE

The day had passed by agonizingly slow. The brothers really had no choice but to follow Solomon's orders, so they waited. With every second they could feel the invisible hands grasping their hearts squeeze tighter and tighter.

None of them had left the living room where they had gathered. They were all too frightened that an update on your condition would come in and they wouldn't be there to receive it. At least that's what was silently agreed upon. In reality, they were each taking comfort in being with the only people that could possibly understand what the other was going through.

No one knew what to do or say. There really was nothing to do or say. They had promised to always protect you, and because of a foolish argument, they had failed that in the worst way possible. Finally, after nearly twelve hours of radio silence, Asmodeus's D.D.D. dinged.

Asmodeus had never taken his phone out so quickly before. "Simeon and I are awake. MC is still unconscious. We will let you in and try to get you to see MC. Luke is still adamant about not letting you all in, so be ready for him," Asmo read out loud. Satan huffed as he started towards the door. "I don't care who Luke thinks he is, he's not stopping us from seeing our partner. Let's go."

*** As they arrived at the Hall, all of them were shocked to see a trail of now dried blood leading to the doorway. No matter how long it had been there, the scent still made it glaringly obvious that it was yours. Asmodeus gagged and turned his head away from the sight. "If it's already this bad out here, what are we going to be walking into?" He managed to choke out.

Lucifer swallowed down the lump in his throat and marched ahead. "It doesn't matter. Right now, MC needs us. We failed to be there for them earlier, I refuse to do so again." The eldest lead the charge to the front door of Purgatory Hall. He raised his fist to knock when several voices started shouting from the other side. "You never should've called them here!" "Luke, that's not for you to decide. They're-" "I don't care who they are!!!"

The door suddenly was thrown open just enough to reveal Luke.

You would think that the small angel was the Avatar of Wrath and not Satan. He glared at them with all the fury of the Celestial army. His face was red and his teeth were bared in a snarl. Despite all this anger, however, his eyes were still tinged red with tears.

"Leave now! You're not welcome here!" he barked before going to slam the door; Beel quickly caught it with his hand. "We're not leaving until we see MC." A growl that they had never thought they would hear from sweet little Luke, vibrated from deep within his chest before he began throwing himself at the door, clearly doing everything he could to try and close it.

"NO!!! You don't deserve to see them! You monsters are the reason they're like this! GET OUT! LEAVE!!" Simeon suddenly appeared from within the Hall and pulled Luke against his chest. "Luke, stop it! You're going to hurt yourself!" The young angel screamed and struggled as Simeon softly shushed him. It wasn't long before the screams turned into sobs and Luke broke down in Simeon's arms. The brothers didn't know how to react. Was the state you were in truly so bad to merit such an emotional response from Luke? Dread began to grow more and more within them as guilt kept them frozen in place.

The older angel sighed and gently began to rub Luke's back, before looking at the brothers with an emotionless expression. "As you can see, Luke is greatly concerned with MC's well-being, as we all are," he tightened his hold on Luke before he continued. "You may see them-" "WHA- Simeon, no!!!" Simeon gently shushed him and ran a hand through Luke's hair. "I know. I know you don't want them to, Luke, but they love MC just like you do. At the very least, we should let them see the results of their negligence, don't you think?" The lords winced at the jab and the harsh edges on Simeon's words. It was clear that no one in that house truly wanted them there. Luke pouted. "Fine. But I want to be in the room when they do." Simeon nodded and released the young angel. "Of course. I'm sure MC will be grateful for how attentive you've been to them when they wake up." He ruffled Luke's hair before glancing at the brothers once again. "Follow me." Their footsteps echoed through the quiet halls like a death knell. Each one rang louder and louder in the ears of the worried demons. They hadn't even seen you yet, and even so, each and every one of them were already beginning to wonder how they could ever let this happen to you. Images of you might look like flashed inside their heads. Perhaps you would resemble a mummy from the number of bandages required to heal you. Perhaps you would resemble a corpse, half-dead as you struggled to keep your heartbeat steady. No matter what they imagined, however, nothing prepared them for the real thing. Simeon swung open the doors to the lounge without any word or warning. The brothers' stumbled to a stop and collectively choked at the sight. You were laid out on the table in the middle of the room. Gauze covered a large section of the left side of your cheek and a strip around the circumference of your head. What little skin was visible was sunken in, making you appear dead. If it hadn't been for the shallow rising and falling of your chest, the brothers most certainly would have believed you were. Solomon had been in the process of checking the bandages on your shoulder when they entered, giving each of them a good eye full of the deep bite marks that covered your shoulder, collarbone and neck. There was so much red, that they could barely make out what was an injury and what wasn't. With a nauseous thought, they realized that small chunks of skin had even been torn from the flesh. They must have had to remove your clothes at some point during your healing process, for the only thing that covered you was a thin blanket that was trapped over your torso. All, except Satan, recognized it as one of the blankets from the Celestial realm. Though Satan had put two and two together when he spotted the small tag hanging from a corner with Luke's name written on it in golden cursive. The fact that you were barely covered meant that they could clearly see your bandaged thighs and the small, bandaged, stump of where your leg had been cut off from the knee down. The silence was cut off by a strangled sob from Asmodeus.

Solomon's head snapped as he only now noticed everyone. Rather than moving comfort the demon whom he's had a pact with for centuries, Solomon only narrowed his eyes into a glare and silently went back to work.

Asmodeus moved towards you, shakily reaching out a hand to touch. But he was stopped as Luke quickly slapped the hand away. The angel starred icily at him. "They're still recovering, you idiot. Touch them with your filthy infernal hands and you could infect and kill them."

Asmodeus snarled through his tears, and opened his mouth to shout at Luke, but was stopped when a hand sat on his shoulder. He glanced over to see Satan shaking his head as tears ran down his cheeks.

"He's right," Satan whispered, not bothering to hide the pain in his tone. "They're in an extremely fragile state. We should all, at the very least, wash our hands first." the others looked at him surprised. There wasn't a trace of anger in his voice. Only grief and regret. Satan looked over at Solomon, "Then I'm sure we'd all like to sit with them?"

The others held their breath as they waited for the reply, but Solomon simply remained silent and refused to acknowledge them. "Please," Beelzebub begged through a sob. Belphie held on tightly to his twin's hand. It may have looked as though he had down it to comfort Beel, but in reality, that hand was the only thing keeping him on his feet. Beel took in a stuttered breath before continuing, "W-We messed up last night, and we can't t-take that back, but I-I need to be with them right now. Please. I-I can't leave them again." Again there was only silence, with the exception of Luke grumbling under his breath from where he sat beside you. Mammon huffed and moved towards the basin of water that had been set up on a side table. "Well I'm done waiting for permission," he thoroughly washed his hands and moved towards MC when Simeon moved in front of him. Mammon growled and had to keep himself from bursting into his demon form. "What's the big deal?! You said we could see 'em!" "I said see. Not touch," the angel provided pointedly. Leviathan frowned and came to Mammon's side. "Luke is literally holding their hand right now! He cleaned his hands! There's no reason why Luke should be able to touch them, when we, their significant others can't!" Luke's nostrils flared as he went to lunge at the demon, but was stopped by Solomon putting a hand on his shoulder. The young angel huffed and settled for snarling at them. "I was the one that saved them! I was the one that washed the blood off of their skin after Simeon and Solomon both nearly collapsed from exhaustion after working for four hours straight on keeping them alive. I was there for them! And you weren't!" "We messed up!" Leviathan screamed back, his demon form bursting into existence as he cried. "We messed up and we want to make things better! We want to be there for them now! You can't just keep us from them!" "Leviathan," Lucifer placed a hand on his younger brother's shoulder. "Breathe. Please, I know you're upset. We all are. But we shouldn't forget what caused all of this in the first place." Leviathan ripped himself away from Lucifer's grasp and turned away from everyone. The occasional sob could be heard from him as his shoulders trembled. Lucifer sighed and looked pleadingly at Simeon. "Simeon, please. I know you owe us nothing and that MC may not even want to see them when they awake. But look at them. They're-" he cut himself off as his voice cracked and took a deep breath, "We're a mess. Please, just let us have a moment with them. That's all I ask." For the first time, Simeon's expression softened. He gathered up Luke and nodded at Solomon. The wizard pursed his lips in annoyance and glanced at the brothers once more before leaving the room. Simeon gave Lucifer a hard look as he held on tightly to Luke. "You will notify us immediately should even the slightest thing change from their current condition." Luke gaped at his fellow angel. "Simeon! No! We can't just leave them with those demons! Are you insane?" Simeon gave Luke a small smile. "They won't hurt them. I truly believe they wish to reconcile things and apologize for their words and actions. No matter how upset you may feel, this isn't our relationship Luke. It is not our place to meddle. MC will be safe with them." Luke grumbled under his breath and glowered at the brothers. "If so much as a hair is out of place when I get back, not even Micheal will be able to stop me from the vengeance I will inflict upon you." Mammon opened his mouth make a comeback, but was cut off by Lucifer. "Understood. Thank you for looking after our beloved in our absence." Luke scoffed and shook his head, before leaving with Simeon following behind him. The brothers stood in the room alone. They were with you, and yet they had never felt so far from you. ***To be continued in part 4! Still don't quite know how this will end, but it's bound to hurt. Sorry not sorry. In between uploading parts of this series, I will be doing other fics as well, just since this seems to be quite longer than I

had originally thought 😅 Thank you all for supporting this series! I hope you enjoyed it. Remember to drink water and take care of yourselves! I love you all!***

[holylulusworld]

Her substitute (1) - Need you

Title: Her substitute (1)

Summary: Once you were her best friend. Now her widower seeks shelter in your arms.

Square Filled: Cordell Walker

Ship: Cordell Walker x fem!Reader, Cordell Walker x Emily Walker (widowed)

Characters: Stella Walker

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: angst, language, mentions of loss of a loved one, grief, unrequited love, smut, protected sex, scared of feelings, guilt, sneaking around, secret affair

A/N: This is partially an AU. Cordell didn’t go undercover. Emily and the reader’s boyfriend died together on their way to Y/N’s birthday party. And the reader is Cordell’s partner for the sake of my story. His partner from the show will have an appearance either way.

Word Count: 1,7 k

Created for: @walker-bingo​

Her substitute masterlist

2021 Walker Bingo masterlist

Divider by @firefly-graphics​

Once upon a time life was good to you, great even.

Life was all you ever dreamed of. Until. One day. Your world exploded.

One day your best friend, the woman you considered family, and your boyfriend got killed after you tried to arrest an unforgiving man. You and your partner lost the people you love on the same day.

While you tried to pick up the pieces and put your life back together, Cordell preferred to despair, and to use you as an outlet for his pain, grief, and frustration.

He can be gentle and cruel within a heartbeat.

Emily was the love of his life but Jason was just someone you spend your days with to fill your empty life. Sometimes he calls you cold or heartless only as you gave Jason’s belongings to the Salvation Army after one year of grieving. 

Cordell can never know the reason for your fast recovery…he can never know…

“I need you—“ it always starts with these three words, followed by a desperate look and his hands. God his large hands reach out for you to touch, caress and grope. “Baby Girl.”

“We talked about this, Cordell,” you weakly press your hands against his chest, shaking your head ever so slightly. “I can’t do this. We are partners and she was my best friend.”

“Didn’t stop you from fucking her widower not six months after she got killed,” here we go. The sweet and desperate Cordell is gone, replaced by a blank nerve wanting to hurt and drag you down. “Only as you got over Jason like he meant nothing to you doesn’t mean I can just stop grieving.”

“Then why do you come here to fuck me?” he takes off his cowboy hat, nervously playing with it. “Cordell, we shouldn’t do this. It’s no good for you or me. What if your kids find out?”

“All I can think about is to have you underneath me, pinned to the mattress and my cock so deep inside it hurts,” he drops his hat, steps over it to grasp for you. “I want you, baby girl.”

“Shit—” pinned to the wall seconds later you find yourself falling for your best friend’s widower all over again. It’s not a secret you were in love with Cordell before Emily even met him. He just never showed interest in asking you out and when Emily came into the picture, you backed off like the good friend you were.

“Say you need me,” he buries his face in your neck, inhales your scent deeply. “Baby girl, tell me that you need me and that you want to feel me.”

“Cordell, fuck baby,” you whimper his name, ignore the guilt eating your soul up once again. All you can focus on are his hands grip your waist to hoist you up, holding you midair until you sling your legs around his waistline hands cradling his face to kiss him deeply. “I need you.” It’s not a lie. You always needed him; he just didn’t know it.

“I need you too,” he kisses you fiercely, almost desperate to forget all the pain and his empty bed at home when he tugs at your clothes or moans your name. “Give in, baby girl.”

You are a mess, both of you. While you let Cordell strip you bare, not just your body but your soul and heart, he pants, moans, and whines on top of you.

It doesn’t take long for him to slide into you and pin your hands above your head to make sure you know this isn’t love-making.

Two sides of the very same coin hit you where it hurts the most. Every. Single. Time. He doesn’t take his time to be gentle and loving. Its raw, unadulterated lust driving him into you.

“Fuck, baby girl,” he watches your lips part and your eyes dilate when he starts to move his hips. “Look at me.” It’s a command you follow immediately. He holds your wrists pinned to the mattress to make sure you can't touch him gently. “Good girl, always so good for me.”

“Cordell, you need to—” his lips kiss your protest away, force moans and tiny whimpers out of you. “Please.”

“Just tell me you need me as much as I need you, Y/N,” he finally says your name, not baby girl, and you nod, ashamed you let the widower of your best friend fuck you like a whore on cheap sheets.

“I need you,” you choke the words out, looking away, not wanting to hold his gaze when the familiar burn is back, the one pushing you violently over the edge only to leave you hollow in the end.

“Look at you, so responsive,” his hands finally let go of your wrists to roughly cup your breasts. His thumbs toy with your nipples leave them hard and throbbing. “Those tits, so pretty,” he dives in, suckles one nipple into his hot mouth to push you closer to the edge.

He moves slow, deliberate, plays your body like an instrument. You are in trance, only feel his body press yours to the mattress, mind blank once again.

Another deep thrust makes you moan his name loudly. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you grasp for his shoulders to bring Cordell closer to your heated body to hold him, even if it’s only for this fleeting moment. “Cordell.”

“So tight and warm for me,” his hands grip your thighs to spread you wider. He loves to watch his huge cock disappear in your pussy, the one only he owns. “You take me so well and deep, baby girl.”

You cry out in pleasure, back arching off the bed when his cock hits that spot taking your breath away. His large hands cup your ass, squeeze it tightly.

Cordell holds himself inside your body, stops moving to feel you clench tightly around his thick length. Just staring down at you.

“Cord, what’s wrong?” you whimper breathlessly. 

“Just wanted to feel you cum before I fill this cunt up,” his pace becomes brutal after your orgasm.

He moans, eyes glued to your face as he tries to pretend you are only a warm body he can use, a toy to fulfill a primal need, not the woman he could fall for…

“Oh—” you watch him move on top of you, memorize his features, the way his hair is glued to his sweaty forehead, and those obscene veins in his arms, popping out. “I want you to cum, let me feel it, Cordell. Fuck me.”

“Fuck, you—shit Y/N,” he groans, hips jerking violently before he allows himself to let go. 

When it’s over he rolls off you to dispose of the condom, already looking for his clothes on the floor.

You have a routine. He comes to your apartment, convinces you to let him fuck you, and leaves you alone and cold moments after your high.

Tonight, you wrap yourself into a sheet and turn around to not watch Cordell hastily put his clothes back on. You would give the world for him to stay the night, but you know he will leave soon.

As usual, you take deep breaths to hide the tears forming in your eyes. “Thank you,” he says, and you feel like a fool all over again.

“I got a job offer in New York,” you casually say. “Do you remember? I always wanted to be with the FBI. Three years ago, they didn’t have a position for me, but last week, I got a call.”

“Oh—” is all you get. You can hear the ruffling of clothing, and then the door opens. “You should take their offer. Being my partner is a dead end. A girl like you shouldn’t stay a Texas Ranger,” the coldness in his voice breaks your heart.

“Yeah, maybe I should,” you clear your throat while you try not to cry. “I will call them on Monday. Have a great—” the door closes before you can say another word. “Figures…”

“FBI?” Stella blanches. “You want to go to New York to work with the FBI, Y/N?” she cries. “You can’t leave me too. Why is everyone leaving me?”

“Stella bear, nothing is decided yet,” you sit next to her on the steps, patting her thigh. “They called me two weeks ago, and I just thought I should at least fly to New York to talk to them. Don’t you think?”

“I don’t know,” she sniffles. “What did dad say? You are his partner, Y/N. He needs you,” you sling one arm around Stella’s shoulders, hiding she just added another crack to your fragile heart. “We need you. You are family to us. Mom loved you.”

“I loved your mom too, Stella bear,” giggling at the awful nickname Stella leans her head against your shoulder, and you feel the guilt overwhelm you once again. If only the girl knew you are banging her father. “She was my best friend and your dad is my friend too.”

“Y/N?” Cordell walks toward his house with long steps. “Is there an emergency? Do you need my help? It’s Sunday.”

“Your mom invited me for dinner, and I met Stella in town and drove her home. If you don’t want me here, I understand,” you try to keep the sadness out of your voice.

“Grandma wants a family dinner, dad,” Stella grumbles. “If I must spend time with my lame brother and you, I want Y/N to join us. At least she’s cool.”

“Cool?” Cordell smirks, glancing down at you. “I remember there was a time when she had braces and was a shy little mouse.”

“Y/N shy? I don’t believe a single word, dad,” she nudges your side. “Right, Y/N. You never were shy.”

“I hate to admit it, but I was a little shy. Your mom helped me break out of my shell and become the woman I am today. I miss her,” you sniff, watching Cordell sit next to his daughter. 

“Emily, she always talked about you. How you helped her get better grades,” Cordell says. “She loved you too, Y/N.”

When you sit at his table half an hour later, watching Cordell with his family you decide your last encounter was the last time. You won’t risk messing his family up even more...

“We can’t do this again, Cordell,” you sigh when he leans in your doorframe, that look in his eyes again. “I told you after the dinner with your family we should stay only friends.”

“Y/N, we are friends but—” he cups your cheek with one hand, thumb swiping over your lips, “I need you, baby girl…”

>> Part 2

Walker Tags

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[shiny-jr]

❝ ᴛ ʜ ɪ ɴ ᴋ   ᴀ ʙ ᴏ ᴜ ᴛ   ɪ ᴛ ❞

➼ 𝕐𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕃𝕖𝕖𝕔𝕙 𝕋𝕨𝕚𝕟𝕤

The ocean was unpredictable, but they still loved it.  

Everyday in their youth, (Y/n) would travel to the beach, a private little area hidden by rocks and the tide. Playing there by themself for hours upon hours. Making sandcastles for the crabs, collecting seashells to share with their friends and family, practicing and teaching themself how to play a kalimba, until when it was dark a relative would come to drag them back home. For years, the beach became their safe spot where they retreated to get away from it all, but as life moved on so did (Y/n).

Soon, (Y/n)’s time was swallowed up by the problems and turmoil of everyday life, as they spent less and less time in their safe haven, now stuck in land. Eventually, they stopped going to the beach altogether, only occasionally taking a stroll there every month or so. It was still as peaceful and calming as they remembered. However, not everything could remain the same-- peace was never meant to last. 

Those deep waters that held the unknown-- were wild and terrifying, so when fishermen and whole ships began to go missing, everyone assumed it was a tragic accident: a shipwreck, a terrible storm, or somehow becoming lost at sea. That is, until these so called accidents were becoming all the more frequent. It seemed like every week a poor fisherman went missing, every month a ship never to be seen again. Bodies of the dead lost at sea often found their way to shore, limbs missing or twisted and bent in impossible angles, visible signs they had been in a struggle.

Rumors began to float about, all ranging from a curse being placed on the town to the possibility of sea monsters lurking in the waters that caused these accidents to occur. Of course, in their paranoia and terror, the townspeople would believe anything, all except one person. They refused to believe in the rumors without proof, not allowing fear to get the best of them.

Everyday, (Y/n) continued to roam the now empty beaches in search of trinkets and treasures buried in the sand. And everyday, their family’s worries grew. Was it really wise to continue going to the beaches when there was an unknown threat in the waters? Still, no matter how hard they attempted to persuade them to stop and find a job further inland, (Y/n) always refused. As long as they stay away from the deep water, they will be fine, right?

Well, they were correct in a sense that they themself would not be harmed, but that didn’t mean that danger would stop from befalling on others.

It was a normal day, the salty breeze was warm and delightful, the clouds provided just enough cover from the hot sun. The waters were calm, steadily washing up to the shore. (Y/n) walked along the land, stepping along the warm sand and cool tides. In their hand they held an instrument, a wooden board with metal tines, a kalimba handmade and gifted by their parents. Aimlessly they tapped the metal, creating soft chimes that matched the clanging of freshly discovered treasures collected in their satchel that sounded with every stride they took.

They barely paid any attention to the lone fisherman out at sea, not too far from where they stood on the shore. The middle-aged man appeared to be too occupied with his work to even notice their presence as well. Using his nimble fingers to prepare the end of his rod with a hook and bait.

(Y/n) looked up with interest as they heard a splash in the waters. Had the man caught something so quickly? Their eyes widened as they saw the tip of a teal-colored tail emerge from the waters, the fisherman noticing it as well.

Think about it, think about it.

The fisherman placed down his rod, looking over the side of his boat that the person on the shore was unable to see. In an instant, two webbed hands grabbed the man by his shirt, dragging him underneath the waves and successfully stopping his scream from alerting any others in the vicinity, but (Y/n) had watched the whole thing unfold with growing horror.

What felt like hours were mere seconds they spent waiting, hoping to see the man reemerge safely. What should they do? Should they try to help somehow? But they couldn’t risk going further into the water! Should they run and get help? It might be too late if they came with help. Before they could make a decision, the man’s hat appeared and floated on the waves, but there was no sign of the fisherman-- until the blue waters began to turn a crimson red, blood making its way to the surface.

Think about when you were there.

(Y/n) stifled a shriek, quickly shoving the kalimba back into their satchel and switching out their sandals. Struggling to put them on as quickly as possible, they would run back to town and inform authorities about what they had witnessed. As they nearly fell and tried to slide on their sandals, another splash emitted from behind the boat, a voice making their blood run cold.

We know it.

“Eeeeh, what a weakling. There wasn’t much to squeeze! Didn’t you hear something earlier, Jade?”

“Indeed, Floyd, I did. Perhaps there’s another human in the area?”

Finally clipping their sandals on their feet securely, they bolted. Running as fast as their feet could carry them on the sand, too afraid to look back. Failing to notice their musical instrument fall out of their satchel and into the waters. (Y/n) was far too focused on getting away as quickly as possible, only one destination was in mind: the town. They had to get to town and report what they witnessed. Behind them, they were just able to make out the words being said by whatever creatures remained in the waters.

We already know it.

“Aah, there they go! They’re running away like a scared little shrimp!”

“That’s a shame. It seems humans are quick to flee.”

❂        ❂        ❂        ❂        ❂        ❂        ❂        ❂        ❂        ❂

The twins had occasionally swam to the surface when in their youth, and while mischievous and troublesome, they had never attacked a human. They had been children at the time, just two little eels. However, their visits soon became frequent upon discovering a hidden rocky beach behind a cliff, and while they played with the crabs and watched the seagulls, they spotted the first human they ever saw.

Jade and Floyd nearly submerged themselves fully in the waters, poking the top of their heads out. From the darkness behind some rocks jutting out of the waters, they watched with fascination as the land creature played all alone by themselves.

Floyd stared with wide eyes before looking at his twin, “Hey, hey, isn’t that sad? That little human is lonely. I have you, but they’re all alone!”

Jade nodded, watching the human with a tilt of his head, “Yes, that is sad. But they don’t look lonely.”

On the contrary, (Y/n) appeared delighted despite the lack of company. They laughed and chased away those pesky seagulls, making shapes and small structures from the sand that amazed the twins, and even played a strange musical instrument. They had to wonder, were all young humans like this?

Think about it, think about it.

“Jade, that small shrimpy is pretty funny.”

“Yes, Floyd, they are very interesting.”

It soon became habit for the young Leech twins to venture to that secret beach in search of that amusing little human. As the years went by, the human’s trips to the beach became infrequent until it stopped completely. However, the two never forgot about the human named (Y/n), the memory of watching them play constantly lingering in the back of their mind.

It disappears in three days, and fills up again.

After years of not visiting the surface, their return meant chaos and misfortune for the land dwellers. What better fun was there than humans? Oh to see them struggle in their tail’s grip, gulp and gasped for air only to get a mouthful of water, and how they struggled was all so much fun! It was a shame they never lasted long, a single squeeze was all it took to break any unfortunate human they came across.

“Save me! I’m scared!” All day long.

❂        ❂        ❂        ❂        ❂        ❂        ❂        ❂        ❂        ❂

I knew it.

(Y/n) retreated away from the ocean, as far as they could go, not wanting to be reminded of what they witnessed. Those recent memories engraved in the front of their mind, the terrified faces of the authorities they reported the accident to, the grief-stricken family of the fisherman, and the incident itself with the blood and those creatures that continued to lurk in the salty waters.

I saw it.

They had run to the forest, hoping they could calm themself and find peace of mind here. The forest, lakes, and rivers should be safe, right? The beach was miles away, they were safest here, right?

Think about it, think about it.

The sound of running waterfalls and the chirp of birds filled the silence, slowly providing them a sense of calm. It’s as if the gentle flowing water extinguished the flames of their fear and guilt, leaving them at peace. Softly the wooden path they walked on creaked, the healthy green leaves from branches overhead provided shade, the water of the river was a clear emerald green. Their eyes admired the many waterfalls, taking a shaky breath, Reaching for their satchel, they cursed underneath their breath upon realizing their musical instrument was gone. Instead, they opted for humming, singing softly in this space where they believed they were alone.

We worry all day long.

Two particular sea creatures stopped from exploring this new strip of water, perking up at the distant humming and soft singing. They stopped swimming, looking towards the direction it came from.

We worry about what we’re going to eat when the night comes.

Jade listened to the distant voice, smiling at the lovely melody and soft voice. Slowly a grin appeared on his lips, revealing his sharp teeth. “Hm… Are my ears deceiving me, or do you hear that as well?”

“Yeahhh! It sounds like a merfolk’s song!” Lowering the little wooden musical instrument he had discovered on the shore earlier, Floyd shook his head. “Eh, but merfolk are too wimpy to come inland!”

“That is true… Considering that, it must be another human.”

“This is getting boring here… I know! Let’s find that little human!”

To win is to survive.

(Y/n) hopped along the smooth stones, kicking the water running along by their feet. Parting their lips, their dulcet voice flowed out and rang through the air, partially disrupted by the waterfalls. “Now’s your moment. Floating in a blue lagoon~” Aimlessly spinning along the stone, careful not to misstep and accidentally fall in the water. “Boy, you better do it soon! No time will be better~”

The Leech twins neared at a slow pace, taking cover under the darkest shadows that covered the river. However, before they could zoom forward and drag them underneath to have their fun, the duo stopped upon catching a proper glimpse at the human’s face. Their olive colored eyes soaking up the familiar features while their golden eyes glowed dimly. In that instant, like a lightbulb switching on, they both recognized the human as the same one from the morning, the same human they used to watch years ago.

Think about it, think about it.

“Aaah~~~! It’s Shrimpy~~!!!”

(Y/n) jumped at the shrill shriek, eyes going wide as they recognized the voice as one from this morning. Freezing in place, they looked up and nearly fainted on the spot as they spotted a figure in the waters coming straight towards them at unbelievable speed. A mix between a terrified whimper and a yelp escaped their lips.

The small wooden dock behind them leading into the forest was too far, they’d never make it before that thing would snatch them up. Sprinting along the stone, they approached the waterfalls where the wall curved in to reveal a sizable cave safe from the water.

“Hey, hey, wait up~!”

Seeing no other option, they dove inside, scratching their skin against the rocks and slamming against the wall in the process, just as they heard a loud splash behind them.

(Y/n) stumbled up, ignoring the aching pain on their back and the scratches littering their arms. Eyeing the sea monster before taking slow steps back, nearly screaming as a second one popped out of the water beside the other, nearly identical to the first one.

Your riddle will make us happy, free, and alive.

Both of the sea creatures had human-like faces but with gills; their upper bodies were shaped like a human’s but their lower-halves were long tails resembling that of an eel. Their skin tone was almost entirely teal, with portions of their chest and face white. The only difference between the two was their eye color: The first had a right eye that was olive color while his left was a golden hue, in comparison, the second had a right eye that was a golden hue while his left was an olive color.

“Shrimpyyy, come here! Let me squeeze you~!” The first creature whined as he stretched out his arms, but (Y/n) was too far to grab. When they showed no sign of approaching him, he pouted while his sharp nails scratched the rocky floor. “I have to greet you with a hug, come on!”

“Hehehe, it appears we’ve frightened them.” The second creature chimed in, chuckling at their fear. “I like observing people, but I am not the best at it. We couldn’t even refrain ourselves from seeing you again.”

Images of the gruesome sight from earlier that day flashed in mind. Reeling away as they felt their stomach churn. (Y/n) managed to find their voice, barely squeaking out, “A-Again…? You m-mean f-from earlier…?”

“You’re not completely correct. My, my… I seem to have gotten ahead of myself and acted rather unsightly this morning. Heheh… Forgive us for what you had to witness. But unfortunately, you wouldn’t recognize us. We haven’t properly met yet.” Holding up his hand, he held the musical instrument they left behind at the beach. Extending it out to them, he offered a charming smile, “I believe this is yours, is it not?”

Silently (Y/n) nodded, gulping as they hesitantly stepped forward, cautiously watching the duo that seemed amused with them. Shakily the human snatched up their kalimba--

“Baaam~!”

They flinched and jumped back, clutching the kalimba close to their chest. Stumbling back away from them until their back pressed against a stone. Frantically their eyes searched for a way out, there was only the stone rocks to hop on but those twin sea creatures could easily grab them if they chose that path. This small cave was a deadend, however, if they could somehow climb upwards until they reached the top of the waterfall, they could escape that way…

“Just kidding!” The first creature let out an unevenly-pitched laugh at their reaction, grinning as the tip of his tail poked out of the waters, “Little Shrimp is funny, look at them tremble!”

“Certainly very amusing.” The second creature hummed, eyes glimmering with mischief as he admitted. “It’s strange, isn’t it? For the longest time I believed humans were dull, but you’re not very dull, (Y/n).”

(Y/n) felt their heartbeat stop. Softly they asked, unable to stop from stuttering and tripping over their words, “H-How do you k-know m-my name…?”

“Allow us to properly introduce ourselves firstly.” The second creature placed a webbed hand to his chest and began, “I am Jade Leech. This is my twin, Floyd.”

The first creature, Floyd, grinned and folded an arm behind his head as he sang, “Hello, I’m Floyd! I’m sooo happy to see you again, Shrimpy!”

Your riddle will erase the shadow of death and we’ll live in a dream world!

“We’ve seen you many times before, years ago. Our favorite pastime was watching our beloved little human play on the beach.” Jade feigned a sad frown, as if the mere thought of it wounded him. “So I’m certain you can imagine how heartbroken we were when you stopped coming by!”

“Ooh, we were sooo sad when Shrimpy left! We wanted to play with you and swim with you!” Floyd explained eagerly, a toothy grin growing steadily with every word he said, “Now, we can talk to Shrimpy and we’ll have all the time in the world to have fun together! Hey, hey, you should play us a song like you used to!”

(Y/n) backed away slowly, shivering under the watchful gazes as they stuffed the kalimba in their satchel. Approaching the wall of the cave, their fingers gripped the moist stone surface. Slowly attempting to climb the slippery surface, careful to avoid getting too close to the twin sea creatures and cautious to avoid the water from the waterfall to avoid being drenched or pushed down.

Jade’s charming smile faltered, watching their feeble pathetic attempts to climb higher and higher to land away from their grip. “Now where do you think you’re going?”

The human paused before slowly continuing, responding carefully, “Look, I-I have to get home… T-Thank you kindly for not killing me, but I r-really have to get goin--”

Splash!

Floyd jumped out of the water, his wet and firm webbed hand gripping their ankle, weighing them down and dragging them back down to the water. “Heheh, why did you think you could win and leave~?”

Unable to flail about or fight back, two long slippery tails curled around their entire body. Every movement in resistance threatened to squeeze tighter until they wouldn’t be able to breath. They felt so small in their grip, left to stare in terror at the creature's wide toothy grins. Specks of blood staining and bits of flesh stuck between their shark-like teeth, making the human even more afraid. The duo kept (Y/n) afloat as they pleaded fearfully, “P-Please… let m-me go--”

“It’s been some time since we’ve seen you. Why not stay and keep us company? After all, we have a lot of catching up to do, my little anemone~”

“When Shrimpy is here it’s so much fun, I just can’t get enough! You won’t even think about leaving again, right, Shrimpy~?”

Think about it, think about it.

- You might like this!

[scarofthewind]

The Lone Wolf || Werewolf!Thomas x Reader

A/N: Part three out of four to the slasher boys AU, link down below! I hope you are all doing well and yes requests are open for those who would like to throw something in there! I was today years old when I realized that Thomas Hewitt has blue eyes.

Warnings: NSFW, R18+, blood, gore, biting, breeding kink, wet & messy, squirting

word count: 3.1k Tip Jar (every bit helps!)

Series Masterlist

“You should eat something now that way it’s easier during the shift.” You spoke calmly to your lover who was busy testing out the chain that lined the basement; the chains that would prevent him from hurting you. His warm eyes looked over to you and he nodded, laying the metal links on the ground and following you upstairs. You watched him eye the locks on the door, checking to make sure they were strong enough, “You’ve checked them four times since this morning.” He looked at you and sighed, you could tell he was nervous, he always was on nights with a full moon. 

“If I get out and hurt you-” He started but you shook your head and cupped his face. 

“We’ve done this a million times and nothings happened.” He leaned into your touch, a glint of worry in his deep brown eyes. “Who knows, wolf you may not even try to eat me if you happen to escape.” Patting his cheek lightly, you turned and walked to the kitchen to make something to eat. Thomas mumbled something to himself before checking to make sure he had everything ready for the night. His senses were heightened and it was hard for him to not jump clear across the room and take you against the counter; balling his hands into fists, he went outside to calm his nerves, also making sure he had the backup trap ready if he happened to get out. You watched him from the kitchen window with a sorrowful look in your eyes. Before he met you he didn’t need to do this because he didn’t care what happened to the people around him; but you were different. 

When you met, he was shifted, dark brown wavy fur and sapphire eyes staring at you intrigued by what it saw. You were a mortified lone hiker that just witnessed a group of people being torn apart by something inhuman. But there was something, some force of fate that drew you together. He never hurt you in wolf form that day and you doubted that he would ever, but you didn’t want to take the slight chance that he might. 

When you both sat down for the early dinner, it was quiet between the two of you. The nerves and impulses emitting off of him made you chew your food quietly across the table. You barely had time to put the dishes in the sink before he went to the basement and you followed knowing it was you who had to chain him down. Thomas hated making you do it but the chains being made of silver burned him a lot less if he wasn’t the one handling them. No words were spoken as he stripped out of his clothes, throwing them in a heap across the room, and sat down in the middle of the cold floor. 

“I hate this,” you said quietly, locking the chains around his feet, moving towards his hands. He cupped your face gently, giving you a knowing look. Continuing with his restraints, you cuffed his wrists and then put the last one around his neck. “This is animal abuse,” you joked and he quirked a lip at your comment, hiding a smug smile. 

Before he could open his mouth, he grimaced, grunting in pain as it ripped through him, something was off about this shift and it bothered him. Thomas quickly looked at you, “Go to the guest house.” 

You frowned, “Why? Is everything okay?” He wouldn’t look you in the eye as you asked and you bent down in front of him. His eyes were already that bright golden color you secretly loved. 

“Go, I’ll come get you in the morning. Make sure to hide your scent just inc-” He stuttered when a loud crack came from his back and he clawed at the ground in pain. “Go now!” He yelled and you jumped, pressing a quick kiss to his lips before running out of the basement. Thomas could hear you running around upstairs and then the front door slam shut as you left the house. Everything in him burned with a fire he didn’t recognize and it scared him. 

“This isn’t right,” he groaned as another spike of pain rushed through him and everything started to go black as the beast took over. He could only pray as he was closing his eyes that you would be safe.

Of course as you were in a rush to leave, you forgot to wear stuff that smelt like him. You didn’t realize your mistake until you reached the guest house, locking the door behind you and hiding in the bathroom. You could hear loud howls coming from the house and it made you shiver, knowing that he’d somehow gotten out. You tried to think of how he could’ve but the longer you thought it over the more confused you got. You’d locked every door and chained him up; the shift had happened quicker than before though and he had a look in his eyes that told you something wasn’t right. 

A howl echoed through the woods near the guest house and you held your breath, sinking down into the bathtub and turning the lights off. The sound of the front door crashing open had your heart racing in your chest. You could hear the scuffling of paws on the floor as they neared the bathroom, a sniffing sound coming from under the door followed by a low growl. Everything went quiet for a second before a large hole was scratched through the door and you scooted far away in the tub. You whimpered, hearing the beast growl, it’s eyes meeting yours from the other side of the door. That’s when your heart stopped and everything you thought you knew about what he was flew out the window. 

His eyes were blood red and glowing through the opening. The beasts mouth and snout were already covered in blood and the way it licked it’s lips you knew you were next. The window to the bathroom was already opened a smidge and before you could blink, your body moved on its own to get there. Your mind raced as you heard the door being ripped apart behind you, your feet pushing you to climb up onto the roof above you. You knew he wouldn’t fit through the window because of how big he was so you had an advantage getting up there. Just as you were about to climb fully onto the scratchy roof, a searing pain came from your leg and you tried your best to kick him off. 

Tears welled in your eyes and you pushed yourself up, getting your leg away from the beasts mouth and limping over to the chimney, sitting against it for a second to examine the wound. A sob escaped your lips as you looked at it, knowing damn well what it meant. You tried your best to stop the bleeding but the moment you put pressure on the wound you cried out in pain. You could hear him down below, tearing everything to shreds and growling loudly. You knew if you didn’t fix the wound soon you’d have more bad damage than good by morning but going down to face that monster was not something you wanted to do. 

A loud scratching came from the end of the roof behind you and you froze mortified that the creature was able to simply jump that high. There was a huff behind the chimney you were leaned against and a deep growl made the hair on your arms raise. “Thomas,” you cried, the wolf sniffing around the corner towards you. “Thomas please don’t,” you winced trying to move your leg towards you. “You’ll never forgive yourself,” you closed your eyes for a second, trying your best to calm yourself as the wolf came to stand in front of you. 

When you opened your eyes to look at the monster, you let out a sigh of relief seeing those sapphire eyes staring at you softly. There was a sense of guilt behind them and before you could open your mouth, your wounds were being treated to as the animals licked them carefully. “You didn’t recognize me,” you stated, realizing that was why it attacked. Maybe your scent wasn’t enough for the wolf to remember you; you were thankful your voice was what clicked for him. 

A soft sound of bones shifting made you look up to the man in front of you. Thomas’ eyes were wet as he faced the one thing he always feared; he’d hurt you. “I did this,” he frowned at his own words, examining your wounds and setting your leg down gently. His eyes met yours and you felt your heart ache. “I would’ve killed you, (Y/N),” he tried backing away but you grabbed him and used his sturdy body to pull yourself closer to him. 

“You didn’t realize it was me, Thomas. I’m fine,” You replied, cupping his face gently and watching his eyes flicker before settling with their natural color. 

“Don’t do that,” his voice broke, “Don’t act like this is okay, I bit you, you know damn well what that means.” He groaned, moving out of your grasp. 

“I do but I don’t care. Something was off about this shift, we both felt it but we couldn’t predict this would happen-”

“It wanted to kill you, even after smelling that it was you. What the fuck is wrong with me?” He grimaced, moving away from you. 

“Thomas stop,” you hissed when you tried to move, catching his attention for a second. “We’ll figure out what went wrong in the morning,” your heart ached when he shook his head, pulling at his roots. 

“I love you,” you cried, your heart breaking in your chest for him and the fear of him pushing you away, “Don’t force me out, I don’t know what to do without you,” Thomas whined at your words and seeing the tears fall from your eyes made him pull you against his chest, rubbing your head softly as he hugged you. “Don’t tell me to leave because I won’t.” You sniffled, gripping is shoulders tightly as he helped you stand. 

His chest rumbled with a growl at the thought of you leaving him, the possessiveness of the wolf inside him coming out. When he looked down at you and pressed his lips to yours, you could almost feel the grief inside him; you knew he’d blame himself until the end of time for hurting you. With ease, Thomas helped you back to the comfort of your home, making sure to take good care of your wound. He spent nearly an hour on it, being sure that it was clean and that it would heal nicely. When he was done wrapping it in gauze, he watched the way your eyes slowly closed, sleep starting to take over your mind. 

Shuffling you around on the couch, he laid with you pressed into his chest, not daring to turn again for the fear of his other half going rogue. 

He didn’t sleep.

***

You woke up around four in the morning, the small amount of light in the sky starting to brighten the living room. You could feel Thomas’ grip on you tighten when you moved your head up to look at him. His eyes were on yours in a second and he frowned, “Is it hurting?” He referred to your leg. Shaking your head you nuzzled his neck, breathing him in. 

“You didn’t shift again?” Your fingers danced across his bare skin, reminding yourself that he was nude. “You were stronger this time if you managed to break through all those chains and get past your traps outside,” you said quietly. 

“I didn’t recognize you, that’s not right, something had to have been off.” He replied; you could feel his heart ache. “I don’t know what to do,” he sighed, moving to sit up and rubbing his face with his hands. 

“Hey,” you sat up with him and cupped his face in your hands. “We have a month until the next turn, we will figure it out before then. Don’t worry about it,” his eyes stared into yours and he nodded, resting his forehead against yours. “Love you,” you said softly, watching his eyes crinkle as a small smile formed on his face. 

“Love you too.” Thomas pulled you closer and pressed a kiss to your lips, a familiar feeling buzzing through him at god-speed. If there was one thing you both enjoyed about his shift, it was the sex. It was hot, messy and always left you bedridden for a couple of days; the last time it got out of hand and the bed broke, much to your genuine shock. Before he could pull away, you wrapped your arms around his neck, moving to sit in his lap. Thomas’ hands went to your waist and he groaned at the feeling of you grinding down on his slowly hardening member. “You’re hurt,” he grunted against your mouth as he moved to lay you on your back, moving between your legs. 

“I’m fine, I need you, Thomas,” you moaned when his lips went to your neck, immediately finding your sensitive spot and sucking on it. Your hands ran through his dark, curly hair, tugging gently on the roots as his hips worked against yours. The feeling of his hardened member against your thigh made you shiver. You paused to sit up and rid yourself of your bottoms, eager to feel his cock deep inside you. You made sure to be careful around your leg, slipping your pants and underwear off and letting them fall to the floor. 

Thomas made quick work of your shirt and bra, leaving your breasts open for him to fondle. Your nipple hardened against his touch and he brought one into his mouth, lightly nipping at it. The feeling of your bare cunt dragging across his cock made you moan lightly, your juices already spreading along his shaft. The side of your neck where he’d bit you to show that you were bonded to him for life, slowly burned with a feverish desire. Thomas’ hands left your chest, moving between your lower halves and tapping your thigh for you to sit up for a second. His hand gripped the base of his cock, directing the tip to your entrance before you sunk down on him. Your legs shook by the time you were fully seated on it, he was far deeper than you were used to and the feeling made your head buzz. 

Any other time of the month, Thomas was usually quiet when having sex. However, the minute his shift appears, he’s much louder. Possessive growls and rougher grips on your body, make it that much easier for your pussy to spasm around his cock multiple times. A sharp buck of his hips made you grip onto him quickly, rolling your hips in time with his movements. Tilting your chin up, Thomas pressed his lips against yours, swallowing your cries of pleasure as he moved faster, pushing you down on your back before leaning over you and thrusting like a mad man. 

His mouth never left your skin, littering it with bruises and small bite marks that you knew would heal over time. When he moved to your neck, his teeth grazed the bite mark that bonded you, the scars were pale against your skin. His tongue laved over them, easing your mind before his teeth pressed into the wound. You winced, a small whine escaped your lips but the way your cunt tightened around his cock gave him the okay to keep going. Sinking his teeth in further to re-puncture the old scar, he fucked you deeper, moving your legs around to hit that one spot inside you that had you seeing stars. 

The obscene amount of noise that was coming from your lower half made you flush, your juices running down the curve of your legs and ass, onto the couch below. A low growl came from the man as he removed his teeth from your mark, licking the blood off his lips and your skin before hiking your legs up to the one position that really made your pussy drench his cock. Your knees were practically by your ears as Thomas split your open, his cock thrusting into you at a steady but rough pace. “Cum inside me please,” you begged, looking up at him through watery lashes, the pleasure making everything intense. “I want your children, Thomas. Please, cum inside me,” you whimpered when he groaned deeply, his cock twitching inside you. 

The simply thought of you being pregnant with his children made his heart flutter. His eyes focused on the way your pussy was creaming around his cock and the sight of his member bulging your stomach every time he moved. With rough fingers, he moved his hand to your clit, rubbing tight little circles around the hardened bud and watching you squirm. 

It didn’t take long before the white hot pleasure of euphoria shook through you, your body convulsing for a second as he fucked you through your first orgasm of the night. “That’s my girl, can you cum again for me?” His voice made you shiver and you nodded as your thighs shook. He leaned his weight down a bit more and you knew exactly what he was trying to do the minute he did that. 

“It’s going to make a mess,” you warned, looking at him as he smirked cheekily. “You’re cleaning the couch then,” you moaned as a particularly hard thrust made your cervix throb in pain. The way Thomas’ voice grew louder made it a sign to you that he was close and you wanted nothing more than for him to pump you full. Pressing his mouth to yours, he growled at the feeling of your gummy walls sucking him in. He moved his fingers back to your clit and worked his magic, leaving you a trembling mess as he brought you close to the edge again. 

“You ready, pretty girl?” He asked, watching you nod before he rubbed your clit harshly, your walls tightening around him to the point where he was cumming within seconds. The feeling of his cock being drenched by your quivering little hole made him pull back for a second and watch as you squirted around him. Thomas let out a groan as he let out everything he had, watching your stomach bulge slightly before he let you move your legs down. 

“I hope this time it works,” you panted, referring to the cum sticking to your inside walls. Thomas chuckled, pressing open mouth kisses along your face before connecting his lips with yours. “I love you, Thomas.” You said gently, looking up into the deep blue eyes you adored so much. 

“I love you too,” He replied, kissing you once more.