#honestly to many to tag if i’s cover all the reasons for pain

[baby0puke]

No idea if This was just a me thing- or a common cronic pain thing

(Mostly childhood thing here-)

When I was a kid

Often, if not daily. I wished that I’d get injured so bad I wouldn’t be able to walk, use my arms etc. if not permanent, then long temporary😬

I knew something was wrong, and that using the damn limbs where a pain in the ass (Half pun intended), but Got told it was all good and normal, just growing pains right😂

I now know what is wrong, and that wasn’t a common experince with my fellow kids.

But had my parents just listen to me,, or asked as to why I’m crawling around at 10, or jumping on one leg, or swinging on things instead lf walking—-

But woups- please tell me I ain’t alone in This😂

[that-sarcastic-writer]

Safe haven (5)

Soldier Boy/Ben X F!Paramedic!Reader

Summary: You go back to the station, and Ben realizes just how much he doesn't want you to go. He also finds out something very important about you

Warnings: foul language, sexual innuendos (Ben being ben), minors dni, minor drug use, slowest of burns (but eventual smut), no use of y/n

WC: 3.8k

A/N: see were making progress! I'm really happy I decided to give this story a second try. I found my old tag list so I will tag whoever had asked to be tagged for this series. If you had changed your mind feel free to shoot me an ask so I don't tag you in the next parts. Enjoy for now!

Previous part | Series Masterlist | Soldier Boy Masterlist

Thirteen months. 

Thirteen fucking months. 

Thirteen months of waking up the same, and for the first time, you didn't wake up in a sweat, face covered in tears. For the first time, you didn't wake up with that feeling of dread in your chest. 

For the first time in thirteen months you woke up happy to be alive. 

The hardwood floors were cold as you padded through your bedroom, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. You were supposed to go back to the station today. You could only take so many sick days before you actually had to give a reason. You hadn't exactly told Ben of this yet. You still had a few hours before you were supposed to head to the station, you'd tell him soon enough. 

You honestly broke your own record with how fast you got ready this early in the morning. You normally dragged yourself around the house, not knowing if you were even still alive or if you had become a phantom in your empty house. But lately, you didn't feel so gone. 

You sat in front of your bureau, a reminder of the more vintage ambiance of your grandparents' farmhouse, one your father inherited, and later was left to you when your father retired with your mother somewhere with mountains. And your older brothers couldn't wait to see the day they left New York. And let's not talk about your sister, somewhere in Europe in some fancy five star hotel and some stuck up CEOs in tight suits driving her up a wall. She had been the only one out of the four children to not choose a field job like you and your brothers. So ultimately, the large farmhouse meant to house a family of six was left to just you. 

But you guessed with Ben still around, it was like caring for three children all in one. 

Your mind went to Ben, you wondered if he had slept at all. You often heard him walk late into the night. Or on restless nights of your own, you would sleepily walk into the kitchen to hear the TV play quietly in your living room, which always made you assume he was awake since he had taken possession of the guest bedroom by then. Your fingers mindlessly dug through the tiny box of your jewelry in search of your ear studs as you sat in thought. You still were unsure why he hadn't left. You knew he wasn't planning on leaving town anytime soon, with his fucked up idea of killing Homelander, somehow, but you had expected him to want to take care of his business on his own. Surely you knew he had learned his way around town by now, in spite of your protest, he had been to the city on his own a couple more times after your conversation. 

And yet, he always came back.  

Your mind slipped from your thoughts at the touch of a familiar ring. Your eyes slowly dropped to the box and you swallowed a lump as you held the tiny jewelry between your fingers. A silver band, the only diamonds being tiny and engraved into the thin band. You weren't one for hand jewelry, not with your job. That was one safety hazard if you knew one. So this ring, though simple, was perfect. And you hadn't dared look at it for a very long time. 

Somehow, when you held it in your hand, you didn't feel pain, nor sorrow. You smiled with fondness instead. 

You inhaled a deep breath as you set the ring down and dug through one of your drawers. It took you a minute, you had purposely hidden it well, in an attempt to forget about it perhaps, but you ultimately found it. A shaky laugh fell from your lips as you held the photo frame in your hands. That one black and white engraved frame you hung on your wall for years. You looked long and hard. It had been a long time since you had seen your wedding dress. 

Another soft laugh left your lips as you held the photo in your hand, and tears filled your eyes. But this time, this time they weren't tears of sadness, or anger, or sorrow, no, they were tears of relief. 

You felt that weight leave your chest and you could breathe again. 

"Don't smoke that shit inside," You scolded Ben as you eventually came downstairs. You didn't see him right away, but you could smell the joint. You saw his head barely peeking from the couch. "You're gonna stink up the whole place." 

Ben half took his eyes from the book in front of him— one you had bought him about PTSD and anxiety, one he chewed you about not needing, that he didn't have PTSD and whatnot. But you had caught him reading it the following day, so he didn't bother hiding it anymore. 

"You literally bought me the fucking thing." Ben argued, sitting up and his eyes followed you as you walked back and forth, dressed like you were going somewhere, actually going somewhere. 

"Don't care. It's my house, remember? Smoke outside or something. I really don't like going to the station reeking of weed." You answered back, shooting him a stern look before you found the pair of shoes you were looking for and shoved them inside your duffel bag. 

Ben furrowed his eyebrows at you and set his book aside, fully sitting now, "You going somewhere?" 

You tilted your head at his tone, demanding and authoritative. You widened your eyes at him as if to give him the obvious answer. 

"I have a job, remember? The reason I found you in the first place? You said you couldn't just stay here forever right? Well neither can I." You said with a shrug and you left him with that, leaving him to go to the kitchen to make yourself coffee before having to drive out to the city. 

You heard his heavy footsteps follow behind you, but you didn't bother looking at him, you could feel his eyes burning into the back of your head. 

"So you were just gonna leave for days and not say shit?" Still that same tone. He sounded upset even. 

You turned your head to look at him with disbelief, was he really angry about you leaving?

"I work forty-eight on and seventy-two off. I would've come back the day after tomorrow." You explained with a sigh, leaving the coffee brewing and basically shoving him out of your way as you went back and forth between the fridge and kitchen island. "Besides, I'm telling you now." 

He was still in your way, large body acting as a wall in front of you and his eyes were sharp on following your every movement. You tried to ignore him and his brooding expression, but he made it pretty much impossible. 

"Oh yeah, that's real fucking considerate of you sweetheart, thank you." He laughed, but his tone was anything but humorous, if anything it sounded like a mixture of exasperation and disbelief.

"Stop fussing. You sound like a child." You rolled your eyes at him, attempting to reach past him for one of the cabinets, but he stood in your way like a defiant child. 

"Can't you, I don't know, ask for more days off?" You laughed at his question, which only made him furrow his eyebrows even deeper. 

"How long do you think I've been here with you? I have a certain amount of sick days, I can't just take a whole week without reason," You explained, irritation starting to grow on you as well. Your answer didn't seem to convince him in the slightest, you groaned, "I have to work, Ben, I got bills to pay. You'll be fine on your own. Things are better now so you can do as you please, go where you please. Do your own thing." 

He frowned at your words, his jaw ticking ever so slightly at the implication of your words. Were you telling him to leave? 

Ben watched you finally reach past him to grab your favorite mug, and you were about to turn your back to him, but he grabbed your arm. Despite your short protest, he held you, pressing your back against the counter, keeping you between it and the wall that was his body. His eyes were hard on your face and his lips were in a tight line. 

"I don't want to go anywhere. And I don't want you to, either." He sighed out, irritation of his own slipping through. He bowed his head, enough to speak to your eye level, and his piercing green eyes never left yours. "It's not safe out there." 

"It never is, Ben. Not with super powered fuckers like you doing what they want out there. But I have a job I have to do. I helped you, did I not? It's what I do." 

He understood, truly he did. He admired you even, for what you did, for the risks you took for the lives of others. But he wanted you to be selfish, he wanted you to put your own life first. You didn't understand how bad it had gotten. 

"You're not hearing me. It's not safe. Remember that building collapse on 7th?" You parted your lips with confusion, unsure what that accident had to do with anything, but you nodded anyway. "Well it wasn't an accident. Fucking Homelander was trying to teach his little shit of a kid some target practice. Their fucking lasers and their flying tore through some unsupported part of the building and it collapsed." 

Your eyes widened with realization. You saw it on the news, not even two days ago, the building was being remodeled and the construction was faulty, so all of the workers inside that building died. But you thought it was just some freak accident. God you felt so sick, if Ben hadn't been holding such a tight grip on your arm you probably would've slipped. 

"Everyone inside that building died. They died because that motherfucker thought he could bond with his freak son in the middle of downtown. Do you understand how fucked up that is? And that's coming from me." He was still all up in your face, you didn't want to look at him. But you forced yourself to meet his eyes. And once again, you couldn't read the emotions behind his eyes, but you knew they were anything but good. 

"Okay and what the fuck do you want me to do about that? I've been dealing with the aftermath of Vought's mess for years. I was there after Midtown for fuck's sake." 

His jaw ticked at the mention and his eyes fell to the side averting yours. And for a second you regretted using that against him, knowing he had regretted it and had been making great efforts to avoid another tragedy like that. 

"I didn't blow up half a block because I was bored for Christ sake. It ain't the same." He said sharply, but you didn't know if he was trying to convince you or himself. You opened your mouth to speak but he shook his head, moving away from you now. "I just want you here, out of my way while I take care of it. Why do you gotta be so goddamn stubborn?"

Your mouth was left open, looking for words to say, but none ever came. You were staring at him as he leaned back against the kitchen island, a hand in his hair as he exhaled heavily. Did he care that much about what happened to you? You knew he liked being around, or at least enough not to leave, but you figured he had become indifferent about you once he realized he wasn't getting in your bed. 

"Ben," You said his name softly as you dared to stand close in front of him, enough for him to have to tilt his head to meet your eyes. He didn't look at you right away, so you continued. "I understand you want this guy gone, and I get it won't be pretty when you get to him, but you can't keep me here. I can take care of myself, been doing so for a while. I don't need protection." 

Ben stared past your head, afraid that if he looked in your eyes he'd have no way to argue back, not when you spoke with such conviction and with that fire in your eyes. He looked up at the ceiling. He wasn't a religious man, he didn't pray, but right now he was begging his shit to stay far away from you. 

"I need you out of my way. I want you far away from Supes. On the other fucking side of town far. Do you hear me?" He finally met your gaze, his eyebrows were pulled together as were his lips and his hands came up to hold your face. 

"What are you getting yourself into? This won't end well." Your words were quiet as your face fixed into a frown of your own, your anxiety stronger than the warm feeling his hands brought you. 

"We had this conversation before. Worry about yourself. I need you safe. If you get a call about aiding supes, that pretty ass of yours better turn the other fucking way." 

You couldn't help but laugh a bit at his choice of words, but he squeezed your face tighter as if to show he wasn't joking. You sighed heavily. 

"Just don't blow up half a block of innocent bystanders and I'll stray clear of your way. But I can't make any promises other than I'll take care of myself." You finally said, your hands coming to pull his wrists, the feeling of his hands touching your face with such tenderness yet warning made you feel things you weren't sure you wanted to feel. "Now I'll ask that you let me finish getting ready to work because I know I can't outrun you even if I tried."

His lips irked up, "I'd let you try. But it would probably end with you on your back. Definitely wouldn't be leaving this house for days." 

The smirk he gave you left you feeling heat in your face and you wanted to punch something. How did this man end up making you feel this way after so long? Why him out of all men? Life truly just couldn't give you a break. 

"Fuuuuck. Goddammit." Ben cursed at himself as he threw the cushions back on the couch. 

He had been looking for that one post note that had your cell number on it. You had left early that morning and he hadn't heard from you since, the sun was starting to set now. He was feeling restless, with an ache in his chest like he wanted to blow something up. Not even the weed had been helping him. 

Where the fuck did you leave that note? 

He had looked everywhere. Everywhere but your bedroom. He hadn't stepped foot in your bedroom in the time had been here, not once. You never invited him in, so he never went. He was a dick, but even then, there were some lines he couldn't cross. But he ran out of options and places to look. You didn’t have to know he was in your bedroom. It wasn’t like he would touch— much. 

He wasn't sure what exactly he was expecting, you obviously weren’t the type to decorate your space with expensive shit. But even then he thought your bedroom matched you perfectly. He walked in, eyeing around for any surfaces where you could have possibly left it. He walked around like a lost child for a minute or two until he ultimately stopped at your bureau. He spotted a notepad and a pen scattered on the vanity. 

Seriously? 

He rolled his eyes at you, wondering just how the fuck he was supposed to just know you had left it here? He grabbed the notepad, a phone number scribbled in your handwriting in big letters. He ripped out the page, intending to leave your bedroom as soon as possible, before his curiosity got the best of him. But he couldn’t help himself, he was hyperaware by nature. And his eyes found a ring, what he thought looked like an engagement ring just sitting on your vanity. It was hard to miss. He didn’t think about it, he picked it up. He eyed the thin silver band with narrowed eyes, it was definitely an engagement ring. 

Were you engaged? 

The gears turned in his head as he held the ring between his fingers. He tried to remember if he had seen any signs that another man had lived here. He didn’t remember. You had given him clothes that fit him pretty well, but you had brushed it off as just having brothers. He believed you then, but now? He was questioning it. 

He set the ring down and went through your drawers. Just underwear. You had a lot of lacy shit. He smirked a bit at the image of you in a lacy lingerie set. God, he would kill for that. Though he didn’t have time to get hard at the thought when his fingers touched a photo frame hiding in between a layer of clothes. He took it and his eyes grew in size. 

You, in a wedding dress and a man embracing you. He frowned at the photo. You clearly had a type. The man in the photo looked taller, taller than you at least, long brown hair that was tucked behind the man’s ears and fair skin. God, you looked so happy. A smile so wide, you were glowing, you looked so beautiful. 

Ben chewed on the inside of his cheek with disdain as he dropped the frame on the vanity, rather harshly. He huffed out a breath of exasperation, his skin growing hot. His fists were clenched at his sides as he walked around your bedroom some more. You were married, you must’ve kept your husband’s things somewhere, right?

Your walk-in closet door was closed. He pursed his lips as he invited himself in. His eyes grew a bit. Jesus, why did this woman have so many clothes? He shook his head to himself as he looked around. It was mostly your clothes, and your shoes were scattered all over the floor. He kept looking though, and he found a corner, men’s clothes hung from hangers. They definitely looked like the clothes you had given him. A couple boxers were backed into the corner. And out of the corner of his eye he saw a name scribbled in black marker.

Hunter.

“No seriously, how's Rowan holding up? Parenting beating his ass yet?” You laughed at the question from your buddy, Michael. You thought about what answer to give, you had never actually gone to see your brother after all, but everyone at the station thought so. 

“He said he was really missing the station, he would actually get a full night's sleep there.” You weren’t lying, you talked to your brother regularly. They laughed in response. 

You opened your mouth to comment some more, but you were cut off by your phone ringing in your pocket. You scrunched up your face a bit as you looked at your phone screen. It read; landline. You closed your eyes in realization, your heart started to race. 

What did he do now?

You excused yourself to answer the call. With a long sigh you held your phone to your ear.

“You can’t figure out a cell phone but you still remember how to use a landline?”

You heard a low chuckle from the other end, “They’re simpler. The amount of things on your phone is unsettling.” 

“They’re called apps, you old man.” You snorted, leaning your shoulder into a wall, your lips irked up at the sound of him grumbling to himself. “What do you want, Ben? Did you burn my kitchen down, or did you blast a hole through a wall?”

“Christ, what I would give to shut that smart mouth of yours. You must give mind blowing head if you work like you talk.” He said the words so casually you had to hold your phone away from you to process. You closed your eyes and groaned out softly.

“You’re disgusting, and I’m at work. If you just called to antagonize me I'm hanging up.”

“Aw c’mon. I just wanted to hear your voice, play nice.” You rolled your eyes, you could just hear the smirk roll off his tongue with each word. You could see that stupid smirk on his face in your head. At least he couldn’t see you, because you couldn’t hide the flustered look on your face. 

“Why do you want to hear my voice?” You dared to ask, lowering your voice so as not to overshare with your coworkers, you hadn't exactly mentioned you had a walking hard on hiding in your house. 

“So I can finish rubbing one out.”

“I’m hanging up now.” You were moving your phone away from your ear again when you heard him protest, saying your name with a laugh. You groaned again. 

“Okay, okay, c’mon loosen up. You know you missed me,” He chuckled, sniffling softly as he puffed out a cloud of smoke, you weren’t there to yell at him. You bit your lip softly, you were trying to force away a smile, but you couldn't prevent your face from heating up. Your silence made him laugh in a way that made your stomach turn. “You doing okay? You haven’t found my replacement yet, have you?”

“Working on it,” You chewed on your bottom lip, looking over your shoulder. The guys had started running around, shouting indistinct orders. Well shit. “Listen, I think we got a call. I’m fine Ben. Stop fussing. I gotta go.”

Ben sucked in a sharp breath, he kept his mouth shut as he heard you speak to somebody on your end, and he couldn't help his chest ached with anxiety. “Listen sweetheart—”

He caught himself mid sentence, he wasn’t the most rational man on earth, he normally didn’t give a fuck about rationality, but maybe, maybe right now just wasn’t the time. So he swallowed his pride.

“Stay safe.” He finally said, his eyes glued to the ceiling as he dropped his head back against the wall.

“You too Ben.”

He flinched at the loud beeping in his ear and he grunted, slamming the phone back on the wall. He squeezed his eyes shut, holding back the urge to slam his fist through the wall. He hated this feeling, the lack of control he had. Fuck. He had way more important things to worry about. Find Butcher and the kid, kill Homelander, clear his name. Why the fuck did he care so much about a piece of ass he couldn’t even have? 

You’ve gotten soft, Ben.

[buckera]

Wip Wednesday ☔️

Tagged and tagging @diazsdimples @theotherbuckley @exhuastedpigeon @nmcggg @disasterbuckdiaz @ladydorian05 @daffi-990 and my lovelies @malewifediaz @spagheddiediaz @jeeyuns mwuah mwuah💛💛

Guess what, guys? The first chapter of the mudslide fic is getting posted tomorrow! Which is just so unbelievable to me?? Despite posting 10 fics prior to this one, it was the first fic I started writing for this ship and I've been working on it (on and off) since september and now here we are... absolute bonkers if you ask me.

Now, I know there are like 4 people who are actually interested in this fic – and that's fine, honestly –, but I for one am very excited. So I thought I'd give you guys a longer snippet for today. I actually shared parts of this scene in like 3 different instalments from both of their povs lmao but this one is from chapter one so you'll get the full(ish) picture tomorrow.

“Eddie, a-are you sure you’re alright?” “Yeah, sorry. I guess I’m just tired.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “Eddie, if there’s something going on, you have to tell me.” “There’s nothing going on, I promise.” Buck raised his eyebrows challengingly and as it had so many times before, it made Eddie sigh in defeat. “It’s. It’s the weather.” He gave in with a heavy sigh and it didn’t quite stop Buck from frowning, but he had to admit, it made sense. It’s been raining for over two weeks now as a storm came to California and Buck would be lying if he said that it didn’t affect him in any way, but he was handling it. The only thing he didn’t account for was that maybe Eddie wasn’t. “Hey, it’s okay.” Buck stepped closer and for some reason Eddie was avoiding his gaze now, so he didn’t stop walking until they were standing toe to toe, the proximity forcing his eyes back onto Buck’s face. “Look. This?” He pulled the neckline of his shirt aside to show Eddie more of the scarring over his neck and chest. “This is a reminder that I pulled through.” He knew what kind of marks a lighting strike could leave on someone’s body, but he never really got to see his own. By the time he woke up from his coma, the patterns were gone — unlike the painful and itchy blisters that took over their place; they lasted for nearly two months and despite all the cold compresses and cooling gels, they still left a hefty amount of scar tissue behind, in the shape of abstract lines and ragged edges. Eddie reached out and traced some of the lines above his collarbone with his fingers and Buck couldn’t help but let his eyes flutter shut for a second with the softness of his touch. The pads of his fingers were warm as they brushed over the shiny silver lines and patches, yet Buck could still feel goosebumps build on his forearms and thighs with every microinch he covered. Suddenly, Eddie’s fingers were gone, pulled away abruptly, almost as if they got burned by the contact, leaving his hand to float in the air between them aimlessly. “Sorry.” Eddie whispered and they were just so close. All the what ifs have started to murmur in the back of Buck’s skull with renewed vigor, buzzing like radio static behind his eyes, begging to be turned up for clarity. “Eddie I—” “It’s okay, Buck.” He flattened his palm over Buck’s heart, only the thin layer of his shirt separating them now. “Thank you, for this.” Eddie patted his chest and stepped back, leaving Buck dumbfounded as to what exactly just happened.

[h-c-u]

No Longer a Secret - flashback 08.06.2019

Summary: The moment it became serious. [flashback to about a year before the 1st part]

Pairing: Toto Wolff x fem!reader

W/C: ~800

Rating: PG, age gap (not mentioned here, but applies to the whole series)

A/N: This short describes a moment when the reader realizes she wants to be with Toto more than she cares about potential blowout. It's short, simple, and not much happens, but in my experience - that's how all long lasting relationships (doesn't matter if romantic or platonic) happen. But I still wanted to share with you this short glimpse into their relationship :)

And like I've mentioned earlier today - I'm in the hospital and that means I'm on mobile, so please forgive the mistakes and if the formatting will be a bit... off.

Taglist: @crimeshowjunkie, @omgsuperstarg

Series Masterlist | Masterlist | List of tags | Playlist for the series

There was still an hour before qualis, and you already did the interviews you were meant to do about driver's experiences on the track during the last practice, so now you had about an hour to yourself.

You still felt a little bit weird using your paddock club pass considering the circumstances you got it under. However - you were hungry, and the food there was excellent, so you started climbing the stairs, but you stopped because something in the corner of your eye caught your attention. A tall figure covered in familiar branded merch slumped on the floor with his back against the wall and head hidden between his knees. There were no sounds coming from that direction, and he wasn't shaking, so you were almost sure he wasn't crying or panicking, but something pulled you to him like a magnet... Like there was an invisible line connecting your hearts, and right now it was getting tighter and tighter with every passing second, so you eventually caved and slowly walked up to him.

During the last few months, Toto asked you out a couple of times, but you always politely declined. He understood your reasons, but that didn't stop all the flirting and teasing, which you honestly didn't mind, because he was always respectful and never did that when there were too many people around. It's not like you didn't want to say yes, and because of that your nos were more of a "not yet..." than "definitely not".

But today none of that mattered. Today you just sat on the floor next to him, allowing your shoulders to gently touch, and even through the jacket, you could feel him relaxing. He didn't have to look up to know it was you...

He knew how your steps sounded in the thickest of rains, so in here, in an empty, quiet corridor, they were deafening, but instead of pain, they brought him relief, because with them occupying his ears, he wasn't able to hear his own thoughts. And when they stopped, your quiet breathing replaced them, shielding his brain with a layer of soft down, he could drown in. He was expecting a familiar scent of burned rubber, but instead was met with... wind. He couldn't explain it, but right now you smelled like air right before the storm. Thick, slightly sweet, cold, and refreshing... Your presence was all-consuming and surrounded him with the gentleness of a heavy blanket. Warm and comforting, but there was no chance of forgetting you were there.

Toto eventually straightened his back and leaned his head against the wall. Up to this point, you weren't sure if he has been crying, but when you saw his eyes, you knew he wasn't. However, that didn't mean there wasn't a storm roaring in his head, and you could just tell that it wasn't because of the race... You couldn't explain why or how, but he was more clear than an open book to you, and even though he didn't say anything, you knew what it was about.

It was the first race after Niki's funeral...

Very gently you reached for his hand, and at first, he didn't move it, not even for an inch... He didn't want your pity... But then you tugged on it again, and he went without any more hesitation. He allowed you to intertwine your fingers with his; but only when you put your other hand over his, completely engulfing it in your warmth, something changed. The heat traveled up his arm almost against his will, and then to his chest, the other arm, down to his stomach, legs, and lastly to his cheeks. He didn't realize how cold he was until your hand found his...

You couldn't take your eyes away from the mess of your tangled fingers, fascinated by how well and seamlessly they fit together; like they were made to hold each other for eternity. How even with his hand dwarfing yours, it snuggly fit in the space between; how despite the difference in skin tone and size you had trouble recognizing which finger belonged to which hand because you weren't sure where you ended and he began; how his rough, worn skin felt softer than feathers against yours... How just by holding his hand, you were able to understand him better than anyone before after hours of conversation.

And your whole world changed in that short moment... One touch. A simple gesture, unattached to any words... And you knew you wanted to have him in your life till the end of the world. But today wasn't a good day for that, not when he was so obviously grieving and in pain, but you knew that when he'll be ready to ask again, you would no longer be capable of saying no, or even "not yet". 

A/N 2: Please don’t feel obligated/pressured to reblog, because I write mostly for myself. A comment would be appreciated though :)

Love,

G.

[snowdice]

All the Shattered Pieces of Me (Part 1/3) [Part of the Envisage Series]

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Relationships: Rhea & Logan, Rhea & Patton, Rhea & Deceit

Characters: Rhea, Logan, Patton, Deceit

Summary: Rhea Silvia almost died a hero, but she did not. She wakes up; she will never be the same.

But she is alive and the living can change, rebuild, and adapt.

Notes: I struggled with which subseries to put this in because linearly it doesn't at all fit into Envisage, but thematically I think it really fits into Envisage.

Also note I myself haven't ever had a conversation with a doctor like the one that happens this chapter. Rhea doesn't react in the way I think it would usually be portrayed (and there are reasons for there not being a full freak out or confusion), but hopefully its still make sense where her head's at. I don't have a sensitivity editor as a random fanfic writer, so I hope you can forgive me any small missteps I make in trying to portray such things. I'm open to hearing from people with more experience. (Also, I have no idea about medical procedure, but just take it with a grain of salt and we can use the fact that this is a very different universe to our own.)

Tags: Superhero AU, medical treatment, injury discussed, life changing injuries, paralysis

This takes place before Sometimes Labels Shift and after The Onslaught.

When she opened her eyes, she knew where she was, and she knew what had happened.

The ceiling was white, and she could hear a steady beeping sound she knew followed the pace of her own heartbeat. She was not in pain exactly, though there was some general discomfort from laying supine a bit too long. There was also a noticeable lack of pain or discomfort in certain parts of her body.

She turned her head to one side. The heart monitor she’d heard was there along with an IV bag. A cord extended from the IV bag and disappeared under the blankets covering her. She thought she could feel the impression of the IV in her arm.

The call button was hung over the bed’s side rails. She reached for it and paused. Her arm did not look like her arm. It was extending out from her body, and it was obeying her commands, but for a moment, her mind had trouble reconciling it as a part of herself. The loose hospital gown had fallen down her arm as she moved, bunching around her shoulder. What it revealed was an arm significantly thinner than she ever recalled it being and much paler than her usual darker skin tone.

For a moment, she worried she was somehow waking up in the wrong body, but the birthmark on the back of her hand was the same as it always had been. So, this was her.

Having been in the hospital a few times before both for minor and major (though never anywhere near as major as this) things, she was surprised just how immediate the response to her call button was. There was a nurse at the door before she even managed to turn her head in that direction. They seemed surprised when they saw her looking at them.

“I’m awake,” she said. Her voice also did not sound like hers and it hurt slightly to use it. Her words seemed to shock them more, but they also pushed them into action.

“I’ll call your doctor.”

The room was a flurry of activity in no time. In her own head, she compared this to the time she’d woken up after having her appendix removed.

Then, she’d been in a room with three other people being tended to by one nurse as she came out from under anesthesia.

Now, the attention made her feel like a minor celebrity. Now, there were four nurses to their one patient in the room at any time.

However, they were not always the same four nurses. They were all running in and out, talking amongst themselves and to her. She honestly didn’t know how many of them there were in total as they were constantly moving. Even after they’d inclined the head of the bed, so she was almost sitting up, she didn’t have the energy to track them all.

She was given ice chips to help her throat when she mentioned it was dry, and she was promised crackers and then eventually a sandwich after it was okayed by a doctor. Two different nurses took her blood pressure at different times even though there was a cuff that automatically took it at infrequent intervals permanently on her arm.

There was constant chatter directed at her, pulling her attention in many different directions, though little of it was of any substance or concern to her. They mostly talked at her, skirting around asking her how she felt too much lest she notice. They were trying to keep her distracted until her doctor arrived to explain. To be fair, she also wouldn’t want to break that news.

She was told her family had been called soon after she awoke and that they’d be there soon. The nurses seemed casually familiar with her family which made sense. They’d certainly talked to them more often than she had as of late.

The doctor on call had come by to say hello and check her vitals once again, but he was apparently not the doctor, not her doctor. He did allow her to have crackers, however, telling her they’d remove the feeding tube if she could keep them down.

She was chewing on them idly, pretending to listen to the nurse who was pretending to do something with her heart monitor when her doctor entered the room.

She recognized him as one of the ER doctors she’d met a few times over the course of her career. She’d never been his patient or, if she had, it had been for something brief and forgettable. If memory served, he was known as an expert emergency surgeon, the top in the city if not beyond. That may explain why she was alive.

“Hello,” the man said, and there was a look in his eyes that was similar to and very different from the look all of the other medical professionals had given her today. He looked at her not with surprise exactly, but with a particular sort of relief, like how a high school senior might look after opening their first college acceptance letter. He looked at her kind of like she was an extra special Christmas present come early. Though he did his best to keep a professional mask over his expression, it didn’t foot her. “I’m Dr. Sanders,” he said. “I was your surgeon.” He reached out a hand to her and she took it.

“Hello,” she returned politely. “I’m Rhea Silvia, but I imagine you already knew that.”

“I do,” Dr. Sanders answered with a smile. “It is a pleasure to hear you say it, however, Chief of Police Silvia.”

“Rhea is fine,” Rhea replied swiftly. She doubted she would ever be called by that title again except, perhaps, at some formal event for her official retirement.

“In that case, you can call me Patton,” he said. It was a surprise because usually even the most personable doctors still went by their surnames with patients. Yet, as he sat down in a chair beside her bed, she sensed there was some sort of kinship between them even if she had not been awake when it had been forged.

The nurses had all fled, she noticed, and they were alone except for the quiet beeping of the heart monitor.

“Now,” Patton continued. “I’m sure you have questions. If there’s anything pressing you want to know, feel free to ask now. After that, I’ll give you a brief rundown of everything that’s happened since you’ve been here and then let you ask anything else you want.”

She nodded and twisted the sheet slightly in her unfamiliar hands. “How long?” she asked.

He hesitated for half a second. Obviously, this wasn’t what he’d expected for her first question, but he still answered it easily enough. “It’s been a little over 6 months.”

She nodded again. It sounded about right from what she’d pieced together, but still… it was a long time.

There was a lengthy pause while he waited for her to either freak out about the length of time or ask something else. When she didn’t, he tentatively proceeded.

“Do you remember what happened, Rhea?”

“I do,” she said. “There was a speedster, I managed to give them a shot of Oxyproxicolotin, and then they shoved me off a building.”

“Yes,” Patton confirmed. He smiled tightly. “It’s a good sign you remember the events leading up to your injury.” He paused for a moment before continuing. “There was extensive damage,” That was one way to say she’d shattered into pieces on the pavement. “particularly to your lower spine. Reconstructive surgery was able to reverse some of the damage, but considering the severity and location of the injury, there is a high probability of paralysis of your lower body.”

“High probability is a funny way to say 100% Doctor,” Rhea pointed out blandly.

He grimaced slightly but tried to hide it. “I take it you’ve noticed.”

“That I can’t move or feel my own legs?” she asked. “Yes. I have.”

“There is always a chance…”

There was not, Rhea knew instinctually, not for her. She would not say it out loud and she would attempt whatever physical therapy treatment he suggested to her, but she knew. She known it before she’d even woken up.

He seemed to read the knowledge on her face. “I’m sorry,” he said, and while at no point during the conversation had his tone been unempathetic, the professional mask slipped for a moment, showing her a very human expression on his face. He was clearly torn up about it. She did not think he should be.

“Don’t be sorry,” she said. “I am alive, and I am awake. It is more than most could have” would have “been able to do.”

[uhhhhyandere]

jailbird pt. 1

a resident evil cast x reader shitshow

summary: alcatraz is a little... untraditional. what else would you expect from a prison on an island, away from judicial accountability? chris redfield, prison guard, wants to make an example out of someone. might as well be the prison slut.

tw: so many here & to come: consensual non-con; object insertion; painful sex; mommy kink; face-sitting; strap on; choking; pussy eating; ass eating; daddy kink; degradation; public sex

always stay safe with the content you consume; minors dni consistent interaction with adult content can and will fuck you up in adulthood; lmk if there are any tags i miss

Ao3 Link

The orange jumpsuit is rough against your pussy. It always is when you sit down, the crest of the fabric, where the seam runs from the zipper, down the front of the suit, and to the crack of your ass, rubbing into your cunt lips. It’s an easy problem to fix. Just push up in the seat to sit like a normal human being, but if you do that, you can’t shift your hips in just that right way so the seam brushes over your clit. The little jolt, and the major shame erased as you look around the rec area to see if anyone’s catching on, pussy dripping at the thought of being caught. Being bent over this fucking table, jumpsuit ripped in half and fucked.

Who do you want it to be, you wonder. 

Your eyes land on your cellmate. You don’t know what she’s in for. Honestly, maybe it’s for just looking the way she does, because what a fucking crime. Ada’s got that air of superiority to her, always looking down on whoever she’s talking to. Literally, sometimes, since she sleeps on the upper bunk. You’ve also seen her naked body too many times. You think it’s purposeful, the way she saunters through the bathroom when your cell block showers, when she always happens to get gone the same time you do. The way her ass moves with the sway of her hips. 

She’s got a cute fucking pussy too. Clean-shaven, thin lips, pink and pretty. Not that that’s relevant to anything besides the fact you want her to sit on your face, drive her hips down so you could feel her fucking pelvic bones on your cheeks, suffocating in her cunt. Nose and mouth completely swallowed up. You picture the way she’d grind back and forth, up and down your fucking face as her head falls back, black locks falling down her slender shoulders. Does she curse? Moan? Stifle them both with her teeth sunk into her bottom lip, red lipstick staining her teeth? Her stomach would flex and curl, thighs on either side of your face, smelling and tasting nothing but her. 

Her pussy would muffle your calls and moans for mommy. Yeah, she’d like that, you think. Not that she’d be into it, but she'd degrade your ass to hell and back. Oh, you need mommy? Your own never love you? Your own never smother your face with her mommy pussy? So sad. It’s okay, mommy’s here now, you pathetic fucking girl, but if you want a mommy that loves you? Look somewhere else. There’s a reason I cover your face, after all. Hold your breath a little longer, though, and maybe mommy will give you something nice. 

You’d rest your hands on her ass, palming the flesh and pulling her onto you more, slurping like a fucking animal . Your own hips would rise, your own pussy clenching onto nothing, seeking a friction that only the cold, prison air would meet. Humping the air. 

Unless…

Your eyes move across the rec area, to where a group of prison guards gather. One in particular sticks out, his hands on his belt as boisterous laughter erupts and carries across the room. Chris was always loud. You’d imagine it’d be the same with his thick cock sunk into you, balls slapping against your ass as his dick drags down your walls, head kissing your womb, a white and sticky promise to come. Of come. 

He definitely wouldn’t stifle shit, but you doubt he’d be able to get out words besides expletives while he slobbers like a fucking animal, frothing at the mouth. Uncontrolled, unhampered, fucking you like a dog in heat, and when he’d hunch over, folding your legs in half, feet towards your head even though a bitch like you doesn’t bend that way to reach deeper with that third fucking leg of his. The spittle would splay onto your face, wet and hot.

Those big, monster hands of his would grab your throat like a lifeline, cutting off yours. Thumbs pressing into the column of your throat, fingers wrapped around the back of your neck, maybe pulling at your hair if he’s got the dexterity. But Officer Chris Redfield is not dextrous. He is a man of raw strength. Each thrust into your poor, poor, pussy would feel as though it touches your esophagus, building in your stomach, which is saying a lot, since you’ve got a fucking tummy. A fucked tummy, blossoming with little Redfields. 

But if you wanted dexterity…

The other guard you know in the group stands a little away, arms crossed over her chest, them and the padding covering her tits. Crooked nose over a small smile at whatever elicited Chris’s booming laughter. You catch sight of long, lithe fingers over her bicep. They’d fuck you hard and fast, her hand bending to rub your clit while stretching you out, readying you for the silicone cock resting on her hips, long, curved. Purple. No, blue, definitely. She’d talk raw to you, you bet. Absolute filth, almost akin to your fucked up fantasies. She wouldn’t even need to look at her hands, so fast and purposeful. She’d whisper in your ear what a fucking slut you were, a desperate, writhing cockwhore, a good-for-nothing inmate, forsaken by society to be used for sex, how you’re lucky she’s even wasting her time on you. 

Then she’d take you from the back, long fingers grabbing your fat tits and squeezing, maybe asking in a huff of laughter whether milk will leak from your tits, that maybe she’ll take a drink when she’s done. She’d fuck you in public: a cell, the bathroom, the library no one uses, maybe, so one hand would eventually need to press over your mouth. Better yet, those fingers of hers would slip in your mouth, and you’d wretch, choke on them as the tip of her fingernail touched your uvula. Maybe you’d puke. Maybe she’d kiss you anyway, licking away the chunks of prison meal from your chin and neck after she’s done fucking you.

She’d fuck you endlessly, through and after your orgasm, coaching you through more. Oh, how she’d wish she could cum in you, fill you with her seed, make you fat with a fucking kid, unable to move so she could fuck you again. Then, she’d promise she would eat the cum right back, swish it around her mouth and spit it down your throat.

But she wouldn’t. She promises and promises, but she doesn’t. God, who would eat your pussy out? You scan the rec area, looking through droves of prisoners and guards alike. Sure, a few stick out: Helena, Sheva, that smelly Heisenberg fellow, Carlos, Claire, Shen May, Ethan if your daddy issues get worse (because you’ve got both, baby!) But none, maybe Carlos, would go down on you with the wrath of the gods.

They’d suck and make out with your clit, tongue laving, and flicking and circling it, hot breath blowing against your fat mound and labia. Their lips would drag down your slit, a hum from their throat resonating through your cunt and to your very soul until their pink tongue slips out again, limp in your hole, at first, settling between the soft muscle… until it starts to worm around in there, ever so slow, spit sticking to your inside. Their nose would, you fucking hope, be big enough for the tip to be against your clit, so they can look like they’re blowing raspberries on your pussy, because you’re a fucking baby.

Yeah, you’re a fucking baby with a mommy, but you need a complete family, don’t you? Need a father figure to blow raspberries on your fucking pussy and spread your asscheeks to lick into your cunt harder, kissing your pussy with the same intensity as your mouth, with the same spit dripping from his mouth. Your pussy juices will line his lips like a misplaced chapstick, and he’d peck your cunt one second and jam his tongue in there the next. 

He'd go lower, then, leaving a hot, wet trail down, down, down, until he presses his lips to your ass. Tight and dry, daddy’s tongue would circle the wrinkled skin before kissing it again with a mwah. Hands keeping your cheeks spread, he’d take his time before even trying to wriggle his tongue into your asshole entirely. The puckered skin will be glistening in a vile mix of your pussy juice and his own saliva, perhaps not so puckered anymore, and easy to stretch once daddy decides to eat his meal. His tongue would circle in, not strike through. He knows better. Knows you’ve gotta take it slow down here. Maybe he’d rub your clit with the rough pad of his finger to relax you so the base of his tongue would rest at your hole, the tip deep. Daddy would like it dirty, uncaring how unwashed and unprepared you were for him. 

If only someone like that existed, huh? Woe is you. Woe is literally—,

“Jailbird.” Oh. The glaze over your eyes dissipates in an instant, and you look up at the broad form of Chris blocking the skylight. Beefy muscles and thick neck and busting fucking man tits that maybe you should call him mommy instead. “You deaf? Get your head out of your ass and in line.” You hadn’t even noticed the line of orange jumpsuits along the wall, with one discrete space next to Ada, whose smirk got you dripping through your suit. As if you weren’t already.

There are plenty of things in the past ten minutes to flush over, so woe is you on what’s got your face burning in your scurry to join the line. You catch Jill’s eyes in your hurry and press your back against the brick wall. Why protocol exists every time you all are corralled back into your cell, whether it be from rec time, lunch, or otherwise, you never know. There’s no Shawshank Redemption at Alcatraz. What are we gonna do? Swim? Sure, little bright orange Nemo makes a great shot with a rifle. 

Whatever. It’s Chris feeling you up this time. Hands up, those hands of his start at your neck, pressing into your trachea with a small, small moan from you. It goes unheard. Ignored. They drag to your armpits, pressing in, then down your sides to your hips, back to your love handles, and up your spine. Then, he starts from below, around your calves, up your thighs, and over your ass, and… 

And…

Is he gonna move? Your brows furrow and you look down at him, but Chris’s already standing over you, looming. There’s a look in his eyes. Ready? It asks. You give the slightest nod. “I’m going to need you to take your suit off.” 

“You’re going to need what now?” is your response, and you’d take a step back, were there not a cement wall behind you. Eyes are on you now, from the prisoners and guards alike. Like an idiot, you seek them out, but no one is here to help you. Ada looks like she’s about to have the time of her life. Useless son of a bitch. 

“Did I stutter, inmate?” That booming voice commands more attention. You grit your teeth, and your skin is definitely on fire now. Today is not the fucking day for this. You avert your eyes to the ground, his black boots toed against your shower shoes, bright orange rubber around your exposed toes.

“I can’t, sir.” 

“What do you mean you can’t ?” Chris gets in your face, hot breath on you. No spit. Maybe your fantasy wasn’t totally accurate. You wince, both at his proximity and the echo of his voice in your ears. “Explain yourself.” 

“My laundry was stolen, sir.” A pin could drop and it’d be equal to Chris’s volume. Someone snickers somewhere. Your laundry thief, presumably, jacking it to your panties. Chris isn’t moved by your demure explanation. His eye twitches, but you swear you caught the faintest smirk pulling at the corner of his lip before it returns to a scowl. 

“I don’t give a shit if your laundry caught on fire, inmate. Suit off. Or you’re finding yourself in the hole for the night.” The hole. Alcatraz slang for solitary confinement. Hell. There’s heat, from his gaze, from the eyes of every inmate and guard in your cellblock. Goddamn it . You unzip the jumpsuit, cold air stark against your skin. You do your best to keep your tits under the fabric, and the end of the zipper rests a few inches above your crotch. Covered still. You look up, for confirmation. “All of it, inmate. Entirely.”

Your panty raider snickers again, and Ada’s still happy as a fucking clam. Her smile is approximately 0.02 inches higher than usual. 

Your tits fall first when your jumpsuit slips from your shoulders, bouncing down, nipples hard, skin wrinkled around the bud. One arm, two arms out, and you keep your eyes down. Everyone’s ogling them. You would be if you were in anyone else’s shoes. Through your deeply resounding shame and embarrassment, you hope they like them. Or, at the very least, don’t pay attention to your side boob, spilling under your arm. Or do, if they like that. You never know. 

“To your feet,” Chris instructs, and you let the jumpsuit fall in a pile. Pussy out. Ass out. Stomach out. It’s all just… out. You shut your eyes, pretend you’re in a porn shoot or something, or maybe an auction as the top prize. Very empowering scenarios, for sure. Still beats this one. “Turn around.” Your eyes shoot open.

Maybe in your fantasy, you’d fight back, give him unmatched snark, just for your pride, but your mind is filled with liquid right now, frontal lobe melted down to nothing, cerebral cortex nothing but a red puddle in your midbrain. Monkey do. Monkey turns around, and puts “hands on the wall,” Chris says. 

Chris’s boots spread your legs, so your thighs unstick and the cellulite jiggles in the air, cunt exposed towards the floor. Your chin touches your shoulder, and you look back at him. 

“This is so not protocol!” Two years in the clink, you know protocol and have seen enough shivs be confiscated to know. “I have rights!” Constitution says I do, and so does Saul Goodman.

“You lost your rights when your ass got dragged in here,” he replies. “Face forward, jailbird.” Your teeth grit and your vein pops in your jaw and neck.

“Not my eighth amendment, sir. ” 

“Oh-ho, got an attorney here, do we? Remind me what the eighth amendment says, Vinny.” Calloused fingers glide down your spine to your tailbone, resting on the crack of your ass. Chris speaks loud enough for all to hear, like Elf, but instead of Christmas cheer being spread, it’s your ass cheeks. You keep your eyes down, but Ada’s in your periphery. Her temple rests on the wall, watching. 

“No cruel and unusual punishments inflicted .” You know a rhetorical question as well as the next socially ept person, but you also know he’d pull it from you anyway, or just know the answer himself. Might as well just prove you still know something. Pride. 

“This is cruel?” His thumb tracks down, down, down, over the rim of your ass and to your cunt. “This is unusual?” His thumb breaches your cunt, and that kind of penetration is, number one, three crimes you’d file suit for, minimally, and second, nothing, feeling-wise. Well, you feel wronged. Physical feeling wise?   Just a thumb inside your pussy. “I felt something back here. You carryin’ something, jailbird? Got some contraband up that pussy of yours? I’ve got the right to investigate.” His thumb strokes your slick wall. 

His thumb moves, pressing against the soft muscles, stretching them out so his circles can be longer, larger. Your head falls, chin to your chest. Okay, now you feel something, physically.  The next exhale you give is ragged, breathy. His fingers cup your cunt, tips buried in your pubes, pressing down on the flesh until it's pushed against your bone. A light pain you wince from. 

Pushed to the knuckle, Chris gives your cunt a last once around before yanking it out. “Little more, I bet,” is mumbled under his breath, and two fingers fill the clenching, wet space. You whimper, whimper, hands balling into fists while you bite your bottom lip. Chris is slow, clearly not trying to get you off on his fingers. He pumps his fingers, in and out, in and out, of your cunt, nails dragging against your walls with a slight sting. The hinges of his fingers spread, kneading your cunt open, coaxing it to stretch when all your cunt does is compress back down. “Come on, baby, cooperate with me,” he coos to your cunt, and it tightens at his praise. “There we go.” Don’t fucking reply to him! You chastise your vagina. 

Chris slides his fingers out and wraps around your head to push them into your mouth. “Slurp up, birdy. Only chance of lube you’ll get.” Fuck or die, you guess, of dry penetration. The noises are vile, tongue lathering his rough fingers, wiping in the crevice, and slithering around his digits. They’re sweaty and rough. Cheeks hollowing, you suck, craning your neck forward so your teeth rest on his knuckles. Back and forth, like a cock. Like cock work. Drool bubbles at the corner of your lips and drips down your chin. You want Ada to lick it up.

She watches. Everyone watches. Silently, of course. Your panty thief doesn’t have a lot to add now, do they? The slurps and gurgles and sucks are the only noise you can hear. Not even Chris. If he’s groaning, or moaning or any of the -oanings , you have no idea. Not until Chris nearly takes your teeth out with how fast his fingers rip out of your mouth and push the saliva through your folds, then into you. Coating you. “Let’s hope it’s enough, birdy.” 

“You’re dead in court,” You seethe out, head tossing over your shoulder to spit at him about the number of witnesses, the cameras all over this place, the evidence on evidence even the most incompetent attorney could in with. Oh, your confidence is at a high that very moment as you prepare to end him with the fear of reality. “Oh, no fucking way.”

“Way.” Chris ends you with the fear of reality. You see it before you feel it: the cold press of his police baton against your pussy lips. Your heart drops, ice in your veins, and pussy wet. Pussy wet? Pussy wet. Thick, dense, heavy, the rounded tip pressed impossibly against your cunt, pressed into your pelvic bone. You cry out and thrash your head around for help - from anyone: an officer, a rogue inmate, but no one moves. Everyone watches. Your eyes land on Ada, wide and teary. 

She kisses you on the mouth, tasting of cherry. Chris has nothing to say. There’s red smeared on your panting lips, before a whine follows it up as your cunt opens up to the end of the baton. No stretch compares. No toy. No cock. 

“Please, sir. This is… stop. ” Your voice cracks, head dipped low as the baton rests, cunt wrapped over the tip like a condom just on the tip of a penis, except the condom is a crying mess. “Please don’t. I’ll fucking die. ”  

“You won’t die.”  Chris dismisses you with a click of his tongue. “You’ll just hurt. Fuckin’ relax.” He presses the baton further, and you think your labia tears. It feels like an inch further, but you know it’s likely just be a centimeter. You wail, fist pounding against the wall as your shoulders shake and your body wracks with sobs. 

“Help me, please! Everyone gonna stand there with their thumbs up their asses!? So much for officers of the peace!” “Shadd-up,” Chris’s free hand smacks you in the back of the head. “Or I’ll put something up your ass. ” He threatens you with a nudge of the bottom. Every single move of it is agony.  God, it’s like you’re giving birth, but the baby’s crawling in. “No one’s coming to help you. This is just… protocol. Gotta see what you're carrying. You don’t mind, right?” 

“I perhaps mind—fuck!” You scream and nearly stumble to the ground were it not for Chris’s arm wrapping around your stomach. The baton is pressed further in from him catching your fall. “You, you, hold them up.” Ada on your left. Someone on your right. Their arms loop around yours and pull you up. You’re curled over in their grip, feet nearly off the ground and body completely curled. Your forehead is against the wall, your head bobbing back and forth with your ragged pants. Ada wipes the red from your lips. 

“You ready? Gonna see if we can make some real progress down here now.” You scream before your mind can create a comeback. Your calves curl upwards, body entirely in the air for a moment before you crash to the floor, pulling the one on your right down with you. Ada lets you go before she can be dragged down too. The baton comes down with you, lodged in so it sticks out of your pussy like a tail. “No, no, leave them. This is better.” Chris stands over your sniveling form, pain pulsating through the stretched skin of your cunt, muscled to an unnatural degree. Forehead against the ground, you heave out sobs, body in shock from the penetration. 

Nothing has ever escaped Alcatraz, but your scream of pain when the baton gets pushed into your pussy inches more breaks through even the thickest of walls. Chris used the bottom of his foot and lowered it, entire body pushing the weapon into you. He hums. “Not feeling anything yet. Maybe it’s deeper in there, hm?” Your muscles are taunt, nerves shot. You’re sobbing, wailing on the floor. The baton is impossibly deep, your cunt is impossibly stretched, your very pelvis is moving to accommodate it. 

“Chris.” It’s Jill. She says no more. “Alright, alright, you’re right.” Chris grabs the handle. “Just need to loosen them still.” He coaxes the baton back, then gently pushes it forward, like a lover. His free hand massages your tailbone. Each pull takes your vaginal walls with it, and each push your cunt fights against, tightening against it. “I think they’re liking it.” 

Your weeping is indicative of that, for sure. “Whaddya say, birdy? I’ll strike you a deal. A plea bargain. You confess what you’ve got hidden up your cunt, and I won’t break it.” There’s nothing up your cunt besides an IUD set to get taken out in seven years, but you nod. Your cheek is squished against the cold floor, looking at Ada’s feet. “Speak up, birdy, or else I may just—.” 

“Yes! Please, don’t fucking tear out my insides!” 

“‘Course. Why didn’t you say so before?” Chris squats down, thick thighs supporting his weight. “Know what? Change my mind. I don’t need your deal. I think I know what will flush the contraband out. Your cum, birdy.” His strokes with the baton are as gentle as they could be, so your walls… don’t adjust, no. No adjusting to that this quick, but they tolerate it. Your pussy soaks the baton, the weapon glistening. “That’s all. Just cum on the baton, birdy. This’ll be all over. Hear me?” You nod. Chris takes it as the signal to go. He’s watching with perverse joy, the way your pussy takes it. God, it’s making him hard. He’s got to hurry this up. His free hand rests on your clit. Your body twitches from the contact. “Gonna rub your little clit, birdy. Help ya out. Call me an officer of the peace.” His fingers press down, circling your nub with ease. You whine out, pathetic. It echoes through the prison. Using his arm, he pushes harder down on your clit, some fingers driving into your clitoral hood. 

You moan out. It’s too much, too much. Is this your punishment? You swear to whoever’s listening, you’ll never objectify or sexualize anyone again. You’ll go abstinent, for fuck’s sake. But please let this end.

The baton is set at a steady pace, not dipping deeper than what your pussy’s stretched to take. You hiccup when it touches that necking portion, whining, writhing on the floor while Chris’s hand picks up on your clit. “Come on, birdy. Come on, just cum. I’ve got people to impress here, you know. Cum. ” You reply with a whimper, face contorted in pain. Pleasure? It’s all vague and intertwining in your fucked up brain. “Fucking come on .” Chris spits on your clit, then slaps it. “Come the fuck on!” “I’m trying !” You wail back, head thrown back. Your glare is dulled by the tears on your face, mouth open in horror. There’s not much you can see from this angle, just the shadow of the baton and Chris’s form over yours. 

A soft hand lifts your cheek from the ground and full lips slot against yours. Cherry-flavored. You moan into Ada’s mouth, and the kiss turns salty. Lips gliding against yours again and again, your sniveling is swallowed by her. Your whimpers, when Chris twists the baton, are met with her tongue, slipping against yours, under yours. Touching the top of your mouth. Your teeth. Chris slaps your clit again, and your yelp parts you for a second, but Ada doesn’t let it deter her. Your neck is pulled painfully to reach her. God, she’s such a good kisser.

You’re panting into her mouth, pathetically, not even kissing her back at this point as Chris speeds his jacking of the baton. Ada kisses you anyway, lips switching between kissing your top and bottom lip. Her tongue traces your lips, or your teeth, or simply licks your tongue. Your eyes close, breath building and quickening. 

“God, you’re tightening, birdy. Finally. Fucking cum.” Chris leans over you, mouth next to your ear. His fingers slap your clit once, twice, before doubling down, clit engorged and taking it. “Fucking cum right now, birdy. You dumb fucking slut. You fucking worthless fleshlight for my fucking baton. Cum. Cum right fucking now or I swear to fucking god I will rearrange your guts with this.”  

You scream once again, forced to part from Ada when your forehead lands on the floor, muscles twitching as you cum. Chris rubs you through your orgasm until each touch is overstimulating. He yanks the baton from you. Your fucked out cunt clenches onto nothing, chest rising up and down, frantic. Your body is strung tight still, spasming. Chest heaving. 

“Get ‘em up. We’ve got things to do” 

[petalouda85]

Battle

Fandom: Blades of Light and Shadow

Pairing: Tyril Starfury x f!human!MC (Kassandra)

Word count: 3.3k

Concept: A rewrite of the final battle of Blades 2

Tags: @liviusofpella, @megas-choices, @starlight-starfury, @dutifullynuttywitch, @thosehallowedhalls, @choicesficwriterscreations

AO3 link: x

A/N: Honestly, the only reason I didn’t post this one sooner is because I couldn’t think of a title, which I still think is a bit meh. Meh might actually be my general attitude towards this fic. Not bad but still a bit meh. Regardless, enjoy some good angst again.

When Kassandra awoke, all she felt was pain, the slightest twist of her body shooting fire through every nerve and every muscle. The high-pitched ringing in her ears gradually lessened, allowing her to hear the noises of the ongoing battle around her, determination reinvigorating in her. A groan escaped her as she tried to sit up, catching only a glimpse of the source of her pain before it forced her to lie down again.

A massive wound covered her stomach, the blood dripping easily from it. Gritting her teeth, she pressed her hand down on the wound and in a swift movement, rolled onto her stomach. She breathed heavily to quell the pain, but it was quickly replaced by a gasp as she finally saw the carnage around her.

Her friends were strewn around her, bleeding, all still and unmoving, the victims of the Empress’ wrath. With Valax on their side, they had landed blow after blow, making the Empress bleed and her skin crack. When they hit one strike too many, the Empress had burst out her powers in a rage, sending Kassandra and the others flying, the magic shredding at their skin.

Kassandra looked at all the bodies. Everyone was present, Tyril nearest to her.

“Tyril?” She called out to him, her voice barely audible over the wind. The elf didn’t move and worry bit at her heart. “Tyril?” She cried, her worry morphing into fear when he still didn’t move. She reached for him but all she grabbed was dirt and grass. “Tyril!” Tears rolled out of her eyes.

With a pained shout, she forced herself to crawl, finally close enough to grab onto his hand, relief washing over her when she heard him groan in response and ever so slightly tighten his grip on her hand. She wanted to weep loudly when he opened his eyes a crack, blue meeting brown; how she wished she could bask in that moment for an eternity, but she was running out of time. She looked over her shoulder at the Empress, hurling her magic and slaughtering those that dared get too close. Kassandra squeezed her eyes shut, tears escaping despite her best efforts.

She knew what she had to do.

“Kassandra?” He whispered as she pressed a long, hard kiss on his knuckles.

“I love you. So much.” Reluctantly, she pulled away and used all her strength to stand, gritting her teeth as her wound seared with pain. Every step she took, a new stab of agony rushed through her, but she pressed on, eyes trained on her target with fiery determination.

“Hey! Ashy!” Kassandra shouted. The Empress turned around and smirked cockily at the approaching human.

“Ah, the great hero rises.” She mocked. Kassandra took another step and stumbled to the ground, the Empress’ laughter carried by the wind. With a growl, she forced herself to her feet, the blood dripping over her hand.

“You will never conquer the Light Realm. I will protect it with my life.” Kassandra said through gritted teeth.

“Oh, I’m sure you will.” The Empress laughed. She conjured up a ball of Shadow and threw it towards Kassandra. She dodged at the last moment, feeling the tendrils of Shadow brush across her cheek before she fell to the ground once more, letting out a cry of pain.

“Damn it.” She muttered under her breath as she sat up on her hands and knees, looking at her hand, it now entirely red, the Empress’ mocking laughter ringing in her ears. “Damn it.” She gritted her teeth as she continued to stare at her wound.

She could never face the Empress in this state. She could try the healing spell Nia taught her, but she realized quickly that that likely wouldn’t work; she barely had the strength to stand, and Nia had told her the difficulties of using such a spell on oneself. Another idea struck her. With a deep breath, she called on the Light and produced a flame in her hand. Not giving herself the opportunity to talk herself out of it, she pressed the flame to her injury. It took all her willpower to not scream, the pain worse than the injury had been but when she pulled her hand back, she smiled.

It had worked. She wasn’t bleeding anymore.

She rose to her feet, her stomach sore and throbbing, and faced down the Empress, who, for the briefest of moments, seemed impressed before her face twisted back into that familiar cruel and cocky smile.

“Your determination is amusing.” She quipped. Kassandra stopped some distance from the Empress, meeting her gaze.

“It’s time for you to go, your Highness. You don’t belong here. You never have. All you bring to this world is death and destruction. It’s time to give it back to people who actually make something of it.” Kassandra unhooked her whip from her belt, the end falling unceremoniously to the ground. The Empress looked at the weapon and laughed heartily.

“And who’s going to make me go? You? With your bit of string in your hand?” Kassandra’s stomach sank for a moment before she steeled herself.

“Probably not. But let’s just give this one last go.” With a flick of her wrist, the whip burst into flame. “Shall we?”

Kassandra threw the whip, angry when the Empress managed to dodge the hit. Determined, she aimed and threw again, sending the Shadow creature in the other direction. She dodged another Shadow Orb that was thrown her way, after which she lashed the whip a third time, causing the Empress to stumble to avoid the hit. As she regained her footing, Kassandra threw the whip once more, the flaming end slashing the Empress on her cheek, a black crack forming. The Empress hollered and grasped at her cheek, flaming hateful eyes trained on the human that caused it.

“You little weed!” She seethed. Kassandra stared back with equal fire, hand ready to cut again. The metallic taste of blood flooded her tongue and she spat it out, her gaze never leaving her opponent.

“Yes, I am just a little dandelion. No matter how many times you pull at my roots, no matter how many times you try to destroy me, I will always find a crack in your foundation and grow!” Shouting the last word, she threw her weapon, hurling the whip as hard as she could. The end missed but as it snapped, the flames burst out in an explosion, the shockwave causing the Empress to stumble. Kassandra screamed and aimed again, the whip exploding once more. She threw it over and over, the flames growing more ferocious with each crack, a trail of fire left behind with every movement until she was surrounded by rings of the orange light, her movement elegant and graceful despite the exhaustion and the heat and the ever-present pain. A twirling dance of metal and fire.

“ENOUGH!” The Empress hollered and a shockwave of Shadow pushed out of her, too fast to dodge. Kassandra went flying, skidding, and tumbling across the ground, groaning when her head contacted something hard. Her head churned and twisted, her vision blurred and distorted. She blinked rapidly, seeing a dark figure coming to stand over her, a Shadow scythe in her hand. The Empress lifted the weapon with a gleeful smile.

“I’m going to kill you, Realm-Walker. I’m going to gut you and use your guts to strangle your little elf. I am the Ash Empress, the Mother of Grey. I am Death. You’re just a human being.”

The scythe swung down, a killing blow to her chest. Kassandra rolled out of the way, feeling the rush of air as the weapon plunged into the earth next to her. The Empress yanked the weapon out as Kassandra jumped to her feet, grabbing onto the Empress’ wrists. The Empress pushed back but Kassandra refused to budge, her arms trembling under the sheer strength of her opponent. With a shout, she pushed back, jumping out of the way to dodge another swing of the scythe.

An Orb of Light appeared in her hand, and she threw it at her adversary, it exploding in a ferocious blinding light. As the Empress howled in pain, Kassandra abandoned the whip and pulled forth a dagger, concentrating on the blade, it beginning to glow with potent Light. As the light from the orb faded, the Empress turned to face her, but it was too late as Kassandra plunged the Light-infused weapon into the center of her chest. The Empress looked down at the weapon in shock before turning her hateful gaze back to the human in front of her.

“This is for my family.” Kassandra twisted the knife, the Empress grunting as cracks of Light began to form on her skin. “This is for me.” Another twist. “And this is for Tyril. You will never touch him again!” And she plunged the knife deeper, more cracks of Light forming on the gray skin, permeating all through her body and turning the skin hard and brittle, little chunks of ash blowing away with the wind until there was nothing left of the Empress, the knife falling to the grass as Kassandra fell to her knees, exhausted and dizzy, her head pounding. Moments later, she felt a hand on her shoulder and looked up to see Valax, heavily injured but alive. She looked sadly at the small remaining pile of ash before them.

“My mother…”

“She’s gone.” Kassandra answered as she rose to her feet, stumbling as she did. Valax’s sad expression continued for a moment longer before her face became serious once more.

“We still have a problem on our hands.” She said sternly, looking out towards the portal. Kassandra nodded and straightened herself, gritting her teeth to lessen the pain.

“Let’s do this.” And the two ran in the direction of the portal, dodging Ashen soldiers and monsters along the way. Soon, they were at the portal, the buzzing causing the pain in her head to increase. She ignored it as best she could as she raised her hand, ready to shut the portal when her hand faltered.

“If we seal it, it’ll be the death of magic. The elves, the goblins, they’ll die.” Lowering her hand, Kassandra looked out over the field once more, watching the elves fight against the invaders, throwing Orbs of Light and magical flames. She glanced over in the direction of the final resting place of the Empress, thinking of Nia and Tyril, how their lives were intertwined with magic.

“And if we keep it open, Shadow will corrupt, and Light will drain people’s life force.” Valax responded. “The world would stay as it is. Unbalanced and unfair.”

Neither option was appealing. Kassandra pondered and pondered when a thought struck her.

“What if we broke the barrier?”

“What?”

“The Realms were one once. Maybe they should be one once more. Bring it all back the way it was.” Valax looked hesitant.

“Worlds would collide if we broke the barrier. Buildings, trees, rivers, it’ll all collide, and we don’t where anything will land. People will die.” Valax reasoned. Kassandra looked over the battlefield, black spots clouding her eyes.

“More than they are now?” Valax followed her gaze and fell silent.

“I trust you, Kassandra. And I trust you to make the right choice.” Kassandra looked to the portal and then back to the open field, watching the bloodshed unfold further. Light against Shadow, a division started many millennia ago. How many had suffered and died due to the greed of a handful of people?

A choice was made.

“The Ascendants split the world to keep their power and they died anyway. So many suffered for it. It’s time to bring it back to the way it was.” Kassandra lifted her hand to the portal, channeling her realm-walker abilities and willing the portal to grow larger, sensing the cracks in the barrier growing every second. She sensed a surge of magic as Valax joined her, tearing more and more at the barrier.

Kassandra’s hand began to falter as she pushed her powers further than she ever had before. Her head spun, her insides felt as though they were being torn apart. But she pushed more and more, screaming as she pressed on, feeling the barrier break more by the second, the pressure building.

Suddenly, the pressure snapped, and the barrier collapsed in a blinding light. The ground shook but somehow, she remained standing until the earth stopped moving.

Her arms fell and she collapsed onto her knees, breathing heavily as she looked around her, seeing a new, chaotic, and strange world. Shadow trees twisted and rooted in the once open fields, Imtura’s ships now on land due to changed shorelines and the mountains placed differently. She felt a surge of magic in her and she quickly recognized it as being true magic. She smiled weakly, but quickly succumbed to a coughing fit, blood pooling out of her mouth. Her coughing soon stopped but the blood continued to drip out of her mouth. She felt dizzier than before, it worsening by the second, her vision fading, her insides numb.

“Kassandra!” Someone screamed as the world faded to black.

---

It was warm.

Kassandra tried to move but her arms and hands were too heavy, something heavy lying on top of her making it difficult to move anything else. She managed to shuffle ever so slightly to make herself more comfortable on the surprisingly soft surface she was lying on.

“If this is death, it’s not too bad.” She thought, as she slowly opened her heavy lids. Her vision was blurry and unfocused, dizziness immediately swimming in her head. She closed her eyes for a moment before trying again. This time it was easier to bear though her vision was still fuzzy. She could make out colors: soft cream and bronze. She blinked a few times, her vision getting clearer every time, and she frowned when she recognized the ceiling. It was the ceiling of the room she’d had in Whitetower.

She turned her head and let out a light gasp when she spotted Nia in a chair next to her bed, head slumped down in rest.

She was not dead.

“Nia?” Kassandra said, her voice weak and cracked. Nia didn’t move. “Nia?” She tried louder. The priestess shook out of her sleep and lifted her head, her eyes widening immediately.

“Kassandra!” Nia whispered, jumping out of the chair, and coming to sit on the edge of the bed. “Thank the Gods, you’re finally awake!”

She couldn’t help but smile and tried to sit up, only for her stomach to blaze with pain. Kassandra hissed as she lay back down. There was a hum of magic and the pain immediately lessened.

“Don’t push yourself.” Nia said, moving her hand over Kassandra’ abdomen. “You still aren’t fully healed, and your stomach will no doubt be tender for some time, even with magic.” Nia frowned, a motherly expression of disappointment and concern on her face. “That was quite reckless, burning your stomach like that; yes, it stopped the bleeding externally but internally... “ The priestess trailed off for a moment. “I understand why you did it but…” The priestess trailed off again and Kassandra felt a pit of regret in her stomach.

“How long was I asleep?” Kassandra asked after a time, her voice coming out scratchy and hoarse.

“You were unconscious for about two weeks. We were scared you weren’t going to make it. How do you feel?” Kassandra moved her head and pain immediately shot through her skull, more aches passing through her body just as fast.

“Like I’ve been hit by a thousand bricks and my limbs are lead.” Nia let out a light chuckle.

“You did push yourself a lot at the end. Do you need anything?”

“Some water would be nice.” Nia nodded and grabbed the pitcher that stood on the side table and filled a glass. She gently placed her hand under Kassandra’s head and lifted her up, helping her slowly drink from the cup. Once it was empty, she helped her lay down again.

“Better?”

“Much. Thank you. Are the others here?” Nia nodded and looked over her shoulder. Kassandra tried to follow her gaze but was unable to lift her head much.

“They’re here. They’re asleep. I’ll wake them; they’ll be so relieved to see you awake.” Before Kassandra could protest, Nia stood from the bed and moved out of sight. “Imtura! Wake up!” She heard her whisper loudly. She heard movement behind the foot of the bed, a thud and then, a man groaning.

“No, she’s my pillow!” Mal whined.

“Kassandra’s awake.” She heard shuffling and the orc and scoundrel appeared in her sight, both looking disheveled, while Nia moved into another corner of the room, Kade soon appearing in her vision as well. As Nia disappeared from sight and the door opened and closed, her brother leapt for the bed, gathering her in an embrace as Mal and Imtura approached. The embrace shot pain up her whole body.

“Kade, you’re hurting me.” Kassandra said and immediately, Kade let go and helped her down onto the bed.

“Sorry. I’m just so happy to see you awake.” He said, tears of joy in his eyes. Kassandra smirked.

“Can’t get rid of me that easy.” She looked at the other two figures standing by her bed. “Hi guys.” Mal moved closer and sat down on the bed. He was silent for a time, seemingly trying to find the right words amid a whirlwind of emotion.

“Good to have you back, kit.” He said, struggling to keep his tone even. Slowly and with effort, Kassandra reached out and took his hand, trying to exude as much comfort into her touch as she could. Mal finally looked at her and she offered him a gentle smile.

“It’s good to be back.” The door slammed open, causing all heads to turn. Panting in the door stood Tyril, Nia appearing only moments later. The elf immediately looked to the bed and Kassandra heard his breath catch when their eyes met. Silence permeated the space.

“Let’s… give them some privacy.” Kade said gently. Surprisingly, the others offered little protest. They shuffled out of her sight and soon, the door clicked shut, leaving the room in silence again. For a time, neither of them moved, Tyril now not looking at her. Slowly, he moved closer and sat down on the bed, taking hold of her hand, and bringing it up to place a few gentle kisses on the knuckles. He took in a shaking breath and Kassandra noticed a red, wet tinge to his eyes.

“Tyril, please don’t cry.” She said softly. He let out a wet chuckle, shaking his head slightly as a tear ran down his cheek.

“I’m not crying.” He finally looked at her, his expression walking a line between worry and relief as another tear rolled out of his eye. With what little strength she had, she moved her hand out of his grasp and cupped his cheek. Quickly, her hand faltered but the elf reached up and kept it in place.

“I’m going to be okay.” Tyril nodded, more tears rolling from his eyes. He took her hand from his cheek and held on to it before he leaned down and placed a tender kiss on her lips. She returned the gesture as best she could, a tear rolling out of her eye now too. When he pulled away, he remained close, resting his forehead against hers, the grip on her hand tightening.

“Please don’t ever scare me like that again.” He whispered. In a burst of strength, she embraced the elf, ignoring the lingering aches in her body. He quickly embraced her back.

“Considering we have a tendency to end up in dangerous situations, I don’t think that that’s something I can promise.” She felt and heard him chuckle a little. “But I’ll try my best.”

[deepperplexity]

Prompt 19: Hope [B6]

Pairing: Snape x Fem!OC

POV: First, OC

Setting: Unknown place during a blizzard

Continuation of: Prompt 2. Restless Waiting, 3. Snowballing, 7. Stormy Reunion, 8. Rosemary For Holly & 16. Keep Warm

A/N: So, I'm here again, just a little later in the evening and I'm so glad I decided to write a shorter one for this prompt. I'm honestly stressing to the max and I haven't even started on tomorrows fic so I'm feeling the pressure... Still have another two Christmas celebrations to host as well but only one more before Rickmas2023 is over 😂👍 I'm still so so so in love with this event and I really do love seeing the community come together. I'm very very sorry I'm not fully able to reply to everything atm but as soon as I just have enough time I'll do it - you're words deserve all my attention and a thought-out reply too ❤ ON TO THE STORY OF TODAY!

Tags/TW’s: Love, Longing, Broken Hearted, Wishing For A Future, Abandoning/Losing Hope, Being Cold, Sacrifices For The Greater Good, Hurt No Comfort, Emotional Hurt, Being Cold, Feeling Abandoned/Lost, Mentions Future Death/Pain, Regret

Word Count: 1.4k

LINKTREE // AO3 // MASTERLIST

My muscles strained against the sluggishness, the blizzard seemed to kick up a notch as I managed to sit up. I was cold all the way through. “Where are you?” Severus called, his voice a barely there thunder of worry. “Sev!” I shouted, mustering all my strength. “Belinna!” “I’m here!”

The sound of crunching snow reached me as I got myself up, trying hard not to topple over from the rough winds my weak body could barely withstand. His arms were around me the next second, his body shielding me from the onslaught while keeping me upright with his tight grip. “I knew you’d come,” he said by my ear, the relief in his voice palpable while my fingers grasped at his thick cloak. “I’ll always wish for you,” I said, my face nearly pushed into his neck. “Hold tight,” he said and my fingers tensed before we flew. Black shadows enveloped us and the twisting in my gut had my stomach in an upheaval.

It was over just a minute later. We were in the cover of trees, towering pines reaching as high as I could see. “Are you hurt?” he asked while grabbing my face with his cold hands. “No.” His eyes searched mine for any lie but I spoke the truth. I wasn’t hurt, confused and drained, but not hurt. “We go on foot,” he declared. “On foot?” “No trace.” I simply nodded at his words, happy I’d put on shoes before lying in bed.

Severus grabbed my hand and began walking, tugging me along through the heavy snow while I held on tight and tried to keep my coat cinched around my throat. The cold was starting to bite through all the layers I wore. It wasn’t the same as the English winter, or any other type of cold I’d ever experienced before. It felt feral, menacing nearly.

“Where are we?” I asked over the wind while it slithered in a rush between the tree trunks. “Can't tell you,” he said over his shoulder. “You should not know.” I merely nodded, I knew whatever reason he had for keeping so many secrets it was a good one. Truth be told, I was merely happy feeling his hand around mine, seeing him safe and whole — even if it was in the middle of a blizzard in some forgotten part of the world. He was there, alive and grasping my hand as if he were afraid to lose his grip on me.

We trudged on, Severus picked up the speed the deeper into the forest we went. “Wand out,” he said when he finally slowed down and I gasped for breath while my stiff muscles ached in the cold. “Now,” he demanded further and I reached inside my clothes to get my wand. “Sev?” I asked but he shook his head and squeezed my hand. Good thing I’m left-handed, I thought when I returned the squeeze and tried to keep my fear at bay. He was so stiff, so tense. It had my heart in my throat feeling the tension radiating from him as we inched closer to whatever destination he had in mind.

We entered a clearing and the wind just died off, as if someone closed a door. “We’re here,” he whispered and my eyes scanned the space. There was nothing there. Just a small open space among the tall trees where the weather seemingly couldn’t reach us at all. “Where is here?” I asked, stepping closer to him as something cold slithered up my spine. “The home of… The home I thought could have been my sanctuary after everything was over. But now, it is over, before it has even begun.” “Severus, what do you mean?” “If things had been, different … I would have taken you here, after everything was done…” “You’re scaring me, Sev…”

For, he did. He spoke in a manner I had never heard before that seemed drowned in anguish. He turned toward me, his face softened and turned gentle in the strange light of the clearing while I tried to remain upright. “When the moment comes,” he began as his finger stroked my chin, “you will have this part of me.” “When-, what?” I asked, my voice near frantic as he seemed destitute. “Love,” he whispered. “I am so sorry.” “S-Severus? What are you talking about?” “The plan is already in motion. When the time comes, I must kill Albus, I must become the evil in everyone's view to keep as many as possible safe, alive . There will be no place for me after, dead or alive. With all things in motion, all aspects of the plan, there are too many things that can go wrong and I am certain death will come for me before this war ends. One way or another, I will not be here with you after all is done.”

His words, they hurt so fiercely I could barely breathe while he looked at me with a sorrow and hurt so deep I couldn’t see an end to it. There was no end to his pain. A pain he’d carried all alone, for however long. I wished to take it away, wrap him up in a blanket and shower him with all my love, all my warmth, every ounce of joy I still held on to despite the dark times.

“Are you saying…” “Yes, love. That's what I'm saying.” “But, you can’t-, I mean-, we-, there must be a way!” My voice carried all over the clearing in the absence of other sounds. His soft smile, so gentle looking and sweet, was directed at me at that moment as he pulled me. His arms wrapped me up, I gripped at him while trying to find some sort of strength to hold on to the hope of a future with him I had barely ever even dared to imagine. “Here, you will survive,” he whispered into my hair. “You will live, and life will be yours to cherish.” “I don’t want that without you.” “You never had me, Belinna. I stayed away for as long as I could and then the choice was made for me when he saw you in my mind. I would never have even—” “Don’t. Please, don’t take what little love you’ve offered me.” “As you wish.”

We stood in silence until my snivelling broke the quiet. He was right, I’d never had him, and now I never would. I’d never know him deeply, intimately, lovingly. I’d never have a chance at finding a normal life with him, or even a crazy one. I’d never have what I’d hoped for in secret within the deepest parts of my heart. The hope I’d felt just a few moments ago had gone — vanished, for all eternity.

“When things seem most dark,” Severus said as I tried to soak up every tone of his voice. “Follow your heart. Your heart will lead you right.” “It led me to you, it always will…” “And mine takes me away,” he said while my body tensed up. “To keep you safe.” “Severus,” I began but my body turned heavy. “What-, what’s happening?” I asked, looking up into the most beautiful eyes I would ever see in all my life. “This was all I could grant,” he whispered. “All— What?” “Belinna, know that I love you. I will always love you, from the moment you spilt pumpkin soup over my best frock, it has been you .” “Severus, I-, I love you too. Only you.” I held on as tightly as I could while my knees yielded and the shadow of a little house seemed to flicker behind Severus as my head slumped to the side. The light of a single candle in the window was the last thing I saw before Severus sunk to the ground with me cradled in his arms as my body gave way to the heavy sleep taking over. Hurt, pain, and panic filled my heart and rushed through my body with my blood but I could do nothing.

He kissed me, a soft touch upon my lips that I couldn’t return. “Know that had I known you were an option in the future, I never would have offered my life for another. But you were too late, and I was too hurt…” I wished to scream at him, shout my love for all the world to hear. But I could not. Everything disappeared and I fumbled through the darkness without moving a single muscle only to jolt awake back in the cottage, no sign I had ever gone anywhere at all…

…To Be Continued…

LINKTREE // AO3 // MASTERLIST

A/N: REMINDER THAT EVERY RICKMAS2023 FIC HAS A HEA! 😂 Don't come for me after this part of the Snape Serial this Rickmas 🙈

Q: Are you rather too cold or too warm? A: Too cold, easiest Q so far I think. I used to never be too warm, but now, gosh, I hate being too warm 😂

TAGLIST: @lizlil @snapefiction @darkthought15 @monstreviolet @flowerdementia @marvelschriss @once-upon-an-imagine @ravennight41 @caseydoodles98 @slytherinprincess03 @theconsultingdetectiveswife @grimmyhild @monster-energies @myobscureimaginarium @snowblossomreads @eternal-silvertongued-prince @cherryglossie @setsuna-meiou31 @helena211 @a-queen-and-her-throne @justsaturn0 @turvi @imwithyoutiltheendofthelinebucky @sunnylikesfrogs @mamawolfsmith16 @dianilaws @sassanoe @snapesrn @bernadette-peters12 @sammy-13 @smartowl999 @castleofthorns @serenanight87 @leah1243

@morphineisouthoney @meteoritewolf69 @bionic-otp @elizabeth-baelish @romanceandsarcasm @severuslovebot @glowstar826 @rickmandowneyjr @yellowbadgermole @snapesangel @a-queen-and-her-throne @impulse-anchor @commodoreseverus  @writewithmarites @alisongurl13 @yan-senna @writewithmarites @reinekefoxart @nixislight @lokisbjchnl  @lght-n-drk @ladykardasi @lyrixsnape @sunset90 @mamawolfsmith87 @snowblossomreads @ladykardasi @a-queen-and-her-throne @eternal-silvertongued-prince @lyrixsnape @imwithyoutiltheendofthelinebucky @daddythanatos

Want to be tagged? 💚 You can tag yourself HERE! Or tell me and I’ll gladly tag you! 😍

[Dec:2023]

[indigowriting]

this or that tag game

tagged by @liv-is (thank you so much!!!). you can find her post here.

|| HISTORICAL or FUTURISTIC ||

i like both, but when i'm writing, i tend to prefer futuristic. i don't know what it is, but the endless possibilities of speculation for futuristic works really get to me. it probably also has something to do with the fact that i care too much about historical accuracy to write anything anachronistic, which is a problem futuristic works bypass by nature of being speculative. also, i really like all the bright shiny aspects of futurism. that said, i love a good steampunk setting.

|| OPENING or CLOSING CHAPTER ||

i have written so many opening chapters but i've never written a closing chapter for an original work, so i would love to have this happen.........someday. also i feel like openings are much easier for me to figure out than closings, which poses a nice challenge.

|| LIGHT+FLUFFY or DARK+GRITTY ||

both? both is good. i really can't choose—i feel like my ideal story has both light and fluffy elements, and dark and gritty ones. the slow, mundane moments only serve to highlight the horrifying and painful ones, you know? i'm a woman of simple tastes—i like to have my cake and eat it too.

|| ANIMAL COMPANION or FOUND FAMILY ||

i always have a hard time writing animals if they're not anthropomorphic </3 found family is much easier for me to manage, and offers me a chance to develop dynamics and relationships. also i think i would wind up killing off a pet :/

|| HORROR or ROMANCE ||

not to go "both" again, but...........both. i love romance and horror. i love when the horror is romantic. i love when the romance is horror. they are, in my mind, very complimentary—be it because the love is so large it consumes, or because the horror is doing this out of a warped understanding of romance. also, women covered in blood are hot. i said what i said.

|| HARD MAGIC SYSTEM or SOFT MAGIC SYSTEM ||

as a reader i love a hard magic system, because there's so many rules and interesting ways to go at it. as a writer, if i have to give more explanation than "it happened because magic", i'll scream so loud it shatters the windows. also, i am an inherently hedonistic, decadent person—i think that magic should be used in whatever way makes the plot as ridiculous, overwrought, and ostentatious as possible. people can fly? the water system of a city is controlled by river nymphs? you can turn your physics prof into an inanimate object on accident? toddlers are accidentally setting things on fire? you solved your travel issue by teleporting? that bust you own is actually a talking, opinionated ghost of a minor roman official, because you don't really know how to use magic and you accidentally bound him to it? hell yeah.

|| STANDALONE or SERIES ||

i would love to be the type of person to write series, but i am...............not, unfortunately. generally speaking, all the ideas i come up with are things that wrap up in a single novel, barring side short stories or flash fiction or other miscellanea, but honestly, i'm not too bothered by this. i've accepted my niche, and i'm mucking around in the shallow mud puddle and finding cool rocks.

|| ONE PROJECT AT A TIME or ALWAYS JUGGLING 2+ ||

marking both, because it's complicated. right now i have only one wip, but usually, i'm the type of person who's constantly shouldering fifty-thousand ideas, as my notes app can attest.

|| ONE AWARD WINNER or ONE BESTSELLER ||

i would love to win an award, but like.........awards don't pay money, unfortunately. for fiscal reasons, i'd love to have a best-seller.

|| FANTASY OR SCI-FI ||

sci-fi is my one true love, my fair lady, that which i pine after, etc etc. i like fantasy, don't get me wrong, and love reading it, but for writing? sci-fi all the way. i really enjoy all the possibilities of sci-fi, and all the unique ways i can explore themes—not to mention robots and cyborgs and space-ships and alien species. plus, i find that my descriptive tendencies work better when i'm having to describe something that doesn't exist as opposed to something that has some sort of real-world analogue.

|| CHARACTER DESCRIPTION or SETTING DESCRIPTION ||

another "both", but listen, descriptive writing is my favourite thing in the world. i love it so, so damn much. i love describing a character's actions, and the way that reflects their thoughts and emotions, and i love describing the setting and conveying the tone and premise. descriptive writing is arguably my strongest trait, and it's one i really enjoy about myself. i've had people tell me it really helps flesh out my writing and makes it feel real, and i absolutely love that.

|| LOVE TRIANGLE IN EVERYTHING or NO ROMANTIC ARCS ||

listen, i know love triangles are overdone, but i, for one, am rolling up with a giant roll of POLYAMORY DUCT-TAPE(tm). no more shall they pine after each other! no more the false choice! you're all going to hold hand and kiss and be happy about it! i love romance, i'm a closet romantic, but also, just, the possibilities and dynamics that open when you polyamorise your characters? delicious.

|| CONSTANT SANDSTORM or RAINSTORM ||

i love rainstorms so much. i was born and raised in the subtropics, and my favourite thing is monsoon season. warm rain soaking you to the bone is genuinely one of the best parts of being alive.

tagging @serotoninshift @btranwrites @lyutenw @yedithwrites @theroseempress and anyone else who'd like to participate!

[callsigndragon]

Buckle up, this is gonna be long (sorry).

The way Jake just drops everything when he goes into protective dad mode is incredible and my heart swells every single time it happens! And I love that no matter what happens between Red and Jake, the moment Liam is in need of both of his parents, they put all that to the side and just focus on him. What great parenting this is. I love it. It is so wholesome and adorable. Poor baby with his ear infection though.

And then onto the reveal chapter...

What a secret!!!! My goodness, it was worth every moment of wait!! Red's reaction to "“I think I should start the story by telling you that Seresin isn’t my real surname.”" is exactly the one I had, what an epic way to start this great secret off, absolutely phenomenal!!! I love the secret and the way you revealed it, but I've got to mention all the physical interactions between Red and Jake, holy moly, just loved them!!! The way Red is comforting and reasurring Jake, and Jake with the knucke kisses! I was and am melting (just by thinking about it!)! I love that they can comfort each other so well and so easily and how comfortable they feel with each other in that moment physically, even though it is a really tough moment for both of them emotionally. And the kiss!!!!!!!!! Yes!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! And Red messaging him to stay!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! My heart!!! All the emotions!!! And the rings being reunited! Jake putting his on his dog tags! My whole heart! The love I feel of this series, honestly, you are a genious. And incredibly talented! Thank you for the huge pay-off that this chapter was, you really made me anticipate something great and you went above and beyond all my expectations and everything I thought the reveal would be. Amazing, incredible, wonderful and so, so touching. Fantastic!!!!

And then the whole Top Girls/Boys Only chats. Hilarious and wholesome and lovely. I can't stop laughing at "Honey, don't look at the pic" - Penny!!! Hahahaha, like Amelia never saw Jake on the beach, hahaha. Also, love how Penny just does an 180 turn to openly discuss sex. And Jake describing their kiss!!!!! The feelings! Honestly, love it! And The Secret Admirer!!! I knew it would be him!!! Love how in the beginning Jake covered for him, but then just spills his mistake in the Boys Only chat. Also love that when Jake says "pain in the ass" Mav chides him, but when Bob says he's gonna "kick his ass" no one says anything, hahahaha. I'll agree with Nat, tho and say we really do need more Seresin children. A girl to even it out. And to spread double times the cuteness that Liam does. But I guess they'll just have to take the time they need.

Amazing, incredible, unique, stunning, awesome-

The list goes on. Take all the time you need to recharge, you honestly spoiled us all with this masterpiece so far! Lots of love, many hugs, and congratulatory mugs of your preferred beverage to you! And many, many thank yous for everything! 💗💗💗 xxx

(italics anon 💚)

You are becoming my favorite anon 😭💚💚💚💚

Omg dear. There's so much to unpack here. First of all, your message made me giggle and kick my feet around. Kdkskdkd THANK YOU REALLY.

Now, let's go by parts.

1. Jake protective dad mode: so... I guess this comes from my own experience. I didn't have a good parental figure and this is how I wish my father acted whenever I needed him. When I imagined Jake having to leave his wife, someone he loved so much, and then they meet again, there's a kid, and he has missed everything... my mind immediately thought how Jake would literally stop his whole life to spend time with Liam. He wants to become a part of his life. Jake's father wasn't a great example and he swore to be the exact opposite. And that means dropping everything when his son needs him.

2. The secret. Someone's theory was that Seresin wasn't his real name, and I started with that because it gives that feeling of building up, from such a small thing as a name, to the reason behind Jake and Red's divorce. And i think it turned out really good.

3. The physical interactions. So, this story is different than anything I've written so far. It has a dark theme but it also has two main characters who had already been together in the past, they fell in love, they got married, they've done everything you can imagine EXCEPT raise a kid. You can see in the first chapters how there's 0 physical interaction between them, and Red is extremely surly when it comes to Jake. But then she notices how Jake acts around Liam, how he loves him so so much, and he would give him the moon if Liam asked for it. That softens Red's heart, she gives him the benefit of the doubt, because it doesn't make sense that his a 'bad guy' and acts like this with his kid.

I also like this idea of their relationship being 'frozen in time' because these two idiots still loved each other, still do, and it has to be really difficult to be around someone you love so much. So when they meet again, the ice around it starts melting and it's only a matter of time before the tension snaps (in the gym, for example). When Jake starts telling his story, Red knows that he needs that physical comfort, but she needs it too. They've been together long enough to know what to do, and when to do it. It's natural for them.

4. The chats. Penny, Penny, Penny. She might act like Jake's mom but she's stil a WOMAN. And she knows. She knows that Jake is a passionate lover. Come on, she has been watching Jake's loving stare every time he looks at Red for a month. Penny knows that when this two end together, he's gonna treat her like a goddess and kiss the ground she walks on. And that it would probably lead to Baby #2.

And well, I think everyone knows that Jake's words are serious 99% of the time and when he says he wants to kick someone, he's probably gonna do it. Bob, tho? He's a softy. He's not gonna kick anyone.

Thank you so much again because this is the type of messages that give me strength to keep writing!

Love you lots italics anon 💚💚💚

[garlic-the-gnome]

I posted 10,379 times in 2022

That's 8,270 more posts than 2021!

762 posts created (7%)

9,617 posts reblogged (93%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@a-walking-fandom-reference

@emuwarum

@garlicdalek

@infinitetrainss

@sunnibits

I tagged 5,952 of my posts in 2022

Only 43% of my posts had no tags

#its spooky time - 633 posts

#mlp - 605 posts

#autism - 577 posts

#furby - 449 posts

#mlp g4 - 374 posts

#plush - 369 posts

#fraggle rock - 326 posts

#furblr - 318 posts

#frog - 277 posts

#prehistoric creatures - 273 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#i found this in a youtube comment on a video on how vaccines dont cause autism and the anti-vaxxers in the comments were saying some really

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

I think that one of the reasons allistics say everybody is a little autistic is because of the words we use to describe our experiences.

When I tell people I don't like eye contact because it feels bad they dismiss it and still try to make eye contact with me. When I say that I don't understand social queues they interpret it as a little bit socially awkward and expect me to read between the lines. No matter how I describe how I feel it's always going to be interpreted as a little uncomfortable because they'll always assume I experience things the same way they do. Because I don't have the language to explain how much pain I'm in and how much discomfort things bring.

This is just my experience as one autistic so I am in no means speaking for all autistics when I say this

219 notes - Posted April 16, 2022

#4

Furby art in the wild

261 notes - Posted April 21, 2022

#3

Easy tips for new tumblr users

Change your icon, banner and blog title (its really easy and other users won't think you're a bot and block you)

Customise your blog! Go to edit appearance and switch on custom theme. There are tonnes of pre-made themes that you can install as well as manner bloggers who make them. Just search html theme.

Switch off best things first (it's in settings( this will keep your dash in chronological order (which means you don't see the same stuff over and over)

Be as cringe as you want. Cover your entire dashboard with your favourite character is you want.

Spam liking and rebloging isn't really a thing. There are few users who do block if you reblog to many of their posts but honestly they're not really worth your time.

Turns off likes and following, it clears up your blog and no one really cares about these

REBLOG THINGS. If you a cool piece of art of a post that makes you chuckles click the little arrows and reblog it. If you have short something to say add it in the tags instead unless you want to tag another user or build upon their post.

Use the tags. Put comments and thoughts in them. Use them to organise your blog. They are really easy to use (plus there are fun in the tags games)

Sending anon hate is pointless. If you don't like the person just block them and move on.

322 notes - Posted October 29, 2022

#2

See the full post

442 notes - Posted June 14, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

I think tumblr should sell pikachu man merch

2,085 notes - Posted June 15, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[darkthingshappen]

Baby Steps: A Brother's Keeper story

Things have been rough for Ben lately, so I thought he could use some future comfort. This is set a few weeks after his rescue and before his eventual recapture. Zoe is a new favorite character. She's just soooo good for my sweet Ben.

CW for alluded to past noncon, torture, and abuse

Tagging List: @i-can-even-burn-salad @peachy-panic @deluxewhump @arwenadreamer @whumpcereal @melancholy-in-the-morning @dont-touch-my-soup @whumpsday @keeper-of-all-the-random-things @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump @oddsconvert @melennui @susiequaz12 @morning-star-whump @crystalquartzwhump @whump-and-other-things @mylifeisonthebookshelf @reflected-pain @hold-him-down @quietshae @sparrowsage (I hope I’m not forgetting anyone - please let me know if I am and I’ll fix it. I’m still getting used to this) 

Thanks again to the AMAZING @whumpcereal for being the BEST BETA IN THE WORLD!!!!!

Zoe stood looking in on Ben.  Like so many days that she had come to visit him since he came home, he was curled up in bed, staring at nothing.  He wasn’t literally catatonic, but he couldn’t engage.  It had only been a few weeks since he’d come home and she knew the basics of what had happened to him.  No one wanted to tell her, but she’d insisted Jake tell her.  

He’s my boyfriend, Jake.  He’s been my best friend since we were sixteen years old.  I have a right to know.  

No you don’t.  He wouldn’t want you knowing.

Jake, he’s fucking catatonic!  I can’t help him if I don’t know what he’s been through.  I love him too, you know.

I know you do, but… Jake’s voice had faltered.  Zoe, it’s really bad.  Like, he’s been through literal hell. 

All the more reason for me to know.  He’s going to need me to find his way back.  Honestly, Jake, just tell me.  I can handle it.  And it can’t be any worse than what I’m imagining.  I’ve seen some of the marks on his body.  They didn’t come from just a beating.

Jake hung his head and relented. 

It had been as bad as she’d imagined.  Worse in so many ways.  Jake flat out refused to show her the pictures, but she didn’t need them.  She read through the file, the abuse, the torture, the ways he’d been used.  The way he’d been found.  She’d had her own nightmares since then.  It wasn’t like reading a story or a news article.  It was real.  This happened to her family.   

Her sweet Ben, the man she loved who would never have hurt anyone ever, the man who held the door open for her, the man that had always treated her with such tenderness.  Her sweetheart since they were sixteen years old, had been so brutalized that he was a shell of himself.  Her heart broke for him every time she saw him.  

He looked so small in his bed, the covers pulled up to his chin.  She didn’t have to see to know what he’d be wearing - a giant oversized long sleeve t-shirt, baggy pajama bottoms that swallowed him, every inch of his body covered to hide the brutal scars and marks of his captivity they all knew were there.  She could still see the scar on his cheek from where he’d been hit so hard or so many times that it had opened up and never healed properly.  

She wanted to take his broken body in her arms and hold him until all the hurt was gone.  But life was never that simple.  He desperately needed a kind and gentle human touch, but every touch terrified him and threatened to send him back to that place.  For a moment, a fury washed over her that was almost overwhelming.  She hated the men that had done this to her sweet Ben.  Who could look at him, could know him, and ever want to hurt him?  What kind of person did that to another?  Alexsei fucking Volkov, that’s who, her brain supplied unhelpfully.  

God, if she could get her hands on that man she was certain her fury and vitriol would be enough to give her the strength to tear him apart, to rip his body to tiny little pieces and then feed them to the fucking dogs.  And even that would be better than what he deserved.  A small, very violent part of her, wanted him to have to suffer the same way Ben had suffered.  But she didn’t want to dwell on that because then she’d have to think about what that monster did to him.  

She slowly walked into the room, not wanting to startle him.  There had been several occasions where one or all of them had accidentally sent Ben spiraling into a flashback.  The visits were hard, but she made herself keep coming.  It wasn’t a chore, not really.  Not for Ben.  She’d keep trying to get through to him for the rest of her life if that’s what it took.  

“Hey, Benny,” she said lightly, sitting slightly away from him on the bed.  

Ben’s eyes seemed to suddenly focus, and they found hers.  HIs soft brown eyes that used to be filled with lightness and mirth were haunted and filled with fear more often than not now.  She could see the moment that he realized it was her and not them in his room.  His tense muscles relaxed slightly, and he smiled sadly at her, like he’d done something wrong. It made Zoe’s blood boil to see Ben’s shame. He didn’t deserve it. He was innocent. He’d always been.

“Hey, Zo.”

“How ya doing today?”

“Oh, um…”  

Words were no longer easy for him.  He struggled with expressing basic thoughts, which never used to be the case. Probably had to do with so much time spent gagged or muzzled.  Who fucking muzzles a person?  Who would muzzle Ben?  Why?  Why would anyone want to silence him?  Zoe shoved her anger back down.  

“I, I, I…” Ben huffed out a frustrated breath.  “I’m.  Okay.”  He had to say each word specifically.  But they both knew he wasn’t okay.  It was just the expected response.  Polite, appropriate.

“Are you?”

He looked at her again, sad eyes that used to dance.  

Zoe swallowed and gently touched his hand, even though she knew it was a risk.  He stiffened for a moment and then relaxed and returned her grasp.  

“I know you’re doing your best, Benny.  But you can’t do it all on your own.  W-will you let me help you?” she asked quietly.  

“I don’t know if you can.” Ben turned back to the wall. “The doctors said I’m fine physically.  But, I’m never going to be the same again.  I’ve said it before, Zo.  I think you should move on.  I’m no good for you anymore.  I can’t be the man you deserve.  I-I-”

“If you say you're broken or ruined one more time… I swear to God I’m gonna-”

Ben shrank in on himself a bit at her words and frustrated tone.  “It’s true,” he whispered.  

Zoe took a deep breath through her nose.  “Ben, if the situation were reversed and I was the one that was abducted and… and… and.. went through what you went through, would you stop loving me?”

Ben’s face paled and he looked like he might be sick.  Then anger flicked across his expression and then a cold resolve.  She understood.  He’d had a brief flashback but had seen her there instead of him.  The thought clearly horrified him, made him sick and angry.  She could read him so well, even after all of this.  

“I never stopped loving you.” He looked back at her. It was the strongest and most defiant voice she’d heard from him since his return.  

“I know, love.  But would you think I was a lost cause if it were me instead of you?”

Again the horror and fear and anger crossed his face at the thought of someone doing all that he’d endured to her.  His hands clenched into fists.

“Never.”

“Then why do you think I should leave you behind?  I could never do that.  You’re my best friend, my first and only love.  You’re the man I want to grow old with.”

“But I don’t know that I can be that man for you anymore.  Zoe, the things he did to me…”

“I don’t care.  I just want you.  Even if it’s just to sit with you, or to lay next to you at night.  I just want to be with you.”

“But you deserve more.”

“No, I deserve you.  Because you are the man I love.  The one God brought to me.  None of that has changed.”  She moved her hands slowly, so he could see, and took his face in her hands, her thumb just barely caressing the scar on his cheek.  “I love you, Benny.  Just you.  It’s always been you and will always be you.”  She leaned forward and barely touched her lips to his forehead, his eyelids, the scar, the tip of his nose.  

When she pulled back, he had tears running down his cheeks.  Her thumbs wiped them away. .  

“Was that too much?” she whispered.  “I’m sorry, Benny.”  She started to let go of his face but he reached up and grabbed her fingers.  

“No.  No, it’s not.  Please.”

“Please what, Benny.  Anything you want, just say it.”  Her voice was soft, like the barest breath of wind.  

“Stay with me.”

Zoe smiled sweetly at his request, but that wasn’t what her goal was for the day.  She looked him over, taking in the dark circles under his eyes and the too pale skin.  No, she wouldn’t let him languish in this room all day everyday.  He had to get out.  It wasn’t good for him to hide from the world.  Still, baby steps.  Tiny, fractional, microscopic baby steps.  But always moving forward.  That’s what she could help him do.  Move forward.  

“No.  You’e coming with me this time,” she said with her own playful grin on her face.  

“Wha-?”

“Ben, you can’t stay in bed all the time, come with me.”

“No… No, I can’t.”

“You can.  Just hold my hand.  Don’t let go.  Come on.”  She held his gaze gently.  “Trust me,” she whispered, almost inaudibly.  

Zoe pulled him up gently.  His shirt slipped up slightly as the blankets shifted and she caught sight of the scars and ink that covered him.  Fucking Alexsei Volkov!  Ben tugged his shirt down hurriedly, glancing nervously at Zoe.  She just smiled and pretended not to see.  

She leaned her head against his shoulder once they were both standing.  “I love you.”

He leaned his head down on top of hers.  He’d forgotten how perfectly they fit together.  “Love you too,” he whispered as if nothing had changed.  “I’m still kinda weak, so… where are we going?”

“Just down to the garden.  You look like you could use some sunshine.”

Zoe led them down to the back door, holding Ben’s hand the whole time.  She paused to grab a blanket off the back of the couch.  

Zoe let go of his hand just long enough to spread the blanket out on the grass.  The day was warm, and the flowers were blooming in the afternoon sun.  She sank down onto the soft blanket and pulled Ben with her.  

She held him against her and whispered in his ear.  “Just relax.  It’s warm, you’re safe.  Feel the breeze on your face, the sun on your skin, the softness of the blanket under your fingers.  Listen to the sound of my voice, the birds in the trees.  Smell the flowers in the garden, the fresh cut grass all around us.  See the blue sky above you, the colors in the flowers of the garden, the stone wall surrounding us…” she trailed off quietly and gently rubbed his arm with just her fingernails.  

“And what am I supposed to taste?” he said, smiling up at her, and for a moment it was almost a real Ben smile.  The Ben from before.  There was the barest hint of mischievousness in his eyes.  

“What do you want to taste?”

“I… I thought a lot about your lipgloss when I was gone?”

Gone. That’s how he always said it. Like he’d just been away on a trip. But they both knew there were parts of him that would never come home. Still, Zoe forced herself to smile. 

“My lipgloss?”

“The watermelon one.  You know.  That one that was your favorite and that when they stopped selling it you went online and bought every tube you could find.”

“I still have it.”

“Are you wearing it now?”

‘Yes…”

“Then… then that’s what I want.”  It was hesitant and with a question in his eyes, but also bold and beautiful.

Zoe smiled down at him where he lay across her lap.  She leaned down and brushed her lips against his and then pulled away.  She watched him lick his lips and taste her.  They both knew they were waiting to see if he had a flashback.  

“Breeze in my hair, sun on my face, birds in the air, and your taste on my tongue.  Can… can we do that again?” he asked quietly.  

“As often as you want, my love.” 

Ben reached up and pulled her down towards him, the kiss was longer this time.  Zoe felt Ben’s tongue just barely touch her lips.  He didn’t push further and she didn’t ask for more.  It was enough for now.  

*!*!*!*!*  

Maria Adkins smiled as she looked down into the garden from the second story landing at the top of the stairs.    

“What ya looking at mom?” Jake asked.  Maria jumped slightly, she hadn’t realized her oldest was upstairs.  “Oh, nothing.  Just a nice day.”

Jake, sensing that wasn’t exactly true, stepped up next to her.  He smiled warmly when he saw his brother on the grass below.  “A nice day indeed.”  

Maria put her arm around his back.  Both her boys were taller than her, but she found it didn’t matter much. They both still needed her so much. Jake leaned against her, and she felt his breath hitch beneath her arm.

“I’m sorry, Mom.  I know I can never say it enough.  But I really am.”  

So much had happened since that day with the FBI where they’d learned what had happened.  So very much.  And she knew her boys adored each other.  Jake may have been the connection to that monster, but it wasn’t his fault.  She knew he’d have traded places with Ben in a heartbeat to save him from what had happened.  If anything, this had made Jake finally straighten up.  

She missed the humor and swagger that he’d often carried about him.  In many ways, both her boys were broken by this common event.  She could read it in Jake’s eyes, the guilt, the horror.  He’d bear that for the rest of his life.  There was no way he could have known.  No way for anyone to have known what lengths that bastard would take.  She’d long forgiven Jake for his role, but it would be a long time before Jake could forgive himself.  

“Stop, Jake.  Let’s just enjoy this for now.  Today is a good day.  We’re together and we’re safe.  Let’s just be glad for that.”

Jake leaned down and bumped his head against his mom’s shoulder, and she squeezed him around the middle.  They heard the front door open, and when Jacob Adkins announced he was home from work, they let him know they were upstairs.  

He joined them on the landing and smiled at the sight in the garden.  If his eyes grew glassy and moist, no one called him on it.  

“Come on,” Maria said softly.  “They’ll be okay.  Let’s go get dinner ready.  Jacob, I need the trash put out; and Jake, you can set the table.”

“Yes, ma’am,” they both answered and turned to give the couple in the back garden some privacy.  

[spilledkauffie]

Meet Cute

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x DogMom!Reader Word Count: 1.8k T/W: fluffyyyy A/N: I know it’s a trope, but I love it!

Can you imagine Bucky with a puppy?!?!

Managing six dogs at once wasn’t exactly easy, but you did it rather gracefully, at least most of the time. Today however, you fumbled with your keys at your apartment door when two dogs suddenly, and swiftly wrapped around you, pulling opposite directions. With a small shocked squeak at being squeezed, you accidentally dropped both your keys and a leash, one out of six wasn’t bad, but it was still a loose puppy, trotting around the apartment hall like he owned the place. 

“Peanut!” You yelled out of sheer concern as the baby dachshund gallivanted towards the stairs, as if it were his prison break at last, “Peanut, sweetie, come here!” You called again, eyebrows furrowing during your attempt to untwist the other leashed from around you, as he got closer and closer to that first step which was far too steep for him to comfortably and safely make wihtout tumbling down the rest. 

You watched in sheer panic as his short stout front legs took the leap of faith with ears flying freely in the air like he was Dumbo. You anticipated the little yelp that would absolutely break your heart— Thankfully there was a soft landing platform neither of you had prepared for. Underneath Peanut appeared two hands covered in black gloves. The small dog fit perfectly in the hands as he wagged his tail, beyond proud of the heart attack he nearly gave you. Sighing, you leaned into the door of your apartment for support. 

“Whoa there,” the saviour said, bringing the pup up with him as he stood, having had to dip to catch the pup on the stairs, after glancing at the shining silver bone shaped name tag he met the dog’s eye line, “Peanut, was it?”

As the stranger made his way up the last few steps, you couldn’t take your eyes off him. While you didn’t know him personally, you had seen him around the apartment complex before. Heart still pounding, you shook your head at the pup who was plenty happy in the hands of his rescuer. 

“Peanut Butter Brittle Biscuit,” you full named the dog, causing him to tuck his tail, still wagging it though. Setting your hand, which was still being tugged on by the other five other dogs, on your hip, “you know better than to just run into strangers, it's rude.”

“Well, Peanut,” he looked to the pup in all seriousness, “I’m Bucky. There, we aren’t strangers anymore,” he affirmed, shaking the dogs tiny little paw gently, “and so we’re not strangers,” he looked to you, “I’m Bucky, and you are?” You smiled at his flirty tone, “unless you’d like to go by 4C? Keep it professional?”

“Four- C?” You gave a puzzled look.

Bucky pointed above and behind your head, with the hand he was not literally cradling Peanut with. Quickly glancing you realized it was your apartment number. Now feeling a flush of embarrassment, you took a moment to face him again, squeezing your eyes closed. 

“Oh yeah,” you nervously laughed, before giving him your name as well, you liked the way he repeated it to himself, “and you’re 2E, right?”

“Do we know each other?” he asked, tilting his head with a smirk.

“Oh no, I just, sometimes I see Yori go down there, and- I’m not stalking you, I promise,” you frantically explained, waving your hand, wrapped in dog leashes. 

“No,” Bucky smiled, letting you know that was not what he was thinking, “I think I’d hear you if you were though,” he looked down and around at the literal pack of dogs sitting and standing around you. The pack ranged from a German Shepherd to a Golden Retriever to a Dachshund to a Pomeranian to a Corgi to, lastly, a dopey Great Dane.

“Most definitely,” you laughed, trying to calm your nerves, “we’re not the most graceful bunch, you had a display of that just a moment ago, which thank you so, so much.” You placed your hand over your chest, as an expression of relief. 

“No problem,” he said with a sincere nod and smile, petting back the dog’s ears, “looks like Peanut here is a real daredevil.”

“You have no idea,” you glanced at the puppy, “he’s a troublemaker and thinks he’s invincible.”

With that Peanut interjected giving the most babyish attempt at a deep roo, sassily from where Bucky held him still.

“Talker too, huh?” Bucky gave a shocked glance at the Dachshund who was still resting comfortably with his chest being cradled by Bucky's hand.

“Yeah, well we’re 40 minutes late to D I N N E R,” you spelled out the last word in a whisper, “Fridays are always long days,” you gestured around you to the bigger dogs with toys covered in drool, they just stared up at you, sighing you collected yourself, “they’re park days.” 

“Ohh, I see,” Bucky nodded, “I'd hate to keep you any longer then.” 

With a soft ‘okay’ and a smile, you held your hands out to take Peanut back. There was a brief moment in the exchange where your hands touched his and he gave a ‘sorry’ knowing it was probably cold against your skin. As Peanut hovered with both your hands on his chubby little sides. Your Dane tugged one way again, while the Retriever was determined to go the other, pulling you and Bucky closer together. Practically chest to chest, save Peanut being the barrier between the two of you.

“Oh my gosh,” you whispered, looking down immediately, even though there was hardly room between you two to do so, literally feeling the heat rise to your cheeks, you closed your eyes, “this is not happening.”

“I’ve been in worse situations,” Bucky remarked cooly, keeping his gaze focused on you, finding it surprisingly cute at how flustered you were around him. It’d been a long time since he had felt someone had real genuine human emotions regarding him. 

Neither of you took your hands away from the other’s. Standing there you bit in your lip, calming your rising pulse as you were now close enough to smell his cologne. 

“I’m-” you started, finally looking up, “so sorry.” 

“It’s really okay,” Bucky chuckled, not wanting you to feel as worried as you were, but you just knit your brows together and gave another apologetic look, “honestly, I could- I could do this all day.” There was a pause, then you smiled, ducking your head to hide your face against Peanut who was really becoming a star matchmaker, “I think Peanut and I are going to be very good friends by the end of this.”

Lifting your head with a nod, you sighed, stroking the pup’s ear, for a moment before you guided the other dogs around to give you some more space. Bucky respectfully took a step back, somehow still holding Peanut after all that. You opened your apartment door and the dogs rushed in, you let each leash fall off your hand as they entered. You said their name with each one to keep track of them.

“And lastly,” you exhaled, reaching your arms out again for the troublemaker of whom Bucky surrendered, though he was getting fairly fond of him, “well, at least let me invite you in? Have a drink on me? Something?”

“That’d be great,” Bucky said, gesturing for you to lead the way. 

Once you were both in and Bucky shut the door behind him, you let Peanut loose and immediately he ran to his dinner bowl, waiting in anticipation. Offering Bucky to sit at the bar, you set two cold bottles on top of the counter, but before you joined him you got out six dog bowls, making him smile.

“How long have you had them?” Bucky asked, opening his bottle relaxedly with his hand.

“They vary, some for years, but the most recent,” you nodded to Peanut, “only a few months.”

“So uh, why so many?” Bucky inquired. 

You squeezed your shoulders up, looking around at all of them, “they needed a home,” you said, soft smile, “each of them came from a broken place, of hurt and pain. That’s all they knew before I took them in, and,” you shook your head smiling wider, looking over to Bucky, “if I could be a part of their healing, I knew I had to be. I can’t think of leaving something to suffer if there’s something that can be done to help.”

“That’s-” Bucky looked to the floor as you rounded the counter, to sit next to him on another bar stool, having just set all the bowls down, “that’s a really great mindset.” 

“What about you?” you took a sip, “any pets?”

He swallowed shaking his head, “no, I have a weird work schedule,” he squinted at his own reasoning, hoping it didn’t sound too dumb.

“Oh gotcha,” you nodded, before gesturing with the top of the bottle, “well Rodgers seems to like you.”

Your gesture drew Bucky to look down, sure enough set atop his thigh was your German Shepherd's head, looking up with big eyes and slowly wagging his tail. Bucky pet the dog’s ear, “Rodgers?”

“Yeah, you know after Captain America? He’s ex-military himself so I thought it was fitting,” you bent down to pet the dog yourself.

There was a quietness, Bucky looked away from the dogs and you for a moment. Biting the inside of his lip he felt something he hadn’t in a long time, though he tried to repress it. A part of him felt it was a sign, another part of him told himself to ignore it. Takin another swig, he made his choice

“Hey, if you ever. . . need help with them, I’m,” he hesitated, “I’m usually free Fridays, or- park days.”

“I’d love that,” you smiled leaning back up, “how bout I get your number so we can plan a da-,” you quickly changed your sentence, “a park day.”

While you got up to grab your phone, he flipped open his, seeing the very few contacts and the messages from only one person. Wincing he was a little nervous, this meant opening up. You returned, asking for his number, to which he willingly gave you. Finishing the drinks he said he really should head home, you completely understood, already surprised that he stuck around that long after the incident earlier. 

With casual goodbyes, you shut your door and he headed back downstairs. Taking his gloves off, he suddenly felt his phone vibrate. Sitting on his couch he took it out of his pocket. Seeing your name pop up with a “hi 4C here, texting you like I said I would” and a smiley face with a dog emoji made him smile to himself. 

He opened it-- it was time to start answering messages, it was time he found his healing.

[fanfics4all]

Banished

Request: Yes / No  roan x reader (smut preferably) where you get banished from skaikru about a month in after landing on earth and you meet roan. since he’s wounded and you’re a healer you patch him up and end up travelling together and become rlly close?? idk i read your trick or treat fic and it was my favourite roan fic i’ve read (and i’ve read them all...no shame)😭 @szhead31​

Requests are closed <3 Have a nice day/night

Roan x Fem!Reader 

Word count: 1735

Warnings: SMUT!

Y/N: Your Name 

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(Not my photo, credit to whoever made it!)

“What do you mean I’m kicked out?” I asked Clarke and Bellamy. 

“Y/N, you’ve been a danger to the camp.” Bellamy said with his arms crossed. 

“A danger? I’m a damn healer!” I shouted. 

“And half of the people in our infirmary are because of you!” He shouted back at me. 

“Enough!” Clarke shouted, stopping anything before it started. 

“Y/N, Bellamy’s right. You’ve been fighting everyone in camp and with the Grounders wanting to kill us, we need to think of the bigger picture.” She said and I scoffed. 

“Ya know what? I don’t even care anymore. Screw all of you and I hope the Grounders kick your ass!” I shouted and stormed out of the dropship. I went to my tent and grabbed my shit then left without another word. Those assholes can kiss my damn ass. 

*One Month Later*

I was out hunting in the snow. I don’t entirely remember how I got here, but I was alive so that’s all that matters. I had the perfect angle on the deer I was hunting when all of a sudden a scream scared it away. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I groaned. I decided that I should run and see who was screaming. Maybe someone from camp got lost and I could fix them up, it was the damn doctor in me… If I heal them maybe they’ll see I’m not as bad as everyone says I am! I pushed myself to run faster and found a man leaning against a tree with a serious wound in his stomach. I’m honestly surprised his guts weren’t falling out. I kneeled down by his side and quickly pulled out my supplies. 

“Who are you?” He asked with a groan. 

“I’m here to help, who are you? What happened?” I asked as I started to work on his stomach. 

“I am Roan, Prince of Azgeda.” He answered then hissed in pain. 

“Don’t move, I need to disinfect it before I stitch you up. Here, bite on this.” I said and pushed a cloth into his mouth. He bit down on it and continued my work. It took about a half hour to patch him up enough to get him somewhere safe. 

“Where did you learn to do that?” He asked as we were walking through the forest. 

“My Father was a doctor, he taught me everything I know.” I answered with a small smile. 

“Your Father taught you well.” He said, returning my smile. 

“Up ahead, there’s a small cabin I found, I’ve been staying there.” I said and pointed at the building ahead. He nodded and the two of us quickly but carefully made our way into the cabin. I laid him on the bed and checked his wound again. 

“If you’re a Prince, what are you doing out here alone? Shouldn’t you have guards with you?” I asked. 

“I was banished so my people could join with the Commander.” He said sadly. 

“Your parents banished you?” I asked shocked and he nodded sadly. 

“Why are you out here on your own?” He asked and I bit my lip. 

“Same reason you are. I was banished because my people thought I was more dangerous than the Grounders.” I answered and his eyes widened slightly. 

“Why?” He asked. 

“I was a healer to my people, there weren’t many, but the two people that basically put themselves in charge kicked me out because I kept fighting people. Those people talked a lot of shit about me and I was just making sure they knew not to mess with me, turns out that putting your own people in the infirmary while at ‘war’ isn’t a great idea.” I half laughed. 

“How long have you been out here?” He asked. 

“About a month, maybe a little more.” I shrugged. 

“You’re strong.” He smiled and his eyes slowly started to close. 

“Get some rest, I’ll check on you in the morning.” I said and walked off to make myself food. 

*Another Month Later* 

Roan had healed well. He was strong and wanted to get better. He was actually a very good patient and did everything I asked of him. The two of us got to know each other while he was healing and he was amazing. At first he was pretty reserved and hesitant to let me into his life, but eventually he opened up to me. He was sweet with a very strong sense of loyalty. When he was finally better I thought he would just leave, which broke my heart at the thought, but he stayed. He explained to me how he was a bounty hunter and asked me to join him on his adventures. I had agreed, but we always ended up coming back to the cabin we now claimed as ours. The two of us knew we had developed feelings for one another, but we never fully confessed. Sure we acted like a couple, but it was never solidified. That was until we got snowed in our cabin with no way of leaving. 

“I suppose it’s good that we got extra food yesterday when we were out.” I said and Roan smiled. 

“I suppose you’re right.” He said and joined me in the bed. Roan pulled me towards him and I rested my head on his chest. We sat in silence, revelling in the warmth that our bodies gave to each other. After a few minutes Roan pulled my face up to look at him and he did something unexpected. He held my chin with two of his fingers and gently kissed me. I was breathless when he broke away, his eyes shining as he admired me. 

“What was that for?” I whispered. 

“I just finally got the courage to confess how I feel.” He said and I smiled with a slight blush dusting my cheeks. 

“I feel the same way.” I said and kissed him again. The kiss started off as sweet and loving, but it quickly turned hotter. The two of us were feeling each other’s bodies and enjoying the feelings. When Roan dipped into my pants I pulled away. 

“Wait, I’ve… I’ve never done this before.” I said, blushing deeply and looked away. Roan grabbed my face and made me look at him. 

“Let me teach you. We’ll be nice and warm after.” He said with a small smirk. There was something about Roan that made me trust him with all of my heart. 

“Okay…” I whispered. Roan pulled my shirt off and then my pants were quick to follow. My arms immediately went to cover my chest. 

“What about you?” I asked. He smirked and rid himself of his clothing, naked. Roan gently pried my arms from my chest and smiled. 

“Beautiful.” He hummed and kissed me, making my cheeks turn pink. 

“No need to be shy, Y/N.” He promised. He gently pushed me to lay on the bed and his lips went to my chest. 

“Roan…” I breathed, lacing my fingers into his brown hair. He pulled my underwear from me and looked up at me for consent. I gave him a small nod and he moved to my entrance. The sensation was overwhelming as his cock entered my pussy for the very first time. Delightful flashes of tingles coursed through my body. It felt amazing, until he broke through the one thing that indicated I was indeed a virgin. I grunted at the sharp burst of pain in my pussy. He held still, deep within me. 

“Are you alright? Did I hurt you?” He whispered in my ear. My breathing was fast and shallow as I felt my walls absorbing his shaft. The sharp pain dulled to an ache, but was slowly overcome by a heavenly feeling of fullness. The tingles from him pressing against my clit increasing as his body moved subtly with each of his deep breaths. 

“It’s okay… I’m fine.” I finally whispered. Roan’s hips pulled back slowly, his gaze still concentrated on my face, probably looking for any signs of pain. He stopped with the head of his cock placed just in the entrance on my pussy. He teased me for only a moment, making me moan and grip the sheets. 

“Please don’t tease.” I begged. 

“Sorry love.” He said and pushed back inside me. One of his hands found my clit and I arched my back as he played with it. My muscles eased, allowing the pain to dissipate. Roan’s thrusts began to build pressure in my stomach and stars in my eyes. The soft pleasure washed over me with ease. My breaths were coming out in shallow stutters as I tried to hold back my orgasm. I was throbbing around Roan and he could feel every second of my building pleasure. 

“Roan, fuck!” I choked out as I withered on the bed. 

“Harder, harder please!” I begged, squeezing my eyes shut. Roan leaned down, capturing my lips in a messy but loving kiss as he did what I wanted. The ache in my every muscle released all at once. A shudder ran through my body as my orgasm took over me. 

“You look so beautiful when you cum like that.” Roan praised, and it only made it better. Roan pulled my legs over his shoulders and hit a deeper spot inside me. 

“Oh my God!” I shrieked. My back arched off the bed as Roan slid into me with the deep, angled thrusts. My moans were loud, escaping my lips with every other thrust he made. His hips rolled against mine with his hand still trying to pull another orgasm from me. I gripped the sheets tighter as I jolted upward from his powerful force. 

“Oh fuck! Roan!” I screamed, pleasure bursting through my veins. I was cumming for a second time tonight.

“Oh Y/N!” He moaned as he came inside me. I whined when he pulled out of me. He gave a small chuckle and pulled me into him under the blanket. 

“Warmer?” He asked and I nodded. 

“That was amazing.” I sighed happily. 

“We can do that as often as you want.” He smiled and I captured his lips in a kiss. 

“I think I want to do that all the time.” I said and he laughed. 

“Whatever you want, my Princess.” He said and I smiled. This was what earth was all about. This was my new start.

Tag list: @les-bio-lie​ @tashy-bear​ @ashwarren32​ @hollie-blogs-blog1​ @schisbro87​ @lover-of-books-and-teas​ @nerdygaloresposts​ @teenwolfbitches28​ @genius2050​ @drw0301bieber​ @lady-of-lies​ @ravenmoore14​ @ravenempress101​ @cillianchamp​ @rowanthomasknapp​ @rachelxwayne​ @emo-godess-loves-you​ @now-imagine​ @bruisedfists-and-splitlips @vanessa-kom-skaikru​

[bokettochild]

Violet

So y'all remember this animatic? Yeah?

I wrote a thing based off of it.

I'm not entirely sure how I fee about it, but y'all have shown how much you like my crack in the past, even if I wasn't sure about that either, so...

Here's Legend getting mistaken for a mom and pulling his brothers into a terrible impromptu acting adventure.

There are many things you do not do in Castletown.

One of those things, apparently, was taking Twilight with you, and next time he had a chance Legend was seriously considering muzzling their wolfish friend, in his shadow form or not.

He wasn’t the only one with that thought either apparently, although likely the only one who was thinking it out annoyance rather than utter and complete terror. Honestly, Twi needed to cut that protective streak of his in half, or he was going to be regretting it even more than he was going to regret this!

They’d all met thieves before, on the road, in villages, even here in Castle Town, and unfortunately Warriors’ central city was particularly full of them. The captain had explained it ages ago, something about the war displacing people and stirring up unrest with the refugees. It wasn't uncommon that someone got tired of relying on the crown for help, which, the captain had admitted sorrowfully, was rather slow in coming, despite all of Artemis’s efforts, to provide any sort of relief to the starving and displaced victims of the war. Legend had winced at that. Poor blokes, it had been similar in his own Hyrule when those trapped in the dark world emerged again, and even back in their Hylian forms, many of them had struggled to readjust to a world that had moved on in their absence.

It was little wonder than that those in the captain’s time faced the same struggle, especially after a bloody time war, but even so, it bothered him to no end that their group specifically had been the one that the idiot of a man chose to target. Honestly! They were all carrying swords for pities sakes! How did the sod even think he was going to catch a bunch of warriors unawares to steal from them?

Maybe it was because they were split.

It only made sense, after being dropped in the captain’s time, that they restock supplies. Both for practicality and to avoid suspicion, they’d divided the group into two to better run their errands, Time taking those less accustomed to bustling cities with him to gather food and potions, and Warriors leading the rest of them, those who could stand crowds at least a little bit better, to visit the blacksmith, fletcher, and tailor shops.

True to form, the captain strutted ahead with his scarf waving behind him, Wind tagging along beside him and chattering excitedly about something or other at the soldier. He and Four, however, had chosen to trail after, not for any particular reason other than both being extremely tired and maybe just a bit emotional.

In his own case, he hadn’t slept in a good sixty-three hours or so, and combining that with the stress of wandering around in an unknown place, he was a little more sensitive than usual and a bit put out as a result. Similarly, Four was fighting off his usual headache from their sudden switch, and ever since they’d pulled themselves out of the alleyway Hylia dumped them in, the shortest hero had worn his hood pulled over his eyes, mumbling softly under his breath in a way that was, unfortunately, unnerving Legend further and making him want, very much, to beg the other to stop.

That wasn’t an option of course, so he did something he hated almost as much as the saunter Warriors was using to get down the road.

He made small talk.

It helped, surprisingly, and while the four of them had run their errands, he chattered amiably with the smithy, who’d been willing to talk as long as he didn’t have to think too much on things. Legend could agree with that, and the two had spent the last half hour discussing if Four’s tunic really was red, green, blue and violet, as the smithy claimed, or red, green, blue and purple as Legend thought it was.

“It’s violet.” Four huffed, pushing the last bundle of arrows into his pack as they departed from the smithy’s shop and made their way back to the fountain at the center of town, where they'd agreed to meet with Time and the others.

“But it’s not!” He insisted, shifting the bundle of fabric in his arms and meeting the smithy’s gaze. “Violet is softer, duskier, a bit closer to grey or blue. That’s purple, plain as day!”

Warriors and Wind, for once, didn’t say anything, only exchanging grins every so often that the other two ignored.

Talking with Four was surprisingly pleasant, and ridiculously easy in comparison to talking with the others. For one thing, neither had to look too very far up or down to see the other, and as they’d found since their first dinner at the ranch, it was easy to say a lot with just a look. Subtle communication also went a long way further with the smithy than with anyone else, and it was a relief not to have to explain everything for once. Additionally, Four also liked reading, and unlike with most of their other brothers, they could actually have intelligent conversations with each other.

Not that that’s what they were doing when they’d trailed after the other two towards the fountain, but when they heard the snarl and resulting scream, the look the two heroes shared had carried as many words as a full two-hour lecture, while all at once conveying a single thought.

Oh boy, what did Twilight do this time?

What Twilight had done, he found out later, was spring a thief who had attempted to snatch the Sheikah Slate from Wild, who’d been a bit busy trying to calm his anxiety to really notice that one of the humans pressing close all around him was actually trying to steal it. That, naturally, was all well and good. The problem was the way Twilight had chosen to handle it and Legend swore there were days that Twilight forgot what form he was in; rather than pushing the thief away or grabbing ahold of them and confronting them, the gracious rancher had chosen to fling his entire body weight at the man and bite his arm.

Of course, that was only what Legend found out later, what he saw when the four of them managed to peek through the crowd, was Twilight standing there in full sight of the entire market with blood on his teeth and a man screaming in pain and terror at his feet.

Bravo, Rancher, bravo.

“Oof.” Wind winced. “That’s not good.”

“Shit.” Warriors swore, glancing around nervously and ripping his scarf off to hide in his pack.

Realization sprung on the vet like Twilight had the poor thief; Warriors was the hero here. If anyone noticed him, or any of the knightlier looking ones, they’d probably try and have them arrest Twilight. That was all well and good of course, as it would make a reasonable excuse to haul the rancher out of the way, but they’d be expected to call for help from some soldiers, and while they’d been planning on meeting with the queen while they were here, having Twilight presented to her as a feral, potentially insane, and definitely dangerous criminal was not the approach they were aiming for.

They needed a distraction, fast.

So, like the reasonable and totally mentally secure Hylian that he was, Legend shouted the first thing that came to his mind. “Violet!”

His three companions stared at him, and had he been capable, he would have stared at himself, but a desperate glance Fours way had the other drawing back, nodding slowly as Legend shouted again. “Violet? Honey?”

Warriors looked at him like he’d lost his head, gripping Wind’s shoulder firmly as if worried he’d have to pull the kid back from the apparently mad veteran.

Thank Din for teaching him acting years ago, even if it was all stage performing, but he was counting on it to get him, and Twilight, out of their respective messes, even if that meant building his higher before he could escape. At any rate, he’d caught the attention of a few people with his panicked shout. Turning to the nearest Hylian that wasn’t one of his group, he gently tapped the woman’s shoulder, letting his panic and everything in general spill over into his face and voice as the woman met his gaze with a startled look.

“Ma’am, I’m looking for-” Oh Four was going to hate this. “-My child, Violet. Have you seen a blonde Hylian child, so tall?” He lowered his hand to approximately where Four’s head would reach. “I’ve been looking everywhere!” He forced a fake sob into his voice, glancing from the woman to the surrounding crowd, and Warriors and Wind in its midst.

Wind was stifling a laugh behind his hand while Warriors stared in utter shock.

“Oh my,” The woman touched her cheek, clucking lightly and patting Legend’s hand in a consoling manner. “You poor dear! I haven’t seen a thing but just give me one moment.” The burly housewife turned, still patting Legend’s hand gently as she murmured something to the women behind her, before turning back to Legend with a sorry expression. “None of my friends have seen your little one, dear. But-” The woman turned and, with all the force and volume of a cow, hollered at the top of her lungs to the crowd as a whole. “Hello? Yes, this woman is looking for her daughter!”

Woman?!?!?!

“Her name is Violet! She’s-” The woman blinked, looking to Legend with a worried look as several other market goers turned to stare, many of them women with looks of pity and understanding that was making him wish he’d stayed silent. Fortunately, his ruse had startled them out of staring at the sight of a mauled thief as worry for a poor young mother and her lost daughter took its place. “She’s how old?”

Legend fought the protest of female pronouns, both on Four’s part and his own, but only in his head. Outwardly however, he covered his face with the hand not being smashed by the farm-wife's own. “She’s four.” Shoot him, he was saying whatever came to mind because he was panicked, alright?

A snort could be heard behind him, earning disapproving looks from the crowd that soon shifted to pity as Wind too joined the act, turning his snort into pitiful sniffling as he clung to Warriors’ hand, looking for all the world like a child who’d been to the market too long and wanted to go home, but was also panicking at the loss of their sibling. “Have you all seen my sister?” The sailor blubbered softly, actual tears spilling down his face as he pouted, expression making his act so believable that no one even questioned his height. As if to make the act more convincing, Warriors wrapped an arm around the kid’s shoulder, his own face stiffening into something that could either be gas or worry, Legend was a bit on the fence.

“What’s going on here?” Legend wished that was Time stalking towards them in full armor, but it wasn’t, it was a Hylian Soldier, staring at the crowd with a grim frown on his face as he turned to Legend, standing in its center.

Oh well, those who crack under a tough audience get tomatoes to the face; he just hoped Wars would keep playing along. “My daughter,” He sobbed into his hand, pulling the other free from the housewife to properly cover his face. “She- My baby- I can’t find her anywhere, Sir!” Later, Warriors would begrudgingly admit that the look Legend shot the soldier was enough to break any heart as the vet stepped forwards, grabbing hold of the man’s arm with all the desperation of a worried mother. “Please tell me, have you seen a little girl? She’s in her favorite dress, the colors of the goddesses, red, green and blue?” He motioned down at his own tunic, skirt, whatever one would call it. “There’s a violet corner too, I made it for her myself- oh my poor baby! I can’t seem to find her anywhere!”

The grizzled soldier quickly melted under the power of tearful violet eyes, and he too gently patted Legend’s hands as if he thought it would do any good. “I’ll have my men look for her right away, ma’am. How old would you say she is?

“She’s four.” He reaffirmed. Might as well stick to his original story.

“So tall?” The farm-wife motioned, hands lowering a bit more than Legend’s had, but the woman was trying to help, so he couldn’t really be upset with her for getting it wrong. At this point though, he was a bit worried about where Four actually was, because he’d expected the shorter hero to make an appearance sooner rather than later so the act could end.

“Right.” The man nodded, pulling himself loose as Legend brought his hands to clasp in front of his chest in an imitation of the maids he’d seen worrying about the halls when Fable went missing. “We’ll do everything in our power to find your little one, madame, you have my word.” The soldier bowed, kissing the back of the vet’s hand graciously before moving back into the crowd and snapping orders at the soldiers stationed around the market.

People buzzed by, spreading the word of ‘little Violet’s’ disappearance as Warriors and Wind pushed forwards to where Legend stood.

“Really, vet?” Warriors murmured lowly.

“I panicked.” He admitted softly, as to avoid anyone noticing as he wrung his hands. “But seriously, where is ‘’Violet’? I thought he’d have appeared before it became a big thing.”

The captain frowned, settling a hand on his shoulder carefully and standing on his toes to look over the crowd as Wind giggled at the scowling veteran. The minute he shot a look down at the sailor though, the kid had picked up his role as smoothly as if he’d never dropped it. “I’m worried, mom.” Wind blinked past fake tears, and had he not needed to remain in character, Legend would have scowled and flicked the kid’s nose for the tease.

“I am too, honey.” He sighed instead, ruffling the sailor’s curls and looking over to where the others had been. Time and the others had disappeared into the crowd again, likely trying to keep a low profile and laughing their asses off at Legend’s expense while Time and Sky scolded Twilight.

“Mama?” A small voice called out, and the crowd, and he meant the whole crowd, the whole freaking crowd of several hundred people, froze as a small face peeked out from an alleyway, the smithy’s hand coming up to rub at his shimmering purple eyes with a sniff. “Mama?”

“Violet!” All three heroes surged forwards, Legend sinking to his knees and wrapping Four in a hug, taking the opportunity when his face was hidden from the crowd to scowl. “About time you showed up.” Aloud for the crowd however, he let sobs pitch his voice hysterically. “Oh honey, you can’t run off on mama like that! I was worried sick!”

And as if to put the icing on the cake of shame, one of the men in the crowd smiled softly, patting Warriors’ back with a friendly smile. “Your wife is quite the caring mother, isn’t she? Ah, you’re a lucky man, Mr.”

Legend forced himself to not blow their cover, no matter how little they now needed it with the others safely out of sight. Breaking character meant causing drama that they didn’t need. ‘Violet’ had been found, the cute little family would depart, people would calm. But if the worried mother turned out to be a screaming teenage boy and the lost daughter to be a smithy apprentice with a height problem, people would likely riot. So instead of turning around and giving the man a piece of his mind, he pushed forwards, hefting Four in his arms (the smithy sank into him with a sigh that couldn’t have been faked) letting the smaller hero nestle against him, hood hiding the smithy’s face from view as he pulled them both up, adjusting his arms so as to not drop the other.

Man, he was glad he’d put on power bracelets today.

“She is indeed.” Warriors forced out, a strained smile on his face as he settled his hand on Legend’s waist, stiff, cold and incredibly awkward. “We’d probably better head off, dear.” If the captain smiled any harder, he’d break his teeth. “Or the inns will all be full.”

It should have ended there, it should have. Legend was so ready for it to end (although Four was warm and a calming presence as the smithy began to doze against his chest), but because fate loved to mess with him, it didn’t.

“You’re looking for a place to stay the night?” The Man-Who-Needed-To-Be-Kicked cocked a brow. “I run an inn here, just across the square. I’m sure we can find a lovely little family like yourselves a place to rest, you and our wife must be exhausted after such worry!”

Warriors, sages curse and bless him, nodded along stiffly, gently pulling him along by is waist after the Blasted-Innkeeper-Who-Would-Be-Kicked as the man chattered about family discounts and free dinner. Legend’s shoulders only lowered when a free trip to the bath house was also thrown in ‘complimentarily’.

He regretted it when someone pointed him to the ladies’ side of the bath-house (think heavens it was empty that early), and he was about ready to strangle something or someone when the others joined them inside, stuck with a regularly priced room, and the smithy and vet both were bombarded with teases as Warriors sat looking utterly and completely disgusted.

“They thought we were married....”

Legend groaned, flopping over on the other side of the bed with a grimace. “Gross, right?”

“Yeah.”

"We’re forgetting this ever happened, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.”

Regardless, no one ever let them forget it happened.

Legend was buying Twilight a muzzle, and he was pretty sure Wars would be willing to help.

[darth-shado]

(Not so good) Memories

-Desert duo Double Life fic crossposted on ao3 (written after 4th session)

Warning: Description of violence (not very graphic but putting a warning just in case)

Tags: Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, No Beta

Can be read platonic or as a ship

Word count: 810

Once again they were outcasts living away from others. As they would say but actually they were hiding from everyone else on the server. Scar was but Grian went to the pool party that didn't go exactly as planned. Tired from running away from a group of people trying to find their hideout he finally laid down to relax. Through the dim lighting that was in their new home there wasn't much to see, at least not properly. Suddenly Grian heard a shrug of a blanket from where Scar was sleeping.

"How was it?" Scar asked which made another man jump because he was sure that he hadn't heard him.

"It was awesome." Grian smiled to himself remembering the zombie army approaching from the depths of a pool. He definitely enjoyed watching all the chaos this caused. "Weren't you supposed to be asleep?" He added after a while to keep the conversation going.

"You know I've just been thinking." Scar shrugged, not giving much away he didn't wanted to talk about it just not now it was too early to jump into conclusions.

"And what were you thinking about?"

"When are you going to tell me."

"Tell what?" Grian asked, confused. There was a lot of stuff that he could tell Scar about.

"You and BigB." Scar turned to the side now facing an unstable dirt wall he couldn't bring himself to look at his soulmate during this conversation. He knew he wasn't the best at hiding his emotions.

"What about it?"

"Listen I'm not stupid I want to know is he a reason you've been avoiding me."

Grian sat up surprised to know that his soulmate found out about his secret soulmate.

There was an uncomfortable silence between the two of them. One of them wanted an answer and another didn't know how to give one.

"Just be honest."

"Yes, partially that was the reason I've been avoiding you."

Scar was expecting that but wasn't ready to hear it. He tried denying this thought as often as he could in his worst fear of it being true.

"I'm sorry I should've been honest from the beginning. It's just that…" He was quiet for a moment to find the correct memory that was stuck in his head. "It's just that I don't want to repeat what has happened in the desert."

"What do you mean?" Scar asked

"Remember the Monopoly Mountain?"

"Mhm"

"Well I didn't wanted it to go like that. Sure I had fun with you but most of us didn't realized what this game was really like. Back then nobody really cared how many lives they had because they didn't known what it was like to die permanently. I was afraid I was gonna lose you but eventually we managed to survive longer than many other players." He paused for a moment remembering the pain that night had caused him. "Then you made me fight for a stupid piece of paper or else you will take my life away from me as you did. You instantly betrayed me and didn't show a sign of guilt like you always wanted to do this."

Grian hugged his knees closer to his chest.

"After that there were only us two. It was like fate that a fight in a ring of cactus and fire would happen between us. I still remember punching you in the face until your jaw would break or giving you the final hit in the ribs. And when you were taking your last breath. I couldn't handle it being alone in the world. Without others, without Pizza, without you." He added the last part more quietly than the other.

Scar stood up with a blanket in his hand. He sat beside another man covering him with a blanket for comfort.

"I wanted to know how it is to be cared for."

"Every time I cared for you. I am really sorry about the betrayal. Honestly, I don't know why I've done that so I won't even defend myself. I admit I have a weird way of showing how much you mean to me."

Grian smiled slightly at Scar's words.

"You seemed to be distant from me and I had hoped that the Panda Sanctuary would help us but it seems that this idea didn't work out."

"It's really nice of you. Maybe after all of this we could try going there."

"You think so? Oh do I have a surprise for you!" Scar enthusiastically stood up and walked up to a big dirt wall. He picked up a shovel that was laying on the floor and revealed another dirt shelter with dozens of Pandas.

"Oh." Grian expressed his surprise. "Maybe it's not so bad to be soul bound with Scar after all." He thought to himself as he walked up to see the animals his soulmate brought.