#moonlight in the kitchen is a sign of god

[typewriter-worries]

“Although the wind ...” by Izumi Shikibu tr. by Jane Hirshfield

[tweakerist]

ao3 users yamabato and bluewalk i pray every day that your lives are full of happiness and love may your futures shine bright with success amen

[garbinge]

NO WAY TO LIVE

Logan Howlett x F!Mutant!Reader // Word Count: 3.7k Summary: When Logan has another nightmare, it opens up the wounds you've been pushing down for so long. Warnings: All my fics are 18+ regardless of content. Angst. Blood. Logan hurting reader (but nothing fatal), light nod to smut? but like not really? just nudity lol. intimate moment I'll say. hurt/comfort. nightmares. reader backstory. mentions of torture and not wanting to endure it anymore. angsty but happy ending. A/N: I cannot get Logan out of my mind. First time writing for Logan in the Xmen world!

“Logan, wake up.” 

The sound of his painful screams got louder as he shot up out of bed, flipping over and letting the adamantium claws out against you. The second he came to, they were retracted and his painful screams became worrisome pants as his eyes jumped around seeing what he had just done. 

“Oh God.” He repeated it a couple times before you brought one hand up to his face and the other to your chest where he had just unknowingly stabbed through your skin. 

“You can’t hurt me.” It was whispered so softly, as your body regenerated. Your mutant ability sewing the holes in you back together within seconds, leaving no sign on your body that anything happened. 

The relief in him still was no match for the stress. The sweat glistening on his body and pooling around his neck and forehead was nothing compared to the rise and fall of his chest. It was getting faster by the second so you moved your hand over his heart. You wished your powers worked on him, but healing someone who already had regenerative powers was impossible. What you were doing right now, was all strictly mental, just looking in the eyes of your husband and trying to calm him down with a simple touch to his bare skin. His eyes looked down at your hand, he took one more large breath before placing a swift kiss to your hand and falling back over to his side of the bed. 

“This is the third time this week.” His breaths were still heavy as his body caught up to his brain. He wasn’t wrong. It was becoming a common occurrence for the nightmares to torment him to the point of violence. Even more common for them to wake him up in a panic. 

“Come on, let me warm you a bath.” As you moved off the bed, you moved the sheets with you, letting them drop to the side of the bed so he couldn’t see the blood stains.

“I’m fine.” He argued immediately with you, just earning him one simple look over your shoulder. One that he wasn’t able to argue with, or at least knew better than to. 

Walking into the bathroom, you placed two towels on the sink before moving over to the tub that sat in the middle of the riverstone room. It was currently soaked in moonlight coming through from the windows that took up the entire back wall. Turning the handle connected to the tub, the waterfall shower head began filling it and you used your hand to test the temperature before making your way back out to retrieve Logan from bed. To your surprise, you walked right out into him. He brought his hands up to steady you, placing them on your arms, and then moving one over the rip in your tank top where one claw cut through. 

You brought your head down to leave a quick kiss to his hand, similar to what he had done earlier, it was your way of letting him know again that it was okay. “I’m going to make you tea. Let the bath fill and get in.” You moved by him quickly, not making much noise but that was just a product of your newly acquired power. It was who you were. What you were. 

Making your way to the kitchen, you took a quick detour to put the sheets in the wash and grab a change of clothes for both of you out of the folded laundry that was waiting to be put away. As the kettle sat over the fire on the stove, you looked out the large windows in the cabin you moved to years ago. The moon was shining through similarly to the windows in the bathroom. This was everything you wanted. Your home in the middle of nowhere, off the grid where you could sit in nature all day and read all night. Now you got to share it with your husband, in your mind there could have been nothing better. But there was always that one single thought that you’d bury in the back of your mind every time it jumped to the front. The thought you were never ready to face. 

Your eyes fell on the bookshelf next to the fireplace seeing a photo of you and Logan at Charles’s school, where you two met the day you showed up for his funeral. Charles was the one that saved you after you acquired your new powers, you weren’t sure how to harness it–the energy, but Charles made it possible. Saying goodbye to him was something you knew you had to do back then, even if it meant blowing your cover. Little to your knowledge at the time, saying goodbye and blowing your cover also meant meeting your future husband. Smiling briefly as the memories flooded your brain, you went and grabbed the book that was next to the frame. East of Eden. 

You fully expected Logan to be sitting on the edge of the sink, in full protest of the idea of getting in the bath but to your surprise, he was submerged in the tub, his head resting against the edge of it. A smirk played at your mouth as you took a few extra seconds to look at his body, his muscles glistening in sweat, now from the hot bath water. 

After you placed the book down next to the towels, along with your new clothes, you squatted down next to him, leaning partially on the tub as you did. 

“Barely heard you come in.” His eyes were still shut as he laid back in the tub. 

“I have that effect.” You smiled as you said it, holding the mug in front of him knowing the smell would get him to hold the mug himself. 

“I wasn’t going to get in.” His hands were rising from the water and he grabbed the mug before sitting up a bit, his eyes open now. 

“But?” You dropped your elbows on the side of the tub, moving from a squat to a kneel, waiting for his answer, letting your head rest on your hands. 

“Couldn’t take the blood on me.” He took one sip and gave you the tea back. 

It was then that you saw small remnants of your blood on him that the bath water didn’t remove when he got in. You were going to get in shortly, but needed to remind Logan again of the same thing you had been doing all night.

“You know you can’t hurt me.” Leaning over the edge of the tub, you drank from the mug yourself, not going to let a perfectly good cup of tea go to waste.

“But they can.” His eyes were glued to you.

They. The group that had been after you for years. The group that stole Stryker’s documents and injected you with a metal just like they did Logan. Except they didn’t use adamantium on you. They used vibranium. 

“And if I don’t kill you, they will.” Logan hated hurting you. Even though it never mattered. Even before the vibranium in your bones you were born with the ability to heal. It was your mutant gene at work. Now, with the vibranium skeleton inside you, you were able to harvest kinetic energy and heal others. Except Logan. Healing people with their own regenerative powers was impossible. Which in theory didn’t matter, but Logan’s regeneration sometimes was… slow. 

“Well it’s a good thing that you can’t kill me, so when they come to do it you’re able to stop them.” It was the same conversation every time but with how calmly you spoke to him, it never felt like it. 

“This isn’t a way to live.” The sound of the water was splashing as he sat up fully to look at you. 

There it was. The thought that you were never ready to face. Which is why this was normally where the conversation would get… tense. “A little late for regrets, Logan.” As you stood up he caught your hand. Your eyes moved down to see where he was holding you, his fingers just below the opal gemstone embedded into your arm. That gemstone was what Professor X worked on to help you harness all that kinetic energy that was originally roaming around your bones causing you immense pain. 

“No one said anything about regrets.” His grip wasn’t harsh, in fact you could have slipped out of it when he initially went to stop you. “I’m just saying, let’s go kill these assholes, then we can go anywhere, we can go back to the school even–you love the school.” 

You did love it. But you loved it here, too. This is what you wanted. Away from people. No one knew where you lived, what you were doing. But there was that fucking thought. This isn’t a way to live. You had this new power, this ability to help people and you loved it. But even though you loved it, you made this decision to live off the grid where you weren’t really able to use it. But you couldn’t deal with the fact that wherever you went, even if you were able to help people, you were putting them in harm's way with this group after you. 

“No matter where we go Logan, we’re going to have this same exact conversation every single time.” 

“We won’t.” His voice growled, like he was trying to convince himself with those two words just as much as you. 

You leaned back down, your hand moving to cup his face. “You break my heart every time we have this conversation.” 

“I don’t want us to live in hiding.” He was pleading with you. His own hand reached up to yours grabbing it with both of his as he removed it from his face. 

“When we met, I told you this was my life. When you told me you wanted to marry me, I told you this was my life. I told you I didn’t want to put you in the position I was in. I gave you an out, Logan. Multiple times.” You felt your voice starting to grovel. Remembering each time you basically told Logan you weren’t good for him. The irony because every night he stabbed you with his adamantium claws you spent the night convincing him you were his perfect match. I mean, someone who could heal from The Wolverine’s unexpected violent rage? 

“I don’t want an out, bub. I want this life without the fear of losing you.” 

You didn’t have words for that. You hated fighting. Hated fighting with Logan, hated hurting people and putting them in harm's way. You were re-created in a lab, against your will, to fight and you hated it. Your mutant gene was a healer, they took you because of that and turned you into a fighter. And now you wanted to avoid fighting all together, even with the people that did this to you. But then there was that damn thought again. This isn’t a way to live. 

Without saying anything, you stood up and removed your clothes. Tipping your head so he knew to move up and allow you room to step in, you moved your feet into the water that was still pretty hot and slid down behind him, moving his body to lean against yours. On the other side of the tub was a cloth that you took and began to clean the blood that was still on his shoulder. Your hands gently moving along his skin caused him to let out a groan in approval. Feeling him collapse more into your embrace, you brought the cloth in the water and rung it out over him, letting the water trickle down on him. 

“What was the nightmare?” It usually was a rotation of a few but lately it was the same one. Ironic how the nightmare of you dying is what was causing him to repeatedly stab you in his sleep. The others tended to just cut your sheets up or land knuckle deep into the mattress. 

“Them, doing horrible things. Tortuous things. You, screaming. Like I’ve never heard you scream before. Begging.” His eyelids opened as he said it, like he couldn’t keep them closed as the words left his mouth because they’d paint a picture on the inside of his lids. 

Despite the heaviness of words, you smirked at them. Thinking of making a sexual joke in response but hearing how fast his heart was beating just from the thought of the nightmare, you opted out. 

“For my life?” You were caressing him without the washcloth now, just easing his tensions with your bare hands. Your hands moving along the crevices of muscles, your mind still dancing in this dangerous space while his was in a completely opposite world.

“For someone to take it.” His words made his body rigid, and yours as well. Every dirty thought of yours disappeared as you felt the tension of his body on yours.  Bringing your hands over to his chest, pulling him closer to you, you couldn’t help but wish, this should have been intimate, peaceful. He should have been flipping over and pulling you closer to him, lifting your legs apart to have his way with you but no. It was then you realized why you always had this thought in your head, because as much as you wanted this life to be the one you dreamed of, it never could be until you dealt with this. 

“You sure you’re not getting visions of when they took me?” Your eyes moved away to the book on the sink. “They tortured me for weeks before they dropped me in the water and stabbed me with those drilling needles. I begged for them to kill me everyday.” Logan was one of the only people in the world that could get you to talk about this. Not even Charles got the full story out of you, although you were sure he saw plenty in your mind. It was easier that way, for everyone.

“You have your wedding ring on in it, every time.” Logan hated talking about it too, not only because it reminded him of his own experience, one that would come back in small floods, but because the idea of them hurting you, taking you against your will made his blood boil. 

As you pushed the memory back to the depths of your mind, where it’d go to be forgotten, you moved your head over his shoulder, resting your chin on it so you were right next to his ear, your arms moving under his arms and resting on his abdomen, bringing him in a tight hug.

“I’m here. I’m okay. As long as I’m here with you, I’ll be okay.” Despite knowing he was right, you couldn’t bring yourself to say it. Not because it bothered you that you were wrong, but because right now being in denial was easier than dealing with things. At the end of your words you placed a kiss on his shoulder, then his back, and fell back into the bath, closing your eyes letting the water and Logan’s body take away the tension you now had in you. 

“What’d you bring the book for?” Logan’s hands were moving up and down your legs now, clearly picking up on the fact that you were done with the conversation.

“Because when I fall asleep, you’ll need something to keep you occupied.” 

He let out a chuckle, a noise that made everything in you happy. You could hear the vibrations in his body and the wave lengths brought you a small amount of energy in your bones especially when he was resting on you like currently. 

For Logan, you knowing him so well always made him feel something warm inside. Like a reminder that not only did you love him but knew him. Logan would have fought sleep until he couldn't tonight, the idea of going back to that dream would haunt him until he couldn't keep his eyes open anymore.

“How’s your shoulder?” You felt his body melt a little more into you when he asked, knowing he was responsible for the question even needing to be asked. 

“I ever tell you we were made for eachother, Wolverine?” Your lips kissed the top of his head, his wet hair starting to frizz up slightly as it air dried against your chest. 

“Once or twice.” He hummed, taking your arms that were wrapped around him up and letting his hands caress them. “Didn’t answer my question though.” 

“But I did.” You tapped his chest, signaling for him to sit up. As the water dripped off your body and into the tub, you moved to go grab the two towels, one for Logan and one for you. You were quick to wrap yours around your body and then bring the second one over with open arms. “I can heal Logan. Always have been able to. You can’t tell me that we aren’t perfect for eachother.” 

He stood up and grabbed the towel and wrapped it around his waist. “On paper, sure.” 

You smirked at that and raised your eyebrows. “Stryker’s papers at least thought so.” 

The group that kidnapped you had taken all of Stryker’s research and altered it to use vibranium in replacement of adamantium. You were essentially chosen and then re-created in an effort to contain The Wolverine–go against him as a better version of him–although you ended up just being a different version. There was extreme irony in the fact that you two had fallen in love, and some might even say you two were meant to find each other. 

“I meant marriage certificate, bub.” He leaned down to place a kiss on your head before grabbing the book and walking back to your bedroom.

—

Logan eventually fell asleep pretty early in the morning, book across his chest, blanket draped over him. 4 hours of sleep, he’d take it, it was probably the most he’d gotten this week. As he woke up, he instinctively reached for you, his eyes opening to search for you when his grip came up empty. He didn’t bother marking his place in the book when he moved it to nightstand and tossed the new sheet to get up. 

He called your name out a couple times, resulting in nothing back but silence. Now he was starting to worry. With a little bit more of speed in his movements, he was searching in all the rooms for you, still calling out for you. He tried to listen for you, stopping in his steps to focus on any sound that would give him a clue but still nothing. It wasn’t unlikely that he just wasn't able to hear you, opposite of him and the adamantium, the vibranium in you made you more swift and silent in your movements compared to his hot and heavy footing. His mind immediately went to the worst, were you taken? Was he asleep when they came in and took you? He’d be hours behind them now. Suddenly he had filled himself with such self-hate to let this happen, it almost made the events from last night feel miniscule. Key word: Almost. Not only could he not protect you from himself but not even the threat. He was grabbing his phone, dialing the school so Charles could search for you, he could get more people ready to go on the hunt. 

Logan opened the front door, and that’s when he saw you sitting in the passenger seat of his truck. 

“Hey, Sleeping Beauty.” You called out, taking your headphones off. 

Logan immediately hung up the phone and just stared at your for a few moments, standing perfectly still on your front porch letting his heart catch up to his brain. “You don’t hear me calling you?” The worry turned into anger, it was apparent in the tone of his voice. 

All you did was wave the headphones and shrug your shoulders. 

Logan’s head dropped and he took a large breath before making his way over to the passenger door. As he approached, he rested his hand on the open window and leaned down to get a good look at you.

“S’good look on you.” You nodded your head at him being shirtless with his sweatpants falling low enough to show his V line. 

With another drop of his head and deep breath, he looked up at you through his thick brows, “What the hell you doin’ out here?” He completely ignored your comment, still trying to understand what was happening and why in the world you were hanging out in his truck. 

“Waiting for you.” It was said like he should know what that meant, like you two had made plans the previous night that he should have been well aware of. 

“You gotta give me a little more, bub.” He was laughing now, probably his way of trying to control the urge to scream in frustration. 

“Packed up our stuff.” Your thumb pointed to the bags in the back. “We got a job to do.” 

“What jo–” Logan stopped mid sentence and looked at you as it began to click. There was no way you were actually in the car, packed, and ready to go find the people who were after you. 

“We can’t have middle of the night baths every night. Our water bill will be crazy.” Sarcasm. But Logan would take it because it meant you finally were on board to handle this situation instead of run from it. 

“When we kill these assholes I don’t think I’ll give a fuck about a water bill.” He was smirking up at you. “I’ll take all the middle of the night baths with you I want.” 

It was time. It was time to eliminate the thing that was like a dark cloud over both of your heads. This wasn’t a way to live. Logan was right about that, the nagging thought in the back of your head was right about it. But now? After this? Maybe you two could start some sort of life that was a way to live. Middle of the night baths and all. With a smile you reached for his hand, squeezing it quickly before tilting your head towards your home.

“As much as I hate what I’m about to say,” with a smile you reached for his hand, squeezing it quickly before tilting your head towards your home, “go put a shirt on so we can get out of here.”

Dividers by @realitycanbewhateveridesire <3

🐺 Logan Taglist: (using my all writing taglist currently since this is my first Logan fic!) @drabbles-mc @justreblogginfics @kmc1989

[mountain-maiden]

Sweet Nothing

Summary: Joel comes home from patrol in need of comfort and reassurance.

WC: 2.7k

TW: 18+ MDNI, Oral (m receiving), men whimpering, religious imagery, Taylor Swift references, author went to catholic school during formative years, author has never enjoyed giving head and didn't know how to write it :/

This is the first fanfic I've ever posted so please be nice to me!!

The snow crunches beneath Joel’s boots, yielding to the solid weight of a man on his way home. Moonlight filters in through the clouds, guiding him to your shared abode as the rest of Jackson sleeps soundly. It had been a extra long patrol, his late return made even more devastating by the knowledge you had most likely made dinner for two and eaten alone. 

His hand warms a pebble in his pocket, your pebble really. You had picked it for him during a patrol together last July, claiming the warm brown of the rock matched the honeyed irises of his eyes. He remembers how he scoffed at the notion but here he was months later, clutching the small stone for some semblance of comfort. You had rediscovered it a couple months ago, borrowing his jacket and marveling at the tiny stone that had made it all this way, stowing away in his pocket. 

“Does it ever miss the river sometimes?” You had asked, a small smirk playing on your lips as you slipped it back into his coat. He’d been found out, yet he had never really minded your small discoveries. 

He could never simply lay back and bare his soul to you, but with each calloused layer you peeled away, Joel found himself eager for you to reach his core. To peer into the depths of his soul and deem him still worthy of your love. He didn’t expect God to forgive the sins he’d committed, had stopped praying for that long ago. But at the altar of your hips, he’d get on his knees and beg for absolution until he dissolved into the dust he knelt on. Joel didn’t believe in much these days, but he believed in you with an intensity that could rival the most devout priests of the days of before. 

Finally, he is bathed in the warm light of your home, bleeding through the blinds and blanketing the snow covered path to your front porch, beckoning him inside. Joel opens the door and immediately all the tension he had been carrying begins to dissipate. The warmth of your home melts the frost from his bones as he kicks off his mud coated boots, discards his soaked through socks, and hangs his threadbare coat, eager to see your face. 

He find you in the kitchen, humming a tune he remembers from right before the outbreak, something Sarah had made him listen to, probably that Taylor Swift she was always going on about. Your whirl around when you sense his presence, eyes lighting up as you realize it’s Joel standing in your kitchen.

“I like that song,” He smiles, walking forward to embrace you, “Sarah used to listen to it a lot.”

“She had good taste,” You loop your arms around his neck, pulling him in, “Never would have taken Joel Miller for a swiftie.”

He can feel you chuckle at your own joke, but he feels no need to defend himself. Instead he focuses on the feeling of your body as he holds you against him, as tight as he can without fear of hurting you. It’s a ridiculous notion, but Joel finds himself hoping if he presses himself to you just right, he can meld your two beings so he’ll never have to be without again. It’s a selfish thought, you have a life outside of him, which is why he doesn’t voice it, but that doesn’t stop him from trying.

Eventually you pull away to inspect his face for any sign of injury, but all you find is Joel doing the same to you. It’s almost comical how the man will be on patrol in the dangers of the wilderness for days and still worry for your health while you lounge in the safety of Jackson’s walls.  

“I missed you,” Joel whispers, and he means it with the entirety of his being. The words incapable of expressing how devastatingly incomplete he felt without the melody of your laughter accompanying his meals, the bite of your scolding when he was reckless, the warmth of your body pressed against him at night.`

“I missed you too,” you smile, reaching up to comb your fingers through his hair, smoothing out the greying strands that had become tousled by the wind during his journey home.

“I saved you food,” you gesture to a closed tupperware sitting on the counter, “Do you want to shower while I reheat it for you?”

“I- Um, would ya mind joinin’ me?” Joel asks, suddenly feeling shy as if he’d just asked for your hand in marriage instead of company in the shower. 

“Not at all,” you take his hand and walk to the bathroom, unable to hold back a small grin at the knowledge Joel craved your closeness just as much as you craved his. 

You enter the small room and sit Joel on the closed toilet while you fuss over the water temperature. When you deem the water an acceptable heat, your attention returns to Joel’s seated form. You reach for the bottom of Joel’s shirt and he begins to protest. 

“I don’t need yer help takin’ my goddamn shirt off,” He huffs, no real heat to his words as he lifts his arms to aid your efforts. 

“Just because you don’t need it doesn’t mean you don’t want it,” you tease, “it’s okay Joel, we both know you’re a big softie in disguise.”

He grumbles some form of an argument but makes no real effort to convince you. Instead he quickly becomes distracted as you kneel to unbutton his jeans, belt already discarded on the floor beside you. You pull his jeans to the floor and look up to meet his heated gaze, a small smirk playing on your lips. He holds back a groan as you peel off his boxers, removing the last barrier between him and your mouth, and watches in dismay as you stand up.

“We’ll have plenty of time for that later Miller, now get in the shower,” you instruct before beginning to remove your own layers. 

Joel shakes his head and laughs as he steps into the warm stream of the shower. He lets his head hang as he feels the water cascade down his back, removing the days of sweat and grime from his skin. You pull back the curtain and step in to join him, immediately reaching out to loop your arms around his neck. 

“Hey Darlin’” Joel gives you a lopsided smile, letting you know he was finally starting to relax. 

“Hi baby,” you giggle, “Come here often?”

You watch in delight as he chuckles and pretends to pull away, “Didn’t realize I invited a dork into my shower,” Joel snorts.

“Oh please, you knew full well you were inviting a dork into your shower,” you laugh, reaching up to tip his head back and let the water run through his hair. 

“And, I actually prefer the term comedian,” you continue, stepping behind him to reach the shampoo and conditioner. 

“Comedian my ass,” you hear Joel mutter as you pour the shampoo into your hands.

The steam from the shower envelopes the both of you as Joel stands beneath the warm water. Your fingers tracing slow circles against his scalp, melting away his tension. It wasn't just the physical weariness from the patrol; it was the weight of the world he carried on his shoulders, the burden of surviving in a harsh post-apocalyptic reality. And, as your fingers worked through his hair, you could sense the tough facade he tried to hard to maintain slipping away.

"Joel," you whisper, your voice a soft caress, "you don't have to do it all alone. You have me." 

He sighs in a mixture of relief and vulnerability, his guard down in the sanctuary of your embrace. 

"You've been taking on Tommy's patrols, fixing everyone’s houses, looking after Ellie," you continue, tilting his head back to rinse the soap from him hair, "but you can't save everyone." 

His response is a low murmur, the weight of his responsibilities momentarily silenced by the soothing rhythm of your touch. 

"I can't just watch. People rely on me," Joel croaks, his voice raw with the admission of his own limitations. How could he explain his selfish motives, how it wasn’t about helping them, but saving his soul? How could he explain the weight of his past, how little time he had to redeem himself, how little time he had to become someone worthy of your love?

"And who do you rely on?" You ask, hands reaching around to his front, tracing patterns on his abdomen. "You don't need repent for surviving, Joel."

Finally, he turns to face you and you press a soft kiss to his mouth, relishing in the restrained groan he lets out. You pull away to find his eyes glazed over in lust, gaze fixed on your lips. Apparently you take too long to reconnect the kiss, because suddenly Joel is surging forward, capturing your mouth in a desperate kiss. 

He kisses you like a man starved, teeth colliding, tongue demanding entrance to your mouth, pressing your back to the cool tile of the shower wall. Fitting his thigh between your legs, you can feel his length hardening against your hip while you grind on his thigh, letting out a soft moan at the feeling. 

“‘Atta girl, so good for me.” He murmers, words spurring you on as you let out small whimpers of frustration, the angle just off, or the pressure not quite right. Joel shifts to get to his knees desperate to taste you, but halts when you grab his arm, tugging him back up. 

“Just, let me,” you sink to your knees, Joel’s broad shoulders shielding you from the spray. You press light kisses to his hips and he can’t stifle the soft whimpers that escape while you continue to tease him, lips brushing everywhere except the place he needs you most.

“Fuck baby, Ple-” He chokes on his words when you suddenly take as much of him as you can into your mouth at once. His eyes rolling back as he fights to keep his hips from thrusting forward. 

His fingers find purchase in your hair, not to guide you but to ground himself as you send him to what he imagines is the closest he’ll ever get to heaven. A sinner such as himself is never going to see those pearly gates, but in the tight heat of your mouth he can’t find it in himself to regret any of the sins that paved his path to you, his own personal salvation.

You continue to take more of him with each pass, using your hands to make up for the length you can’t fit, encouraged by Joel’s mixture of soft gasps and choked moans. 

  “Fuck baby, I’m not gonna last long” He warns. 

Joel's words only motivate you further, bracing yourself with his thighs, relaxing your throat and taking him deeper into your mouth. He can feel himself hurtling towards the edge with each passing movement, his hips bucking involuntarily against your ministrations. 

“Takin’ me so well, sweetheart, so perfect for me,” endless praise spills from his mouth as he feels his climax approach, knowing he can’t last much longer. 

“Gonna swallow for me, pretty girl?” He knows you can’t answer, he also knows the answer is already yes. 

He feels the familiar pooling of warmth in his gut and all the warning you get is a drawn out groan before he’s spilling into your mouth. Joel towers over you panting, bracing himself against the tile of the shower wall as he recovers from the waves of pleasure still crashing over him. 

“So fucking good to me,” Joel murmers, reaching down to help you off the slippery floor of the shower.

“Not doing anything you don’t deserve,” you give him a quick peck before turning the water off, having used beyond an indulgent amount. 

You make to step out of the tub but Joel pulls you back in for a searing kiss, battling his irrational fear that the second you leave the shower, he’ll discover you were just a figment of his imagination. An angel bestowing a temporary blessing on a man built more of sin than flesh. 

When he pulls away, you leave to fetch a pair of towels and return to dry him off. Joel is ashamed of how underneath your attentive care he allows himself to feel loved, how your patient hands wipe away not just the droplets of water but also the misdeeds of his past, leaving behind a glowing trail of love. He knows he doesn’t deserve any of this, but he’s taken plenty of things that didn’t belong to him in the time before you met, and he figures your affections for the man you believe him to be, a good man, can be his one last stolen good, his perfect crime. 

“I love you,” you run your fingers along the broad expanse of his shoulders, before cupping his face, forcing him to meet your eyes. 

“I love you too,” Joel whispers, allowing you to take his hand and lead him to your shared room, forgoing clothes and crawling into bed. 

“Can I return the favor?” Joel asks, beginning to position himself further down the bed before you grab his arm and pull him back up. 

“We’re both tired Joel, you’ve been awake for days, lets just sleep. Yeah?”

“You’re too good for me baby,” Joel brushes a stray hair from your face, “I’m hopin’ you won’t figure that out for a long time though.”

You laugh softly, rolling your eyes at the man above you, “one day I’m going to get it through your thick skull that you are a good man, Joel Miller.”

“My skull ain’t that thick, you wound me Darlin’” Joel clutches his heart dramatically before draping himself over you, resting his head on the soft cushion of your chest.

“Aw baby, it’s not a bad thing, a skull that thick has made you real hard to kill,” you chuckle, softly tapping at his head in jest. He lazily swats at your hand before wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling himself closer to you. 

Minutes pass in silence, you assume he’s fallen asleep and are about to reach for your book, when you hear the soft rasp of Joel’s half asleep voice.

“Sometime’s I think the end might be comin’,” He murmurs, burrowing his face in the valley of your breasts, determined to mold his body to yours, “Everyone’s up to somethin’.”

You frown at his sleep-muddled words, clearly not meant to be voiced, and stroke his hair, “Yeah, there’s been a lot of push and shoving.” 

You wait for a response and when a few moments pass in silence, you grab your book and begin to read, hoping the rustling of pages isn’t enough to wake Joel. You get lost in the story and hours pass before you are closing the book and turning off the lamp, preparing to sleep. You have to resettle into the pillows and the movement causes a disruption in Joel’s slumber, a quiet groan leaving him as he attempts to get closer again.

“I might be too soft for all of it,” He murmurs, pulling you into him so he can hear your heartbeat as he drifts off. In his sleep addled state, Joel had confessed his greatest sin. The softness you cultivated within him, intertwined with the fear that perhaps he was already too late for redemption. He could carry the weight of regret every day, but it was growing hard to ignore the feeling of futility when faced with trying to mend a lifetime of mistakes in the few years he has left. Why endure the struggle for redemption when he could find heaven in the warmth of your embrace? A sinner too complacent to repent. 

In the delicate balance of vulnerability and resignation, he clings to you, his sanctuary in the face of an irredeemable past. In your arms, Joel finds reprieve from the crushing guilt, thoughts consumed by the comforting rhythm of your heartbeat. God might demand repentance for entrance to heaven, but all you’d ever asked of him was sweet nothing.

[cherry-pop-elf]

Eyes For You

Dr. Jack Griffin x Reader

Authors Note: No one asked for this. No one wanted this. But I wanted it. It’s my emotional support film and god dammit I love this insane Twink.

Sum: You were waiting for your husband to return home from a trip out with some friends. But something went bump in the night. You were no coward, and investigated. Maybe you should have been a coward

Warnings: 18+/Violence, attempted kidnapping, Unhinged madness (you signed up for exactly that anyway), Jack being EXTREMELY protective of you, unethical science, blood, babygirling horror

“Jacky? That you?” You spoke into the darkness. You had to ask. You heard a noise, and well he’s Jack. He likes to pull pranks, and is also a little bit hard to….see….So it’s easier to call than poke around.

There wasn’t a response, however. Even he couldn’t help it but giggle, whenever he tried to pull something sneaky on you. That’s how much he adored you. Unable to keep himself wrapped up enough to follow through. Just to excited to see your laughing face.

Many would have probably stayed in their room. Maybe even call some kind of authorities. You? Well for one calling the cops doesn’t work when you are married to a man like Jack. Also, what’s scarier than Griffin?

So, here you are. You climbed out of bed, stole your husband’s robe, and snuck yourself outside of your shared bedroom. Through the familiar halls of the manor, with a candleholder in hand.

“I swear if someone broke in here, again, I’ll butcher them myself.” You would huff, as you would walk down the stairs. Had a bit of a history of people not knowing when to mind their own business. You came from a well off family, and that was how you and Jack even met. Your father had a medical issue, and Jack was able to solve it. Was hired to be the family doctor, and was able to be given funding for his experiments.

You couldn’t stop your dreamy smile. The memories of how excited he was to share what he discovered to you. How someone was willing to listen his endless rambles. He didn’t love you for the financial prosperities. He loved you because you wanted him to succeed. Was like a fairy tale.

“Whoever’s in my house better get out. I’m not afraid to get violent!” You shouted, as you kicked the door open. Certainly startled the man in your kitchen. Not every day someone actually confronts the one who breaks in.

“I don’t care who you are. Get out of my house. My husband will be home any minute now, and I rather not clean up blood stains at this hour.” The intruder sure was confused at how causal your violent mannerisms were. You kinda picked up a thing or two from a mad scientist.

“Sure he is. I’ve never seen a man come in or out of your house. But I’ve certainly seen plenty of fancy equipment. You’ve got money-“ And he was soon raising a gun at you. “And I have a feeling your daddy will pay plenty to get you back.” He warned.

Not the first time someone did this. But it was the first time someone actually go into your house. Luckily, your husband doesn’t marry himself anyone dumb. You blew out your candle, and the world was casted in darkness.

He fired, in a attempt to hit you, but you were already running. You ran, and tried to think of where would be the best place to go. Should you lock yourself in your husbands lab? What about running outside? Should you risk going upstairs, and getting a better weapon? You tried to think fast, but a bullet finally landed its mark.

You have a yelp of pain, as you were soon falling to the ground. A bullet right in your leg, and your only means of any defense was clattering out of reach. Just left to bleed in the hallway. The portraits of your friends, and family, left to just watch as your attacker found you. The moonlight casting a terrifying glow over his masked features.

“Well that was easy. Husband still coming to save you?” He mocked, as you were left to try and crawl away. Just taunting you, as he knew you couldn’t stand. You suppose this was poetic justice. You were now the victim, and you now had a mad man above you.

There was also something else above you. The rise of the candle holder you had lost in the fall. The darkness made it impossible for the attacker to see, but your angle had the moonlight sparkling on it. The gold a beacon of hope, as it was raised above his head.

“Maybe I should enjoy myself. Damaged goods are still goods, aren’t they?” He cackled at you. Just saw you as nothing more than a damsel of meat to enjoy, and oh did that made your husband growl.

“HANDS OFF MY DARLING!” And down it came. The attacker was down on the ground, wondering how he was hit. Was just left to watch, in horror, as the candle holder was held up by nothing at all. To just watch it come down and hit him over and over.

And over.

And over.

And over.

The blood was pooling. So much splatter, that you could make out your husbands shape. To see the defined features he held. Like his nose, the scars in his flesh, and how his face was in a scowl. He was not one to cross. His own partner, in his own home? Needles to say you’ll need to buy a candle holder.

“Jacky-!” Despite the pain in your leg you were raising your hands up. Eager to be held by your savior. No care for the blood, as you saw it in a cruel justification. Your husband saved you, and you needed to be held.

“My darling-“ He swooned, as you were scooped into his arms. Held close to his chest, and safe in his hidden embrace. With whispers of comfort, as you were quickly taken to his private lab. Safe, and to be treated.

“Oh darling, I should have hurried home sooner.” He was quick to blame himself. The only time he ever seemed to accept blame, really. If you were in harms way he takes guilt with out a second thought. Anything else? Never his fault. He really put you above himself. Above science. Above world dominate. Everything was beneath you.

“Jacky, hush. I’m ok now. You are here now.” You tried to calm him, as he would tend to your leg. Careful calculations. You didn’t even need to see his face to know those once white eyebrows were knitted close together. That he would be sticking his tongue out the corner of rosey lips. To have his violet eyes narrowed to make sure he pulled out the bullet just right.

He made sure you were as pampered as possible, while soothing your wound. Made sure it was cleaned, and patched, what have you. Muttering away at himself about the the annoyance of mankind. The normal.

“I’ll deal with him in the morning. Along with the mess I left behind. Greymatter is all over the walls.” He laughed, as he would proceed to use a wet cloth to clean up the blood off his body. To once again vanish into nothingness.

Call yourself insane, but you swore you could always tell where he was. Maybe being exposed to him for so long has caused you to develop some kind of second hand effects. Maybe you just held a bond with him like no other. You didn’t know. You just knew that you didn’t need to see him to see him, as cheesey as it was.

“You better. My word, you bent that holder into a spiral. I swear-“ You teased, as you were scooped into his arms again. Just a floating bundle of warmth and love. Certainly would cause the strangest of sight to those who were unaware. Which is most of the population. As far as anyone knew you were a widow. That typically keeps people from wanting your hand, but not always.

“He dare lay a hand on you. To harm you. To think he could….Oh his organs would be useless for science. I’m certain they are as dead as his brain is mush. Even his body is no use!” He ranted on, as he would bring you back upstairs.

You both knew his body would be used for some experiment, but the emotions are what matter. Had you nuzzling your face in his neck, with whispers of kisses. The only thing to sooth his raging heart.

“Jacky, let’s get some sleep. I know you had a busy weekend with your friends.” That had him finally stop his muttering. For you, he would defy the laws of nature. Suppose getting some sleep will be what he could offer, tonight anyway.

You would be laid down, as if a maiden by her knight, as he went to get into some sleep clothes. Such as some boxers, and a old shirt he had back when he wasn’t the madman he was today.

It always was so funny to watch, no matter how many times it’s been witnessed. To just see a floating set of clothes. It always had you smiling. To have his mannerism so memorized that you can still imagine them. The way he would sassily rest a hand on his hip, as he paced in thought. To how he would run his fingers through his white hair.

“Jacky….Bed.” You gentler cooed. Was followed by a sigh, from him, as that invisible hand would lift up the blankets. Now a indentation on the bed. All you need to find him. To find him, and snuggle into his chest.

“Welcome home.” You yawned. Safe in his arms again. To feel his scared fingers rub your back, as he would treasure you close. With literal invisible kisses to your face. As if it would be a cure to all your worries. Suppose he was right, they were.

“So good to be home again, darling.” He returned, as you could feel his breathing relax. To have his burning heart cooled. You were the very thing that kept him away from the world. The draw bridge of civilization and a apocalypse.

Maybe if you get bored enough, one day, you’ll lower that bridge.

[apoemaday]

Outbreaks

by Kitchen McKeown

i search for god but the sun is a penny. looper moths form halos beneath the streetlamps. summer’s ghostly curtains. check the weather. haze. i search for god but the moon is gone. i search for comfort, and the eels come. they cross my meadow every twilight, up to seven feet in length, traversing mountain napes with open eager mouths. the fires heaved them from the rivers, now they curve themselves across the precipice of life, toward black oceans. haunted yellow eyes. looper moths become a gentle cloud. i become an eel, then rethink it. i cough. reveal a wet moth. some gray little heart. it’s all hazy now. pale as sunbleached wood, i go forth. in a slant of moonlight, i search for comfort. the neon 24-hour fried chicken sign gleams behind the pines. i crawl in the moss. it is easy to find god. she is a cluster of eels beneath my palms. i ask of her, am i doing any of this life right? and she, with her many mouths, says nothing.

[deedala]

🌞 weekly tag wednesday 🌞

happy wednesday!! thanks to @michellemisfit for doing tag game today and for tagging me!! + @mybrainismelted @iansw0rld @creepkinginc @energievie @jrooc @lingy910y @suzy-queued @blue-disco-lights @ardent-fox @ms-moonlight-inn 💖💖💖 ty!! xoxo

name: deanna

age: noel-aged

location (globally): the land of oh hi oh

location (physically): in my kitchen

favourite Food to Eat: potatoes

favourite food to cook: popcorn

will you be attending @too-schoolforcool’s ☀️ Kitchen Shenanigans🍴with Cherry on the 6th july? im planning on it!!

what’s your zodiac: scorpio

will you be attending @heymacy’s ☀️ Astrology 101: More Than Just Your Sun Sign ☀️ lecture on the 13th july? planning on it!!!

(check @gallavich-fic-club’s lesson plan for details here)

now let predictive text complete each sentence for you after the 💭

my age is 💭 in my life now (in fact id argue its in my life always?)

my favourite animal is 💭 the cat (sure why not lol)

i love to cook 💭 with you guys but i'm so sorry i don't know how (the chilling level of accuracy on this one)

i love to eat 💭 and eat with my family (ok sure)

i have a lot of ideas about 💭 the game (what game? like the grand game?? we goin to orlais??)

i have no clue 💭 how i got that to you guys (oh god what??)

my dream career is 💭 now a reality check (pfftt HMMM)

my favourite character on shameless 💭 and the only one i know who has the most fun with it and the other is a very nice person (yeah i kept going hoping we'd get somewhere lol)

debbie gallagher is 💭 the only person i can trust (<- me if i were a shameless character)

carl gallagher is 💭 the only person i can trust (i... what is happening)

mandy milkovich is 💭 the only person i can remember (loool yes)

mickey milkovich is 💭 the only person i can remember (guys my game is broken)

ian gallagher is 💭 the only person i can trust (so true bestie lmao???)

to me ian and mickey are 💭 both the best people on earth (oh hell yeah okay 🥹)

gallavich means 💭 a little more of the world (alright yah)

i wish anyone who reads this to 💭 understand that i have no right (absolutely no right, how dare me lol)

and now to tag some folks ✨✨✨

@heymrspatel @darlingian @catgrassplantdad @gallawitchxx @whatwouldmickeydo @gardenerian @loftec @the-rat-wins @spoonfulstar @mmmichyyy @crossmydna @wehangout @captainjowl @howlinchickhowl @sam-loves-seb @rereadanon @softmick @mikhailoisbaby @callivich @burninface @sickness-health-all-that-shit @sleepyfacetoughguy @sleepyheadgallavich @transmickey @lee-ow @themarchg1rl @spookygingerr @thepupperino @vintagelacerosette @heymacy @xninetiestrendx @palepinkgoat

[rebelwrites]

Hellloooooo!! God how much i've missed your writing!

What about a little Clay fic?? What about reader thought she wouldn't see him at Christmas as he was working, so she's at her parents house and half way during dinner or like nearly midnight on christmas and the doorbell goes and it's Clay and he somehow made it for Christmas armed with a small present as that's all he had time to buy but reader just loves it and him 😍

Home For Christmas

Clay Spenser x Reader

As this is a flash fic, this hasn’t been edited

As always reblogs and feedback is highly appreciated ❤️ if you want tagging in future parts let me know ❤️

Staring around the room you couldn’t help but let out a loud sigh. Today was Christmas, one of your favorite holidays but this year you just wanted it to be over. Everyone was coupled up apart from you, dropping your gaze down to your hand, you found yourself fiddling with your engagement ring.

This was the first Christmas without Clay, in the four years you had been dating he had never had a deployment fall on Christmas but this year your luck had run out.

For the last week you had been practically holding your breath that he would make it home in time for the holiday, but here you were sitting alone on the sofa with a large glass of wine just wanting the day to be over.

It was currently 8pm and any hope you had of seeing your Clay today had completely vanished, so you found yourself curled up under the blanket with your 6 year old nephew as you all watched The Grinch.

You found yourself constantly checking your phone to see if you had any missed call from Clay, but once again you had nothing. At this point you had no idea if he was even coming home this side of the new year, even though he confirmed with you their deployment was coming to an end. You both knew from previous experience that things could change at the flip of a switch.

Hours had passed and there was no sign of you Fiance, your heart weighed heavy in your chest as you checked the time for the 50th time this hour.

It was nearing midnight, you were absolutely exhausted. Just like every year your nephews had you running around like a headless chicken and this year you had decided you were doing Christmas dinner. One of the many ideas you had to try and keep your mind from wandering.

Everyone had gone up to bed at this point, leaving you pottering around starting to tidy up. The last thing you wanted was to wake up to a house that looked like it had been ransacked. As you carried a load of glasses through to the kitchen you heard a sound coming from the hallway, but you thought nothing of it, it was probably your sister coming down because one of the boys forgot their stuffed animals.

Once you had dumped the glasses into the dishwasher you headed back into the living room but the moment you stepped into the hallway you couldn’t help but freeze.

Your fists came up to your face, forcefully rubbing your eyes to make sure you weren't seeing things. But there he was standing there in his greens, rucksack hanging from his shoulder and a small red gift bag hanging between his fingers.

“Merry Christmas baby,” Clay whispered, his eyes shining brightly under the moonlight that shone through the window in the front door.

“Please tell me I’m not dreaming,” you breathed, taking a few steps so you were within touching distance of your boyfriend.

“Definitely not a dream babe,” he smirked, reaching out causing his rucksack to drop to the floor with a loud thud. Neither of you cared if it woke the rest of the house up right now. Within moments you were wrapped up in his arms, nuzzling your face into his toned chest.

“I know it’s not much,” he whispered, holding the small gift bag in the air, “not many shops are open this late on Christmas.”

You didn’t care about presents, all you cared about was Clay and that he made it home safely and in one piece. A large smile appeared on your face as you pulled away from him to investigate what was in the gift bag. Your heart fluttered when you pulled out three bars of your favorite chocolate. “Thank you,” you breathed, reaching up resting your hand on Clay’s cheek.

“I promised I would make it home for Christmas,” he hummed, resting his forehead against yours, “and I never break a promise to my girl.”

@chibsytelford @supervalcsi @talicat713 @disasterfandoms @bravo-four-seal-team @jasonbabymama @jayhalsteadfan-2417 @seik-o @velvetcardiganbucky @phoenixhalliwell @itsonautopilot @pinkrockstar19 @galaxysanduniversesinmymind @softi92 @abby-splace @theysayitscrazy @thelovelyleo23 @i-love-scott-mccall @fourthwallhateclub @hippyprincessxx @the-jer-bear @extraneousred @choochoo284 @lmao-liz @babypink224221 @pedrohoe04 @littlekittymeow @nichia88-blog @zozebo

[legendaryrooftopscene]

For like, logistical reasons they’re never gonna give us a part two to moonlight chicken when Li Ming and Heart are in the US, but god I want it so bad. I want them adapting to culture shock, finding queer friends, joining clubs and sports teams at Heart’s school. Li Ming isnt officially a student but everyone knows that he and Heart are a package deal and he’s their favorite tag-along and one of their Designated Hearing People when out and about. I want them developing a language all their own that’s a mix of ASL, Thai sign, and lip reading that literally no one else can understand. I want Heart growing in confidence with his voice until the day he’s comfortable singing a song around Li Ming, one he used to love before he lost his hearing. They’re so pissed at how high the cost of living is. They make friends with the owners of the most authentic Thai restaurant in town and wheedle their way into casual part time jobs (mostly in the kitchen, and only for the food and to be around other Thai people). They rent an apartment together and adopt a cat and go to pride and just…. Have such a good time together. Yeah, they may get homesick or overwhelmed sometimes, but this is their dream and they’re living through it together.

[blueink01]

Ch. Pilot: Welcome To Hell

Forest-

Yn is lying down on a big stone slab, her arms and legs are chained into four pillars that rise up from each corner of the slab. Ten black figures are surrounding him while chanting, one of them takes a big ass dagger and holds it up letting a ray of moonlight shine through a red gem in the hilt. Yn looks up at the cealing in disbelief

'How the hell did I end up here?"

Yn's House - A Few Hours Ago-

A alarm clock suddenly starts to blare inside Yn's room, said young woman takes a shovel that is resting by her bed and smashes the clock into pieces. Yn throws her shovel out of her window followed by a cat screeching in pain. Yn slowly looks out of the window and sees a cat waving its paw up at her

"Sorry!"

Cat: 'Asshole.' Yn hops through her room that has broken clocks lying around, she opens her closet and dresses up

            -Time Skip-

Yn slides to her kitchen and her maids starts to make her breakfast. When she's done with thanks the girls for breakfast, she sits down at the table next to a open window where a random bird flies in and takes Yn's breakfast toast

"Hey!" Yn jumps onto tries to take her bread back but she realizes that she has jumped out of her window

"Oh, damn..." Yn drops down from the fifth floor into a bush and somehow she sits up without a scratch, Yn looks around at her body and feels it for any injuries, just on cue the butler who were around ran outside to her.

"Ms. Yn! Are you okay?!"

"Huh, I'm starting to think I'm superhuman."

"You could have seriously gotten hurt be careful next time and don't do reckless things like that again for god sake we can make more for you." The Butler said, she looks up at the bird that still has her bread flying away

"F**king birds... God could have designed them better." Yn replied back.

"Yn, leave the bird be." Yn stands up and starts to walk back into her apartment building without noticing a snow white dove intently staring down at her

            -Time Skip-

Yn is walking through the halls of her school while a guy and a girl stare at her. When Yn reaches and opens her locker the two people who were looking at her approach her, Yn's eyes narrow as she feels someone walking towards her. When one of the guys are close enough Yn turns around and punches him in the face causing them to drop onto the floor

"Ow! Dude!" Yn looks down at him and she flinches

"Oh, damn... Sorry bro, are I ok?" The two that were approaching Yn were her bestfriends, Jack and Sally

"What was that for?"

"Sorry, but you're the one that sneaked up on me!"

"I think that was hilarious!"

"Shut it Sally!"

"Jack." Yn said in a tone meaning be nice, he signed staying quiet with Sally smirking

"Right." Yn helps Jack back onto his feet

"You really need to do something with your face, it was like punching a pillow." Yn joked.

"Whatever, let's just get to class before teach goes crazy on us again." Jack replied annoyed

"Yeah. I'm not looking forward to hear his annoying squeal voice." Sally added

"Guys come on be nice."

            -Time Skip-

Yn is sitting in a class at the casual main character spot, at the back of the class right next to the windows. Yn lets out a sigh as she ignores the teacher and the useless stuff that is coming out of his mouth, then Yn hears some pecking on the window, she turns to look out and there she sees the snow white Dove just standing by the window and looking at Yn

"A dove...?" Then out of nowhere the Dove winks at Yn causing her to look at it like she just took a bunch of drugs and is hallucinating

'Did that Dive just wink at me?' The Dove stares at Yn for a few more seconds before flying off far above the clouds which confuses Yn more

'Do Doves fly that high?" For the rest of the class Yn just contemplates what just happened

            -Time Skip-

After school Yn is walking back home while thinking about normal stuff like Go to bed, you'll feel better in the morning or Did you turn it off and turn it back on again?

"I should give away my plants just in case..." Yn talked to herself, suddenly a group of people approach her and put a bag over Yn's head

"Hey!" One of the people takes out a bat and knocks Yn out with it

Forest- Current Time-

'Oh, yeah...' The leader of the group of people that is holding the big dagger walks over to the side of Yn

"Dark Prince Lucifer, please accept this child of God as a sacrifice, in exchange please grant us immeasurable amounts of wealth and power!" Yn starts to struggle, trying to somehow trying get out of the chains but obviously she can't because they are chains made out of metal. The leader of the group lifts the dagger up, ready to stab Yn

'No! No! No! No! No!' The person stabs the dagger into Yn, piercing her heart and killing her instantly. Yn's vision turns completely black and Yn finds herself in a dark space

"W-Where- Where am I?!" Then a bright ball of white light appears and starts approaching her. From the ball a mans voice can be heard

"Yn Ln~"

"Who are you?!" Before anything else can happen Yn is flung back and she starts flying away from the ball of light. The ball of light flares up followed by a scream

"NO!!" The surrounding darkness around Yn starts to slowly change to fire that illuminates the space in red. Yn then hears another man's voice

"So you're the one the old bastard wanted~? I think I'll keep you~"

Hell- Pentagram City-

Yn hears the voice giggle before she roughly lands onto a hill. Yn groans as she keeps her eyes closed

"I must have eaten something weird, first the winking Dove and now all this..." Yn slowly sits up and opens her eyes, when she does all she sees is a big city in front of her but what unnerves her the most is that there are dead bodies of some monsters lying around

"Aah!" Yn lets out a scream and backs away while breathing heavily. She looks up and sees a giant red and glowing pentagram floating in the sky

"T-This can't be real..." She looks to her side where she sees a sign that reads: Welcome to hell f**ker! Pentagram City that way! ➡️

"I'm in Hell? I'm in Hell!!" Yn starts to breathe even more heavily then she hears a roar near her. Yn turns towards the noice and sees a giant demonic dog running towards her. As it closes on Yn, she panics and raises her hands up causing a pillar of fire to errupt from the ground and turn the dog into ash. Yn looks at the pile of ash and her hands in disbelief and that's when she realizes that she has different clothes on and her nails are long and black.

"What happened to me?" Yn crawls over to a small puddle and looks at her new face, she look like a weird mix of animal.

"That's... me..?" Yn lifts her hands up and feels her face before touching her soft ears, her antlers, and her tails. she look actually hot as hell for whatever she was.

"Heh... I'm a demon now... I'm really a demon." Yn why this was happening, she did everything right. She was good, she was kind, and make people happy. So why was she oh hell. Yn stands up, she takes a deep breath before looking at the city while letting out a groan.

           -Play Music-

"Well, if God didn't think I deserved to be in heaven then I'll make the best of it here in Hell." Yn smiles.

'I can't wait to meet the people that told me 'See you in Hell.' Yn starts walking towards the city not knowing what's happening upstairs in heaven

Heaven-

In the great throne room of God, one angel is standing behind a pillar while things like tables fire balls, and a golden throne are getting thrown around the throne room. When everything calms down the angel peaks behind the pillar and sees God standing in the middle of the messy and trashed throne room, panting. Michael enters the messy room.

"Umm... M'lord?" God looks at Michael while her four eyes are twitching

"What..."

"Are you okay?"

"Yes. I'm prefectly fine." He takes deep breaths trying to calm himself down

"Now Leave." Michael gives him a bow before quickly making his way out of the throne room. God walks to a double door that lead into his personal chambers, he flops onto his bed and grabs a body pillow that he hugs tightly. On the body pillow is the photo of Yn with nothing but her underwear and bra on and on the other side of the pillow is Yn who is completely naked. God lets out a sigh and starts to inhale on the pillow contain her scent.

"Don't worry dear. You'll be here with me soon~"

Previous Page: Intro

Next Page: Ch. 2: The Hazbin Hotel

Beginning: Front Cover

[clean-bubbles-aka-bubbles]

A Pray that Preys

“AAAAAAAHHH!” 

Mark screeched as he woke up, panting heavily. “Oh… Oh my god!” he panted. Checking his clock, he saw that it was still 10:30 PM. 

His heart pounded in his chest as he tried to steady his breathing. The remnants of the nightmare still clung to his mind like a sinister fog. He glanced around the room, his eyes darting from corner to corner, searching for any sign of the creature that had haunted his dreams.

But the room was empty, bathed in the soft glow of the moonlight filtering through the window. No twisted figures lurked in the shadows, no echoing whispers haunting the silence.

It had just been a dream. A horrifying, vivid nightmare that felt all too real.

Mark ran a hand through his hair, trying to calm his racing heart. "Just a dream," he muttered, though the images still lingered vividly. "Just a stupid, messed-up dream."

But even as he tried to convince himself, unease remained. The nightmare had felt too real, too visceral to brush aside simply. He couldn't shake the dread that clung to him like a shadow, whispering dark secrets in the depths of his subconscious.

Shaking his head, Mark forced himself to focus on the present. He needed to clear his mind and push aside the lingering fear. Glancing at the clock again, he realized it was still early. Perhaps a cup of tea would help calm his nerves.

With a determined nod, he swung his legs out of bed and stood up, his muscles still tense from the adrenaline coursing through his veins. He needed to clear his head and shake off the lingering dread that clung to him like a second skin.

Making his way to the kitchen, Mark flicked on the lights, bathing the room in a warm, comforting glow. He poured himself a glass of water, the cool liquid soothing his parched throat as he leaned against the counter, lost in thought.

The nightmare had been unlike anything he had ever experienced, a twisted journey into the darkest corners of his mind. But as terrifying as it had been, there was a part of him that couldn't shake the feeling that it held some semblance of truth.

Bubbles… Was she hiding something from him? Could she be harboring secrets that threatened their friendship? The thought sent a shiver down his spine, but he knew he couldn't let fear dictate his actions.

He needed answers and wouldn't rest until he uncovered the truth, no matter how painful it might be.

Mark drained the last of his water with a determined set to his jaw and set the glass aside. He felt that the nightmare was just the beginning and that something would go way wrong.

*Thump… thump…*

*Creak…*

That same strange noise again… footsteps and board creaking… just like his dream. And that noise… it was coming from his living room.

The hairs on the back of Mark's neck stood on end as he froze in place, his heart pounding in his chest. The echoes of his nightmare still lingered, intensifying the sense of dread that gripped him.

He hesitated, torn between the urge to investigate and the fear that gripped him like a vice. But he couldn't ignore the possibility that something was amiss, especially after the vivid nightmare he had just endured.

Summoning every ounce of courage, Mark tiptoed out of the kitchen, his steps cautious and deliberate. Every creak of the floorboards sounded deafening in the otherwise silent house, sending shivers down his spine.

As he approached the living room, the strange noises grew louder, filling the air with an eerie sense of foreboding. He held his breath, his hand trembling as he reached to push the door open.

The room was dark, the only light filtering in from the moon outside. Mark strained his ears, listening intently for any sign of movement.

And then, he heard it.

A soft whisper, barely audible over the sound of his own heartbeat. It sent a chill down his spine, raising goosebumps on his skin.

Mark's mind raced as he tried to make sense of the situation. Was someone else in the house? Or was it just his imagination playing tricks on him once again?

He took a cautious step forward, his senses on high alert. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to turn and run, to flee from whatever unseen danger lurked in the darkness.

But he couldn't bring himself to retreat, not when the possibility of danger loomed so close. Steeling himself, Mark took another step forward, his pulse racing in his ears.

And then, he saw it.

A shadowy figure is lurking in the corner of the room. It was tall and menacing, its features shrouded in darkness.

Mark's breath caught in his throat as he stared at the figure, his mind reeling with fear and confusion. Who—or what—was it? And what did it want with him?

Before he could make sense of the situation, the figure moved, its movements fluid and graceful. It stepped out of the shadows, revealing itself to be…

Cesar.

He looked… like his typical friend. He was just a little bit shorter than Mark. He had his normal-styled black hair. He was wearing his suit like always.

“Oh… hey, Mark.” Cesar waved. “Y-You kind of left your door open. So I stepped in and wanted to check to see if you’re alright.” He chuckled with a nervous grin. But his voice sounded unnaturally flat…

Mark's heart raced as he stared at the figure, his mind spinning with confusion. This wasn't possible. Cesar was his friend, his confidant. There was no way he could be standing here in his living room, looking so… off.

"C-Cesar?" Mark stammered, his voice barely a whisper. "Is that really you?"

The figure nodded, its movements stiff and unnatural. "Yeah, it's me," it replied, its voice devoid of emotion. "I just wanted to check on you. You seemed… troubled."

Mark's mind raced as he tried to make sense of the situation. Something wasn't right. Cesar's demeanor, his voice… it was all wrong.

"What's going on, Cesar?" Mark asked, his voice trembling with fear and uncertainty. "Why do you sound like that? And why did you come here in the middle of the night?"

The figure's lips curled into a twisted smile, chilling Mark's spine. "Oh, you know," it replied, its voice dripping with malice. "Just wanted to have a little chat, that's all."

The brown-haired male’s heart pounded as he took a cautious step back. This wasn't his friend. This was something else, wearing Cesar's face like a mask.

"W-What chat?" Mark warned, his voice trembling. "Whoever you are, whatever you want, you're not welcome here."

The figure's smile widened, its eyes gleaming with an otherworldly light. "Oh, but I think you'll find that I'm quite welcome," it taunted, taking a step closer. "After all, we have so much to discuss."

Mark's mind raced as he searched for a way out of the nightmare unfolding before him. He needed to think and come up with a plan. But fear gripped him like a vice, paralyzing his thoughts and leaving him helpless against the looming threat. “W-Who—“

“Hm~ Let me give you a hint…” It purred darkly. “Does a little girl with the strange name ring a bell? That’s who I want to tell you: her darkest secrets~”

Mark's blood ran cold as the Alternate mentioned the name—Bubbles. Clean Bubbles was his friend, the one who had been in constant presence with him, and Cesar, the one who acted weird when she got a peculiar dog bite at the arcade.

"What do you know about Bubbles?" Mark demanded, his voice trembling with fear and anger. "What secrets are you talking about?"

The Alternate chuckled darkly, its eyes gleaming with malice. "Oh, Mark," it taunted, taking another step closer. "You really have no idea, do you? Your precious friend has been keeping secrets from you, dark and dangerous secrets."

Mark's mind raced as he tried to make sense of the creature's words. Bubbles had always been there for him and Cesar, supporting him through thick and thin, and that’s what they did in return. She would never betray them, would she?

But the doubt lingered, gnawing at the edges of his consciousness like a persistent itch. What if there was some truth to what the figure was saying? What if Bubbles wasn't who she claimed to be?

He shook his head, trying to push aside the doubts that threatened to overwhelm him. "You're lying," he spat, his voice laced with anger and defiance. "Bubbles would never betray me. She's my friend, my confidant."

The Alternate’s smile widened, its eyes gleaming with amusement. "Oh, Mark, Mark, Mark" it chuckled, taking another step closer. "You really have no idea, do you? Your friend is not who you think she is. And I'm here to show you the truth."

With a sudden, fluid motion, the figure lunged forward, its hands outstretched. Mark stumbled back, his heart pounding as he swiftly headed back upstairs, locking his bedroom door. He gulped and shivered as he heard scratching noises of wood against his door. 

"L-L-Let me in, M-M-Mark~" Cesar's voice from the Alternate spoke outside of his room. "I-I-I-I have a gift for you-you-you-you~ I have a prese-en-en-en-ent. I have a surprise~! I will not hurt you~"

Mark's hands trembled as he pressed his back against the locked door, his mind racing with fear and uncertainty. The scratching sound outside his room sent chills down his spine, amplifying the sense of dread that gripped him like a vice.

He knew he couldn't trust whatever lurked on the other side of the door, no matter how much it sounded like his friend. The way it spoke, the way it moved… it was all wrong.

Taking a shaky breath, Mark forced himself to focus. He needed to find a way out of this nightmare, to escape the clutches of whatever malevolent force was lurking in his home.

But as he glanced around the room, his eyes fell on the window, the only possible means of escape. His heart sank as he realized it was too high to reach, leaving him trapped like a rat in a cage.

Panic surged through him, threatening to overwhelm his already frayed nerves. He needed to think and devise a plan, but fear clouded his thoughts, leaving him paralyzed with indecision.

The scratching outside his door grew louder, more insistent, sending waves of terror coursing through Mark's veins. He knew he couldn't stay here, trapped and helpless, waiting for whatever horror awaited him on the other side.

He fumbled with his phone, trying to call for the Mandela Police Department. He put the phone to his ear, trying to see if they responded, but it was all static.

"Damn it!" Mark cursed as he tried calling Bubbles, but a voice message was left for him when he left his house to set up the cameras at his friend's house. "Voice message?" He muttered as he clicked it.

"::Hey, Mark,::" Bubbles's voice from the recording spoke. "::I... I know I haven't talked to you yet, but I felt that Cesar already told you I've been dragging you two down with me and bringing you into my problems. Your friend is right, I'm... I've been the thorn in your side in a world full of Alternates.::" 

Her voice cracked slightly, followed by a sniffle. "::I've been feeling like a burden for you two. I've been trying to figure out my own problems and how to solve them, but I swear- I'm trying to figure something out. I don't want to keep putting you guys down with me. I'm sorry... but I'll be staying distant with you for some time...::"

His grip on the phone tightened as Bubbles's message played. The familiar warmth of her voice, now laced with sadness and regret, sent a pang through his heart. The doubts planted by the Alternate grew stronger, gnawing at his mind.

"No," he whispered to himself, his voice trembling. "This can't be true."

He replayed Bubbles's message, trying to decipher any hidden meaning or clue that could explain the situation. Why was she distancing herself now? What was she hiding?

The scratching outside his door stopped abruptly, replaced by an eerie silence. Mark's breath hitched as he strained to hear any sign of movement. The silence was deafening, amplifying the dread that gripped him.

"Oh, Mar-ar-ar-ark~," The Alternate said, mocking and replicating Cesar's voice. "Are you finally ready to hear the tru-u-u-u-uth?" The Alternate's smile widened, its cartoonish eyes gleaming with malice as its voice glitched and lagged while talking. 

"D-Do I have to make you OPEN YOUR EYES, MARK?" It snarled with a hint of distortion. "Just OPEN THE DAMN DOOR." It began scratching against the wooden, locked door to Mark's room. "No one is coming for you, so minus, well, open it... besides, you can learn the truth about your friend~."

Mark's heart raced as he listened to the mocking voice outside his door, his mind reeling with fear and uncertainty. The scratching sound sent shivers down his spine, echoing in the silence of his room like a sinister refrain.

He knew he couldn't trust whatever lurked on the other side, no matter how convincing it sounded. But the doubts planted by the Alternate's words lingered, gnawing at the edges of his consciousness like a persistent itch.

Bubbles's message played in his mind, her voice laden with sadness and regret. What was she hiding? And why was she distancing herself from him now when he needed her the most?

With a shaky breath, Mark forced himself to focus. He needed to think and devise a plan to escape the nightmare that had consumed his home.

But as he glanced around the room, his eyes again fell on the window. It was still too high to reach, leaving him trapped with no means of escape.

Panic surged through him, threatening to overwhelm his already frayed nerves. He needed to find a way out, to escape the clutches of whatever malevolent force was lurking in his home.

His mind raced as he considered his options. He could try to wait it out, hope that whoever—or whatever—was outside his door would eventually give up and leave. But the scratching continued, growing louder and more insistent with each passing moment.

Time was running out, and Mark knew he couldn't afford to wait any longer. He needed to act, to find a way to break free from the nightmare that had trapped him in his own home. "Open the door, Mark," the Perpetrator’s voice insisted, its tone dripping with malice. "You know you want to know the truth."

“Shut up! I won’t let you lay a hand on her!” The human shouted from the other side of the door. “If you’re after me, then you can do nothing to her!”

The special Alternate's form wavered outside the door, its face contorting into a grotesque mockery of Cesar's features. "You fool... Do you think you can fight me? You think you can protect her?" it hissed, its voice dripping with venom.

"Stay away from Bubbles!" Mark snarled, grabbing his gun from beneath the bed and loading up his Desert Eagle. He had several bullets loaded in his ammunition, so it was enough for him to defend himself.

"She doesn't need your protection," it taunted, its voice echoing with a sinister undertone. "She's already lost. And so are you. You're trapped, and I know you'll eventually open the door."

"You don't know anything about Bubbles, my friend," Mark said, his voice steadying as he aimed a gun at where the Alternate was supposedly standing behind the door. "You're just a twisted, monstrous imitation."

It mocked, its voice oozing with false honey and sweetness. "Oh really? How about I help remind you that she pushed YOU away." The Perpetrator darkly chuckled, its voice switching to Bubbles, except a little more distorted than her voice. 

"Because you keep stepping into her uncharted territory. You're stepping into her precious little world that she must keep fixing because of YOU. You keep breaking into her little personal boundaries that push her buttons. That's why she HATES you."

Mark's blood ran cold at the Alternate's words, the doubt and fear gnawing at the edges of his mind. Could it be true? Had he been pushing Bubbles away without realizing it? Was that why she had distanced herself from him?

"No," he whispered, his voice barely audible over his heart pounding. "That's not true. Bubbles wouldn't hate me. She's my friend. She would never—"

"Ah, but you see," the Alternate interrupted, its voice dripping with malice. "You never really knew her at all, did you? You never saw the darkness that lurks beneath the surface, the secrets she keeps hidden from the world."

Mark tightened his grip on the gun, his hands trembling with anger and uncertainty. No matter how convincing the Perpetrator's lies sounded, he couldn't let himself be swayed by them.

"Bubbles is not your friend," the Alternate continued, its voice growing louder and more insistent. "She's a liar, a deceiver. And she'll do whatever it takes to protect herself, even if it means sacrificing you."

Mark's mind raced as he tried to make sense of the situation. Bubbles had always been there for him and Cesar, supporting them through thick and thin. Even though they met her and got to know her for a few weeks and a couple of months, she was still a good person to them. She would never betray him, would she?

“Shut up. Shut up! SHUT UP!” He clenched and gritted his teeth in frustration, denying what the Alternate spoke of. 

There must be another reason she distances herself from him and Cesar, right? 

She did mention that she was hiding something dangerous and the way she was crying… regret, fear, and sadness all in one before she forced them out of her house. 

Perhaps she was the magnet of the danger? Is that why…?

“She is neither of those! She isn’t!” The brown-haired male found his eyes filled with tears, in denial, and the painful pulsating ache of betrayal stirred in his heart. “She is… She is my friend! She is my and Cesar’s friend!”

“Say what you want, but you know it’s true~.” The Alternate smirked outside, relishing Mark's disbelief and confusion. “Can’t you hear your doubt in your voice? The uncertainty? Betrayal? This contradicts what you’re speaking of. Did you think you knew her at all? Didn’t you keep stepping into her little world of her own of selfishness, lies, and deceptions?” It asked as the Alternate’s voice switched between Cesar's and Bubbles’s. 

“Shut up… I know her… I do…” Mark trailed off, realizing the uncertainty and doubt of believing in Bubbles. “Just… Stop using my friends’ voice!”

“You didn’t.” Its voice went cold, mixed with a distorted Cesar and Bubbles’s in one instead of switching. “You’re never her friend if you don’t know her well. She didn’t trust you because of your interference. You keep stepping in her boundaries where she doesn’t want you to belong. Like I said… You were only scratching the surface of her shell.”

Mark's hands shook violently as he pressed his back against the wall opposite the door, the weight of the Alternate’s words heavy on his chest. Doubts swirled in his mind, a storm of fear, anger, and confusion. Every word the creature spoke clawed at his resolve, attempting to fracture his belief in his friend.

"You're lying!" Mark screamed, his voice cracking. "You don't know anything about Bubbles!"

The scratching outside the door ceased abruptly, replaced by an eerie, mocking silence. The human’s breath hitched as he listened, every second stretching into an eternity.

"Open the door, Mark," the Alternate whispered, its voice a chilling amalgamation of Cesar’s and Bubbles’s as one. "Face the truth. Open your eyes."

Mark's heart pounded a relentless drumbeat of fear. He couldn't let this monster win, couldn't let it poison his mind against his friends. He had to fight back, had to cling to what he knew was real. 

However, it’ll get him killed, and then Bubbles… will she even care if he’s gone?

No…

No…!

NO!

The brown-haired male shook his head. Whether she cared or not, survival was all that mattered to him. But he knows he can’t wait too long. He had to do something. Fighting was one option, but that’s instant death. Escaping through the window… too high for a height. Call for help… he already tried the police, but there was nothing except for static. He can try to call again, except…

The Celestial Artisan…

She’s got to be out there, somewhere, right!? Like what the news says, she hunts down these Alternates. She’s supposedly known as ‘God’s gift to humanity’ or ‘humanity’s hope’ to the entire Mandela County. But the thing is that no one knows if she’s some divine being. There were times that she was seen several times, but it was only if there was a significant presence of Alternates.

Pray.

That’s what the people say. 

Pray for God’s gift to come and save them. Mark was in religion, Christianity. So if something supernatural like Alternates exists, so does the Celestial Artisan’s divine presence, right?

Mark's hands trembled as he clung to the slim hope of salvation. His mind raced, trying to piece together fragments of belief and desperation. He remembered the whispered prayers of those who had survived encounters with the Alternates, the tales of the Celestial Artisan—God's gift to humanity. This divine protector intervened in their darkest moments.

The creature outside the door continued to scratch and taunt, its voice dripping with malice. But Mark forced himself to focus, to drown out the sinister whispers and cling to his faith. He dropped to his knees, his hands clasped together in fervent prayer.

"God," he whispered, his voice trembling with fear and hope. "Please, send your gift to save me. If the Celestial Artisan is real, if she's truly your messenger, please send her to protect me and my friends. I don't know what else to do. Please, help me."

The scratching outside the door grew louder, more frantic as if the Alternate sensed the shift in Mark's resolve. But he ignored it, his eyes squeezed shut, pouring every ounce of his faith into his plea.

"Please, God, help me," he repeated, his voice growing stronger. "Protect Bubbles and Cesar. Protect us all from this evil."

Seconds extended to minutes, which felt like hours passing to an eons. His heart sank as he felt a chill run down his spine, the doubt and uncertainty creeping back into his mind. 

Was his faith in the Celestial Artisan misplaced? Was there truly no hope for salvation? 

“M-M-Mark~” The Perpetrator’s glitchy voice switched back to Cesar's only. “Open the door and face the truth. I still got the gift~. Nobody is coming for you.” Its voice shifted between malice and fake sweetness. “NOT EVEN THE CELESTIAL ARTISAN WILL COME AND SAVE YOU.”

The brown-haired teen shook his head, trying to push aside the doubt and fear that threatened to overwhelm him. He had to hold onto his faith, to believe that help would come when he needed it most.

The scratching outside his door grew louder and more insistent, and his resolve wavered. He couldn't ignore the reality of the situation, couldn't deny the terrifying truth that he was alone and trapped with a malevolent force lurking just beyond his reach.

With a trembling hand, Mark reached for his phone once more, his fingers shaking as he dialed 911. He pressed the phone to his ear, praying for a response, for someone—anyone—to come to his aid.

But all he heard was the same eerie static, mocking him with its silence. Panic surged through him, threatening to consume him whole as he realized the futility of his efforts.

"No," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the sound of his own heartbeat. "I can't give up. I won't."

Summoning every ounce of courage he had left, Mark rose to his feet, his hands still trembling as he gripped the gun tightly. He knew he had to face whatever awaited him on the other side of the door, no matter how terrifying it might be.

Taking a deep breath, he approached the door, his heart pounding. With a shaking hand, he reached for the doorknob, his mind racing with fear and uncertainty.

But a sudden realization struck him like a lightning bolt before he could turn it. If he opened that door, he might never get the chance to uncover the truth about Bubbles, Cesar’s whereabouts, and the Alternate that now stood on the other side.

And as he waited, he whispered another prayer, a plea for salvation in the face of overwhelming despair.

"Please, God, send your messenger. Send the Celestial Artisan to save us from this evil. We need her now more than ever."

Oh, Mark… poor, little, clueless sheep. 

His friend is the ‘divine’ being.

But she’s drowning in her own sadness.

[chaotic-goodsir]

prompt 100 for curtwen?

Thanks for the ask! Despite my plans this ended up being much too long for a drabble and a little bit angsty for fluff, but here you go anyway 😅

(Shout out to the Curtwen song of all time Tongues and Teeth by The Crane Wives for some of the inspiration for this...)

*

Curt wakes in the middle of the night to find Owen isn’t there.

The realisation hits with a jolt of panic, and he’s wide awake at once. There’s no light on in the en-suite, no sign of Owen’s presence in the room except for the crumpled sheets on his side of the bed and the door sitting slightly ajar.

Curt scrambles out of bed, throwing on yesterday’s shirt that he left on the floor, and heads out into the hall.

The house is dark. There’s a bright moon outside tonight, and a pale glow reaching in through the windows, but none of the lights are on. Curt tries the study first, guest room, bathroom. His mother’s bedroom door is closed, and he can hear her snoring faintly inside.

He heads downstairs, all too aware that he can’t hear any movement except his own footsteps on the tiled floor. He wonders for a horrible, anxious moment if Owen has left the safehouse altogether, made a break for it now that Curt’s guard is down.

Then he sees the figure through the kitchen window, standing motionless on the drive.

The safehouse is close to the sea, looking out at the shoreline from this direction, so Owen’s shape is silhouetted against the moonlight reflected on the water. He’s wearing the blue plaid dressing gown that Curt’s mother keeps for guests, The light fabric flutters behind him in the breeze.

Curt opens the kitchen door. It creaks, and Owen spins around, startled.

He looks like he’s been crying.

Curt has only seen Owen cry once before, six months ago on a staircase while Curt held a gun trained on his forehead. Every day since, Curt thanks whatever god exists or cares that he didn’t fire that gun.

‘Hey,’ he says now. standing awkwardly in the doorway in his shirt and boxers. ‘I woke up and you were gone, so…’

‘I needed some air.’

‘Okay.’ Curt says, eyes falling on Owen’s hands shaking at his sides. Owen notices and quickly shoves them in the pockets of the dressing gown.

‘I’m fine, Curt. Please go inside.’

‘What if I said no? I mean, no offense, but I don’t exactly trust you not to run. And technically you’re on house arrest, so you shouldn’t be out here at all.’

He tries to make the last part sound light-hearted, but Owen doesn’t look amused.

‘Why should you care, if I did run?’ he says bitterly. ‘Wouldn’t that be for the best?’

Curt stares at him. He steps down from the doorway, but Owen turns away, looking back towards the shoreline.

‘You’re better off without me. So’s your mother. God knows she’s been a saint, putting up with all of this.’

‘My mom doesn’t mind.’ Curt walks up beside him and tries to put a hand on his arm. Owen flinches away so violently at the sudden touch that Curt’s chest aches.

‘That isn’t the point! And this is exactly what I mean. Everything you’ve both done for me, it’s because you want someone else, someone who doesn’t do that, for god’s sake. Maybe you think if you try hard enough I’ll change back, become that person again. But that isn’t how this works, love. And I don’t deserve the effort.’

He doesn’t look at Curt while he says it, just directs all his anger at the sea, which carries on its usual murmur of waves, indifferent to both of them. Curt watches Owen’s face screw up in frustration, watches his hands dart around as he talks, hears the private-school accent slip a little the way it always does when he’s upset. The way it always has done.

‘I’m not trying to change you,’ He says quietly.

Owen turns to look at him. From here, Curt can see the red in his eyes, the dark circles under them. Owen told him he’d been sleeping better recently - now he wonders if that was a lie, to get him to stop asking.

Owen shakes his head. ‘You really don’t have to lie to me.’

‘I’m not,’ Curt says, hearing his own voice crack a little. ‘There’s nothing I would change about you.’

He puts a hand on Owen’s arm again, and Owen doesn’t flinch this time - just looks down at it, frowning, like he’s never seen Curts hand before.

‘I mean I’d change what happened, yeah. All of it, if I could. But you… you’re still the person I love. I know you think you’re not, but I see it, even if you don’t. I thought you were gone, and now I have you back, and I wouldn’t change that for the fucking world, Owen.’ He can feel the tears on his face now, but he’s always cried so much more easily than Owen. There’s no point being ashamed about it. ‘Okay? So don’t you dare run off on me because you think you’re this – I don’t know, this monster or whatever. So what if you are! You were pretty messed up before and I loved you then. Why wouldn’t I still love you now?’

He's gripping Owen’s arm too tightly now, he realises. He lets go, stands there catching his breath after saying so much so quickly. He hadn’t meant to – the words just started pouring out, and he’s so tired of not telling Owen how much he needs him to stay. Now that he’s started he’s not sure he’ll ever stop.

For a moment Owen just stares at him, mouth slightly open like he doesn’t know how to reply. Then he seems to pull himself together, and smiles slightly.

‘Messed up before, was I?’ He says, raising an eyebrow.

See, Curt thinks. There you are.

‘Come on. You know it.’

Owen laughs, stepping closer. Slowly, he lifts a hand to Curt's face and wipes a tear from his cheek with the dressing-gown sleeve.

‘Then I suppose it would be true to character if I kissed you right now, in plain view, in front of your mother’s home, while you’re telling me I’m a monster that you nonetheless love?’

‘Oh, yeah. Definitely.’

‘Mm. Good.’ Owen says, and does exactly that.

[cinnamon-swirl-toast]

A Warning

Pairing - Matt Murdock x gn!reader

Summary - Uh oh! Matt is worried about you, taking the liberty of inviting himself into your home

Warnings - lots of Y/N use, home invasion?!

A/N - dudes this was one of my first stories like ever and i don’t know if i like it. comments and suggestions are welcome and appreciated:)

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

You had just came home from what seemed like the longest mission in all of human kind. You expected everything to be as it was and to see everything as you left it. Perfect.

What you didn't expect was your door to be open. You knew for a fact that you locked and dead bolted your door before leaving your apartment complex. You were 100% certain.

Preparing for the worst, you grabbed your extendable batton and stepped closer to your apartment door. You placed your back against the wall and gently swung the door open. You quietly tiptoed in and looked for signs of life.

You looked first in the kitchen, the room that the front door opens too. Making sure to make no noise, you checking your knifes. Nothing was missing. Thank God.

Next you made your way through the long hall towards the bathroom. You opened the door and used your extended batton to push back the shower curtain. Nothing.

The last place you checked was your living room. You didn't bother with the bedrooms because by the time you were done with the bathroom, you heard very quiet movement. You raised your batton, ready to swing, when suddenly a large figure stood before you.

You swung and made a direct hit at the side of the head. At least you thought so. Instead you felt a pair of hands on the other side of your batton, holding it still.

"Wow. What a way to say 'Hello'. Nice to see you again Y/N." said the pair of hands on the other side of the batton.

You recognized the voice immediately. Quickly you swung the batton out of their hands and collapsed it. "Murdock. What are you doing here so late?" To be fair that was a stupid question because in the moonlight streaming in from your big windows, you saw his Devil horns knowing he was on patrol once more.

"I don't know. Just thought I'd come visit. I kept knocking on your door, but I didn't get a response, so I let myself in. I hope you don't mind." he said with a smirk.

You glared at him hoping that he could feel the glare even though he couldn't see it.

"Ha ha. Very funny. I thought I told you I was on a mission and wouldn't be back for a few weeks?"

"Oh you did. I just figured you'd be back by now, or soon so I decided to surprise you."

You were confused. Matt and you were friends but you weren't the closest. So him just barging in and waiting for you like this was weird.

"What are you thinking about over there Y/N?"

"This doesn't make sense. You and me are friends but not like this? Why are you all of the sudden deciding to just randomly pop in?"

Matt sighed, thinking of the right words before speaking, "I think you're in danger. You've angered a few too many people and I think you should leave until I can get them under control. I don't want to see you hurt, especially from these people. And yes, I know you can protect yourself but I know for certain that they have tricks up their sleeves that neither of us know about. I wanted to warn you, tell you to leave the city until Foggy or I called you."

You stepped closer and took his hand letting him know you were listening and still here. "Thank you for being worried about me. And I would listen to you but I don't have enough energy to process this. I've been gone for 3 weeks and I haven't slept for more than 5 hours in those weeks. How about you stay the night and explain everything to me in the morning. I'll get the guest bedroom set up for you."

"Y/N I don't think that's smart. These guys are quick. They'll know you're back and get us both when we're at our weakest. I can't hear anything strange right now, but I have a feeling they're on their way." Matt sighed, "I think it's in your best interest to take your duffle bag and run. Don't tell me where or how, just run."

You really wanted to stay, but there was a concerning urgency in his voice, something that stopped you from arguing. You lightly squeezed his hand and moved towards your bedroom. Unlocking the door, you grabbed more supplies and clothes and went to the duffel bag you dropped in the hall. You packed everything tight and brought it inside with you to say goodbye.

"I don't know where I'm going yet, but it'll be far from here, I promise." you said with an exasperated breath.

"Thank you. I know this isn't what you want to deal with but it's for your own good. Foggy or I will call you, and I'll let Frank know what's going on too so he can keep an eye and ear out for you. Please call me if there's trouble."

"Of course." You hugged him lightly and made your way out of the door. You had no idea where to go and what to do, but you knew the first step was catching the bus.

As you sat down, you thought of what could possibly be going on, your mind racing before you rested your head on the glass. You decided you’d go and visit some out of state friends, a small smile growing on your face at the thought.

[daryldixonfanfiction]

a (Daryl Dixon) short story - pt.1

Masterlist

paring: Daryl Dixon x fem!reader

summary: Close to death on a stormy night un unknown archer saves her life.

*rewrritten

WC: 1.8k

Sume called it, ‘The end of the world - others, God's wrath if you still believed in that. Whatever it was It had taken everything and more…She knew her life would never be the same - that she would never see her family or the ones she loved.

It's been hours of this now, running and running even though the dead chasing her had been long since gone. She must be miles away by now. Away from the little house where they had been ambushed by a swarm of the dead, breaking in, tearing her family and friends apart one after one in their sleep. Only she made it out alive because her door was locked, giving her enough time to flee through her bedroom window. And sins then she had been on her own.

Sunset kissies its light upon the overgrown field. With every stride true the tall grass her beating heart drums in her ears - reminding her she was still alive. Everything hurt, her stomach aches with hunger, her legs burned and her lungs felt as if they had been set on fire. So many times she had thought of giving in, but then her voice within kept telling her, ‘it was just a bit further, prolonging the inevitable all would face in the end.

Fatigued, she heads into the forest. Night is coming in fast but she’s terrified of the dark. She missed the city lights, the sound of cars driving in the distance.

Maybe missing the small things, the things to be taken for granted was a sign of loneliness? After all she had knowone but herself.

As night grew darker, temperature grew colder. Lev's crunched underneath her feet, distracting her as she tried to breathe more calmly, but every breath was left awkward and shaky.

She followed the moonlight, glowing down from above. A dirt road leads her to an abandoned cabin. It looked worn and old as if it had been forgotten, left to endure the seasons to slowly be swallowed by nature. Somehow she had found a safe haven in the middle of nowhere and truly she was grateful to have stumbled upon this little place. She would not survive the night in the forest, not with the dead rominge in the shadows.

Sleep beckoned her inside.

Eyes grew heavy as she laid to rest in the little closet between the living room and the kitchen. With a blanket wrapped around her like a protective cocoon, it didn't take long before she drifted into a deep sleep and the solace of dreams.

Rays of light slipped beneath the closet door. Her eyes burned as they fluttered open, adjusting to the morning light. The ache in her stomach had grown into an empty hole demanding to be filled, and after turning the place upside down a can of baked beans were found.

Sitting crossed legged on the floor, content digging into her breakfast she leaned against the wall gazing up at the dusted window - and she knew she couldn't stay. Knowing if she had found this place - so could others and that meant trouble. And she was not looking for trouble - especially so being on her own. There was no telling how long it had been since she had seen another soul; the only ones were dead ones. After a while days began to bleed into one another and she had made no effort in keeping tracke.

Placing the empty can of beans on the wooden floor she began to collect supplies for the continued journey. It wasn't much but she would survive, she had to. Sumer was turning to fall and she could tell by the leaves beginning to turn yellow and orange. But the colder nights were the biggest tell sign.

Removing the big furniture barricading the entrance she gives the place one last look before stepping into the forest once more, leaving her one night of safety behind.

Angry flashes of light glowed through the forest.

Luck was no longer on her side, no cabin nor the moon's soft light guiding her to safety - away from the incoming storm and the horde chasing her down. Panice rose, followed by tears - because she knows - knows her legs will give up at any given moment. After all, she could not run forever. At one point she will have to stop for a breath and that would be the end of it.

Fleeing deeper into the forest. Terror aches bone deep as snarling sounds of the dead grew louder, hungrier. The decaying odor made her pail of the mear thought meeting her end. This was just like the night she lost everything, terrified beyond belief and there was nothing she could do but to run for her life. That is if she could keep it.

Darkness engulfed the night sky as the unforgiving clouds of thunder and lightning glowed angry flashes of wight. The groan of the undead grew louder, the sound of them dragging their decaying limbs down the ground, chasing her endlessly with their rotten teeth snapping in attempts to sink their yellowed teeth into her body of flesh.

Just for a second she looked back to see a dark silhouette of a monster right behind her, inches away. Then suddenly the monster took hold of her and everything stopped. She fell with a heavy thud getting the air knocked out of her colliding into the cold forest floor. The flashlight slipped from her fingers in the tumult. With palms flat against the dirt and leaves, grounding herself from the hard impact the monster beckoned her to give in, in its iron grip. It crawled on top of her, she closed her eyes and held her breath waiting for it to sink its teeth into her delicate flesh, to rip her apart until she would be unrecognizable.

The moment never came.

Suddenly, it fell limp to the ground beside here with a bolt embedded in its skull. And for a moment she wondered if she had hit her head when she fell?

The flashlight flickers before it dies out completely and she realized there was a tall, broad silhouette standing there.

Lightning lights up the night sky, revealing a man a few feet away. It was hard to make out what he looked like in the dark, but she could feel how intimidating he was. The man's face was hard and unreadable, hair dark and uncut falling into his dark hooded eyes staring her down. She didn't dare to move nor make a sound. She could feel his hard gaze boring into her skin and she waited for him to say something, anything but he seemed to make out the situation. The man's bild was strong and lean; she could tell by the sleeveless arms glistening with sweat when the lightning would strike occasionally in the background . If he wanted to harm her she would be defenseless.

Seeing the crossbow in his grip she knew it was his doing, it was his bolt that pierced its head. And she wanted to know why. Why did he save her and why is he out here? His chest breathed heavily against the fabrike of his button down shirt, out of breath as he had been sprinting.

Still on the ground she kept her eyes locked on the stranger and it feels odd to see another living being. Her heart pounds hard in her chest, anxious of what would follow this moment. His eyes scanned the tree line behind her, they lingered somewhere in the darkness of the forest, closing in on them with every second passing by.

There was this air about him, his presence of something she couldn't find the right words to describe. Who is he? She wanted to know what his name was, if it was as imposing as he looked. But then she thought of what his intentions were by saving her, if he expected something in return, if he was alone or if he belonged to a group, and if so if they were trouble or not? Her eyebrows came together as she stared and stared in an attempt to somehow read him but his face was hard as stone, giving nothing away.

-

In the moment of hope the girl Daryl had saved would be someone else…..Beath. In the dark their bodies looked similar but as he looked at her now, he knew Beth was no longer amongst the living. Not after the prison fell and what went down.

The rest of them he didn't really know, but he believed they didn’t make it. He felt like the last man standing. His deepest fear had come true. He had lost everything that had ever meant something. And the question, what was he now without them, haunted him.

It was on him - all of it. Everyone that had died that day felt like his fault, his responsibility, he was supposed to keep them safe, protecting them. He had failed them all and It was tearing him apart, weighing him down like weights in the pit of his stomach. He wasn't supposed to be alive. He didn't believe he deserved such luxury, thay were the ones who made him a better man, they were supposed to be here alive, breathing the same air he felt was suffocating him. But now he stood here with his lungs burning for oxygen and his body pumped with adrenaline to the tips of his fingers not knowing what the right thing to do or say was to the girl he had saved.

-

she could see the shift in his eyes.

The herd had caught up to them, revealing themselves from the shadows.

Then before she could blick he took hold of her wrist without a word, taking her along with him and with no energy left she couldn't do anything then get dragged along. But escaping from the dead didn't seem too bad at the moment.

-

Walkers emerge from the shadows. The reason the girl had been running and he could tell she had been doing that for a while. His heart beats harder, thumping in his ears and for just a split of a second he thought of leaving her. Saving her from being eaten alive, it didn't feel like his responsibility to save her, she was a stranger after all. But he knew he couldn't leave her. The choice was made that same moment his bolt went true its skull… saving her.

By instinct he did it without really thinking of the repocations, but it did feel right at that moment with the hope of it being her. But as the walkers came closing in, he could see her eyes widened with fear, her frame shaking on the ground, her lower lip began to tremble and her cheeks had a hint of pink, raw with tear stains. He couldn't find it within himself to leave her behind and he was sure if he did he would never forgive himself.

Grabbing her by the wrist, thay ran as fast as their legs would let them with his crossbow slung over his shoulder and his knife in hand ready to take down any walker who dared to cross their path.

Masterlist part.2

[cupsofsilver]

Outbreaks

by Kitchen McKeown

i search for god but the sun is a penny. looper moths form halos beneath the streetlamps. summer's ghostly curtains. check the weather. haze. i search for god but the moon is gone. i search for comfort, and the eels come. they cross my meadow every twilight, up to seven feet in length, traversing mountain napes with open eager mouths. the fires heaved them from the rivers, now they curve themselves across the precipice of life, toward black oceans. haunted yellow eyes. looper moths become a gentle cloud. i become an eel, then rethink it. i cough. reveal a wet moth. some gray little heart. it's all hazy now. pale as sunbleached wood, i go forth. in a slant of moonlight, i search for comfort. the neon 24-hour fried chicken sign gleams behind the pines.

i crawl in the moss. it is easy to find god. she is a cluster of eels beneath my palms. i ask of her, am i doing any of this life right? and she, with her many mouths, says nothing.

via Poetry Foundation

[bonniebird]

Stiles Stilinski x Fem!Reader  

Requested by Anon​

Halloween event

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Warnings: reader attacked, reader drugged, mentions of drugging, blood

When his phone started ringing, Stiles fumbled in his pocket as he watched the ambulance pull away. Lydia was talking with Parrish about the scene when she’d come across it.

“Yes?” Stiles said quickly. He hadn’t checked who called but he knew it was you the minute you spoke.

“Stiles?” You said quietly.

“What’s happened?” He asked. Your voice was quiet and fragile.

“Can you come over? I don’t know what happened. I woke up covered in blood.” You muttered. Stiles sighed and glanced at Lydia. She frowned over at him as she tried to gauge if he was upset or just stressed.

"Fine I’ll come over but if you’ve killed someone you’re digging the grave yourself." He said. He’d meant it to be a joke but you hung up on him immediately. Motioning to Lydia that he had to go she gave him a thumbs up and pointed to Parrish’s car to indicate she’d get a lift home from him. Stiles nodded and hurried to his car. The Jeep crunched and groaned as he sped through town. He jerked the gearbox and twice he managed to stall the car.

He pulled up on your drive and let himself in. There was blood everywhere. A lot of blood. He started to panic immediately.

“(Y/N)! (Y/N)!” He yelled frantically. He hurried through the house, trying his best to avoid stepping in the blood and spreading it further. He found you huddled in a corner of the kitchen. You were covered in blood too.

“What happened?” He asked.

“I don’t know. I went to bed and woke up down here with blood everywhere.” You insisted. Stiles nodded and reached for his phone.

“I have to call my dad but it’ll be ok.” He promised. You didn’t acknowledge him. Phoning him seemed to be as much as you could handle. You were practically catatonic when Melissa and his dad showed up. She looked you over while Stiles’ dad tried to find some kind of evidence that he could dismiss you as a suspect for whatever had happened while Stiles fidgeted at the sidelines.

“Oh god.” Melissa said quietly. She called Stiles’ dad over and showed him something in your hairline. His face turned grim, losing all of its colour.

“This is Sheriff Stilinski. I’m going to need a crime scene team out here asap. We had another break-in. Send an ambulance… There are signs of drugging like Parrish’s scene. Be advised that the house you’re coming to belongs to a person who has consulted with us in the past.” He said as he stood up. Stiles didn’t say anything. He didn’t even fidget. He stayed perfectly still as Melissa said he could take your hand. He didn’t let go. Even when they loaded you into an ambulance. He sat next to your bed as blood was drawn and people came to interview you. Even when Lydia, Malia, and Scott showed up he wouldn’t budge.

“I knew I should have picked you up on the way. If Lydia hadn’t been so freaked out. It’s probably why isn’t it?” Stiles said quietly as Scott came to sit next to him.

“Your dad says that the evidence is all in and it looks as if whatever did it was trying to frame (Y/N). There are claw marks on one of the windows in the basement. It's how it got in.” Scott said as if trying to be soothing. Stiles reached out and squeezed your hand. You’d started to doze off, feeling tired.

“What if it’s not just framing? What if it was a warning? A threat? They got right in the house. Besides, What kind of clawed monster needs to use a sedative to knock out its victims?” Stiles muttered.

Stiles tags:

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