#and the only spaces that don’t shout-out men’s struggles

[beloveds-embrace]

Can we get that dark version of graves 💀. Sorry no hate to him but I like how this men operates lowkey like mafia in the dukedom au. Also is Konig still her personal guard in the regular au?

In the regular au, no, I don’t have König for her in there lol fyi i wrote this while spaced out during a lecture im sorry if it sounds rushed lol 😭

Referenced post

As for Graves: god, he is so smug. So, so smug, arrogance and pride growing each second he spends with you and over you. It shows in his gait when he walks, when he begins lording over the other servants and staff, when he begins latching to you, joining you on your free time when he checks beforehand that no one else is there with you. All of this even before you tell John your request.

After you do, and after you insist you really do want Graves, he becomes almost like a blown up balloon. He wants to monopolize all your time, all your interactions, and why would you say no when he gives you the love and affection you long for?

You don’t say no; but the same can’t be said for them.

It doesn’t matter if Graves truly loves you back. It doesn’t matter if he doesn’t love you and only wants to desperately hold on to his one chance of rising in society. Nothing about Graves really matters to them except how to break his connection to you.

Graves thinks that the reason the rest of the staff slowly begin to distance themselves from him, ill-mannered towards him in general, is out of jealousy due to his closeness to you. He thinks that the reason John adds more stable hands is because you want to have others help him and who he can lord over. He thinks the reason bland and spoiled food he gets is because the cook is jealous of him, as well. Who wouldn’t be, knowing it’s only him who has your affection?

He thinks everything is done for him, due to you. It makes him latch all the more to you, and you love it even if you sometimes look confused by it.

When you send him a letter, askinh to meet him privately late at night in the woods behind the duchy, it’s the first time he’s considered saying no to you. But as it is, Graves thinks you are a spoiled thing, born with a silver spoon, and he doesn’t want to spoil his standing with you. The woods behind the duchy are a bit… unconventional. He’s heard rumors of servants sometimes dying in there, a long time ago, but there was no solid evidence of it ever.

Whatever it is, he can deal with it. His confidence builds when Kyle greets him formally, a little smile on his lips compared to the previous days. The food he’s presented with is delicious and warm, and Duke Riley even gives him a nod when passing by him. He gets called into John’s office to talk about a payrise, as well.

Everything’s well. Going into the woods, therefore, shouldn’t be a problem.

It shouldn’t have been a problem.

Stumbling through the dark woods in question, cradling his bleeding leg, Graves begins to realize that he’s made a horrific misjudgment.

Why would you, of all people, want to meet here? You, soft and delicate? You, who has never known what it feels like to have a single scratch on your body?

This place isn’t meant for you. You wouldn’t even consider this place.

You didn’t send him that letter.

And Graves is realizing it just now.

He lets out another pained shout when his foot catches onto a bear trap, falling forward. Hands and knees scratched, blood pooling under him, and covered with the dark canopy of the night sky with nothing to guide him except the dim light of the stars, Graves has never felt more hopeless.

The snapping of dead twigs and leaves, loud in the suffocating silence of the woods, makes his twist his neck to see-

Beasts. Snarling, deep dark beasts, gaping maws and rows of twisted, sharp teeth. They laugh and bark, snapping at him and there is nothing he can do to struggle back because the damned trap is still holding him down.

Behind those beasts, there is a figure. The eyes that peer at him in hatred are familiar, but Graves cannot recall their owner at this moment. Tall, blond hair, at the manor ever so often-

“You should not have touched what doesn’t belong to you, Graves.”

He is not granted enough time to think about how familiar the voice is.

And so, on a dark January night, Philip Graves disappears.

“Still no sign?” You ask, twisting your handkerchief between your hands again. Your days have been hard, lately, and grow harder the longer your lover remains missing. Though you aren’t even sure if he is truly missing. If he was, then how come the rest of the servants all said that they couldn’t find any of his personal belongings?

He had seemed so happy with you… you don’t understand.

“I’m afraid not,” Simon tells you softly, coming to stand beside you. He holds a hand out for you, and despite knowing it wouldn’t be proper, you do not stop him from drawing you into a hug. “The dogs didn’t find any traces of him, either.”

Your eyes move over to the two dogs curled on their respective pillows, one napping and the other chewing on a bone. You loved them; they were all over you the second Simon had brought them to you, rolling over to get stomach rubs from you. They provided a temporary retrieve from your dark and depressing thoughts, just simply holding them making you feel better.

“They are good hunters.” Simon had told you, his knuckles gently wiping away your tears. “If he is anywhere lost nearby, they will find him.”

But now, there wasn’t a trace of him. You hated to admit it, but perhaps Philip’s leave might have been his own choice…

“Do not cry.” Simon whispers softly when he hears you sniffling, arms warm around you. You melt against him, just clinging to this comfort. “John will still search, but you still have all of us to help you get through this, sweetheart.”

Get through this, and get over Graves. The rest of the staff all agreed that he wasn’t good for you, anyways, and the dogs had their fun.

And Simon now gets to hold and comfort you, after he’s already had quality time with the rest of his beloveds.

Your tears will dry, eventually, and your heart will open up again.

[seriesxwriting]

Hi! I have an idea, maybe you'll like it. The reader was born in the 19th century. She was from a rich family. She loved Damon. Her father made an agreement with Giuseppe and you were remembered as representatives of rich families. Damon couldn't go against his father, but he immediately had a negative attitude towards her because of that marriage was settled without his opinion. Her task was only to give birth to a child. When Catherine appears, she does not want to see an obstacle in the form of a legitimate wife. Emily casts a spell that everyone thinks the Reader is dead. She is laid in the family crypt. After 150 years, when Emily destroys the horcrux in Bonnie's body, the reader wakes up. Surprisingly, she is pregnant. But the Reader is offended by Damon. He ruined her life. And she's determined to keep Damon away from her child. She also tries to fit into the modern world. There's really one problem… gradually Damon realizes that he loves the writer, and Catherine and Elena were an obsession. Will he be able to get his wife back

Thank you for this request, I hope I displayed it how you envisioned it!

Second chances

Pairing: Damon Salvatore X female reader

Series: The vampire diaries

Summary: Request! You’re Damon’s Fiance from before he turned and you wake up from a curse finding yourself in a modern world while pregnant with Damon’s child. But distracted by Katherine, Damon was horrible to you before. Can you forgive him? Has he changed?

Warnings: Pregnancy? Swearing.

Second chances- The second (Number two)

My eyes opened to darkness. My first thought wasn't where I was, my first thought was what just happened. I blinked a couple times, trying to clear my brain of the fog, of the discombobulation. I heard distant moving behind my head which created this new thought. where was I, and how did I get out. I began trying to move but I didn't have much space, nor did I have much air. I struggled some more and began making grunting noises of distress before the shouting began. 'HELP" "GET ME OUT OF HERE".

A moment or two later I heard voices nearer to me. I stopped banging and tried to listen to them, to find out if they were friend or foe. "Hello?" one of them called out. "Where are you?" another voice asked. looking at my options I had no choice but to ask them for help, even if they were foe.

"In here" I cried out banging on what seamed to be stone. "It took a second but eventually I felt myself moving backwards and then the bright light attacked my face. I looked up at the three girls standing above me. They looked at each other then back down at me. "W-who are you" I asked looking at their clothes. Id never seen anything like it before. Women in mens clothes? trousers?.

"We're... um well i'm Bonnie and this is Caroline and Elena" one of the girls answered. "Why do you dress yourself in mens clothes and speak improper" I questioned shaking my head, trying to understand what is going on. “Um?” Elena threw me a weird look and the girls looked me up and down. “What are you guys doing?” A man’s voice appeared from outside.

“I’d know that voice anywhere” my eyes batted pulling my self out of the box in an act to escape. But it was too late. There behind the girls stood Damon Salvatore and his younger brother. “Y-y/n?” He stuttered looking at me like I was an alien. “It can’t be- you’re dead?” Stefan shook his head taking a step closer. “What in earths name is going on, I don’t like this game boys?” I folded my arms putting my head up. “You know her?” Bonnie raised an eyebrow. “T-that’s my fiance- from before I changed” Damon stated still obviously in shock.

“Your father wouldn’t be happy to hear you speak so improper and hang out with such obscure company” I frowned at him before looking around at my surroundings. “Gosh- everything looks so- different” I blinked realising something was wrong. “Y/n- it’s been over 100 years since you were out of that box- we thought you were dead but- you must have been turned too” Damon told me softly. My head whipped round to him, my eyes blazing with fire.

“You know Damon I once loved you- and after all the love I gave to you, you still treat me so uncouth” I scoffed putting my hands on my hip. “Y/n- Damon and I aren’t playing any games- it really has been over 100 years” Stefan told me, all their faces had a wipe of sympathy across them, and I hated it. “Nonsense- I have had enough- I shall tell my father I no longer want to be wed with you” I folded my arms and pushed past the girls but as I did my eye caught onto something. My father’s name was written on the tombstone next to me.

I stopped and stared at it thinking about nothing else but the words “it’s been over 100 years”. I turned to the boys with tears in my eyes. “Why does my father and my mother’s names lie on these tombstones in our family crypt” I asked almost in tears at the thought of them cold, dead in a box. “You know why Y/n” Damon took a step towards me and I took one back. “Those stories- about that girl being a vampire- the one you loved Katherine- they- they were true?”. No one answered me for a minute- they all looked around at one another.

“They must have been so- how else would you live all these years- and myself? Am I truly one of those beasts?” I asked them desperately, feeling the tears roll down my face. “No- you’re not- or you would have needed blood to wake up- I think my ancestor Emily put a spell on you- if you were due to marry Damon and Emily worked for Katherine I’m sure she would have had something to do with it” Bonnie folded her arms looking at Damon pissed off. “Y/n I’m really sorry- for how I treated you- for what happened- come back to my house we will get you cleaned up and catch you up” Damon put his hand out to me.

“You did not answer me” I shook my head at his hand. “Yes” he replied. That’s all he said. That’s all I’d had to go off. A whole new world and my only friend was my horrid Fiance who didn’t love me. but I suppose I had no choice. “I shan’t hold your hand but I will follow behind” I nodded with not hint of a smile. It was all too much for me. I wasn’t sure if I’d get on in this world- awful use of the English language, girls who dress like men?

As we left I kept my questions inside- though I had many. They helped me into what they called a Morden day car, and Damon drove me all the way to his house. Though there was all this new stuff stepping into his house was like a breath of fresh air. A lot of the decor looked as if it was made in my day. It felt familiar. They took me upstairs to what was a Morden day shower and Elena left me out some Morden day clothes. She made sure she gave me a dress and I told her I shan’t be wearing male attire.

And then Damon met me in the room. He took a seat on the bed and patted for me to sit down. “This is all rather a lot Damon” I sighed sitting down, crossing my legs properly. “How can I live in a world without my Father- I have not married” “women- don’t need to marry anymore- women can live on their own now” he shrugged with a little smile. “Women can work, drive, smoke- vote- women are independent now”. I swallowed finding what he said hard to believe. “But- I have nothing left” “I’m here” he told me reaching for my hand.

“And im so so sorry for how i treated you before- you don’t deserve that you didn’t- i was distracted by Katherine” he explained to me while tucking some hair behind my head. “You never loved me Damon- you loved her- we cannot be married, my father would not want me to marry you after hearing how you treated me- the things you said to me and did to me” I shook my head taking my hand from his. “I am present for you to explain how this disaster happened- and where I go now- what I do in this morden world- after that I wish never to see you again” I told him boldly.

Damon shook his head almost pouting at me. “Y/n you can’t mean that- i will apologise every day if you’ll let me please just don’t go- when I thought you were dead the guilt ate away at me so much until I turned my switch off- i couldn’t live knowing I could have had that life with you and I threw it away- but I’ve been given a second chance to fix it to make it up to you”. I suppressed an eye roll for his idiocy. “But I do not and can not love you anymore Damon” I folded my arms looking him dead in the eye.

I wish I felt a little more remorse because his heart looked like it was breaking. But I didn’t, he put me through a lot worse. "But where will you go Y/n? you have no money no family- you're human". That was true, and I felt my heart drop when I realised he was right. "You must tell me- it is your fault I am in this god forsaken position" I expressed as anger bubbled upside of me.

"I know- i'm so sorry- we could have just lived the normal human life- had children together... what I would do to go back" Damon looks away from me, I wasn't sure if he was hiding tears or just couldn't look me in the eye. "But we cannot" I answered bluntly after giving it a second. In that moment my stomach became incredibly sore, I wrapped my arms around it and breathed out to try and stabilise it once more. "Y/n?" Damon called out gently putting his hand on my arm. "Are you okay?" he moved closer as I let out a wince from the pain.

"I am- it is merely a stomach cramp I am sure" i breathed out trying to suppress the pain. But it wasn't working. "We should take you to a doctor, you were in that tomb a long time" he suggested taking a stand. "No- I would not like to waste a good physicians time" I shook my head adimant I wasn't going to go. "Come on Y/N, I want to make sure you're alright". I looked up at him, he was worried, it was written all over his face. But how could I be sure it wasn't all a game- the Salvatore boys liked games. I wouldn't be tricked by Damon.

"Okay- if we must" I nodded weakly and tried to stand, Damon supported me wrapping an arm around my waist and the other held my left hand. "This is the longest stomach cramp I have ever endured" I stated as we left his room. Damon told the others where we were going and insisted he didn't need any of there help, he then proceeded to help me into the car. I didn't know lots about this Morden day vehicle, but the pain I was in made me glad it went faster than a horse.

We arrived at the hospital and Damon once again helped me out the car. He used what he called 'vamp speed' to get round to me quicker than I could even blink. But that just made me even more weary of him. What other powers did he posses, what could he do to me? We rushed into the hospital and it was there I saw exactly what he was capable of. He compelled the doctor to give all his attention to me. I was rushed into a room and had scans done on my stomach. The doctor left to get my results, filling the room with awkwardness. I didn't want Damon in here to hear what was wrong with me.

But he was adamant he had to take care of me. "What was it like? waking up in there?" Damon asked me softly, as if he didn't want to offend me. I turned my head to him and blinked just staring for a second, maybe two. "Like I had just woken up from a sleep- but I did not realise how long it had been" I sharply put turning my attention away from him again. "Is there anything I can do to make up for what I did?". "Do you understand how absurd you sound- not only did you abuse me- physically and mentally- committed adultery, you got me stuck in another time, I missed my friends growing up, my parents will never watch me become wedded, and I have to fit into a world I was never supposed to be in".

Damon took a deep sigh in, he knew I was right. "God- what is wrong with me- I suppressed all the guilt for so long, I really mean it when I tell you i'm feeling it" he told me talking in a soft sympathetic voice. "Perhaps I believe you, but that does not change the past- or how I feel towards you" I told him harshly, I saw from the corner of my eye that he opened his mouth but in that second the doctor walked into the room. "I have good news" he smiled clutching his papers to his chest. "And- not so good news" he took a seat next to me and smiled.

"The not so good news is you are very malnourished my dear, it looks as if you haven't had a meal in 100 years" he chuckled trying to make a joke, but I looked at Damon gritting my teeth pissed off with him. "Well what's the good news?" Damon asked so that id stop looking at him. "The baby seems to be perfectly healthy, you just need to have a few large meals, gain some weight otherwise when you come to giving birth or even being heavily pregnant, complications will be serious".

"What- what are you talking about? what baby?" Damon questioned sitting on the edge of his seat. "D-did you not know you were pregnant?" he looked to me over the top of his glasses. "I- I did not" I muttered feeling my arms cross over my stomach protectively. "Thank you- doctor" I blinked staring at my arms. "Good luck with everything" he smiled sweetly before getting up and leaving.

I didn’t move. Not my body, not my mouth. “I-is it mine?” Damon asked me eventually. “Of course it is” I snapped at him throwing my legs off the bed and facing him. “Just because you commuted adultery does not mean I did too” I frowned at him angrily. “No I know- I just- I dunno it was a stupid question I just needed to say something” he admitted, but he didn’t have the same reaction as me. I saw a little smile forming on his face. “How is this funny” I asked through gritted teeth.

“Y/n I’m not laughing” he sighed rolling his head onto his shoulder and presenting a bigger smile now. “I’m happy- you know I’m - technically I’m dead I thought I was never going to procreate- I- this is a miracle”. Excitement definitely danced in his eyes, it was obvious- spread across his face and it was starting to flow through his body. His fingers were fidgeting now. “Y/n I am going to show you I’ve changed- we’re going to have a family together and I will never- ever let anyone hurt you or our child” he told me getting up and holding my hands in his. “I promise”.

“That is a ambitious promise Damon- considered you are the only one who has hurt me before” I told him standing up now. His body was close to mine, we were almost touching. I had forgotten how tall Damon was compared to me, he towered over me. But all I felt was fear. “How can I move past what has happened when you frighten me?” I whispered looking into his deep blue eyes. “You give me a second chance- you have to Y/n I’ve changed, please that’s all I ask of you” he begged me with those eyes of his. Those eyes that he could bat and get anything he wanted. By almost everyone.

“I simply cannot answer yet- it seems this new world allows women to have some power, maybe I must take that into consideration” my arms folded across my chest. My feelings were more than conflicted. “Of course, you can take all the time you need, I’ll take you home” he replied, the happiness had been almost ripped away from him, he only showed desperation now. Damon put a hand on my back as we walked back out towards the car. The journey home was silent, I watched the roads to see how mystic falls had changed.

And oh it had changed.

I went back into the house leaving Damon trailing behind me. “You can go back to the room if you feel like you want to be alone- I’ll get you some food you must eat” he told me. I didn’t turn around or say anything to him. Just climbed the stairs heading back up to the room. Damon walked into the living room where Stefan was sitting with Caroline, Bonnie and Elena. “Hey” Elena smiled, happy he had just walked in. “How’d it go?” Stefan raised an eyebrow. “Um- I’m gonna have a kid Stefan” the older brother looked him in the eyes from across the room.

“She’s? No? Really?” Stefan stuttered, eyes wide and jaw hanging open. “She’s pregnant” Elena spat out, her face covered in envy. “Yeah” Damon cracked a smile as he nodded his head. “I’m gonna be an uncle?” Stefan joined him standing up. Damon continued to nod and he let out a small laugh. His brother walked round the sofas to embrace him. “Congratulations brother” he whispered in his ear. “So what you’re going to start a family with her now?” Elena jerked her head back making Damon look back at her.

“Yeah, that’s exactly what I’m going to do- once she forgives me” he scratched the back of his head. “But what about us?” Elena blinked folding her arms tightly. “There is no us Elena- we broke up got together broke up again- we were toxic” “we were working on things” she interrupted sitting forwards now. “Not anymore, my Fiance is upstairs, the mother of my child- you where exactly what Katherine was, a distraction” he told her and with that he walked away from the conversation and into the kitchen to make some food.

About ten minutes later Stefan camp ran into the room, Damon turned to him with a confused look. “Why do you look so concerned” he tutted going back to what he was doing. “Damon- you need to go upstairs” he told him sternly. “I’m about to, just need to finish this sandwich” he murmured not paying much attention to his brother. “Damon, now” Stefan warned him, “it’s about Y/n” “is she okay?” Damon turned round fiercely, paying more attention now. “She’s gone”. Damon’s eyes blinked a couple times and he dropped the knife running off in a flash.

Stefan wasn’t far behind him. “I came to congratulate her and I found this note” Stefan sighed pointing at the bed. Damon couldn’t find any words, he wondered over to the bed and picked it up.

𝒟ℯ𝒶𝓇 𝒟𝒶𝓂ℴ𝓃，

ℐ 𝓀𝓃ℴ𝓌 𝓎ℴ𝓊 𝒶𝓇ℯ 𝓈ℴ𝓇𝓇𝓎 𝒶𝒷ℴ𝓊𝓉 𝓉𝒽ℯ 𝓅𝒶𝓈𝓉， 𝒾 𝒶𝓂 𝓉ℴℴ． 𝒲ℯ 𝒸ℴ𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝒽𝒶𝓋ℯ 𝒷ℯℯ𝓃 𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓅𝓎 𝓉ℴ𝑔ℯ𝓉𝒽ℯ𝓇 𝒾𝒻 𝓎ℴ𝓊 𝒽𝒶𝒹 𝒿𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝓁ℴ𝓋ℯ𝒹 𝓂ℯ 𝓉𝒽ℯ𝓃．ℐ 𝒹ℴ 𝓃ℴ𝓉 𝒻ℯℯ𝓁 𝓁��𝓀ℯ 𝒾 𝒷ℯ𝓁ℴ𝓃𝑔 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓌ℴ𝓇𝓁𝒹 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒾 𝓌ℴ𝓇𝓇𝓎 𝒶𝒷ℴ𝓊𝓉 𝓇𝒶𝒾𝓈𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒶 𝒸𝒽𝒾𝓁𝒹 𝒾𝓃 𝒾𝓉．𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒽ℯ𝓇ℯ𝒻ℴ𝓇ℯ 𝒾 𝒸𝒶𝓃𝓃ℴ𝓉 𝑔𝒾𝓋ℯ 𝓎ℴ𝓊 𝒶𝓃 𝒶𝓃𝓈𝓌ℯ𝓇 𝓊𝓃𝓉𝒾𝓁 𝒾 𝒻𝒾𝑔𝓊𝓇ℯ ℴ𝓊𝓉 𝓌𝒽ℴ 𝒾 𝒶𝓂 𝓃ℴ𝓌． ℐ𝒻 𝓎ℴ𝓊 𝓃ℯ𝓋ℯ𝓇 𝓈ℯℯ 𝓂ℯ 𝒶𝑔𝒶𝒾𝓃， 𝓎ℴ𝓊 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝒽𝒶𝓋ℯ 𝓎ℴ𝓊𝓇 𝒶𝓃𝓈𝓌ℯ𝓇，𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝒾𝒻 𝒾 𝒸ℴ𝓂ℯ 𝒷𝒶𝒸𝓀 𝓉𝒽ℯ𝓃 𝒾 𝒽𝒶𝓋ℯ 𝒸𝒽ℴ𝓈ℯ𝓃 𝓉ℴ 𝒻ℴ𝓇𝑔𝒾𝓋ℯ 𝓎ℴ𝓊． ℐ 𝒶𝓂 𝓈ℴ𝓇𝓇𝓎 𝒾𝓉 𝒽𝒶𝓈 𝓉ℴ 𝒷ℯ 𝓁𝒾𝓀ℯ 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈，𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝒾𝒻 𝓎ℴ𝓊 𝒽𝒶𝓋ℯ 𝓃ℴ𝓉 𝒸𝒽𝒶𝓃𝑔ℯ𝒹 𝒾 𝒸𝒶𝓃𝓃ℴ𝓉 𝒷𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒶 𝒸𝒽𝒾𝓁𝒹 𝓊𝓅 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓎ℴu, 𝒶𝓈 𝒶 𝓂ℴ𝓉𝒽ℯ𝓇 𝒾 𝓃ℯℯ𝒹 𝓉ℴ 𝓅𝓇ℴ𝓉ℯ𝒸𝓉 𝓉𝒽ℯ𝓂， ℯ𝓋ℯ𝓃 𝒾𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓂ℯ𝒶𝓃𝓈 𝓀ℯℯ𝓅𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝒽ℯ𝓂 𝒶𝓌𝒶𝓎 𝒻𝓇ℴ𝓂 𝓎ℴ𝓊．

𝒲𝒽ℴ 𝓀𝓃ℴ𝓌𝓈，𝒾 𝓂𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝓈ℯℯ 𝓎ℴ𝓊 𝓈ℴℴ𝓃．

ℒℴ𝓋ℯ 𝒴／𝓃

“Well fuck…”.

Damon Salvatore masterlist

The vampire diaries masterlist

All series masterlist

Masterlist of masterlists

[rose24207]

Could I request mafia Lando that doesn’t get along with the reader’s cat? I think that would be quite funny. Maybe whenever he comes close to the reader the cat scratches/hisses at him(when they cuddle, kiss or when he comes up from behind the reader)? One day lando does something (you can decide what that will be) which warms up the cat towards him?🪐

Bribary

Summary: Lando Norris, a notorious mafia figure, struggles to get along with his girlfriend's cat, Milo, who constantly hisses and scratches at him, until Lando decides to win him over with a little bribery, resulting in an unexpected truce.

Genre: Mafia!Lando, fluff, humor

TW: None!

A/N: cute idea!! English is not my first language. I hope you enjoy it though! Requests are open and welcome!

Masterlist

Lando Norris had dealt with countless dangerous men in his line of work. He’d negotiated under pressure, stared down rivals, and even survived a few close calls. But nothing had prepared him for the sheer animosity of your cat, Milo.

The first time Lando met Milo, the fluffy gray cat had taken one look at him, arched his back, and hissed so aggressively that Lando had stumbled back in surprise. You’d laughed, dismissing it as Milo’s typical reaction to strangers.

“He’ll warm up to you eventually,” you’d promised.

But weeks had passed, and Milo’s disdain for Lando had only grown.

Milo made it clear that Lando wasn’t welcome in your shared space. Whenever Lando got close to you, whether it was cuddling on the couch or leaning in for a kiss, Milo was there, hissing or swiping at him with tiny but sharp claws.

One evening, as you and Lando sat on the sofa watching a movie, Milo jumped up onto the armrest and glared at him with narrowed eyes.

“Don’t even think about it, furball,” Lando muttered, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

Milo’s tail swished ominously. The moment Lando leaned in to kiss you, the cat launched itself onto his lap, claws out.

“Bloody hell!” Lando yelped, jumping up and almost knocking over the popcorn. Milo hopped back onto the couch, looking utterly pleased with himself.

You tried—and failed—to hide your laughter. “I think he’s just jealous.”

“Jealous?!” Lando exclaimed, rubbing his leg. “That thing is plotting my demise. I’ve dealt with less hostile enemies!”

Things escalated one morning when Lando snuck up behind you in the kitchen, wrapping his arms around your waist. Milo, who had been lounging on the counter, immediately leapt into action.

“Milo, no!” you shouted as the cat swiped at Lando’s arm, leaving a faint red scratch.

Lando groaned, stepping back and glaring at the feline. “That’s it. Either he goes, or I do.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You’re seriously jealous of a cat?”

“I’m not jealous,” he retorted. “I just don’t want to lose a limb every time I come near you.”

You sighed, scooping Milo up and giving him a stern look. “Milo, be nice. Lando’s not going anywhere.”

The cat meowed innocently, as if he wasn’t the mastermind of chaos.

One night, Lando decided to make peace with his furry nemesis. He showed up at your apartment with a small bag of cat treats and a brand-new scratching post.

“Bribery?” you teased as he set the gifts down in front of Milo.

“If it works in negotiations, it’ll work here,” he muttered.

Milo eyed the scratching post suspiciously, then sniffed at the treats Lando offered. For a tense moment, it seemed like the cat was going to reject the gesture entirely.

But then Milo tentatively licked a treat from Lando’s hand.

Lando froze, looking almost comically triumphant. “He took it!”

You smiled, leaning against the doorway. “See? He’s not so bad.”

Over the next few days, Milo’s attitude shifted. He still glared at Lando occasionally, but the hissing and scratching stopped. By the end of the week, you walked into the living room to find Milo curled up on Lando’s lap as he worked on his laptop.

When Lando noticed you, he smirked. “Told you I’d win him over.”

“Looks like you’ve got a new ally,” you said with a grin, sitting down beside them.

“Yeah, well,” Lando replied, scratching Milo behind the ears. “Even the toughest negotiators can’t resist me.”

And for once, Milo didn’t hiss in protest.

Thank you for reading!

[smilesrobotlover]

Talon has never been afraid of things that people were typically afraid of. He never understood the fear surrounding spiders—he only found them to be pests that needed to be put outside where they belonged, and he even found some of them cute. Talon never found water frightening, the dark was no issue to him, and he found tighter spaces more cozy than anything. He was scared of monsters, but that felt more like a valid fear since they could actually kill him. But everything else he never understood the fear others had. That is, until he was swept into a different world surrounded by men looking for their respective heroes of Hyrule. Talon discovered that he was terrified of heights. He’s never had to climb anything high up—back then he would have his wife reach high places for him. Now either Malon or Ingo took care of those problems for him since they were both taller than him. But being on this adventure, he had to face heights more times than he’d like, and every time he faced them, his legs would turn into mush and he’d struggle to stand on his own. He always tried to hide it since he already felt like a burden to the other men, but he couldn’t. It was all getting worse when the men found themselves in the mountains, inching closer to cliff-sides that made Talon dizzy. Rusl picked up on Talon’s nervousness and he rested his hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t like heights?”

Talon gave him a look and let out a shaky breath. “Y-you could say that.”

Rusl smiled. “It’ll be ok, we’ll take care of you. And besides, we have Kass here in case we fall!”

The blacksmith gestured to their feathered friend who was chatting with Benji, but it didn’t make Talon feel any better. He didn’t want to put any responsibility on Kass, and he definitely didn’t want to fall in the first place. As the men walked, Talon couldn’t help but notice the cliffside getting closer to them, and he felt himself pressing up against the rocky wall more and more the closer it got. The path turned rocky and rough, and the edge was inches away from his feet. Talon turned away from the cliff, hugging the wall as he shuffled forward. This slowed him down, and the others were far ahead of him, not seeming to care that one wrong step could send them to their death. But Talon didn’t care; he didn’t bother to call for them. He was just focused on his breathing and shuffling along the wall.

“Talon.”

The farmer flinched and looked to his side where Leon was standing, watching him worriedly. “S-sorry,” Talon apologized, and Leon waved it away.

“It’s alright, we just don’t want to accidentally leave you behind. Here,” Leon offered his arm for Talon to grab onto, “you can hang onto me, but the sooner we’re off this path the better.”

Talon let out a breath and complied, not caring that it was childish to do so. Leon walked slowly, yet with confidence as Talon stumbled along. It wasn’t like the first knight to slow down for him, but Talon was grateful for it. He peeked over Leon’s shoulder to spot the others already on the other side, with Rusl watching them anxiously.

“We’re almost there,” Leon assured, and Talon nodded.

“I’m so sorry about this—“ Talon started, but Leon stopped him.

“We all have fears, it’s normal. But that’s why we have each other. We don’t have to face them alone.”

Talon smiled at Leon and they pressed onward. He didn’t know how long they were going for, but it felt like forever. But Leon still held onto him as they walked, so he continued. Sudden shouting from the others made him and Leon pause.

“What’s going on?” He heard Leon yell, but he wasn’t able to hear a response before the sound of crumbling rocks was heard. Leon gasped and he spun around, covering Talon as small rocks and dirt fell on their head. Talon felt his stomach lurch as the mountain shook, and a loud crash was heard in front of them. Leon let go of him and he cursed under his breath. Talon opened his eyes only to see the path in front of them destroyed, and the others hidden by boulders.

“Oh goddesses,” he mumbled, and Leon cupped both hands around his mouth.

“RUSL! AMMON!” He shouted, and it was silent until the two heard a faint shout back. Talon let out a sigh of relief, but was returned to his own predicament. “Well, they’re alive,” Leon muttered, turning to him.

“W-what are we gonna do? The way forward is-is broken!” Talon cried, gesturing to the broken path. Leon hummed and walked towards the edge, then he gave Talon an apologetic look.

“It’s not a far jump…”

Talon’s eyes widened.

“No.”

Leon walked towards him, his hands up defensively. “Talon, that's the only way we can reunite with the others.”

Talon shook his head, but the mountain began shaking again, and another loud crash came behind them. To his horror, the other side was destroyed, and there was shouting from his friends again, this time with the clang of metal. They were being attacked.

Leon grabbed his arm and started to pull him towards the edge. Talon pulled back, stopping him in his tracks.

“Talon, we need to go. Now!”

“B-but—but we—“

“I know you’re scared, but we must get to the others or else we’ll be crushed by rocks!” Leon turned to the gap and ran towards it, jumping towards the other side. It didn’t seem to take much effort for him, but it didn’t make Talon feel much better. “Talon please!” Leon tried again, his hand extended. “It’s going to be ok, we’re close to the end!”

Talon swallowed hard, his heart threatening to beat out of his chest. He had to be brave—just this once.

The farmer started to slowly move towards the edge, his legs shaking uncontrollably as he shuffled. Parts of the cliffside began to give way, and it nearly made Talon fall to his knees, but with Leon pleading for him to hurry, he continued to move forward. He reached the cliff edge and he felt himself grow nauseous as he glanced over the edge. That was a mistake.

“Come on, Talon!” Leon pressed, his hand extended. Talon paused for a moment before letting out a breath.

“J-just give me a moment—“

“You don’t have a moment! Don’t think about the cliff, just jump!”

Talon swallowed again, his whole body shaking now. He shuffled closer and closer to the edge, feeling weaker each step he took. Leon was clearly growing impatient, but he gave Talon a confident look. He could do this. He had to.

“Run and jump, Talon,” Leon said, waving his arm towards him, and the farmer nodded. He just had to trust himself. Talon took a small step back and took a deep breath, then ran to the cliffside. But as his foot hit the edge, the ground beneath him crumbled, and he yelped as he began to slide over the edge. Talon’s hands were waving wildly, and he miraculously was able to grab onto something, stopping his fall.

“TALON!” The farmer looked up to see Leon reaching out for him, a more desperate look in his eyes. “Grab on!”

Talon was growing hysterical as the only thing stopping him from plunging to his death was his grip on the rocks embedded into the rocky wall. He squeezed his eyes shut, not trusting his strength to grab onto Leon.

“Talon please!”

The farmer looked up at Leon.

“It’s going to be ok,” the first knight assured, inching closer to him. “I won’t let go, just trust yourself, and trust me.”

Talon swallowed again, and he nodded. Using all the strength he had, he began to reach for Leon. Their hands were inches away from each other, and with one last effort, Talon swung himself, and their hands clasped together. Talon smiled relieved, as did Leon.

“It’s going to be ok,” he said again, starting to pull. But Talon heard something, an arrow shooting through the air, and Leon let out a pained yell as it was buried into his back. A sudden electric shock went through both of them, and Talon yelped as he lost all strength in his grip, and he let go of Leon’s limp hand. He could do nothing but watch as Leon and the path grew smaller and smaller as he plunged to the world below.

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

Talon awoke with a jolt. He instinctively started to feel himself, checking for injuries, but he found none. He let out a loud sigh of relief, rubbing his hand against his head as everything came back to him. Was it all a nightmare? He didn’t know what else it could’ve been—he fell. Not even a tough Hylian would’ve been able to survive a fall like that. Yet… it felt so real…

Talon rested his hand on his heart and attempted to slow down his breathing. Whatever it was, he was still worked up over it; beads of sweat were beginning to drip down his forehead, and his throat hurt as though he was about to cry. He glanced over to his left and found himself in a clearing surrounded by trees, but no one else was there. He frowned and turned his head to the other side and found a shallow spring with fairies gently floating around it. Yet no sign of anyone. He sat up and flinched at a sharp pain going through his ribs. He groaned and rubbed at the area, trying to breathe in a way to not make the pain worse. Why was he hurt? What happened? Where was everyone? Talon’s questioning thoughts were interrupted when he heard movement behind him, and he spun around only for his heart to stop at the sight.

A large man was watching him from the shadows of the trees. He had long white hair that sat on his shoulders, with strange markings decorating his cheeks and forehead. But what scared Talon the most were the bright, white eyes staring back at him. The man began to move towards Talon, and the farmer began to scramble away despite his aching side.

“N-no no no! Stay away! Please!” Talon begged as the man reached him in only a few strides, but he stopped in front him.

“Be at peace, Talon. I will not harm you,” the strange man said, his hand raised in a way to calm him. Talon’s mind went blank as he stared at the large man, his eyes feeling like they were popping out of his sockets.

“D-do I—do I know you?” He stammered, fearing to anger him. The man’s expression was blank as he stared back at him, but he shook his head.

“No. But I know you.”

That certainly didn’t tell Talon anything. He looked side to side again, hoping to find one of his friends, but he remained alone with the strange man who somehow knew him. He swallowed and sat up, once again cradling his side with a wince.

“Um… Who—who are you?” Talon tried again, and the man simply kneeled in front of him, his expression continuing to remain blank. He was silent for a moment, and Talon wondered if he even heard him, but he finally spoke up.

“I am called the Fierce Deity,” he answered.

“Oh.” Well that still didn’t answer anything for Talon. But he supposed it was better than nothing. “Well… Uh… nice to meet you then. Um… Can I just call you Fierce? Or… something?”

Fierce’s expression was making Talon grow uncomfortable. He couldn’t tell what he was thinking, or if he was thinking at all. Was he even a Hylian?

“You may call me whatever you like,” he said after a long moment of silence. Talon nodded, and he began to lean back, his whole body beginning to shake. He fell backwards and let out a sigh, staring at the sky. With this… Fierce Deity here… It was becoming harder and harder to explain the previous events as a dream. Fierce suddenly came into his view, and Talon’s eyes widened.

“Wh-what?”

“Are you alright?”

Talon let out another sigh, rubbing his ribs. “I–I don’t know. My ribs kinda hurt. And I’m confused. I don’t know where I am, I don’t know what happened to me, I don’t know how you know me or what you even are. I’m just—” Talon’s voice began to shake and he rested his hand on his eyes. “I’m so confused.”

Fierce’s eyes squinted slightly and he left Talon’s view. “I can explain everything to you Talon, but first—” A twinkling sound was heard, and Fierce entered his vision again, this time with a fairy. “Let’s heal your side.”

Talon frowned, but the fairy floated towards him before he could say anything. In a blink of an eye, the fairy swirled around him, and his side suddenly stopped aching. Talon sat up, staring at his side in surprise. He always knew about the fairies’ abilities to heal, but he never experienced such a thing himself. It was incredible. He looked around him but found that the fairy disappeared. He glanced up at Fierce confused, who picked up on his confusion.

“It’s alright, the fairy only needs to return to a great fairy to rejuvenate her power,” he explained.

Talon nodded and looked down at his side, still amazed by the missing injury. Goddesses, he almost wished he could do that as well.

“It is fortunate that you fell closeby to a fairy fountain,” Fierce continued to explain, and Talon froze. Fell. So Talon did fall, so he…?

“What happened?”

Fierce turned to him and once again kneeled down. “You died.”

Talon’s mind went blank. “What?”

“You died.” He repeated, hitting Talon harder the second time.

“I… died?” Talon repeated himself, feeling his stomach sink to the ground. He died. That fall killed him. How was he alive? Did the fairies save him? Did he die when he hit the ground? His friends…

Did they all think he was dead?

Talon began to grow nauseous, and he ran his hand through his hair. “I died…”

Fierce watched him silently as Talon continued to look down on himself. There was no evidence from the fall, save for his aching ribs, but the fairy healed that away.

“Is-is it true then?” Talon asked in a quiet tone, his voice shaking uncontrollably. Fierce tilted his head which was the first emotion he’s ever seen him express. “Is it true that fairies heal you, even after death?”

Fierce was silent for a moment. “Only immediately after you die. If you die long before you can get to a fairy, then you’ll need fairy’s blood.”

Talon felt the blood drain from his face. Fairy’s blood was extremely illegal in Hyrule. In order to use blood from a fairy, it would have to be killed. To kill a divine creature sent from the goddesses themselves was an act of blasphemy. Did Fierce… kill a fairy to save him?

“You… you didn’t…” Talon started, but he felt his stomach churn, and he covered his mouth, feeling like he was about to vomit. Fierce’s eyes squinted at him, once again showing his confusion. “You didn’t—you didn’t kill a fairy did you?” Talon was able to force out.

“No, you died as soon as I reached the fountain. The fairies wasted no time in helping you.”

Talon felt a heavy weight lift from his shoulders and he let out a loud sigh of relief. “Thank the goddesses. I couldn’t live with myself if I was responsible for a fairy’s death.”

The corner of Fierce’s mouth was curled up in a smile, but it went away so quickly Talon thought he imagined it. “I could never harm Hylia’s creatures.”

Talon frowned. Hylia? “Right, well… Thank you for saving my life,” Talon finally said, and Fierce nodded.

“Of course. It is my desire to help Link and those he cares about.”

Talon frowned again. “So you know Link… How—How do you know him? How do you know me?”

“You are Malon’s father.”

Talon nodded slightly. “How do you know my daughter?”

“She is Link’s wife.”

“Ok… And how do you know Link?”

Fierce’s empty eyes stared at him, and Talon swallowed, wishing he could read what he was thinking.

“Link saved me from an eternal fate in Termina,” he finally answered.

It was Talon’s turn to stare. Termina. He’s heard that name before…

“Before I ever saw Link, I always believed that mortals were all the same,” Fierce began, his eyes half-closed as if he were looking down. “They are selfish, greedy, and cruel. They’ll lie to you to benefit them, they’ll steal from you, they’ll hurt you. They use you and then give nothing in return. They imprison you when you have done nothing but help them.” Fierce’s voice had a hint of anger that sent a chill up Talon’s spine. “Link taught me otherwise. When Termina was threatened with destruction, he was the only one who set out and did something about it. I watched him help countless people when it didn’t benefit him; I watched him express compassion that was lacking from other mortals, and I watched him defeat evil, and save Termina.”

Realization hit Talon. Termina. He remembered Link telling him a story about a moon falling in a land and him going back in time over and over again. He always chalked it up as a child’s imagination, but now… was it all real? Did Talon brush his previous adventures away because he didn’t believe him? Guilt crept up on Talon. It was no wonder why he stopped telling Talon his stories. Fierce picked up on his guilt and tilted his head.

“What’s wrong?”

“N-nothing I just… I think I remember Link telling me about Termina… it’s… it’s real?”

Fierce nodded. “Link understands why you don’t believe him.”

Talon was taken aback. “Oh… well…”

“Do not feel guilty for not believing him.”

“… It probably felt like he had no one to talk to though…” Talon sighed. It was no wonder why Link was always so mature and jaded for a child. If everything he told him was true… poor Link.

“He has Malon.”

He supposed that was true, but regardless, he wasn’t there for Link like he should’ve been. He wondered if he would even want to see him again after this adventure…

“You have no idea how much you mean to him,” Fierce continued when Talon remained silent. “Everything you did for him, he cannot ignore it, nor can I.”

He didn’t feel like he deserved such talk. He didn’t even know why or how the deity knew about any of it. Fierce was large and stood out from the rest of the world like a sore thumb. How did he never notice him there, watching him and his family for the past fifteen years? The thought of it all was making him grow uncomfortable, so he decided to change the subject. “So… Termina… what happened after Link saved it?”

Fierce’s eyes went half closed again. “I’m not sure how he did it, but he left Termina, and he took me with him. I was doomed to remain in Termina forever, away from my Hylia. But because of him, I was able to return to her land.”

“You keep mentioning Hylia, is that a person?”

Despite having a blank expression, Fierce gave Talon a look as if he was stupid. “Hylia, the one who created your kind and Hyrule.”

Talon slowly nodded despite not understanding. He’s never heard of a Hylia who created Hyrule. He always thought it was three golden goddesses. If this Hylia created the land he called home, why hasn’t he ever heard of her?

“I could’ve left Link as soon as I was in Hyrule, but I instantly felt an emptiness where Hylia used to be. Judging by your lack of knowledge of her, I take it she no longer resides here?”

“Uh, no I guess not…”

Fierce stared long and hard at him before turning away. “I see. I was always curious since meeting Link, if Hylia’s influence on the world changed mortal’s nature. But, I suppose it makes sense that they were never influenced by the goddess herself. When Link returned to Hyrule he grew ill and didn’t have the strength to carry on. The mortals simply passed him by, which went against what Hylia believed in.”

Familiarity sparked in Talon. He remembered finding Link again in the middle of Hyrule field, burning up with a terrible fever. So Fierce was watching him the whole time. Where was he?

“You proved me wrong again, Talon. Not all mortals are selfish and greedy. Some are… good, and pure…”

“Wait, what? I proved you wrong? How?”

Fierce gave him another look. “You helped Link, and expected nothing in return.”

Talon frowned. “Is this about when I found him with a fever then? Trust me, I ain’t special for doin’ that.”

“You saved him, Talon. That’s not a small thing.”

“Oh come on! He was a sick kid in the middle of the field! Anyone would’ve helped him!”

“No. No one did.”

Talon froze. “What do ya mean no one helped him?”

“Like I said. The mortals passed him by. Link asked around Kakariko and Castle town for help, but he had no money. No one helped him.” Fierce’s voice grew angry again until his face turned to Talon fully. “You were the only one who reached out to him. He had given up at that point.”

Talon stared at him, shocked. It put everything from that time into perspective for him. Knowing Link, an eleven-year-old boy, tried to get help, but no one did? That didn’t seem possible, no one was that heartless.

“That’s how I know you. I saw the way you and Malon treated him. You may think you’re not a good person because you don’t believe him, but that does not erase all the good you’ve done for him. You restored my faith in mortals, and you saved Link. For that, I thank you.” Fierce bowed slightly. Talon felt his face flush and he turned away. He was starting to hate this praise. It almost felt wrong, especially from a deity.

“It… it really was nothin’. But… um… really I should be the one thankin’ you… for… you know… savin’ my life?”

Fierce squinted his eyes again. “You already thanked me.”

“Oh, well… It certainly doesn’t hurt to thank you again, now does it?”

Fierce stared blankly once again. “Why?”

“Well, like you said, it ain’t a small thing.”

Fierce stared for a moment, then turned away. “You mortals confuse me.”

Talon chuckled. “Well if it makes ya feel any better, mortals confuse me too.”

“But you’re a mortal.”

“Exactly.”

Though it was subtle, Talon could almost pick up an annoyed expression on Fierce’s face, and he couldn’t tell if he should laugh at it or not. They both remained silent for a while, until one more question went through Talon’s brain.

“What… are you?” He asked. Fierce looked contemplative as he looked down at his hand, and he glanced up at Talon.

“I’m not sure. I suppose I am what they call a deity. But I have no divine power unlike the others. A demon is a more appropriate thing to call me.”

Fear pricked at Talon’s chest and he turned away. “So you’re a servant to evil?”

For the first time, Fierce’s expression grew dark, and Talon leaned back. Oh no.

“I will never serve Demise,” he growled. Talon nodded, yet continuing to not understand anything he was saying.

“R-right! Well then… you’re no demon!”

“That’s what we were called in Termina.”

“Well, lucky you, this ain’t Termina.”

Fierce’s expression softened and he didn’t press any further. Talon supposed no one knew what Fierce was, but he began to feel less of a threat to him the more he talked to him. Sort of.

“You should get some rest,” Fierce finally said, standing up. “Fairies don’t rejuvenate energy.”

“Oh,” Talon looked down at himself, admittedly still feeling exhausted from before. But… “My friends will be out lookin’ for me. A-and the puppeteer too… I reckon he’s the reason I fell down the mountain.”

“I will keep watch. But you must restore your strength if you are to continue on.”

Talon sighed. The others could be in danger—Leon could be in danger, and he’d be none the wiser. But his heavy eyelids fought against him and he simply laid back, staring sadly at the sky. His mind began to run rampant over everything that happened to him, and he was struggling to calm himself down so he could rest. He died, he was resurrected, Leon was shot with an arrow, and his friends were either dead, fighting, or captured. How was he going to reunite with them? Will Kass fly down to search for him? Will they try to move down the mountain to find him? Or will they continue on, with Talon completely separated from them? Anxiety pricked at Talon; he couldn’t travel alone, even with a deity at his side. He was a farmer, not a traveler. He wouldn’t survive on his own and he wouldn’t know what to do if something happened. His heart already ached for his home and for his daughter, he didn’t feel like he could handle anymore stress. Tears pricked at his eyes and he rubbed his face, feeling a sob threatening to escape his throat. He was spiraling; no matter how much he tried to not think about his current situation, he couldn’t help but only think about it. It was all too much—this whole adventure was too much. Just as he felt himself go into panic, a soft melody suddenly filled the air. It was a gentle, rising melody that put Talon’s mind at ease. He felt his body relax and his eyes grow heavy, and a thought went through his head.

You’re going to be ok.

Talon took in a shaky breath, tears threatening to spill, but the gentle melody continued playing, and he was finally able to fall asleep.

[cheynovak]

Complicated

Characters: Soldier boy x Y/N Female character     

Summary: Y/N, a young personal assistant to Soldier Boy (Ben) and Crimson Countess, is caught in a whirlwind of events that shatter her sense of stability. After accidentally witnessing an intimate moment between Ben, Crimson, and another woman, she’s left shaken and unsure how to process it. The following day, Crimson casually invites her to join them, which only adds to Y/N's confusion.

Warnings: 18+ smut, fight, spice,

English is not my first language 

*This story is my own original story, please do not copy my work, reblog/comments/likes are appreciated* 

part 4/?

Ben had been back from Herogasm for a few days, but everything felt different. He hadn’t mentioned the event, and the silence stretched between us like a chasm, leaving me feeling increasingly isolated. I tried to shake off the irritation that simmered inside me, but it was hard to ignore.

I was at the front desk talking to Suzy when Kevin walked in—just what I needed. The air turned tense, and I could feel my heart rate spike. He wanted to talk, but I flat-out refused. “I’m not going home,” I stated, my tone sharper than intended.

Kevin stepped closer, determination etched on his face. “You need to come home,” he insisted, his voice low and demanding.

I laughed, a bitter sound that echoed in the lobby. “Home? With you? No thanks.”

He glanced down at my clothes, the ones that Ben or someone at vought had gifted—stylish, flattering, everything Kevin never understood. “So, you’re with another man? Thats fast!” His tone shifted, dripping with disdain. “A man buys you things, and now you’re his cheap whore.” He gripped my arm.

I felt my blood boil at his words, but before I could retort, Ben appeared, a powerful figure cutting through the tension like a knife. “You again... Let her go,” he commanded, voice low and dangerous, like a predator ready to pounce.

Kevin turned to face Ben, a smirk dancing on his lips. “Ah, so you sucked him off and now he’s buying you shit, is that it? Those late nights, Y/N weren't just for work, were they? And you blame me for looking elsewhere? If you’d been home more, you’d be taking care of your husband instead of fucking your boss like a cheap whore!”

Ben’s fury flared, his eyes darkening with rage. “What did you call her?” he growled, his tone deadly.

I stepped forward, desperate to defuse the situation. “Ben, wait!” I shouted, feeling the heat of the moment escalate. Kevin’s words had struck a nerve, but I didn’t want Ben to resort to violence, no matter how much Kevin deserved it.

“Just—don’t,” I urged, placing a hand on Ben's arm. The tension crackled around us, and I could see the internal struggle within him, the need to protect me battling against the urge to unleash his anger on Kevin.

Kevin scoffed, undeterred by my plea. “You think you’re better than me because you’re with him? Newsflash: he’s just another guy trying to fill you up. And when the thrill fades, what will you have?” His voice dripped with scorn, trying to claw his way back into my head.

Ben’s eyes narrowed, the muscles in his jaw clenching. “She deserves better than you, you piece of shit,” he shot back, his voice firm and unwavering.

I looked between the two of them, feeling the weight of their animosity. “This isn’t helping anyone!” I pleaded, but the men were locked in their own battle of wills, and my words barely registered.

Kevin took a step forward, invading my space. “You’re making a mistake, Y/N. You think this is real? You think he’s going to stick around when things get tough? He’s just using you, like every other man in your future. You’ll be back to me, you’ll see.”

His words stung, but I shook my head, determination rising within me. “I’m not going back to you, Kevin. I don’t want that life anymore.”

“Then you’re just a fool,” he sneered, looking at me as if I were a stranger.

“Maybe, but at least I’m not living a lie,” I shot back, my voice stronger now. “You don’t get to judge me. You lost that right the moment you decided to cheated."

Ben stepped closer, a protective presence beside me, his voice low and threatening. “Back off, buddy.”

Kevin’s face twisted in anger, and for a moment, I thought he might lash out. But instead, he took a deep breath, a smirk creeping back onto his face. “Fine. Enjoy your little fling. But remember, when he’s gone and you’re left with nothing, don’t come crawling back to me.”

With that, Kevin turned on his heel and stormed out, leaving the air thick with tension and unresolved emotions. I let out a shaky breath, feeling both relieved and exhausted.

Ben’s gaze softened as he looked at me, concern etched on his features. “You okay?”

I nodded slowly, but the sting of Kevin’s words lingered. “I am now,” I replied, though I couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t over yet.

Ben followed me into my office, the door clicking shut behind us with a finality that sent a shiver down my spine. “What do you want, Ben?” I asked, bracing myself for the conversation I knew was coming.

He stepped closer, the tension crackling in the air. “I know why you’ve been avoiding me.”

“I’m not,” I replied, but my voice lacked conviction.

He closed the distance between us, roughly turning me to face him. His hand gripped my chin, tilting my head up to meet his intense gaze. “Don’t lie, sweetheart.”

“Well, I haven’t seen you around either,” I shot back, trying to maintain my composure.

A smirk tugged at his lips, the corner of his mouth lifting in that infuriatingly charming way. “You’re jealous.”

I ripped his hand away from my face and turned my back to him, trying to regain some semblance of control. “I’m not. I just don’t like you smelling like sex when you crawl into bed next to me.”

“Okay, not jealous” he said, his voice low and teasing. “Prove it.”

Before I could react, his hand moved to my breast, fingers brushing over me in a way that sent a rush of heat through my body. His lips found my neck, trailing soft kisses that made it hard to think straight. “I want you… now,” he murmured against my skin, the words igniting something deep within me.

It was too much, and it got the best of me. My body responded instinctively, heart racing as desire washed over me. I could feel the walls of my resolve crumbling as I turned to face him again, the air thick with unspoken tension and longing.

“Ben…” I started, but the protest died in my throat as he captured my lips with his, and everything else faded away.

He pushed me flat against my desk, the cool surface contrasting sharply with the heat radiating from my body. I felt his hands moving my legs, the intimacy of the position making my heart race even faster.

His fingers teased along the curve of my thigh, slowly moving higher, exploring with a deliberate slowness that drove me wild. I gasped as his lips trailed along my back, kissing a path that sent shivers down my spine. Every touch was electric, igniting a fire within me that I couldn’t ignore.

“Ben,” I breathed, the name escaping my lips like a plea. I was ready for more, ready to let go of everything else and embrace this moment.

He leaned in closer, his breath warm against my skin. “You want this,” he murmured, his voice low and intoxicating. The way he spoke made it feel like he knew exactly how much I craved him.

With a sudden movement, he pressed his body against mine, his weight pinning me down just enough to heighten the thrill. I felt his fingers dance teasingly, a tantalizing promise of what was to come. “Tell me how badly you want it,” he whispered, his lips brushing against my ear, sending a rush of heat through me.

“I want you,” I gasped, the urgency in my voice clear. “I want you now.”

That seemed to be all the encouragement he needed.

He knelt down behind me, his lips brushing against my thighs as he took his time exploring, teasing. I gasped as he pressed a soft kiss to my skin, the sensation sending waves of anticipation coursing through me.

Then, he surged forward, his tongue swirling against me, igniting every nerve ending. I moaned, the sound escaping my lips unbidden, the pleasure overwhelming. His hands gripped my hips, anchoring me in place as he worked his magic, sending shockwaves of desire through my entire body.

“Ben,” I gasped, my voice breathless as I pushed back against him, craving more of the delicious sensations he was creating. The way he moved, so confident and skilled, made me forget everything else.

He responded with a low growl, the sound reverberating through me, driving me further into the depths of my desire. “You taste so good,” he murmured against my skin, and I could feel him smile against me, savoring every moment.

I felt the heat pooling inside me, the urgency building as I lost myself in the rhythm of his movements. I was ready, ready for him to take me to that next level, to show me just how good this could feel. “Please,” I urged, breathless and desperate. “I need you.”

He seemed eager to please me, his desire palpable as he positioned himself behind me. The moment he entered me, he was hard, rough, and fast, each thrust igniting a fire deep within. I gasped, my body responding instinctively to the intensity of his movements.

His hand covered my mouth, muffling the sounds that threatened to escape. “Don’t hold back,” he whispered in my ear, his voice a low growl. “I want to hear you.”

Every thrust was a perfect mix of urgency and need, pushing me closer to the edge. I could feel him filling me completely, and with each movement, the world outside faded into oblivion. All that mattered was him, our bodies entwined in this heated dance of passion.

“Let go,” he urged softly, his breath hot against my ear. “Just feel.”

I surrendered to the pleasure, losing myself in the moment as I let go of all my inhibitions. His pace quickened, driving me wild as I felt every sensation amplify, drowning in the whirlwind of ecstasy.

After my first orgasm, I kneeled before him like he had taught me, my body still trembling from the intensity of it all. He finished quickly, groaning as his hands gripped my hair. Once it was over, he leaned down, brushing a kiss across my forehead, and promised with a smirk, “I’ll swing by tonight.”

I felt a strange sense of relief, like things were slipping back to normal, as if I could handle this arrangement. The tension of the last few days had vanished, leaving me feeling somewhat content. I showered, got dressed, and prepared for the evening, expecting Ben to keep his word.

But when night fell, and I was in the penthouse alone, I heard voices from outside—his voice. Ben was flirting, his deep, smooth tone unmistakable. My stomach twisted, jealousy surging like a wave I couldn’t contain. My mind raced, my blood boiling as I recognized the unmistakable lilt in his voice that he used when he was charming someone. He wasn’t just talking, he was seducing her.

I flung the door open without thinking, my emotions taking control. There he was, leaning against the doorway with the maid giggling, all too eager. When he saw me, Ben’s eyes flickered with amusement as if he was expecting me to react. He straightened up and dismissed the maid with a casual wave, his focus entirely on me now.

“You jealous, sweetheart?” he teased, stepping closer, his presence overwhelming as always.

My lips parted to speak, to call him out on it, but before I could, his hand was on my waist, pulling me to him. His touch sent a jolt through me, my anger dissipating as his thumb brushed over my lower lip.

“Ben…” I whispered, my voice faltering as I tried to hang on to my frustration, but the second his lips touched mine, it was like my thoughts dissolved.

He kissed me with that same intensity he always did—commanding, fierce, and impossible to resist. Every flick of his tongue, every press of his body against mine, made me forget what I was angry about. My jealousy melted away under the weight of his desire, and I found myself surrendering once again, wrapped up in the heat of his touch.

Whatever plans I had to confront him were gone the second he had me in his arms.

--

Ben seemed to be in an exceptionally good mood that night. The second we were inside, his hands were on me, pulling me close as his lips crashed against mine. There was something different in the way he touched me, an urgency, a hunger I hadn’t seen before. He pushed me down onto the bed with a predatory glint in his eyes, like he couldn’t wait another second.

Without a word, he knelt between my legs and buried his face there, his mouth working with a ravenous intensity. He devoured me like a man starved, his tongue and lips sending shockwaves of pleasure through my body. I gasped, my back arching off the bed as I clutched the sheets, his name escaping my lips in broken breaths.

He didn't stop. He didn't even slow down. The first orgasm hit me fast and hard, leaving me breathless and trembling, but Ben didn’t seem satisfied yet. His grip tightened on my thighs, pulling me closer as he continued to feast on me, driving me higher and higher until the second wave crashed over me, leaving me dizzy with pleasure.

I could barely think by the time the third one hit, my body shaking under his relentless attention. It was overwhelming, but I didn’t want him to stop. My mind was a haze of need, and the more he gave, the more I craved.

“More,” I gasped, barely recognizing my own voice, raw with desperation.

He pulled back, his lips glistening, eyes dark with lust as he stared down at me. “More?” he echoed, a dangerous smile playing on his lips.

Before I could answer, he stood up, pulling off his clothes with the same kind of urgency, but he didn’t touch himself. Instead, he climbed back over me, pressing his body against mine, the heat of his skin searing into me as he positioned himself.

"Careful what you ask for, sweetheart," he whispered darkly, his voice low and gravelly. His fingers dug into my hips as he pushed into me, hard and rough, exactly the way I needed it. Each thrust was powerful, overwhelming, pushing me past the limits of pleasure. I gasped, meeting him with everything I had, feeling every inch of him as he took control.

The intensity of it, the way he moved, left me trembling and breathless, but still, I begged for more.

And Ben, with that dangerous smile, gave it to me.

Ben’s grip tightened on my hips as he thrust harder, deeper, his pace relentless. "You're mine," he growled through clenched teeth, his breath hot against my neck. "Only mine. Kevin was a fool not to fuck you the way you deserve."

His words sank into me, each possessive claim igniting something deep inside. My mind was a blur of sensation, his voice pushing me closer to the edge with every thrust. I couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe—all I could do was feel. And everything he said, the way he claimed me, made me want him even more.

"You belong to me now," he growled, his voice rough, dark. "No one else. Just me."

I moaned, my body trembling beneath him, the pleasure overwhelming. His hands dug into my skin, and with every movement, every word, he marked me as his own. I didn’t care about Kevin anymore. Not in that moment. Ben owned me, and I craved it.

I needed it.

His rhythm grew faster, more intense, and I could feel him getting close. "You're mine," he repeated, the possessiveness in his voice sending me spiraling into another orgasm, my body arching against him as I shattered beneath him.

Ben wasn’t far behind, his pace becoming erratic as he followed me over the edge, but it was different this time—quicker than usual, like he couldn’t hold back. His growl of satisfaction filled the air as he buried himself deep inside me, shuddering as he came, gripping me tightly as if he never wanted to let go.

For a moment, the world was still. His body was heavy on mine, both of us panting, spent from the intensity of it all. He kissed my neck, slower now, the fire dimming, but the weight of his words still lingered in the air.

“You’re mine,” he whispered one last time, softer, almost tender now. And for some reason, it sounded like a promise.

My mind swirled, still reeling from the intensity of his touch and the weight of his words. “You’re mine,” echoed in my head, over and over, like an endless loop. The way he claimed me, the possessiveness in his voice—it had ignited something inside me, something I hadn’t realized was there.

But as the moments passed, and the adrenaline started to fade, the doubts crept in. I thought about Herogasm, about the things he had done there. The whispers I had heard. The threesomes with Crimson Countess. Was I really his? Or was I just another in a long line of women he claimed in the heat of the moment, only to forget the next day?

The room suddenly felt too quiet, the space between us too heavy. I was still lying beneath him, his body pressed against mine, but I felt distant, like I wasn’t really there. My insecurities gnawed at me, clawing their way to the surface.

What did I mean to him, really? Could I even trust anything he said? Or was this just another game, another conquest to pass the time until he got bored?

I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t. The questions were too loud in my head, drowning out everything else. I felt my body stiffen slightly beneath his, but I stayed silent.

Very, very quiet.

Ben noticed, of course. He always noticed. His arms, which had been holding me so possessively moments ago, loosened slightly as he shifted his weight, looking down at me with a raised eyebrow.

"You okay?" he asked, his voice low but not without a hint of curiosity.

I nodded, but it wasn’t convincing. Not even to myself.

He watched me for a second longer, his gaze searching, but I kept my face neutral, not wanting to give anything away. I didn’t want to ask about Herogasm. I didn’t want to know. But the jealousy, the insecurity, was there, lingering, and no matter how hard I tried to push it down, it was suffocating.

I turned my head slightly, biting my lip, trying to focus on anything but the storm brewing inside me.

--

Please like, share or comment when you liked the story. If you liked this, please check out my masterlist for other stories.

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[mullermilkshake]

Toji goes for a drive.

MINORS DNI - Tags: Yakuza AU, Toji is a taxi driver, references to Fem! reader, graphic depictions of violence, drowning, murder.

Toji needed a front.

A front to prevent you from ever knowing about his current ties to the Yakuza. His tattoo was the only give away that you had to go on though as the good girl you were, you didn't ask too many questions.

He needed a front to keep that simmering pot from over flowing.

So, Toji begrudgingly took on taxi work at his own convenience and in some ways it actually made his life easier in the long run while doing his side work for the Ryomen clan.

Toji was currently sitting in Tokyo traffic, making his way towards the docks before he was due to home. A quick trip and nothing too complicated, a run of the mill job for someone less important to him.

Satoru Gojo asked Toji through Nanami as a favour. He only took this job because he owed Nanami. Otherwise, Gojo could have shoved his head up his ass for all he cared.

The man got on his last nerve more so than the fucking traffic he was sitting in. The reason he ever did anything for Gojo was that the man took in his son.

The only reason.

Bang, bang, bang!

Oh right, that.

The banging and shouting from the trunk was Toji's current job. Some asshole from the outskirts making a pass at Gojo's girl. Crazy bastard. He didn't know all the details from Nanami but it was better that he didn't, all he heard were the words overreacting and making a big deal out of nothing.

Gojo being the other crazy bastard in this scenario.

The traffic moved on and it was a straight run to the docks, it was past nine in the evening so it really was a quick dump and run.

Toji wandered why Gojo couldn't have had his own men take care of this, or even him himself. He was one weird guy and didn't understand how his girl even tolerated him.

Sometimes, like right now, Toji thought that he must have been one of the sane ones in this world. You tolerated Toji at least, so he must have done something right.

When he arrived at the docks, Toji pulled up by the waters edge and climbed out of the car. He trudged over to the trunk and opened it with speed to grab the little prick by the scruff of the collar.

"P-please! I didn't do anything!"

Toji didn't use any energy against the struggling man. "Sorry, that's not my problem. I just wanna get paid," he yanked the man out of the cramped space right over to the edge of the concrete above the churning water.

"Wait... wait! Please- please I can give you anything-"

"Nah, I’m good. Don’t hit your head on the way down."

Toji used this moment of his confusion to work out what was going on to grab his ankles and knock him backwards, like a high school bully holding a poor kid upside down.

The man kicked and thrashed at the choppy water keeping him from surfacing from under the water line. It was a boring really and far too simple for Toji's tastes, watching a man struggle with no fight until his legs stopped trying to kick him off.

"That's done then," Toji let go of his legs and let the water batter him on the side of the concrete.

Toji would call Nanami at a pay phone to confirm the job was done when he had the chance on his way home.

If he took the short way home, he'd be back in time to take you out for dinner.

Dinner sounded good right about now.

[possiblyunhinged]

I keep trying to write about the Supreme Court ruling on the definition of “woman” in the Equality Act and how it affects trans people—but I can’t. Not because I don’t have anything to say, but because my brain short-circuits from the sheer, mind-splitting exasperation of watching people talk about lives like they’re theory.

Watching cis men—many of whom wouldn’t lift a finger to stop a cis woman being assaulted in public because “what if I get stabbed”—now crowing about “women’s safety” in comment sections like it’s a sport they just won? Fucking nauseating.

These aren’t feminists. These are people who’ve found a socially acceptable way to be cruel and dressed it up as virtue. It’s not safety they want—it’s a socially sanctioned excuse to hate.

This ruling isn’t going to stop women from being murdered, assaulted, or harassed. In fact, I’d go as far as to say it’s going to have virtually no impact at all on the vast majority of cis women. So what will it do? It’ll make life harder for people who are already struggling to survive.

If you’re celebrating that? I’d suggest you go outside, touch some fucking grass, and try making a friend who isn’t a hateful little prick from the internet—because honestly, I think you’re starved of kindness and compassion. You just want to feel something. And for some reason, you’ve chosen cruelty as your weapon.

And no, I don’t think your average person is running around Sainsbury’s flapping about whether a trans woman is using the bog next to them. I think they’re tired. I think they’re broke. I think they’re being told, every single day, who to blame for the erosion of their quality of life—and trans people are just the next ones being handed the bill.

What people forget is this: A tiny number of loud, hateful people make up most of the online discourse, and the rest of us are left with a bleak, terrifying impression of what everyone thinks.

What reflects reality? Cis male violence. What gets conveniently ignored in all this panic about toilets and changing rooms and “safety”? Cis male violence. What still isn't adequately being addressed? Oh yeah... cis male violence.

You think I’m walking extra quick down a quiet street because I’m scared Dylan Mulvaney’s going to jump out from behind a bush? An impassioned TikToker? Get a fucking grip. We are spending our lives navigating the behaviour of cis men. Our quality of life is shaped by them—whether they’re legislators or the men we (most likely) knew who harmed us.

And look—I do think there should be space for reasoned, open debate. I think any so-called democratic country should have that. But first, you’ve got to be honest about where you’re coming from. And right now, the level of disingenuous bollocks surrounding this discourse is fucking disgusting.

Where’s the outrage over the growing wave of violent misogyny being flagged by teachers’ unions in classrooms? How many more teenage girls need to be murdered by radicalised boys before these so-called “real men” are charging through the streets demanding actual legislative change? Or do they only do that when it gives them an excuse to be racist, crack open a couple of tinnies, shout slurs, and lob bricks at the police?

Where’s the legislation for that?

People call this “whataboutery.” I call it being fucking sick of bad faith arguments about something that, frankly, has very little to do with most of the people frothing over it.

Because I’ll tell you what this isn’t: a win for women. If anything, it’s a win for the exact kind of men who never cared about women’s safety—until it gave them permission to punch down.

And while people are busy foaming at the mouth about trans teens trying to survive school, we’ve got an entire generation of boys radicalised online into believing women are inferior—and no one seems half as outraged.

If you think banning trans girls from the bathroom at school makes anyone safer, you are not protecting women—you are telling the most vulnerable group in society that they are acceptable collateral damage in your war to feel righteous.

And if you think I sound angry—good.

I’m fucking fuming.

I can’t reason with this decision, because it’s unreasonable. It’s senseless harm, designed to appease a growing culture of cruelty that’s poisoning the UK. And it won’t just make life harder for trans people—it’ll hurt the people who love them, too.

It’s about the bloke I see at 6am every day on the dog walk, who has a trans daughter who doesn’t leave the house. Who’s too scared to go to school. And he walks this dopey, beautiful little dog he only rescued for her, because he’s trying everything he can to keep his little girl alive. Because there’s no healthcare for her. No support for him. And what does this country think is sensible? Making it harder for them? Fuck off.

And if we can’t make room for truth, fear, compassion, and basic fucking sense all at once—then what the hell are we even doing?

If you feel equally as helpless, here are some great charities to donate to: notaphase, transactual, genderintelligenced.

[pixie-popp]

Jason’s younger sister (pt. 1: discovery)

here is the beginning of the story:

The rain pounded down on a 7 year old Jason Peter Todd as he darted between the dark alleys. He could hear the furious shouts of the men chasing him, getting closer and closer as he tried to outrun them. Oh how he wished he could go back to a few weeks ago, when he still had a home. When his mother was still alive and they were together. But who was he kidding, he would have to go back years for his mother to care. To go back to a time before she was hooked on the drugs that put her into a coma. He wanted to go back to her laughter, her smile. But 7 year olds can’t go back in time.When she died, he knew that there was no way he would let CPS get him, as the foster system in Gotham City is absolute shit. So he ran away. Jason had been doing ok on the streets, scavenging for food and sleeping in little, confined spaces that only he could fit in. That was one pro of being a scrawny 7year old. He was pulled out of his thoughts when he slipped on the slick concrete, landing squarely on his face. He released a string of words that he should not know, struggling to his feet. He looked around the alley he was in, panicking as there were no other exits except for where he came in. He heard the voices getting closer, the angry shouts rising in volume. Oh why did he have to steal the bread? He didn’t want to steal, but he was desperate. An old lady who had let him stay with her for a few days had run out of food and he had gotten the bread for her, so that she would eat. The old lady was very kind and she had taught him how to read.His eyes darted around the alley, searching desperately for a place to hide as the pounding of footsteps got closer. He wedged himself behind a dumpster, huddled behind boxes and bags of trash just as the 3 men stepped into the alley, carrying baseball bats. His heart was pounding so hard he was sure that they could hear that sucker through a brick wall. He held back a sob as they started searching.

“Where is that little shit?” One of them growled, smashing a box.

“I don’t see him, but he can’t be far.”Another spoke, placing a hand on the other’s shoulder. “When we find him, we’ll make him pay.” Jason let out a little whimper, then smacked his hands over his mouth, curling farther into his hiding spot. He prayed to what ever god existed that they hadn’t heard him, silent tears rolling down his face. He stifled a scream, eyes squeezed shut when one of the men spoke. Right on the other side of the trash pile.

“Hey, I think I heard something over here.” The third one said, poking the pile with his bat.

“Nah, there ain’t nothing over there. C’mon boys, he must’ve gone this way. Oh, I can’t wait to get my hands on that little brat.” Jason listened as the ponding footsteps of the men faded, trembling in his hole. He stayed tucked in his spot for what felt like eternity, calming his breathing and drying his tears. When he finally emerged from behind his trash can, the rain had long since stopped. Morning had come, and he could finally see his surroundings clearly. The alley was trashed, filled with boxes and bags of waste decomposing. He started forward, nudging boxes out of his way. He pushed a covered basket out to the side and froze when it whimpered. Jason stared down at the basket, convinced he was going crazy. Then he heard a baby crying, the sound ringing through the air. He crept forward, his eyes glued to the container as his curiosity got the better of him. He lifted the cover and gasped at what he saw. Inside the basket was a baby girl, her eyes squeezed shut as she cried out. Jason gently took one of her little hands in his, shushing her.

“Shhhhhh, it’s okay, it’s okay.” He rubbed her knuckles, her hand dwarfed by his.

She immediately calmed, her eyes opening. She stared at him, her big stormy blue eyes shining. She giggled at him, clutching his pointer finger in her chubby fist. Jason’s heart swelled, his smile returning. “ Hey there little one! My name’s Jason, and I’m 7! What are you doing out here?” He scoped her up in his arms, alarmed by how light she was. Jason didn’t know a lot about babies, but he was pretty sure they were supposed to be heavier. Movement caught his eye, and he turned to see a paper fluttering to the ground. He picked it up, careful to keep the baby tight to his chest. It was a note:

To whoever finds her,

Please take care of her. Both of her parents are dead, and she cannot go into the system. thank you.

The note ended with her birthday.

August 15th

“Hey, you were born one day before my birthday!” Jason exclaimed, looking down at the baby in his arms. She babbled at him, waving her arms around. “You are so cute! Why would anyone leave you alone?” He asked her.She smiled at him, and he thought about the note. Both of her parents are dead.

He started to walk, bouncing the baby in his arms.

“Y’know what, I’m gonna be your brother.” He declared. He looked down at the baby, realizing that she had fallen asleep. He smiled, holding her tightly. “ Now, what to name you?” Jason looked around, his eyes catching on a poster. “How about Amelia?”He said. He looked at his new little sister again, watching the fluttering of her eyelashes against her chubby cheeks as she slept. He chuckled softly. “I’ll name you Amelia Rose Todd. I’m going to protect you and I will never abandon you. As your big brother, I will teach you everything you need to know.” Amelia nuzzled into his chest, letting out a little sigh. Jason kissed he forehead, rocking her in his arms. “ I’m going to love you forever.” He whispered in her ear, his chest warm.

Jason Peter Todd didn’t know much at 7 years old, but he knew one thing for a fact. He was never going to let anything happen to Amelia Rose Todd.

To his little sister.

—————————————————————————

Ok so I originally posted this on my main blog but I moved it to here.

[multi-fandoms-posts]

A Christmas Chaos

X Men Masterlist

X Men Masterlist 2

The Xavier Estate is festively decorated: a massive tree in the hall, string lights on the walls, and a cozy fire crackling in the living room fireplace. Y/N sits relaxed on the sofa, Charles reads a book beside her, and Erik lounges in an armchair with a glass of wine.

The twins, Henry and William, have been unusually quiet since dinner. Henry, with his thoughtful expression, always seems as serious as Charles, while William, with his mischievous smile and wild hair, is unmistakably Erik’s mini-me.

"Mama, Papa, Daddy," Henry says suddenly. "Can we go to bed now? We’re tired."

Y/N furrows her brow. "You want to go to bed voluntarily?"

Charles looks equally skeptical. "That’s unusual."

"We just want to make sure Santa Claus comes," William explains eagerly.

Erik raises an eyebrow, exchanging a knowing glance with Y/N and Charles but saying nothing. "Alright," he finally says. "Off to bed, you two. And don’t forget—Santa only comes if you’re asleep."

The boys nod enthusiastically, disappearing toward the stairs—but instead of heading to their room, they wait until their parents are out of sight and sneak back into the living room.

---

"Okay, Henry," William whispers, pulling a bag of supplies from under the sofa. "Santa comes down the chimney, right?"

"Exactly," Henry replies, pointing to the space in front of the fireplace. "We’ll hang the net up there, and when he comes down, the string will trigger the trap. The net will fall, and—bam!—we’ve got him."

They work quietly to set up their trap. They attach a large net to the ceiling, run a thin string around the fireplace, and rig it so that it triggers when someone steps on the plate of cookies they’ve strategically placed.

"Perfect," Henry whispers. "Now let’s get to bed before they catch us."

The two sneak back upstairs, collapsing into bed, tired but satisfied.

---

A few hours later, after Y/N has gone to bed, Charles and Erik return to the living room to enjoy the evening’s quiet. Charles resumes his spot on the sofa, while Erik pours himself another glass of wine.

"The boys were unusually cooperative tonight," Charles remarks, setting his book aside.

"Too cooperative," Erik mutters as he lingers by the fireplace. "That’s never a good sign."

Charles chuckles. "Maybe we should just be glad they were so peaceful."

Erik nods but then notices the plate of cookies by the fireplace. "Did you put those there?"

Charles shakes his head. "No. Maybe Y/N did."

"Or the boys," Erik murmurs, stepping closer to inspect the cookies. Charles joins him, curious.

As both lean in, Erik steps on the string.

"Erik, wait—" Charles shouts, but it’s too late.

The net drops from the ceiling with a loud rustle, trapping both men. A small canister of confetti, rigged to the net, bursts open and showers them in colorful bits of paper.

"What the—?!" Erik exclaims, struggling to free himself from the net.

Charles, calm as ever, glances at his partner. "I’m guessing this wasn’t Y/N’s doing."

---

The loud commotion wakes Y/N, who groggily makes her way to the living room. She stops in her tracks when she sees the scene—Erik and Charles tangled in a net, covered in colorful confetti.

For a moment, there’s silence.

Then Y/N bursts into laughter. She clutches her stomach, tears streaming down her face. "This… is the best thing I’ve ever seen!"

Erik shoots her an exasperated look. "You could at least help us instead of laughing."

"Oh, no," Y/N gasps between laughs. "I need to savor this first."

Charles, still entangled, smirks faintly. "I assume the boys had something to do with this… surprise."

"Most definitely," Y/N says, still giggling as she finally steps in to help.

---

Christmas Morning

The next morning, Henry and William race downstairs, excitement bubbling. Their enthusiasm halts when they see their parents on the sofa. Charles and Erik sit calmly, sipping tea, with knowing looks on their faces.

"Good morning," Charles greets.

"Uh… good morning," the boys mumble, avoiding eye contact.

"So," Erik begins, "do you two happen to know anything about the net that trapped us last night?"

Henry tries to come up with an excuse, but William blurts out, "We wanted to catch Santa! Not you!"

Y/N can’t contain her laughter as she pulls the boys into a hug. "You two are impossible. But thank you for the best Christmas surprise ever."

Charles smiles, sipping his tea. "This will be a Christmas to remember."

Erik nods in agreement. "Next year, we’ll catch Santa. Without falling into the trap ourselves."

The boys beam, diving into their presents while Y/N, Charles, and Erik watch them lovingly—a family brought together by the chaos and joy of the holiday season.

----------------------------------------------

Merry Christmas❤️🎄

[frenchkisstheabyss]

｡･ﾟﾟ･ｎｉｇｈｔ ｓｈｉｆｔ･ﾟﾟ･｡

Pairing: vampire!husband!taemin x chubby!fem!reader

Summary: Just a vampire struggling to escape his adorable image while his newly turned wife tries to adjust to not being human anymore

Genre: fluff of the vampire variety/horror

Word Count: 720

Warnings: imprisonment, a lil violence, a smidge of blood, implied death, & that's all

A/N: I wanted to start a series of short stories that'd be something fun. I love Taemin, I love slice of life, and I love vampires so here we are

The cries of a nameless man echo through the cavernous room he finds himself chained up in. He doesn’t know how he ended up here. He only knows that it’s cold and dark. That his arms are sore from swinging from the ceiling by his chained wrists. That his throat’s dry and his stomach’s empty. That any hope he had for rescue had long ago shriveled and died. No one’s coming.

No, somebody’s coming. A flame ignites the wick of a candle at the other end of the room. It seems an eternity away. Others follow. White candles line the walls, illuminating the space just enough that he can make out the silhouette of a man. Designer shoes kiss the stone floor, expensive footsteps drawing nearer and nearer until he’s finally able to make out his captor. A slender man in an expertly tailored suit, silken locks of black hair framing his youthful face. 

The regal way in which he carries himself stands in stark contrast to the savage look in his eyes. “You must be so afraid” Taemin mocks, letting out what you might liken to the laugh of a cruel child who enjoys torturing small creatures. The man's body jerks, instinctively wanting to lash out at the one who holds him here. He curses Taemin through the thick black cloth that gags him. “

They taste so much better when they’re afraid” Taemin smiles, the tips of his sharp fangs poking out just enough to destroy everything the man thought he knew about this world. Taemin extends his hand, sharpened nails…claws almost…stroking the man’s tear-stained cheek. “Don’t be afraid. This will be a lot of fun…for me.” Taemin grips the man’s face, nails slicing into his cheeks. He’s as hungry as his prisoner. Hungrier even. There’s a golden glint in his dark eyes as he leans in closer, fangs bared, ready to… 

“Taeminnie!” you shout, pushing open the heavy wooden door leading down to the dungeon. Taemin sighs, dropping his head in defeat. “Taeminnie!” you call out again, “Are you down there?” Taemin grits his teeth, smiling through the mild embarrassment, “Yes, honey! I’m here! What can I do for you?” “Oh good!” you cheer and you’re coming down the stairs with a plate of freshly baked cookies in your hand.

The chandelier overhead flicks on, making both men squint. Taemin releases the man’s face, straightening himself out to look more dignified in your presence. “My love, I don’t know why you insist on making these when we can’t eat them.” Ignoring his comments, you kneel down in front of your husband’s prisoner, your expression much more cheerful than his. “We can’t but he can. I’m sure the poor thing’s starving” you pout, plucking the gag from the man’s mouth.

Without fail, as they do every time, he begins to scream at the top of his lungs, a glimmer of hope rushing back to him at this opportunity, however small, to get someone’s attention. You wait patiently for him to run out of steam. No one will hear him anyway. You’d picked this home as newlyweds mainly due to its beauty but it doesn't hurt that there isn't a neighbor for miles. “Enough of that” you huff, shoving a cookie into his mouth. He spits it out sending spit soaked crumbs of cookie flying back onto you.

Taemin moves to grab him, prepared to tear his throat out for disrespecting his love, but you hold your hand up and he stills. You wipe yourself clean with the black cloth previously responsible for sealing his mouth shut before shoving it back inside. “You know” you sigh, “I spare the ones I like sometimes but I don’t like you.” Turning back to your darling husband, you rest a hand on his shoulder, planting a soft kiss on his cheek. “Tear him apart, Taeminnie.” 

Taemin wraps an arm around your plush waist, "Anything for you." You take your time walking back upstairs, enjoying the sound of Taemin’s teeth tearing him to shreds like one might a grand, classical masterpiece. Shutting the door behind you, you pick up one of your cookies, figuring it couldn’t hurt to take a bite. You finish the rest of it in spite of the gurgling in your stomach and the bitter taste on your tongue, refusing to accept the reality that…well…you probably would’ve spit them out too.

[a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all]

You Shouldn't Kiss Me Like This.... (Rhett Abbott x Reader)

Fandom: Outer Range, Rhett Abbott, f!reader Summary: You and Rhett have a unique friendship. Every time you go out with a group, you end up getting drunk, dancing, and making out with him only to then wind up going home with other people. But what happens when Rhett asks you to dance before either of you has had a drink.... Word Count: 3744 TW: Fluff, Kissing, Love Confession, Drinking, Mentions of drunk making out, Mentions of drunk dancing, Language Notes: For @ohtobeleah's Galentine's Day Special based on "You Shouldn't Kiss Me Like This" by Toby Keith (RIP 😔💗)

Despite the relatively early hour, the bar was busier than usual even for a Saturday night. You had forgotten there was some big sports thing that weekend the next town over so the overabundance of unfamiliar faces blending into the sea of regulars was a bit of a shock when you first arrived with your friends but—miraculously—the six of you managed to stake your claim on a table not too far from where you usually sat. 

However, you had struggled to squeeze through the crowd and since everyone else was already sitting when you finally caught up, it was unanimously decided you should fight your way back up to the bar to get the first round of drinks. You put up a brief mock protest before surrendering to the peer pressure, but secretly, you didn’t mind. It gave you a chance to scope out the space and see if any of the out-of-towners caught your eye. Your town wasn’t small per se, but even in a medium-sized pond, there were only so many fish. So when there was a chance at some fresh blood, why not take advantage?

What seemed like an eternity later, you pushed your way back to your friends and practically threw the beers onto the table before collapsing into the booth. While you had enjoyed watching all the new potential hookups around you, you had also been relentlessly jostled, had beer spilled on your boots, and had three separate guys grab your ass before claiming it was an “accident” due to the crowd. And all just to get a crappy $7 beer. Ridiculous.

As you took your first drink, you finally realized only five people were sitting around the table instead of six. Nudging Parker who was sitting next to you, you leaned over and shouted above the music, “Where’d Rhett go?”

She shrugged dismissively, her attention locked on some douchy-looking frat bro eye-fucking her from a few tables away. “I don’t know. He said something about going to help you with the drinks or something.”

“Well, I never saw him.”

“He’s a big boy. He’ll find his way back. Or not.” She pointed at the frat bro, signaling the end of her interest in your questions. “What do you think about him?”

Without glancing back over, you deadpanned, “I think if you let him even touch you, you should get tested in the morning.”

She rolled her eyes at you before sitting up straighter as she bit her lip and coyly waved at the frat bro, clearly dismissing you. 

You caught Alec’s eye over the top of Parker’s head and you both tried to suppress a chuckle. Parker infamously made the worst choices when it came to men and she only dug her claws in deeper when any of you tried to talk her out of them, so it was better to just let her do whatever she was going to do and help her deal with the consequences afterward.

Relaxing back in your seat, you took another long drink from your beer. It was now almost half empty and just the thought of wading back through the crowd for another one made you internally groan. Though you could probably convince Alec to go since you got the first round but that would involv–

Your internal conversation was cut off as you spotted Rhett pushing his way through the crowd towards the table. Sitting up, you smiled at him. “Oh, there you are. I thought you might have gotten trampled by the mob of people or something. Your beer’s getting war–”

“Come dance with me.”

You were taken aback as he thrust out his hand to help you up from the table. 

It was a given at this point that by the end of the night, you and Rhett would end up hammered, uninhibited, and viciously making out in the middle of the dance floor. It’s what happened every time you went to the bar: You’d both drink, you’d both dance together, you’d both get all hot and bothered, and you’d both find someone else to take you home for the night. It was a strange system but it worked. Parker once joked that you were each other’s fluffers, just getting things ready for your real targets for the night. And while you would prefer to phrase it somewhat more tastefully, she wasn’t exactly wrong. Plus, you had found that a lot of guys (and girls in Rhett’s case) loved watching you making out with someone else, rubbing your body all over theirs, just for you to go home with them instead. It seemed as if the two of you weren’t the only ones getting fluffed in this situation.

However, neither you nor Rhett ever stepped foot on the dance floor until you’d finished at least three or four beers. He was fairly shy and reserved when sober and you both were very self-conscious of your dancing before getting at least slightly buzzed. Yet you were currently only halfway through beer number one and his first beer still sat unopened on the table next to you. Rhett might have pre-gamed on his own before you, Tara, and Spencer picked him up, but he seemed completely sober so you couldn’t imagine what he was thinking. 

“I–but we–I mean…”

Rhett smiled as he leaned in close to be heard over the music. “It’s just a dance, sweetheart. It ain’t anythin’ we don’t do every week.”

“Bu-but what about our drinks?”

“I’m sure Parker—” he took one glance at your friend sitting next to you still making “do-me” eyes at the frat boy and corrected his statement “—Tara wouldn’t mind keepin’ an eye on ‘em.”

“You two go,” Tara said, smiling from where she was sitting with Spencer’s arm draped across her shoulders. “Your drinks will still be here when you get back.”

“Well…maybe,” Spencer muttered just loud enough to be heard over the music as he eyed Rhett’s untouched beer.

Tara elbowed her boyfriend with a scowl before turning back to you and gesturing for you to go. Still confused about the change in your routine, you took Rhett’s hand and let him help you to your feet. As he led you towards the dance floor, you turned your head just in time to see Tara and Spencer laughing and shaking their heads as they watched the two of you leave. Then Spencer reached for Rhett’s beer but Tara slapped his hand away. 

You knew your friends didn’t understand this weird arrangement you and Rhett had fallen into—hell, it barely made sense to you. They were all convinced as they watched you week after week that the two of you were falling in love. They never believed you’re just friends having a little drunken fun.

Not that you hadn’t ever considered Rhett as a potential love connection. The first night you met him, that was where you thought things were headed. He had finally had enough of his toxic home life back in Wyoming and was looking for a fresh start somewhere new. So when a contact from his time bull-riding who lived in town offered him a job, he jumped at the opportunity. 

You met him a few days later in this very bar when you saw him sitting all alone in the back corner. Of course, you noticed his classic-cowboy good looks, but what really caught your eye was how nervous and shy he seemed, his eyes mostly trained on the beer in front of him except when they occasionally shifted around the bar uncertainly. It wasn’t as if he were scared of someone seeing him or that he was on the run from something. No. He looked like a kid on his first day of school who wasn’t sure of where to sit at lunch.

So, you had gone and sat down at his table with two beers and a friendly smile. It took quite a bit of patience and coaxing, but Rhett eventually began to open up to you. Then, just as you were going to make the move to his side of the booth, your friends found you and asked for an introduction. By the end of the night, Rhett had slipped naturally into the gang and it felt weird pursuing him in any romantic way after that. After all, you could see how much he needed a support system in this new town and you didn’t want to take that from him for a one-night fling. 

Which was why when you found yourselves sloppily making out in the middle of the dance floor a few weeks later and he just brushed it off like it was nothing, you didn’t push it or question it. And when it happened again, and again, and again, it just felt like a routine or a tradition and you never looked deeper into it.

But now Rhett had suddenly changed things up and you still had no idea why.

Once you reached the dance floor, Rhett pulled you in close and the two of you began to dance. There were so many people around you that you couldn’t move more than a few inches in any direction, but since you usually just rubbed against each other while making out, it shouldn’t have been an issue. However, without the usual buzz from the drinks, you were way too in your head about every move you made. Your usual fluid, natural movements felt stiff and robotic, and all you could think about was where Rhett’s hands were or what part of him was pressed against you at any given time. It was a disaster.

The song ended and a soft, melodic tune began to play. Slow songs were pretty rare but they were always the perfect opportunity for another drink, and boy did you need one. You turned to brave the crowd around the bar once more, however, Rhett’s fingers slipped into yours and he spun you back into his arms.

A half grin pulled at the corner of his mouth as he saw your surprised face and he asked, “You rushin’ off already? We just got out here.” 

“In case I’m the only one who has noticed, I’m not really feeling this right now. And besides, we don’t do slow dances.”

“Tonight we do.” He must have seen the hesitation still on your face because he squeezed your hand. “Come on. You can tough it out for one song, then they’ll play somethin’ fast we can move to and you’ll get into the flow of it. Otherwise, you’ll just be waitin’ in that line for the rest of the night.”

Even pressed against him and over the softer melody of the slow music, the deep timbre of his voice was still difficult to hear but you knew he was right. By the time you made it through the crowd of people to reach the bar for another drink, many upbeat songs would have passed and there was a good chance you’d be ticked off by your waiting experience just like the first time. Instead, you could just stick it out here with Rhett and you’d be back to your usual dancing in mere minutes. And he was probably right. Given a few more songs, you’d probably figure out this sober dancing thing and actually enjoy yourself. So, somewhat reluctantly, you nodded to signal you’d stay.

Apparently, many of the people around you had the same thought you originally did because the crowds around you began to thin out giving you and Rhett a little more room to maneuver. The two of you were swaying together slowly and you have to admit it’s a nice change from your usual high-energy grinding. 

Then as the music began to swell, he surprised you by spinning you out and when you twirled back into him, Rhett placed his hand on the center of your back and pulled you tight until you were pressed firmly against his chest. You looked up–unsure of what he was doing–just as his other hand brushed across your cheek to settle on the nape of your neck. One of the colored lights flashed across his face, illuminating the intensity deep within his eyes as he stared at you, and you felt your heart skip a beat as time seemed to freeze around you. 

But that was silly. This was Rhett. You shouldn’t feel this fluttering in your chest or tingling where his skin brushed yours. He was your good friend, someone you had made out with every week and barely gave it a second thought. So why was there this different feel about him tonight? Why couldn't you take your eyes off his lips, why was your head spinning, and why were your knees growing weak? And why didn’t you want it to stop?

Then, using the hand on the back of your neck to tilt your head, Rhett’s lips were suddenly on yours.

Electricity shot right through you as every nerve in your body seemed to light up at once. It felt like you had just jammed a fork into an electrical socket but in the best of ways. This was unlike any kiss you had ever shared with Rhett—with anyone—before. Usually, your kisses with Rhett were drunken, and sloppy, and uncoordinated. But this…Rhett was as sober as you ever see him, and every curl of his lips, every swipe of his tongue, it all felt so fluid, almost choreographed. As if he had planned for this moment for ages. 

Your eyes drifted closed as you let yourself sink deeper into his embrace. You could no longer tell if you were standing still or spinning around and around and around as a dizzying fog enveloped your mind. For a few seconds, you didn’t even know where you were at. All that existed was you and Rhett and the kiss. 

But then you shifted, the top of your head bumping into the brim of his hat almost knocking it off, and the spell was broken. Rhett pulled away, fixing his hat, and leaving you clinging to him for support as the world came rushing back to you. The slow song was still playing and crowds of people around you still occasionally bumped into you as they danced, And yet, from the moment Rhett’s lips touched yours, everything had changed.

But had he felt it too?

With your face still just a few inches away from his, you chuckled softly. “You know, you really shouldn’t kiss me like this.”

“An’ why’s that?” 

“You might give a girl the wrong impression. Make her start thinking lots of crazy things.”

For a moment, he didn’t respond. He just gave you that same intense stare he had just before the kiss and you felt your heart begin to speed up once more. Then, in a voice you could only just make out over the music, he asked, “What if that’s the point? What if I’m tired of waitin’ for her to figure out how I feel?”

All the air was sucked out of your lungs as his revelation drove into your chest like a fist. ���Rhett…”

“No…No…” Before you could process what he was saying, he shook his head and stepped back, letting his hands fall to his sides as he released his hold on you. “’m sorry. I shouldn’t—I’m doin’ this all wrong. But I couldn’t take another week of you wrapped in my arms, your lips on mine, just to then watch you go home with someone else. I just…I just wanted you to know. ‘m sorry.”

He started to hurry off the dance floor but this time it was your turn to grab his arm to stop him from leaving. His eyes flickered up to yours and you saw that all the confidence and certainty that had been there before had been extinguished, leaving only fear behind. You knew it was the same fear you were feeling right now: fear of this changing everything; fear of this ruining your friendship; fear of what came next. 

Sliding your hand into his and linking your fingers, you muttered, “Come here” before leading him off the dance floor and back towards the rear of the building. There was a separate concert area back there that they only opened for shows so you knew it was one of the few places in the bar that would give you some semblance of privacy.

Once there, you ducked into the empty space and shut the door. You could still feel the vibrations from the music and hear the dull thumping, but it wasn’t as overwhelming as it had been before. In here, at least you and Rhett wouldn’t need to shout to be heard. 

Now that you were alone, neither one of you seemed to know what to say or how to start. You both shifted slightly as you glanced at each other. Finally, Rhett rubbed the back of his neck and said, “Listen, can we just forget any of that happened? I don’t want things to be weird between us and ‘m sorry if—”

“No, I’m sorry,” you said, cutting him off. “I was just a little surprised by that kiss and what I said didn’t come out right. But what I should have said, what I meant to say—” you stepped forward until you were brushing up against him, placing your hands on his chest. “—was ‘you shouldn’t kiss me like this…unless you mean it like that’.”

Rhett’s long eyelashes fluttered several times in quick succession and you saw his Adam’s apple bob wildly out of the corner of your eye. Licking his lips, he hesitated for another moment then asked, “And if I do? If I–If I mean it like that?”

Leaning forward, you whispered, “If you do, then, baby, kiss me again.”

The moment that his lips touched yours, the world once again fell away. If anything, now that you were returning his kiss with the same tenderness and enthusiasm, it was even more intoxicating than the kiss on the dance floor and you never wanted it to end.

Both of Rhett’s large, calloused hands slid up to cup your face, his thumb softly rubbing back and forth across your cheekbone. He used this leverage to drive you back a few steps and you soon felt your back bump against the wall. He pressed closer, sandwiching you between the cold, rough concrete and his warm, firm body. Another spark of electricity shot through you and you wondered if he felt it too as you felt the growing bulge in his pants jerk against your hip. 

Through the haze of the kiss, you briefly considered how far you should let this go. A small part of you wanted to undo his belt right this second and drop to your knees before him, or to slide down your jeans and let him pound into you against this wall. After all, the two of you were still alone and no one would see you. However, the bigger part of you knew no matter how amazing you felt at this moment, this was all very new and you shouldn’t rush things. You and Rhett still needed to figure out what this meant for the two of you moving forward, and adding sex right now would just make things even more complicated.

Rhett must have come to the same conclusion because he shifted his hips so they were no longer pressed against you. Then he reluctantly pulled his lips off of yours. His hands slid off your face onto the wall behind you, one braced on either side of your head as both of you stared at one another panting as you tried to catch your breath. All you could do was look at Rhett’s lips and imagine them pressed against yours once more. And from how he stared at you, a hunger pulsing in his blue eyes, you felt he was thinking the same thing. 

“Why didn’t you do that sooner?” you whispered.

“I wanted to since that first night we met. When I saw how kind, and funny, and incredible you were, I was smitten. But then the rest of the gang showed up and for the first time in a long time, I felt accepted. I was afraid makin’ a move on you would ruin all a that and I figured havin’ you as a friend was better than not havin’ you in my life at all. For a while, I settled for our dances and kisses, but I finally realized I didn’t want to be just your friend anymore. So, I took a chance.”

“I’m glad you did because I felt the same way.”

Rhett grinned. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You leaned forward and pressed a kiss into his cheek. “Thank you for being the brave one.”

Rhett’s cheeks grew red in the dim light but he nodded as he let his hands fall from the wall behind you. Standing up straight, he glanced over his shoulder. “Um, I guess we should probably get back before we get in trouble for bein’ back here.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right. Besides, I wouldn’t be surprised if Tara’s sent Spencer out to find us yet.” You pushed off the wall, but as Rhett started to open the door, you stopped him. “Rhett…what happens now? Where do we go from here?”

He thought for a moment before a sly grin spread across his face. Walking up to you, he plucked his cowboy hat off his head and placed it on top of yours, pulling the brim down low over your brow.

Since the night you met him, you had never seen Rhett let a single person wear his hat, let alone touch it. So for him to give it to you, even temporarily…

You squeezed his hand tightly as you gazed into his eyes, loving what you saw reflected there. “How do I look?”

“Damn, sweetheart, looks like it was made for you,” Rhett’s voice was thicker than normal as he stared at you. “I shouldda given it to you the night we met, as soon as you sat down at my table with that smile and a beer.”

Now it was your turn to feel the blood rushing to your cheeks. Glancing shyly at the floor, you asked, “I love it, but I’m not really sure how this answers my question about us?”

“What do you know about Cowboy Law?”

Taglist: @luckyladycreator2, @nik2blog, @dumb-fawkin-bitch

[weavingstarlight]

With Everything You Have

Read on AO3

For the @legendoflinkficfight and @silverne-nonsense Prompt: “Keep your eyes on me. You’re gonna be okay, just don’t look away. Don’t. Look. Away.”

Hyrule has been captured. The Chain fights their hardest to save him.

Tags: Blood and Injury, Ambiguous/Open Ending (in more than one way)

Author's Note: "The Consequence Of Imagination Is Fear" -- Junie & TheHutFriends

***

The cavern’s vaulting ceiling shakes with the sounds of ferocious battle, heady and rough, rattling the very stones like marbles in a jar.

Warriors launches himself into the crowd of monsters with a twisting lunge, carving a bloody path through the bokoblins and stalfos and lizardfolk and other creatures he can’t even identify — but like flies swarming a corpse, more monsters flood into the cleared space, crawling over fallen bodies stained with black blood.

Beside him, Time is shouting orders to the younger ones — getting Wind to dash around the outside wall of the cavern, hoping to cut off at least one passageway through which enemy reinforcements are disgorged; sending Four (and Four and Four and Four) to guard Wild while the archer picks off flying enemies; calling Twilight to watch Sky’s back as the wielder of the Master Sword plunges into the fray, piercing through the crowd like a lance, his focus solely on his target and not at all on the monsters closing in behind him. Legend, wild-eyed and unbiddable, surges forward like a hurricane, magic flying from him like embers as he tries to dance his way past the horde and reach the other side.

Upon a high ledge overlooking the cavern, tucked against the far wall, on the opposite side of the prowling mob of monsters, their captured Traveler dangles on display.

Hyrule hangs by his wrists in the center of a large wooden frame, his bare feet scarcely touching the rough stone below. Just beyond his toes lies a deep depression in the rock, gouged out of the granite by talons and filled halfway with stinking, sooty ashes. Long chains stretch through iron rings at the corners of the frame, and the chains are pinned to a distant anchor point — Hyrule can’t reach them to free himself.

The whole frame apparatus reminds the Captain uneasily of the gallows upon which traitors and deserters had been executed during the War.

Hyrule isn’t waiting quietly for rescue. The moment the Chain bursts into the chamber, weapons out and war cries on their lips, the young hero turns his own defiance on his captors. He kicks and twists in his bonds, shouting at the moblins and geru that leer around him. Those leers turn quickly into guttural shrieks when lightning blazes across a full quarter of the chamber, a maelstrom centered on the Traveler.

When Wars finishes blinking the spots from his vision, Hyrule is alone on the ledge. The boy is panting hard, fists clenched and knuckles white. Around him only smoke remains of his captors.

Warriors can see there are two side passages, one on either side of the ledge, leading back into shadowed corridors that worm their way into the mountainside. Based on the twisting route the Chain had taken to get here in the first place, he anticipates those trails to be equally convoluted and full of monsters.

Down on the floor of the chamber, the Chain struggles to reach the far side. The chattering monsters swell around them, their forces billowing like seafoam, pushing them closer together — and farther from Hyrule. Warriors plants his feet and braces against the tide.

Time knocks shoulders with him as the mob compresses them. “Clear a path!” the older man demands, and Wars is oh so ready to comply.

The power of the Light cloaks him in its warmth, sublime as sunlight on his skin, filling his lungs with ambrosic aether.

“Men, on me!” Warriors calls, a clarion summons pulled from his breast without thought.

He doesn’t look back to see who follows. Wars trusts Wind, at least, to arrive at his side, and the others will fall in or not.

He dives forward with hands and sword aglow, and the enemy ranks part before him like ants washed away in a flood.

With blade and blood Warriors clears a trail towards the center of the cavern, where Sky and Twilight are working in tandem to fell a colossal hinox. Legend and Time use the opening Wars creates to join their brothers in taking down the titan.

“Hyrule!” Wind bellows, his voice cutting through the clamor as readily as it would ring out over a storm-tossed ship. “We’re almost there!”

There is a resounding crash as the hinox’s bulk impacts against the stone floor. In the momentary calm that follows, Warriors again looks up at the ledge. 

Hyrule is trembling from head to toe. Fatigue is taking hold of his limbs as the strain of holding his own weight by his wrists sets in. But Wars is certain that not all of Hyrule’s shaking is from tiredness alone.

Others might see only Hyrule’s courage, but Warriors can sense his fear.

“Can anyone hookshot up there?” Time asks, his eye roving over the rough rocks piled up under the ledge.

“Even better!” Legend proclaims, drawing a blue hookshot out of his bag. “I can switch with him! Let me —”

Legend fires the item with a hissing sound like a kettle releasing steam.

A magic barrier slams into place with no sound, but a feeling that reverberates in their hearts like a cell door slamming shut.

Instead of striking its target, the metal clamp crashes into the unseen wall at the edge of the cliff with a bang . Foiled, the clamp drops to the ground dozens of feet below, clattering on the rough stone.

Keh heh heh heh

“Wizzrobe above!” Legend shouts as he recoils the hookshot. At the same time, Warriors registers the distinctively musical sound of the creature’s footsteps — like dripping water echoing inside a crystal bell.

The wizzrobe appears out of thin air in a shower of sparkles. Its hideous fanged grin is fixed on the Chain below, the color of moonlight shining through clouds.

“It’s the source of the barrier!” Time confirms, but Wars is already calling orders.

“Wild, take it down!”

“He can’t!” Blue yells back, followed by a harsh hiss from Wild. The Champion’s right arm hangs limp and bloody, a daira’s heavy, red-painted axe on the ground beside him. Regardless of what Wild wishes, he won’t be firing any more arrows without healing first.

The wizzrobe twirls merrily in the air and vanishes, more sparkles the only sign of its location. Those ringing footsteps echo in Wars’ ears — moving away.

“It’s getting away!” cries Twilight.

“After it!” Time shouts. “Twilight, Sky, bring it down!”

Twilight and Sky charge after the escaping wizzrobe, chainmail clinking in time with their retreating footsteps. They follow it into one of the left-hand side passages, ignoring the enemies that try to block their way. The others do their best to divert the foes that mass in that direction, serving as distractions at the very least.

Sky pulls out his whip as he runs, Twilight his clawshots. Both disappear into the darkness, the sounds of their pursuit lost amid the roars of another wave of monsters pouring into the cavern.

And on the ledge above, the side passages are suddenly alive with howls as monsters tumble out, eyes and fangs and claws all trained on Hyrule.

Warriors’ heart leaps into his throat as a moaning ReDead lunges for the trapped Traveler, who twists and fights his bonds but can’t escape. The ashes at his feet puff up from the monster’s passage.

A flare of red light, the color of metal heated in a forge, flashes and then ebbs to a low glow around Hyrule’s body. The ReDead’s claws impact the glow like it’s a solid thing and skitter along the surface an inch from Hyrule’s flesh.

Hyrule is panting, sweat beading on his forehead, but his eyes are fiery beneath his messy bangs.

His Shield spell holds.

Wars is distracted from his brother’s struggle by a pair of fat moblins charging him, and while he turns to engage them, he bumps into Wind, who is escaping from a dinolfos’ fire breath. Green has joined the melee in the center of the chamber, and Vio has taken over as an archer in place of Wild, but the Chain is still struggling to hold their ground…

“We’re coming, Hyrule!” Warriors calls, his voice nearly cracking as he strains to be heard over the din. “Twilight and Sky are coming for you! Just hold on!”

A sharp nod and Warriors knows he’d been heard. Hyrule continues struggling against the chains, baring his teeth in rebellion against the monsters that cavort around him.

Legend grabs Green’s shoulder and yanks him sideways. “Come on!” he snarls. “We’re finding another way up!”

Green gives a quick affirmation, and the two of them are off, heading towards the passages that twist off the right-hand side of the cavern.

Wind is sticking to Wars’ side like a burr, refusing to let the horde separate them. Together they fight their way to stand at the foot of the rock pile that leads, roughly and precariously, up to Hyrule’s restraints.

“Maybe I can climb it?” Wind asks dubiously, eyeing the canted surface as though he can dissect it with his stare.

Wars glances back — the others are busy keeping the enemies on the ground level from overwhelming the rest of the Chain. Time is using his greatsword to devastating effect, and Red has joined him with Fire Rod in hand. Blue has Wild and Vio tucked up against the far wall, using his huge hammer to defend the both of them while Vio administers first aid to Wild’s arm.

“Try,” Wars urges Wind, “I’ll cover you.”

Wind sheathes his sword and launches himself at the unsteady pile of stones without hesitation.

Wars plants himself at the bottom of the slope and finds himself fending off all manner of beasts — bokoblins, wolfos, chus — he starts losing track of the enemy types, only enough attention left to realize that he needs to prioritize the enemies with ranged attacks because Wind’s back is totally exposed and this was a bad idea — 

It’s maybe forty feet vertically to reach the ledge. Wind has gone less than fifteen when the flying monsters decide he makes a lovely target.

The Sailor’s cry of frustration rings out as he falls — not badly wounded, not yet, he half-jumps-half-slides back to solid ground, his face red and skin scratched. Wars steadies Wind with his shield arm as he tumbles down.

“I can make it!” Wind insists, ready to try again, but Wars is looking at the aeralfos and aches and knows he can’t.

“Twilight and Sky —”

They hurry back to a point where they can see Hyrule clearly.

The monsters are banging on Hyrule’s Shield, making him flinch as they come within inches of his face. His expression flickers each time he startles.

“Don’t let your Shield down!” Warriors yells.

“Wars, I can’t —” Another flinch. “ — I’m running out of magic!”

“Don’t drop the Shield,” Wars insists. “We’re coming, Hyrule! Twilight, Sky — they’ll make it, I promise they’ll be there soon. Just hold on.”

“We’ll hold the entrances! The rest, stay with Hyrule!” shouts Time, and he and Red split up, one to the left and one to the right.

Wars bites his lip. With only narrow passages to control, they’ll have a terrain advantage, but they’ll lack support — and if anything goes wrong, the rest of the Chain won’t know until it’s too late.

The horde has thinned, though, and Wars takes the opportunity to thin it further. The Light he called earlier is quick to reignite, scalding him with its purity. He sweeps his sword, and his foes fall by the handful, pierced by holy power.

“Wars!” Wind calls, a hint of desperation in his voice, and Wars’ eyes snap to him — but the Sailor isn’t in trouble.

Hyrule is.

The monsters have given up trying to break through the Shield by force and instead are lurking around the edges, testing the limits of Hyrule’s endurance. Little creatures climb around and on top of him, their weight pressing him down until he cries out from the pain in his wrists. Some of the smarter ones are coordinating their attacks, waiting until Hyrule is distracted to all launch themselves at him together.

Through it all, Hyrule is burning himself out to power the glowing Shield that protects him.

And Warriors can do nothing to reach his brother faster.

The invisible barrier around the ledge still hums in their minds. The wizzrobe still lives.

Gradually, the battle around Warriors grinds to a halt as Time and Red stem the tide of enemies. He still hears them fighting out of sight, somewhere in the echoing depths of the mountain — distance and direction nearly impossible to determine in the dark.

So Wars… stops fighting. He leaves the cleanup to Blue and Wind, and finds himself below Hyrule’s ledge again, staring up in dismay.

Hyrule is out of breath, his chest heaving. He hangs from his wrists like a limp marionette, every now and then summoning the energy to push and pull himself higher, his feet slipping on the stone floor. His knees tremble. His green eyes glitter beneath half-closed lids. Monsters crawl around and over him, prying at his Shield. 

There’s only one thing left Warriors can think to do for Hyrule.

“You’ve got this,” he hears himself saying — too quietly, far too quietly for Hyrule to hear. He clears his throat and tries again.

“You can do it!” he calls louder. “Just a little longer, Hyrule. We’re almost there.”

A grunt from above is his only answer. But that’s enough to know Hyrule is listening.

Wind snags Wars’ hand and squeezes it. The Captain doesn’t even look at him. He has no comfort, no consolation left to give to anyone but Hyrule.

“Keep your Shield up, Hyrule,” Wars begs. “Don’t let them through.”

“Wars —” Hyrule pants, gulping for air. “My blood — They can’t —”

“I know, I know,” Warriors soothes. He does know. “They won’t get it, not one drop. We’ll save you.”

“I — I can’t…” To Wars’ horror, there are tears glittering on Hyrule’s lashes.

The red light surrounding Hyrule gutters like a failing candle. It flares up for the barest moment, igniting a temporary hope — and then it falters, doused.

Hyrule screams — his voice filled with frustration and fear and still, still defiant to the last.

The little monsters climbing on his body joyfully screech as they dig their claws and teeth into Hyrule’s skin.

The larger ones lunge forward with triumphant roars and Wars can only watch as — 

The Shield flares to life again — a weak, paltry thing, sickly red, its light tainted with a pale gray tint.

The Traveler makes a choking sound and grits his teeth.

A lizalfos crawls up to Hyrule languidly, stroking the Shield with its claws as though curious. The Shield bends and flexes with the touch, and those claws nearly come to rest against Hyrule’s throat.

It goes down with Vio’s arrows in its skull, vanishing in a cloud of acrid smoke at Hyrule’s feet.

Warriors can hear Vio demanding more ammunition in the background, but he knows how low their stores are. Even with all of the remaining Chain shooting, they won’t be able to take down every monster that approaches Hyrule.

“Hyrule, look at me,” the Captain beseeches. Hyrule’s eyelids flicker up. Exhaustion and pain turn his expression sunken and sallow.

There is a great clatter and tumult in the side passages, and Wars feels his heart leap in his chest, soaring —

It’s not his brothers, it’s a flood of monstrous reinforcements. Hyrule twists in his bonds, trying to see what’s behind him — 

“Don’t!” Warriors shouts, and Hyrule’s wide eyes snap back to him.

“Don’t,” he repeats much quieter. “Just keep watching me. Don’t look back, don’t turn around.”

“Wars,” Wind breathes beside him. Warriors hushes him with a hand on his arm.

Whatever Wind needs to say, it can wait.

All that matters right now is Hyrule.

“Keep your eyes on me,” Wars says sternly to Hyrule, but with as much kindness as he can muster.

His brother deserves every shred of kindness he can amass.

Hyrule doesn’t speak, just takes a deep, shuddering breath and locks gazes with Warriors. The intensity of his stare burns into Warriors’ soul, withering him beneath its heat.

There is no doubt in Hyrule’s eyes, not an instant’s hesitation. He is putting his trust in Warriors’ words.

But who is Warriors to evoke such faith?

Warriors swallows, his throat suddenly very dry, and speaks up again. “You’re gonna be okay,” he promises, “just don’t look away.”

He ignores everything else in the chamber, every sound and movement. Nothing exists in this moment but Wars and Hyrule and the space between them, gaping like an open wound.

Nothing matters but his brother, and so Warriors gives Hyrule every ounce of his attention.

“Don’t.”

Wars’ palms are sweating under his gloves.

“Look.”

Hyrule is shaking hard, but his gaze is steady.

“Away.”

At the last second, Warriors feels a flash of doubt. Has he done the right thing?

Forgive me, Hyrule —

It is not an expression of fear or pain, but surprise that freezes on Hyrule’s face as a geru’s spear pierces his heart.

Notes:

@not-freyja said something recently that I found very moving: "There is dignity in fighting a losing battle well."

[multifandomrandomgirl]

Not Alone - Mick Mars x reader

Trigger warning: panic attack

Masterlist:

Wordcount: 793

------

Electric red and blue lights lit up the night, the energy that could be generated at a Mötley Crüe gig was intense. The crowd of young girls screamed, and the men shouted along to the songs, the lights were blinding and the instruments were deafening.

Yet, behind the scenes, backstage, it was a whole other story.

Y/N leaned against the cold concrete wall, trying to steady her breath. The tears rolled down her cheeks relentlessly, they were hot and stung. Y/N’s body shook as the overwhelming emotions coursed through her. The backstage area was meant to be a place of excitement, but it now felt like a prison. The lights and noise only amplified her distress. She didn’t even notice the gig coming to an end.

Footsteps approached her, steadily, contrasting the chaos within her mind. She didn’t look up to see who it was; she couldn’t. The weight of her crying crushed her, she felt like she was drowning.

“Did I scare you?” The voice was low and it was unmistakable that it belonged to Mick Mars.

Y/N lifted her head, her eyes met his. Her vision was blurred by her heavy tears. She could barely make out his face which was framed by his long black hair. His usual cold persona was gone, his face was soft and full of concern, a side of him that Y/N had never seen.]

“Oh, sweetheart.” Mick murmured, he closed the distance between them, his hand reached out hesitantly and cupped her face, trying to ground her.

“I didn’t mean to,” Y/N whispered, her voice cracking. “I didn’t mean to fall apart.”

Mick’s thumb brushed away a few tears, his touch was delicate. “It’s okay, sometimes the world just seems so loud, doesn’t it?” He said softly. 

Y/N nodded softly, and a fresh wave of tears spilled from her eyes.

“I just got so overwhelmed. The crowd, the noise. Everything. You guys up there, powerful and untouchable. A reminder that I’m just a roadie. I’m nothing.”

“Hey, hey. Don’t,” Mick's face softened, his tone a little firm. “You’re more than enough, roadie or not. Trust me, even on stage, we all have our moments of fear.” “You? Scared?” Y/N asked, in disbelief.

“Absolutely. Every show, there’s a bit of me that is terrified. But I deal with it by playing my music.” Mick nods, giving her a small smile.

“I don’t know how to do that. How to turn this into something good.” She admitted sheepishly.

Mick moved his hand from her cheek down to her shoulder, rubbing small circles.

“You don’t have to know right now. It’s okay to feel what you’re feeling. Just remember, you’re here, you’re trying. That takes courage. You should be proud of yourself.”

“Thank you,” Y/N whispered, feeling a glimmer of hope. “Thank you for finding me, for talking to me. I didn’t realise how much I needed it.”

“You’re not alone, okay? If you ever need a talk or a quiet space, I’m always here. Please come find me.” His gaze never left hers.

“I will.” Y/N agreed, his offer was like a lifeline to her. She finally began to calm down.

“Good, now, let’s go get you somewhere more comfortable.” Mick’s smile widened. He guided her away from the cold wall, his arm wrapped around her shoulders, he was like a safety blanket to her. As they walked through the backstage corridors, Mick held onto her, reminding her that she wasn’t alone.

Mick’s dressing room was silent, a significant contrast to the crowd from earlier. Mick took Y/ over to a comfy chair and sat her down before he pulled up another one next to her and sat down himself.

“Do you want to talk about it? What upset you?” Mick asked gently.

“It’s just… everything. The pressure, expectations. Feeling like I’m not enough, seeing other people be so confident.” She took a deep breath.

“I understand,” Mick said, he’d listened to her every word. “It’s so easy to look at other people and only see their strengths, but everyone has their weaknesses, their struggles. They find ways to deal with them.”

“I don’t know how to deal with mine, I feel like I’m drowning.” Y/N admitted, looking down.

“One step at a time, okay?” He squeezed her hand. “Remember, you’re not alone. I’m here to help you, to care about you.”

His gentle tone brought tears of gratitude to her eyes.

“Thank you, Mick. I can’t tell you how much this means to me.”

“Anytime, sweetheart. I got you.” He smiled, kissing her cheek.

Y/N blushed a little and leaned into Mick’s touch. For the first time in a while, she felt safe and loved.

[lindsay00000008]

Whumpees in traps

1. A hole in the ground

CW: gunshot wound, tranquillizing/needles, slightly intimate whumper

Whumpee stumbles through the underbrush, away from the shouting men and barking dogs. One arm, bloody with a fresh wound, is cradled to their chest by the other, making their escape a hip-swaying, unsteady affair. They can barely see in the cool blue light of dusk. The trees both aid their cover and disrupt their path. And then, the whole forest shifts up and away, and darkness surrounds whumpee before they feel the hard earth come up to meet them.

Dazed, they attempt to roll onto their back, but they only get so far before a wall stops them. Their legs try to kick out and earth crumbles there too, but doesn’t give — unlike their ankle, which feels tender and brittle. A halo of light shines above, not very far — but when whumpee gets to their feet, leaning on the sides of the hole for support, they find it’s too far for their current state. An arm’s usefulness lost to a captor’s gun, a body weakened by stress and captivity, an ankle sprained in the fall. The trap is a crude, unsophisticated thing, but obviously man-made. For wolves, or snakes, or maybe hobs. Not made for a whumpee, though now it may as well have been.

The barking starts up once more, close by. The shouts then, and bits of dirt rain down as a nose snuffles at the edge of the hole, encroaching on Whumpee’s fading light. The dog marks it’s prey with more barks. Whumpee cowers below, turning into the shadows and trying to make themselves invisible. Hopefully a whumper will fall in, and somehow become incapacitated, and whumpee can climb atop them to get out… but no. The whumpers see the trap.

“They’re here! Get a rope!” one shouts. “There’s no escape, whumpee. You come with us or you die down there.”

But when the rope is thrown in, whumpee refuses to cooperate.

“Take the damn rope, Whumpee.”

But Whumpee is frozen.

“Whumpers, hold the line. I’ll bring them up.”

The whumper scales the drop, wary of Whumpee’s attack when their back is turned. There’s barely enough room for both of them. Whumpee can only curl themselves away, as if they might melt into the dirt or sink beneath it. Whumper grabs the back of Whumpee’s neck, then their arm — the one with the bullet. Whumpee screams. Whumper lets go of their arm with a curse.

“They’re injured! Get me something to calm them,” Whumper calls to the others. “You’re a lotta trouble, you know that? They shouldn’t have used a gun on you though. Dammit…”

Whumpee is almost pressed against Whumper’s legs by the proximity in the small space. Whumper pulls Whumpee out of their huddled crouch, a little more gently than before. They fend off Whumpee’s hand as they make feeble, fumbling attempts to push them away. Then Whumpee is only sagging against the wall before Whumper, too tired to fight. Whumper puts an arm around their waist to keep them upright.

“Please,” Whumpee begs. “Whatever they’re paying you, it c-can’t be enough to-“

“Damn right it ain’t enough. Whumpers! Get me some light. And where’s that sedative?”

A case is tossed into the hole, and a shaky light illuminates the two figures in the dirt. Whumper catches the packet, bracing it against their chest to unzip it and grabs a syringe. They pull the cap off with their teeth, expertly handling the dose and keeping Whumpee still at the same time.

“No, no— just leave me here! You don’t need me! You can just leave me here please—“ Whumpee struggles in vain as Whumper uses the side of their palm to turn their chin. With the same hand, they bring the needle to sink into the flesh between Whumpee’s neck and shoulder.

“Just lemme— let— jrss,” Whumpee blinks, eyes wide and unfocused before they roll away in a haze, “jus let— ff-mmh…” Whumpee’s head slumps, and their body goes slack.

“That’s it, sleepy time…” Whumper mutters, shifting Whumpee’s weight closer to their body.

“Christ, you went fast. Ok. We’re good, boys! Bringing ‘em up!”

[adrift-in-thyme]

Febuwhump Day 7: Suffering in Silence

Ao3

CW for PTSD, referenced injury, and unresolved interpersonal conflict

--------------------------------------

He needs sleep. 

Warriors stares into the water-speckled restroom mirror and sees nothing. Blurred shapes are all that are there, forms and colors he knows make up his visage. But his sandpaper eyes have turned them all indistinct. 

He is borderless now, as shifting and immaterial as he feels. Brush against him and he will simply float away.

Or sink into the depths that call him. 

Taking a deep breath, he scoops a palmful of water onto his face. Its icy frigidity does little to awaken him. He is too far gone for that now. 

Movement. Thought. They are nearly impossible. Have been all day.

Perhaps, that is why he had lost it earlier. Perhaps, that is why, the infallible, optimistic captain had simply…snapped.

His breath hitches unexpectedly. Trembling legs give way, depositing him on the tiled floor. Warriors brings his hands up and digs his palms into his eyes, fighting against the searing bite of oncoming tears. 

Damn it. Keep it together, captain. You already fell apart once, don’t do it again…

His hands curl into fists. Fingernails dig mercilessly into calloused flesh.

Wild’s words still echo in his mind, a terrible weight he is almost certain he lacks the strength to shoulder. 

Even a spirit of courage isn’t mighty enough for things like this.

Hurl him into hoards of squealing beasts. Send him hurtling through time and space. Drop him in the midst of situations he struggles to even comprehend. Take those he loves to a place he cannot go himself. Tear his body apart until there is nothing left. 

He can handle all that. He was built to handle all of that. 

But to strive so hard, so long only to hear that cursed shout…

“I hate you!”

The deathly chill that has gripped him since the fight (the one that had closed him off from the hero shouting in his face, that had turned his gaze dull, his expression stony, filled his mind with cotton so he could neither think nor feel…and had ignited Wild’s ire further) cracks and shatters into one million pieces. Pain cleaves through the exhausted numbness. A sob rips through his throat.

He’s heard worse. Far greater accusations, far worse insults have been spewed at him with fury and revulsion. Screamed at him as fists and feet connected with bone and muscle; shouted as blades ate away at flesh and cloth.

His own men had called him a traitor to Hyrule. The people he fought to protect had dubbed him a murderer. 

It hadn’t hurt as badly as this.

Warriors lets his head fall back against the wall. Hot tears glide down his cheeks, streaming down his neck to skitter beneath his collar. 

He hadn’t meant for any of this to happen. He hadn’t meant to break. But the sleepless nights had only continued since Twilight’s brush with death. The tasks hadn’t stopped piling up. The troubles hadn’t stopped parading through.

(The memories had kept coming, hounding at his every step, haunting his dreams, stealing the breath from his lungs. Memories of death and loss. Of betrayal and heartbreak.)

The latest battle had just been too much. Especially, when Wild had disobeyed orders yet again, hoping to catch the Shadow before he could streak through another gateway. 

Normally, Warriors would have held his tongue until he found the best wording for a rebuke. Normally, he would’ve dealt with the situation calmly, firmly…kindly.

But he had been so, so tired. 

Even now, he longs to fall into the plush embrace of a heap of blankets. But sleep was impossible out there where he could feel their eyes on him, hear their murmured conversations. He couldn’t-couldn’t see their faces a moment longer.

Warriors hadn’t even allowed himself to dwell on their expressions. Sorrow, shock, judgement, pity — he had identified them all in the split seconds he’d had to look over his friends.

His brothers.

The lump in his throat burns. Warriors swallows against it. 

He will have to come out soon, stone-faced and determined. He will have to face the repercussions of everything that has happened with a brave front.

He will have to force down the emotions churning within him, the hurt boiling up. 

He has suffered in silence for a close to a week now. And it’s not as though he isn’t skilled at the art of constructing facades by now. At times, the mask feels realer than his true face.

So, really, what’s a little longer for the sake of tentative peace?

Though, what kind of peace can be struck when one person despises the other?

He chuckles, harsh and wet. The sound is hardly audible over the never-ending rush of the water that cascades from the faucet.

Shut it off, the soldier within him shouts. Resources must be preserved.

Warriors doesn’t budge from his place on the floor. 

If he had obeyed his instincts, however, he might have heard the sound of a hand on the doorknob, a pick in the lock. 

Wind shimmies into the bathroom with shocking stealth. At the sound of the door clicking closed, Warriors startles. Instantly, his hand flies to his boot, seeking the dagger nestled against his leg. But then, his gaze lands on the sailor, standing mere feet from him, expression screwed up in worry. And he lets his hand drop to the floor.

“Goddesses, sailor,” he breathes, “you almost gave me a heartattack. Trying to put me in an early grave?”

Wind slips down beside him, shoulder pressed to the captain’s.

“Sorry! I just…” He looks down at his hands, clasped atop his lap. “...I didn’t think you were actually taking a bath in here. That would’ve been a really long one if you were.”

Warriors chokes out a chuckle. “Wouldn’t be out of character for me though, would it?”

Wind shrugs. “People don’t go bathe after a fight. I know I never do when Aryll and me argue.” 

The ceiling smears further into combined shades of emerald-blue. Warriors clears his throat. The suffocating tightness doesn’t lessen.

“‘M sorry you had to hear all that, sailor,” he croaks. “I shouldn't have snapped.”

Wind is quiet for a long thread of moments. When he speaks again, his voice is small. His words, however, are firm, confident. 

“Wild didn’t mean what he said, you know.”

The ache in Warriors’ chest pierces deeper and spreads like a blot of ink on silken cloth. 

Right when he thought this day couldn’t get any worse, now the sailor is trying to comfort him.

…as he mopes on the bathroom floor.

How far can you fall in one day?

Pretty far, it seems.

He shakes his head, hoping the sound of his hair brushing the wall behind him will cloak that of his shuddering breaths.

“Wind, you don’t have to — ”

Wind scoots closer and wraps his two arms around Warriors’ one.

“It’s true! Wild said some really bad stuff but…he was just angry at the Shadow. And…scared.” Large orbs the color of the Great Sea gaze into Warriors’. “Like you.” 

The captain is quiet, allowing that a moment to sink in. Or, perhaps, to merely settle on the tower of wavering feelings stacked within him.

He’s so tired. (How many times has he thought that now?) If he closes his eyes, the weight hovering atop him will plummet, dragging him down with it.

More tracks of salty water scurry down his cheeks, bringing warmth to his chilled flesh. 

“You’re gonna have to talk to him, you know,” the sailor continues, voice just audible over the continued downpour. “Wild can be an idiot sometimes, especially when he feels bad. He’s gonna wanna talk about what happened but…he probably thinks you hate him now.”

That hardly makes him feel warm and fuzzy inside. But Warriors knows he’s got a point. 

Some people reach outward when regret has them by the throat. Wild has already lashed out. Now, his only option is to go in.

And when that happens, even the rancher can hardly drag him out.

Good to know luck is on my side, snarks the spiral of self-pity. 

Warriors drags in a breath and swallows a mouthful of tears.

“Yeah, you’re right,” he hums. He coaxes his arm out of Wind’s grasp and wraps it around his slight shoulders, pulling him close. “You’re a smart kid, you know that?”

Wind giggles, softly. “Yeah, I know.” He pauses. “And I know you and Wild are gonna be okay. You’re brothers! Siblings always make up, trust me!”

“You’ve got a lot of optimism, sailor,” Warriors whispers. 

Silence glides in on the tail of his words. It settles, heavy and hyptonizing over the small space. Warriors allows it to reign for a while. 

The days of stress and exhaustion have fully caught up to him now. Frazzled, devastated thoughts slow, bumping lazily against one another. He stares ahead of him and lets everything disappear behind a film of sorrow and fatigue. 

“Hey, Wars?” Wind’s voice is a bit louder now, but hesitant. Gentle. “I love you.”

Warriors’ eyes slide closed of their own accord. He doesn’t bother to drag them open again.

“Love you too, sailor,” he murmurs and every word is laborious to utter. “Love you too.”

[the-hinky-panda]

Off Grid: Part I (Horacio Carrillo x Reader)

Title: Off Gride

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Horcaio Carrillo x Fem!Reader

Summary: Horacio survives the ambush and is sent to a CIA safe house to recover. You, a homesteader and survivalist, are his handler until he's healed. But when you both realize that you're just property, you start planning on how to slip out of your government cage and start your own lives.

“Loneliness is a mirror, and recognizes itself.” - Jodi Picoult

You’re nine and running through the bayous of Beauregaro Island, a slip of land off the coast of Grand Isle, Louisiana. You and your father had been living in an abandoned shack on stilts. No electricity, no running water, no way for people to find you. You had been living off the swamp land for a little over a week when your father caught sight of lights out on the bayou. 

“Kontinye, fi!” her father hisses over his shoulder. 

Keep up, girl. And you try, honest to God, you try. But you haven’t eaten a solid meal in three days and your legs won’t work the way you need them to right now. You’re tired, and sluggish. When your father looks behind him again, you can see the resignation in his eyes. It will be many years after that night before you realize that’s what it was. He picks you up under your armpits and tucks you into a hollowed out tree trunk. 

“Rete.” 

Stay. 

So you do. You stay as the hounds run past the tree, tracking your father’s scent and not yours. The men with shotguns and flashlights pass next. Then comes a terrible silence: no splashing through the water, or hounds howling, or men shouting. It makes the shotgun blast all the more deafening and world changing when it explodes through the quiet. You clamber out of your hiding place and run towards the flashlights now. Your father is the only concern you have now. The flashlights that had been bobbing in the dark, are now focused on a body that is face down in the black bayou water. 

“Papa!” 

Your shout alerts the men to your presence but you don’t care at this point. Your father, your protector, your best friend is gone. You’re alone and you don’t want to be. If these men are going to take your father away from you, then you’re going to go with him. You splash your way past them and reach for your father’s bloodsoaked shirt but just as your fingers brush the soft flannel fabric, someone pulls you back. 

“Easy, Piti,” a deep man’s voice says. 

But grief and fear turn you into a rabid animal, kicking, screaming, scratching. He’s wearing a bulletproof vest so all your blows are glancing and weak. 

“Stechner, what do we do with the kid?” 

You find yourself being handed off to another man with a beard. He recoils from holding you, your filthy clothes, muddy shoes, and bared teeth. Instead, you’re dropped back down into the ankle deep water and the new man grabs ahold of your arm. 

“I’ll deal with her.” 

He starts marching you off, away from your father. “You killed my papa! And now you’re going to leave him there? The gators-” 

“That’s the idea, sweetheart. Right-wing militia man gets turned around the swamp and eaten by an alligator. Daughter rescued after surviving days on her own in the bayou. How’s that sound?” 

You stare up at him, every fiber in your being filled with hate. “Like bullshit.” 

“Oooh, got a mouth on you.” He gives a short nod. “I may be able to work with that, kid.” 

Exhaustion quickly overtakes you as you struggle to keep up with long strides. You focus instead on the rhythmic footfalls in the squelching mud. Anything but the uncertainty and loss that has made a hole so large in your heart, you’re going to have it for the rest of your life. 

Thunk. 

Thunk. 

Thunk. 

***

Thunk. 

Your eyes open and you’re staring at the rough hewn beams of the small cabin in Vermont. 

Thunk.

You had fallen asleep on the couch reading Jane Eyre. 

Thunk. 

Sitting up, you look around the small living space for the noise that’s roused you from your nap. You’ve had a house guest for the last month but now that he's moving around, new noises have invaded your small homestead and you’re trying to learn what all the new noises mean. 

Thunk. 

You finally recognize the sound you’re hearing and it launches you off the couch. You shove your feet into the rubber boots that had been left by the door and notice your charge’s boots are missing. “No, no, no…” 

You take off down the handful of stairs off the front porch and jog out to the woodpile. The woodpile that has grown quite a bit since yesterday. How long has he been out here? You see him, white t-shirt soaked with sweat as he raises the ax to split another log. Seeing the bulge of his biceps as he prepares to bring the ax down belies the fact that out of the month of his stay here, three of those weeks had been bedbound. 

“Colonel Carrillo!” 

He brings the ax down with one forceful blow before leaving the blade stuck in the old tree stump and facing you. “¿Si, Enfermera?” 

Nurse. That’s been his nickname for her since his arrival. He doesn’t realize you’re his handler, protector. Nursing him back to health after a cartel ambush in Medellín is only a small part of your job with him. “You’re not cleared for-”

He scoffs and wipes the sweat off his forehead with his shoulder. “It’s cold at night here.” 

You step in front of him and grab the ax handle. “I’m sorry it’s not as balmy as it is in Medellín, but you should not be out here doing this.” 

He shrugs, a smirk crossing his features. “I seem just fine.” 

Yeah, that’s the current problem you’ve been having. He’s twice your age, just back from death’s door, and the handsomest man the CIA have ever dropped on your doorstep to shelter. And there have been quite a few over the last ten years. None of them have caused you to second guess your life and goals. You’ve been loaner since the night your father was shot down by a joint task force of the ATF and CIA. But this man, the one standing in front of you in a shirt clinging to him like it’s two sizes too small, arrogant and handsome, he’s causing you to wonder if maybe there’s more to life than being the US government’s half-way house. 

“Seeming and being are two different things.” You yank the ax out of the tree stump with a sharp jerk. “My boss is going to have my ass if you suffer a setback now.” 

“Are you trying to get me out as soon as possible, Enfermera?” 

“The sooner, the better, Colonel.”  

Especially for you.