#only if you like body horror though there is a list of trigger warnings at the beginning which is cool

[gods-favorite-autistic]

Actually no give me more women kissers in media I wanna see these girls hand them over

[samwhump]

a (very inexhaustive, wincest-heavy) sam whump reclist

@transfemmesam asked me for Sam whump recs a few days ago, and I've had other requests in the same vein before (I can't imagine why.../s) so I thought I would throw this together, since these authors deserve all of the love and support for their contributions to our li'l fandom corner.

like I mentioned in the title, this is not at all a comprehensive list; I have at least ~200 more fics in my to-read queue that could thematically fit here, but alas, I have stupid shit like a job and a body and a dog to take care of, so. I'm always happy to get recs along these lines, so if you notice anything important missing, hit me UP. (and don't take any omissions as any specific commentary by me -- it's likely I just haven't had the chance to read it yet, haha.)

disclaimers:

some (most, honestly) of these contain potentially triggering and dark content, including but not limited to rape/noncon, torture, and suicidal attempts & ideation. I have tried to note content warnings where applicable, and most of the works are hosted on ao3, so the tags should have most of the information you need to make an informed decision. that being said, tread with caution. all of the summaries provided are from the original author, with warnings added after by me.

the list is in alphabetical order and separated into wincest and gen categories. a lot of the gen is also focused on the sam & dean relationship, because...I am what I am. and what I am a sucker for these two dipshits. there is also a brief section at the end with a few fics that don't fit into either category.

gen

All That Goes Unspoken by amnesiawife:

A case forces Sam to confront something long kept buried. (Set nebulously in season 12.)

CW: discussions of past rape/noncon, victim blaming

Beneath the Trees 'verse by Lise (5 works total, starting with Beneath the Trees, Where Nobody Sees):

Sam doesn't go to Stanford. Everything goes downhill from there.

CW: suicidal ideation

a boy is a cage by ad_castra:

After expelling Gadreel from Sam's body, Dean thinks they're in the clear. If only they were that lucky. // S9 fic wherein Gadreel's grace causes some adverse side-effects in Sam's mind.

CW: past referenced rape/noncon, body horror

body of proof by Askance (doomcountry):

There are things Sam hasn't told his brother. They're all in the envelope laid on Dean's pillow.

CW: heavy discussion of past rape/noncon

break these bones 'til they're better by redskyatmorning:

After Sam’s torture at the hands of the British Men of Letters, the latest in a long string of violations, he is rescued by Dean and Mary – and forced to ponder his broken relationship with his own body. Months later, when Sam is resurrected and tormented by Lucifer yet again, Dean confronts Mary and Sam gets his revenge against the devil.

catching my death (staring out an open window) by ad_castra:

Sam gazes at the window, catches the faint pink hue tinting the sky. It’s so realistic - he could breathe in the fresh air if he were really here. ----- They got Sam out. Sometimes, just knowing that isn't enough.

CW: implied past rape/noncon

Death of Convenience by WilsonTheMoose:

It should have been easy. Wendigos are no joke but daylight slows them. The weather's been unpredictable though and perfect, idyllic hunts don't exactly stay that way where they're concerned. Or Sam has one card to play and never stops to think that Dean would care if he killed himself.

CW: suicidal ideation, references to suicide

Echoes of Hell by The_Nightbreaker:

It wasn't real. He wasn't in Hell anymore. That's what he tried to tell himself over and over. But two centuries of torture don't disappear in a day. Sam struggles with visions of Hell, fighting to maintain his grip on reality. Dean hates that he can't protect his brother from what isn't real—but curse him if he doesn't try. When the boys stumble on a case with ties to the Devil himself, will they be able to pull themselves together in time to stop the sacrifices? Or will the echoes of Hell finally overtake them? Aka, season 7, but the plot is Hell trauma, not leviathans.

CW: suicidal ideation

Evening Shadows by withthekeyisking:

Sam is hallucinating the monster who tortured him for nearly two centuries, Dean feels like he's failing his brother, and a diner waitress bears witness.

CW: past rape/noncon

Everything Dies Given Time by Lise:

AU from 5.03. Sam discovers something wrong with himself, and learns to live with it. Only a lot less functional.

CW: suicide/temporary character death

The Freedom to Be Loud by jribbing:

It hadn’t occurred to Dean that maybe Sam remembered so much about that little nowhere town because something memorable had happened there.

CW: referenced past rape/noncon

golgotha by redskyatmorning:

There’s a vacancy on the throne of hell, and Sam is desperate enough to save Dean from Michael’s possession to give into the abyssal depths of his own darkness.

Head Space by ameliacareful:

A witch curses Sam leaving him blind, deaf, and bedridden. Left with only the inside of his own head and the occasional touch, Sam begins to unravel.

CW: suicidal ideation

Hiraeth by inkandpaperqwerty:

(n.) a homesickness for a home to which you cannot return, a home which maybe never was; the nostalgia, the yearning, the grief for the lost places of your past "Dean... I made a really big mistake." For a second, Dean actually thought things were going okay. He was out of Hell, Sam agreed to stop drinking demon blood, they had just wrapped up a successful hunt... for once, everything was okay. And then it wasn't. "I overdosed." Not at all.

CW: suicide attempts, suicidal ideation

if i could leave (i would've already left) by serendipity0930:

“I have a mission from God for you,” the Angel whispers to the man. “It is time for you to do what you were born to.” The man’s face twists into a smile, delighted over being chosen by Him, a purpose from God digging into his heart, carving out a place to fester. “Hunt.” ... 05x03 AU where Zachariah is even more determined to keep the brothers apart and hunters are all too willing to take Lucifer's True Vessel off the board for good

CW: referenced suicide

It's A River (But Not In Egypt) by Lise:

He's still a liar. Maybe always has been.

CW: toxic Sam/Lucifer dynamics

Kindred Instruments by PinBitch:

They’re in a tug of war and Sam is the rope. He doesn’t need to be alive for that. OR Sam dies in detox, being flung against the walls of a metal box will do that to you. Dean and Ruby pick up the pieces.

CW: temporary main character death, permanent supporting character death

lazarus trick by katsidhe:

Sam's alive, so everything is gonna be okay. 13.22 coda.

Let All Mortal Flesh Keep Silence by Lise:

Sam's back. He's in one piece. That's the problem.

CW: self-harm

love is like ghosts by redskyatmorning:

I’m poison, Dean had said instead of I’m sorry. Well, Sam wants to say, what does that make me? What the hell does that make me? (A look into Sam's mind in the aftermath of the Gadreel possession.)

The Other Brother by RadioFriday:

Sam and Adam are pulled from the cage at the same time. Sam is not right, and Adam, stuck as his caretaker, is not pleased.

Oxygen by inkandpaperqwerty:

“Cas! Cas, please! Please, answer me! Cas!” Castiel ignores Dean for several minutes, but then Dean gives him an opening that might help him complete his mission. So, he goes to investigate, and what he finds is a very bloody, nearly dead Sam. Dean tells him where the injuries came from, and Castiel quickly becomes confused. It doesn't make sense, but Dean tries to explain it to him, and slowly... Castiel begins to understand.

CW: suicide attempt

Post Hoc, Ergo Propter Hoc by AmberSock:

Sam waits, kneeling, for his execution. What if Dean hadn't missed?

CW: temporary character death

Safety In Distance by GalaxyThreads and SpiritClusters:

The Mark of Cain is a brand of violence. Sam was an idiot to think that he'd be exempt from it, just because he and Dean are siblings.

sometimes a kind of singing by adi_rotynd:

Sam gets cursed. They're dealing with it. Jack can see souls. That one they're not dealing with quite as well.

CW: past referenced rape/noncon

Soul Windows by GalaxyThreads and Spirit Clusters:

A few months after his birth, Jack learns how to see souls. Then he comes to a realization about the Winchester brothers, Sam in particular, and it's not a pleasant one. (gen)

Starry Night by keepcalmsmile:

Sam attempts suicide-by-monster. Dean tries to help. It sort of works...until it doesn't.

CW: suicide attempts, suicidal ideation

such fragile, broken things by The_Bookkeeper:

Sam wishes that Dean would just get it over with already.

The Tale of Sir Galahad by keepcalmsmile:

Sam once said he could never be clean like Sir Galahad. Dean assumed he was just talking about the demon blood. Turns out, Sam was talking about something else too. WARNING: Extended discussions of the aftermath of rape and childhood sexual abuse (but NO description of the actual events). Happy(ish) ending, but potentially very triggering.

CW: past rape/noncon, mentioned CSA

They Hammered in His Teeth by jribbing:

Sam has a secret.

CW: suicidal ideation

today's troubles (are history tomorrow) by a_good_soldier:

"It's not really something I know how to share," Sam had said. In which Dean figures he ought to help Sam out a bit.

Touch and Go by themegalosaurus:

Tag to 9.19 (Alex Annie Alexis Ann) in which Dean realises why, exactly, Sam is so angry about what happened with Gadreel.

trust fall by ad_castra:

“I’m nothing like you,” Sam hisses. Nevermind relating to the anguish of going it alone. Nevermind that he knows what it is to be strapped down and forcibly cleansed against his will. Sam wonders if these trials are purifying Crowley as well. 

Words Like Glass by broken_cinders:

Dean never figured the cage wouldn't leave a mark. He was prepared for memories, flashbacks, and nightmares. He wasn't expecting the words Sam brought back with him or the way they made him seem just a breath beyond Dean's reach.

Wound and Unwound by fascra:

Sam stops eating spring of his freshman year.

CW: eating disorder

wincest (dean/sam)

Brittle by thecapn:

Sam Winchester has an eating disorder.

CW: eating disorder

Don't You Cry No More by sixtysevenlmpala (schittyfic):

The first time Sam gets badly hurt on a hunt, he doesn’t cry. Dean does.

Fall On Your Knees by dollylux:

Sam doesn't quite make it home on the last day of school before winter break.

The Fall Will Probably Kill You by killabeez:

Set between 7.04 and the aftermath of 7.07. Dean is not as okay as he'd like you to think. Neither is Sam.

CW: self-harm

Feels so good to feel again by Trojie:

The pain keeps Lucifer at bay, at least to start with.

Follow In Your Form by withthekeyisking:

Sam is hallucinating Lucifer in the wake of Cas bringing his Hell Wall crashing down. To make matters worse, it seems like this has his dormant powers flaring back to life.

Last Temptation by merle_p:

Sam is running a fever again, the kind of fever no Ibuprofen or cold compress will bring down, the kind of fever that is eating him up alive, eviscerating him from the inside. He is too hot and too cold and too pale, delirious and shaking, resonating with whatever divine energy the trials are subjecting him to, and Dean is not sure how much longer he can stand to see him be in this state. Because Sam is quite possibly dying, and there is nothing Dean can do to stop it. Because Sam is dying, and he just. Won’t. Shut. Up.

CW: mentioned past rape/noncon

leeches by Anonymous:

Sam discovers a spell to make everybody forget him. He’s convinced it’s for the best. Pre-Stanford.

CW: attempted kidnapping/torture

Make Thick My Blood by themegalosaurus:

“You’re going to kill me, Dean,” Sam says, eventually. And all Dean can say is, “I think I am.” A season 10 AU, set after 10x14 ('The Executioner's Song'). Cas finds a solution that might cure the Mark of Cain; but if they're going to go through with it, Sam has a terrible price to pay.

CW: mentioned past rape/noncon

Prophecy of an Abomination by ashitanoyuki:

Sam is kidnapped by fanatically religious hunters and crucified. Coming back from this won't be easy. Canon-divergent from midway through season 2.

Recall by De_Nugis:

Sam's having a hard time telling what's real and what isn't, especially when it comes to some voicemails from Dean.

The Room Upstairs by brokenlittleboy:

Sam comes back from hell, but he’s inside-out and all wrong, and Dean can’t fix him.

CW: mentioned past rape/noncon

Ruin You (and its companion fic Worth) by Mumble_Bee:

Cole fucks Sam with Demon!Dean watching from a devil's trap, snarling that anyone would dare touch what was his. “I told you I don’t care what you do to his face or his blood or his fucking nose,” Dean growled, “but you put your dick anywhere near him and I will end you.” “Better hurry up then, Dean, because I don’t think I can wait much longer.”

CW: explicit rape/noncon

Snowed In by HelloStarlingFics:

When working a case, Sam and Dean get stuck out in a shack in the woods when the snow comes in hard and fast. Trouble is, Sam’s hated the cold ever since the Cage. Time for Dean to step up and look after him.

Wake by minchout:

Gadreel has had Sam for four years, and Dean, lost in guilt and obsessed with finding a way to get his brother back, has isolated himself in a cabin in the Missouri Ozarks with nothing but the woods, a stray dog, some chickens, and all the books the Men of Letters had to offer to keep him company. Then Sam shows up one day without his passenger, and Dean learns quickly that it doesn't matter that Sam is with him again - there is still a lot of work to be done before they can find their way back to each other.

Wanting to Forget by morganaDW (morgana07):

1-shot. S1 fic. After getting Sam freed from the Benders Dean thinks all he has to cope with is some bruises and cuts. He learns quickly just how wrong he is when Sam wakes up with a nightmare, reliving his brief but bad captivity in every detail. Sam just wants to forget & Dean has to try to get him to let him help. Will one night of cruelty and pain ruin what’s been formed between them?

CW: referenced past rape/noncon

when I wake up I'm afraid, somebody else might take my place by quake_quiver:

Sam doesn’t remember the last time he cried for Dean like he did that night. And now it’s been…two weeks. Maybe more. Sam is tired, and in pain, and starting to doubt that Dean’s going to show up. He’s weak and shaking from a combination of constant pain and hunger. Sam longs for Dean. Dean would make it better. Dean would fix it.

CW: rape/noncon, body horror

Wire Inside Me by merle_p:

There are a lot of things Sam hates about his current condition, to the point where he sometimes feels for the gun under his pillow at night, blindly toys with the safety, imagines pressing the muzzle into the underside of his chin and pulling the trigger just to make it stop. But there’s nothing he hates as much as the shadows he sees in Dean’s eyes whenever his brother is looking at him these days. It’s not an expression he remembers ever seeing before, but Sam thinks it’s probably something like revulsion. Horror. Disgust. What else could it be.

CW: referenced past rape/noncon, body horror, forced pregnancy

Worth (and its companion fic Ruin You) by Mumble_Bee:

Episode 10x01 "Black" where Dean is a human, and very, very, pissed off to hear someone has hands on his brother. “It’s nothing personal,” Cole whispered into Sam's ear, too quietly for Dean to hear, “but I need to kill your brother, and I need him off his game when he gets here. I don’t wanna hurt you, kid, but I’m going to, anyway. I’m going to hurt you a lot."

CW: explicit rape/noncon

you'll never see us again by according2thelore:

Then finally, his eyes trail over to Dean. His pupils are pin-point thin, and his hair is straggling in his face so Dean can’t see most of what expression lies there. Sam usually wakes up from nightmares in one of three attitudes: confusion, fear, or calm. A scary, sense-prickling calm that Dean hates more than anything else. Resignation, almost. Or: Sam suffers from nightmares and touch starvation post-Cage. They do their best to deal.

other Sam/Lucifer noncon

Cage Fight (No Way To Do This Right) by Dyed_Red:

Sam’s visit to the cage is already going awry, but Dean’s one-man rescue ends up skidding it sideways into territory neither him or Sam are ready for. (Gratuitous episode scene re-write. If Cas hadn’t come till after, if he hadn’t been there yet when Dean ran down to the 'parole' cage after hearing Sam scream - how bad could it have got for the brothers before he made it?)

CW: graphic rape/noncon

Into Being by withthekeyisking:

When Sam wakes up in the cave on Apocalypse World after having been killed by vamps, it's not just to find Lucifer there with him. It's to find him in him.

CW: graphic rape/noncon, necrophilia, forced pregnancy

Reggie/Tim/Sam noncon

a pointless resistance for you by withthekeyisking:

Sam doesn't know how long he's been with Tim and Reggie by the time Dean shows up and tries to take him out of there. Long enough that's he's already lost one baby and is pregnant with the next. Long enough that this life is starting to feel like all he knows.

CW: graphic rape/noncon, forced pregnancy & miscarriage, victim blaming

screaming birds sound an awful lot like singing by withthekeyisking:

Sam has done his best to move past what Tim and Reggie did to him, pretending it never happened at all. But running into them again makes that very difficult—especially when Dean gets involved.

CW: referenced past rape/noncon

Waste 'Em All by withthekeyisking:

When Tim and Reggie try to force the demon blood down Sam's throat, he spits it back out. He has no interest in being turned into their own personal attack dog. They don't...take it well.

CW: explicit rape/noncon

[angellurgy2]

Pull The Trigger

your favourite freak's writing agaain! you ever wanted to read a story about a homophobic gamer boy getting doxxed and raped? well here u go! ^-^ part two coming soon

cw: noncon, forced gay, slurs, shit like that

sandstone brick, towering ahead. trapped in a corner, waiting, ak-47 comfortable in hand. listening, watching, pixel-perfect gaze. the soft pitter patter of booted footsteps approaching on sand. spin, shoot before you see. three shots of triple-round burst to centre mass. dead. 

multiple pings hit the wall ahead of him, pelted at while his back was turned. losing health rapidly. he flicks and sends his barrel spinning 180 in the opposite direction, blind trading fire. 

he screams into his bulky turtle beach headphones as the body in front of him ragdolls, screen blurring with bloody low health warnings. “YEAAAH FAGGOT, YOU LIKE THAT?”

he’s swiftly popped into the win screen, all chat and winner microphones switched on to offer a chance to flaunt or whine. 

[ALL] TriggerFinger: get GUD fags i’ll wipe u in the next one 2 lmao

[ALL] XxxGr1mR3eaperxxX: dude you suck u just got lucky

[ALL] TriggerFinger: i bet u kno a lot about sucking huh?

[ALL] TriggerFinger: just like your MOM

trigger clicks on to queue for the next game, a satisfied gleam plastering his face as everyone else is gone to the aether.

in the top left of his screen as loading screens trawl pops a message from an unfamiliar user. not on his friends list, rather it looks like they’re in the ‘recently played with’ section. probably just another noob coming to rage.

[PRIVATE] Anonymous-Specter: that was pretty rude, you know.

‘ThAt WaS pReTtY rUde-’ what a beta.

[PRIVATE] TriggerFinger: why shld i care? get a life faggot. lmao

[PRIVATE] Anonymous-Specter: you really shouldn’t talk to people like that.

this guy’s clearly got some form of retardation keeping him from getting the hint. but trigger’s got better shit to do. the loading screen for this game always takes so long. he grabs a pack of shrimp tempura cup ramen off the nearby shelf and fills it with day-old water from his water bottle, shoving it in the microwave for a couple minutes. he numbly trawls through social media feeds, doomscrolling the beautiful faces on instagram before that gets boring, then the stale porn on twitter, then the ragebait on 4chan. nothing satisfying his appetite except this one clip of some guy eating shit on his first try skateboarding, which too is ethereal in the drips of serotonin it gives.

ding!

he grabs his soppy steaming meal and brings it back over to his computer, stirring it with a stray fork before moving back into the screen. the first thing he sees is another message from the same person as before. he rolls his eye and opens the notification.

[PRIVATE] Anonymous-Specter: this you? 78.222.0.13

[PRIVATE] TriggerFinger: TF?? 

he thinks he’s so cool. trigger quickly tabs over to chrome, typing into the address bar ‘whats my ip ad-’ before it autofills. he clicks in, praying for the release of the little ball of stress slowing spreading in his chest. only to have it implode. IPv4… 78.222.0.13

ok. well, he’s probably just trying to scare you. theres not much you can do with a few numbers. he remembers the streamers he’s watched being ddos’ed and how freaked out they’d always get. he can’t find that humour in the angered horror on their faces now, though.

[PRIVATE] TriggerFinger: thats not my fuckin IP asshole. ur not funny

[PRIVATE] Anonymous-Specter: i think it’s pretty funny.

[PRIVATE] Anonymous-Specter: see you soon :)

trigger looks around his surroundings. nothing around, just the same open bland studio basement. mattress on the floor, check. couch, check. tv, check. tiny window that shows literally nothing but a foot of grass? check. its hard for him to hide the scowl of hatred at this empty rotting enclosure. shit, did you lock the door? he runs up and flicks it locked like how a child runs up the stairs when they’re scared a monsters behind them. not because of this ‘specter’ though. just normal precaution. he wouldn’t let another man take up space in his mind like that.

trigger sits. unable to pull his focus enough to start another game, or to divest himself entirely. stuck in a limbotic resting space. he grabs the monster can sitting on his desk - one of many - and pours it down his throat with anxious franticity. after staring at the screen for long enough, with nothing else he can see to do, he types.

[PRIVATE] TriggerFinger: What r u talking about? fuckin weirdo

10 minutes pass.

[PRIVATE] TriggerFinger: hello?

nothing at all. empty threats and childish games. who puts in that much effort just to cause a little scare? freak, probably a faggot too.

he sighs and switches over to spotify, plugging his favourite XXXtentacion album into his grindy bluetooth speaker and grabbing a pre-roll from his weed drawer. a rusted old lighter folds between his fingers. flick, flick. hot choking mist fills his mouth and then suffuses his screen as he blows it back into the stale air. he lies idly spinning in his gaming chair, puffing until its gone and until the words leave his head. empty.

but not for long, apparently.

a resoundingly loud knocking thuds at his door. earthquaking enough to shake him out of his seatlock. but the tremors remain, rocking through his veins. he gingerly lowers his eye to the peephole. a short man looks up from a foot away, holding some sort of black bag. this is it trigger, time to man up. he paces back with soft steps, pulling a steak knife from the block and holding it behind his back. no more games, this is real life. no more being harassed by that bitch landlord, no more bad looks when mom and dad visit. when the police find him beaten and you on top you won’t have to feel bad anymore.

he opens the door.

“Hello. uber for trig?”

he doesn’t remember ordering any food, was he really that faded?

“it’s… trigger. but that’s me, yeah.”

the man passes trigger an unlabelled brown bag from the bigger unlabelled black bag. something liquid seeps out of the corner.

“have a great night, sir!” 

trigger tosses the bag onto the table already scattered with trash. throwing the knife onto the counter along with it. being paranoid is the sign of a weak mind, you need energy. he thinks about the shrooms his bro gave him a couple weeks back, saved for a special occasion in a box under his bed. the devil and angel on his shoulders scream.

he examines the food. taco bell crunchwrap and spilled soda, amazing. he begins to clean it up right as a CLFBKGBNJ clanging from the kitchenette behind his back rings out. he turns to see a tall, muscley imposing man already towering over him from there. backing up slowly, like hes a blind animal that’ll pounce at any moment. 

“hey there.”

“hi???” his words spit out with a spiteful acidity, tantrumic. 

“you must be trigger.” his monotone face twists upwards into a cruel mockery of a smile. he examines trigger up and down, who shivers at being ogled like meat.

he hears his dad in his head. puff up your chest, faggot. you can’t let people walk over you like a little bitch all the time. he straightens his back, stops retreating. his voice mimics a tough deepness.

“you need to g-get the fuck out of my house.” 

specter tilts his head with curiosity. trigger can feel the aftershocks of monster and adrenaline crumpling his heart as he looks into the intruders eyes. a dark jade gazes back, blank. empty. like null space inside his skull, giving off only the aesthetic of a watching being. beyond the entrancing holes, partially hidden behind curtains of frayed brown locks, a jagged scar cuts through his face, curved and serrated with the impression of its assailant. 

“it’s not really your house though, is it?” 

trigger stares back dumbly. specter lifts up a chiseled arm and knocks on the roof, indicating where the landlord resides. “it’s theirs, really.” he takes a step forward.

“what’s your fucking problem man?”

another step back. guarding facade broken as quickly as it was put up. you’re weak. pathetic. he can smell it on you, just like they all can.

“here to give you an attitude adjustment.” he says it so monotone, like reading a script. as if you should know what that means. specter gives a wide scan of the interior. sizing up your crime scene? this won’t be going the way you think it will, buddy. “this is a pretty shit place you got here”

“not any more shit than the goon cave you probably got, bitch” 

the molded smile on specter’s face drops in a second. in 3 sudden steps forward he closes most of the gap between them, the air between the two grows cold. trigger has no choice but to back up more to keep the feeling of safety. the distance between handler and beast, but there’s no leash here. and there’s no medic to save him.

“listen.. s-specter? right?” he looks into those dead eyes with a quiver hes kept hidden for so long.  “i'm sorry i insulted you or- or whatever i didn’t mean it okay? that’s just online shit, this isn’t real.”

specter takes another wordless step, and trigger hits the wall. this isn’t real.

“why so quiet all of a sudden?” his hand reaches out and cups triggers chin, his face too frozen with animalistic chemicals to react. forcing trigger’s weak inebriated gaze to meet his, dead yet malevolent. “are you scared of me?”

trigger spits in his face. “you- couldn’t. scare me.”

untrimmed nails dig sharply into the base of his skull. “i will.”

“my dads the chief of police. you don’t wanna do this.” he tries to put on monotone the best he can, head as swirly with emotions as it is.

specter chortles. “no he’s not”

the music emanating from trigger’s desk scratches hard as it changes into a fast-paced track. specter’s eyes and ears twitch in its direction like a bat.

“this is what you listen to?” his smile almost looks genuine this time. he gestures at the ground below them. “stay here.”

he turns and moves to walk past trigger, when he jumps into action, leaping at the man with a guttural yell.  “AA-”

immediately cut off by searing blunt force ripping through his gut, sending him crumpling to the floor with the force of extraneous gravity. so you’re a warlock, subclassed into gravitational magic, is that it? he gets up onto his hands and knees, a trail of saliva connecting his lips to the dirty linoleum floors. he chokes on each breath he tries to take in. the pain is unlike anything his soft and unexplored body has experienced before. 

specter walks away to the booming speaker, pulling out a black rectangle from the pocket of the black jeans sticking to his legs.. the speakers switch to a new track, unfamiliar to his ears. some kind of aggressive rapping, underscored by a metallic sharp noise groove. he tries to listen for words, analyzing the rhythm and slotting it with memories of other songs to try and figure out what it is. but before he can comprehend the first words to come out, a rigid boot crashes into the side of his ribs.

dazed on the ground, heaving for the little pieces of air that’ll fit through his trachea, cartoons birds twirling over his head as he stares up into the ceiling. 

a sharp sound cuts through his stupor. “you’re funny” says specter, “i really thought you’d have more fight in you.”

PHWACK. the sound of some elastic material slapping against skin, a black glove clinging to specter’s boney hand.

trigger’s shocked by the feeling of cold on his bare stomach, face twisting with rage but the rest of the body betrays him with frozen fear. specter begins to slowly lift triggers shirt, feeling up his concave flesh with rubber digits.

specter flinches back as a red handprint manifests on his cheek. i wasnt even thinking i didnt mean to i just-

a vice grip takes hold of his windpipe, holding it hostage. the hand begins to rise upwards, holding him against a wall that wasnt there two seconds ago, and then he has to fight with his noodlish body to stand up before it rips his throat right out. “you’re so weak. how did you make it so long, bullying people like that?” his other hand then puts itself to use. the cold rises up triggers body slow and nerve-wracking. he tries not to feel it and to just keep his eyes on him. the tangible, hurtable, beast. 

his mind lags from his body, not realizing he’s on the ground before he already is. terrifyingly strong knees spreading his legs apart ever so slightly, invading hand-shaped ghosts pinning him into the dirty floor face-first. months of uncaring habitation coming back to bite him in the ass all at once. his eyes jump from little pieces of dust and crumbs, filling his vision more than their existence is intended for. brought low with the trash. maybe you should’ve listened to mom.

a bottle squirts loudly out of his sight. he tries to spin his head around but he’s just met with increased pressure on his neck, pinning him down like meat on a butcher’s table. fuck this. thrashing out with all the strength in his limbs- it forces specter to change up his positioning, but even then you can’t make a single scratch, slapping at this very real intruder like a whiney little girl. 

“stop it.” he says it like he’s talking to a petulant child, dry and tired.

“fuck you! get off me!” 

a rubbery object shoves itself down his throat as he opens his mouth to yell more obscenities. fingers ripping open his jaw, dispelling his pleas into inhuman garbling.  

“reht rre throo!” 

he looks around, there has to be something he can do. everything is dark blobs because of his eyes wetting from the fingers assault of his uvula. heavy whispers assault the back of his neck, venom in his blurred ears. “i could take out a tooth. how about that?”

he shakes his head, as much as he can crushed between these manly hands. 

water trickles down from the corners of his eyes. fuck, don’t let him see you crying, that’s the ultimate defeat. man card revoked. the only benefit of this positioning is that only the tile can see your face’s treason.

the hand abruptly leaves and moves back to the rest of his body. not preferable, but at least now his eyes will stop coating themselves in water. there has to be something on this floor somewhere if he can look. 

blood coats his vision. bloody floor, bloody nose, face shoved into a pool of it. he can feel his nose contort under the hard material, head bouncing off it with a loud crack.

‘look’, you shouldve known better. thousands of hours of experience watching torture scenes in COD, and you think he’s gonna give you a break? you’re not the shooter like you thought you were, you’re just the dead russian snitch. 

slender hands dip under the waistband of his sweatpants, threatening with slow dragging downwards. fuck, he is a fag. so much screaming in his head, be a man be strong fight back faggot stop being a fucking BETA. but the weak trembling in every inch of his nervous system won’t let go. the part that knows what you are. weak little soyboy. shit, was it the burger king? he looks at the softness of his tiny arms splayed out in front of him, thinking back to all those impossible whoppers he had during that first (and last) year of college. sure there were the conspiracies but- he had to lose some weight and it was right next to his dorm and surely a little bit of hormonal meat couldn’t hurt anyone. well, apparently not. he shudders at the thought of all those tiny little girl particles running around in his bloodstream.

coldcoldcoldcoldcold fuck. something cold and wet drips down his ass, sending rippling twitches through his body. something small pokes and prods, forcing the wet inside, already he feels speared through, he has to purposefully hold his face together to not burst into open sobbing. 

“shhh sh sh. it’s okay. you’ll take it.” 

it pulls out, a hot emptiness filling all feeling. another squirt, and more wetness shoved so deep he cant handle in the choking cries. “please. please don’t. i don’t- i’m not-” cut off by the finger pulling out again, leaving his hole gaped. “Fuck stop im not gay pleasepleasepleasepl”

a sweaty palm wraps over his mouth.

something warm and hard and fleshy begins to rub circles around his hole. pressing up so close his breath hitches in fear it might go in and then pulling back and then repeating.

“be a good boy and stay quiet, trig.”

pushing pushing pushing pushing pushing pushing

“HEEEEELPP WAIT PLEASE SOMEONE HELP ME PLEASE HELP NONONONONONONO STOPP#&$*%9

&$#%^#^%)#!($#$^%

##&% %%#(% %$$*$#&

*#$&$THELP

* * *

specters hard chest presses up close and warm against trigger’s back. hot, heavy breathing forces its way into his ear. they stay there for a moment, frozen in time. a breaking point cut, getting a cinematic view of his own ruination. what a shitty fucking movie this is. 

“mmhng-” specter pulls back, breaking the trance, almost making trigger wish he would’ve just stayed inside. he grunts at the feeling of trembling boyflesh seizing on his cock, shaking with each inch moved in either direction, clenching for dear life. he grips a handful of trigger’s hair and pulls it back, forcing his limp and drooling expression into specter’s vision.

 “so, what was it?” the burning rod of pressure starts to move faster, thrusting with detached force, muscular hips bouncing off trigger’s ass. “dad beat you?” another assault forward, enunciating each bit of words with the slapping of their flesh. “mom molest you?” it hurts sososososososososo bad but he cant feel anything other than the pain nothing but searing waves of some long-forbidden feeling. “or- fuck- you just get bullied too much in those squishy formative years?”

boiling hot rain streams down his face, terror burning his eyes blind. choking sobs spit out little bits of snot and saliva pooling with his tears below him in a sad filth soup. 

“oh c’mon-” specter reaches in closer, thoughtlessly pushing his cock into a switch that turns triggers legs to jelly. a waterfall of tears overlaid with shameful noises, the kind he’d before only ever heard through the speakers of a computer. each one abrading his will even more. he was supposed to be on the other side, not this. anything but this. 

“please stop”

“it’s too late.” his hand brushes triggers cheek, mimicking a comforting motion with uncomfortable skin, “you can never take back what’s already happened… and what’s about to.”

[amyispxnk]

I'd do whatever I could do

Summary - you're staying with Joel now, trying to figure yourself out and leaving the QZ to visit some of his friends

A/N: oh my god, I finally did it y'all - finally made the part two for this 👏 Also, I was going through the lyrics of this song and I kind of realised just how daddy issues Joel it is. I'm not gonna list them, but there are definitely a good few lines that stuck out to me. A part 3 might be simmering. We'll see.

Pairing: platonic/father figure!Joel Miller x f!reader (could probably be read as GN tho?)

Word count: 1.8k

Warnings: violence, mentions of past abuse, PTSD, alcohol mention, language, angst, pet names, comfort, paternal issues, very brief mention of a gun

DO NOT COPY THIS FIC IN ANY WAY PLS AND TY.

Part 1 here

You reckoned you had stopped really taking the words in a few seconds after he slammed the door behind him, immediately shrinking back into the couch where you'd previously been sat staring into space, whilst he told you things about his day.

Your eyes darted up at him quickly, lip quivering already. You still didn't know exactly why. Why small things like him touching you too abruptly, raising his voice (never at you, but for some reason it still affected you), loud noises like a door slamming, affected you. But they really did, and he'd come to notice it after only a few days of you staying with him.

--

He came back home after a long, difficult, tiring deal. Since your arrival and staying at his place had been so recent, his old habits remained. One of them was to practically shout and stomp his foot in anger as soon as he got back from a trade went south, a bad day out.

"Fuck!" He had gritted through clenched teeth as he threw his bag on the floor, deadset on getting into the kitchen to his whisky to muffle the frustration of the day.

You froze in complete fear and horror as he rounded the corner, his eyes immediately falling onto your trembling figure, clutching the little food packet in one of your hands as your own eyes stared back at him, bulging out of their sockets.

"Shit." He muttered to himself, taking a few steps towards you - not expecting you to immediately drop the packet and raise your hands in front of you, almost cowering before him.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry Joel p-please, I don't-" You stuttered, eyes welling up with tears as you flinched when he took another, more careful, step towards you, already apologising even though you didn't know what you had done.

"Hey, hey, hey. 's okay," he soothed. "C'mere sweetheart. It's okay." And somehow the sound of his voice, so gentle just for you, comforted you immediately.

You stepped into his open arms, body shaking hard with sobs as you choked on your own tears. "I'm sorry." You said, muffled into the fabric of his flannel.

"I told you it's okay. What happened, sweet girl?" He hugged you tight, right hand coming up to rub soothing circles into your back.

"I don't know." You murmured, unsure of what set you off so badly.

"It's okay baby, we'll figure it out. You're okay now."

--

That was the first time it had happened, now you were here again. He'd slammed the door, although he wasn't angry. It was just something he did out of habit to ensure it closed properly, but after he saw you shaking like before on the couch, his brows knitted in worry.

"What's wrong?" He asked, a hand coming to rest on your shoulder as you turned to face him slightly, jolting - not as aggressively as you used to - at the touch.

"Nothing. Just- you slammed the door. I think it's one of those.. trigger things you were talking about."

Naturally, Joel had racked his mind and scoured the dozen odd books he had in his apartment to try remember anything about this kind of mental health issue and the things you'd gone through, finally landing on some sort of PTSD. He'd explained it as best he could to you, telling you that the things like someone raising their voice at you and loud noises were 'triggers', things that reminded you of the times with your dad and made you feel that same fear you'd feel with him all over again.

"Right." He nodded, brushing your hair back and out of your eyes a bit. "'m sorry, sweetheart. I'll try not to do it again, yeah?"

You hummed a noise of agreement, making a space beside you for him to sit down on the couch.

He did so and cleared his throat. "Got some news," he began "'s nothin' big, really. Just thought you oughta have a bit of notice."

You turned to face him a little more as he looked up and met your eyes. "I have this deal, with a guy in Lincoln, and I'm due to go see him next week." He told you.

"So.. you're leaving?" You questioned, trying not to seem too hurt by it.

"No, no. I mean- if you don't want to come with me, then yeah, but I'll be back within the month. I just.. don't feel too safe leavin' you here." He explained, and you nodded.

"I don't want you to go. I'll- I'll come with you." You mumbled, and he gently tilted your head up to face him again.

"You're gonna be okay out there? Y'ever been out of the QZ before?" He asked. If you hadn't ever been outside then things could be quite difficult. It would be scary for a young thing like you. Not only that, but you had your triggers, and the gunfire paired with the infected would surely set one of them off - that's why he'd tried putting the entire trip off, but he had to go. That was how he made his living around here, he needed those supplies.

"Mmhm. I've also killed a few infected before, if you're worried about that. Not gonna be completely useless, I'd say." You said with a small chuckle, leaning into his touch subconsciously.

"Okay." He nodded, stroking your cheek gently before standing up and going over to the kitchen to make something for dinner. "And you're not useless, sweetheart, not at all."

-----

Bill and Frank. That's who they were. Bill was the guy he actually had the deal with, Frank was the one who'd convinced Bill to go along with it in the first place. Frank was the nice one, Joel had told you.

He'd explained a bit before you'd left and more when it came up in conversation as the two of you walked. In and out of forests, weaving between trees, trudging down dirt roads and kicking rocks, on your journey to Lincoln.

A journey that you still would've been able to complete within a day on foot, but that was before the apocalypse. Now there were buildings falling over eachother, and guards near your place of departure which slowed you down, and clickers and the likes which ensured you had to be completely silent in your movements, extending the time of your journey by at least 50%.

You watched as he slaughtered them all though. It should have scared you, at least a little, but it just amazed you. Admittedly, it had shaken you when you saw him completely beat one of the FEDRA guards to death when you were making your way out of Boston. You'd been caught, a guard that wasn't supposed to be there was there and Joel wasn't careful enough.

Things were almost okay, you probably could have haggled your way out of that situation, but when the soldier made a comment about you, a comment about what they might do to a 'bad girl' like you for sneaking out of the QZ, he had simply seen red. He didn't even know he had lunged for the man until he was on top of him, the crunch of the soldier's jaw and Joel's fist coming down on his face bringing him back to reality.

He was protective of you, and rightfully so, and you didn't even care how aggressive he could get with it. He wanted to keep you safe, and would go that far for it, therefore he cared about you. Someone actually cared about you.

"Okay, I think we're gonna stay here for the night." He said, pulling you out of your thoughts as you gave him a small smile.

"Okay."

You both set up a makeshift camp, eating whatever you could spare from your stash of food before getting ready to go to sleep - him denying your offer to take watch like he did before and he'd do everytime.

You sighed, walking off and quickly settling into the sleeping bag, melting into it and relishing the warmth it offered you as you hugged yourself to sleep, body heat almost suffocating you but in a comforting way.

--

When you woke up, you thought you actually were suffocating, throwing the cover off of you and crying out his name, the only person you could think of to save you. He was going to get you, he was back, he was coming for you and he'd never leave you alone, he'd take you from Joel and then he'd k-

"Hey, hey. That's not gonna happen, sweetheart, come on, come over here." You didn't realise you were saying those things out loud but it didn't matter as you crawled out of your sleeping bag, letting him pull you into his lap as he cradled you, rocking you back and forth as he kissed your head.

"It's okay, it's okay. Did ya have another nightmare?" He asked, voice calm and low as he tried to comfort you and calm you down.

You nodded quickly, sniffing and breathing erratically as you did.

"Sweet girl. It's okay now, it's okay." He reassured you, hugging you tight and pressing more kisses into your hair. "I won't let anything happen to you, you know that."

"I know." You said quietly, voice cracking as you wiped at your tears. "I'm sorry." You said, somehow in a voice even quieter than before.

He sighed, breathing slowly and deeply - something he knew helped, as he noticed you'd start breathing in time with him to ground yourself, regulate your own breathing during these situations. "Don't go and apologise when you haven't even done anything wrong, sweetheart. You're going through a lot and you're probably still processing everything that happened, it wasn't that long ago when you were still.." he didn't want to remind you of anything too sensitive, trailing off slightly. "Point is, it's all fairly fresh, and it's natural things like these nightmares are gonna be happenin', so don't apologise, okay?" He said, looking into your glossy eyes and brushing your tears away.

"Yeah. I'm-" You were already going to apologise again, making him frown slightly. "Thank you, Joel."

"It's okay. You try get some more sleep now, okay?" He gently helped you off his lap and pulled the sleeping bag back on top of your body, knees cracking as he got back up to walk away to where he was taking watch - when your voice called out for him again.

"Can you stay with me? Please, Joel? I'm just- I'm scared." You mumbled, face growing hot with embarrassment at how pathetic the question felt now you were speaking it aloud.

He pressed his lips together, turning his head to check the area once more before getting his own sleeping bag, placing it by yours, and resting his arm behind your head as you tucked your face into his chest.

"Goodnight." He said softly, stroking your hair slowly.

"Night, Joel." You mumbled into the soft fabric of his shirt, before passing out again, leaving him to lay alone with his thoughts in the cool night.

Thank you sm for reading, I hope you enjoyed! Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated and requests are open! 💞

Tags - @rosierogie @jjlevin

[earthpleasures]

BUTTERFLY'S QUARREL WITH THE GALAXY !

Prologue | butterfly's quarrel with the galaxy

Summary: After being saved by Cedric, you two made a list of hope for you.

Warnings: swearing, suicide attempt, mention of scars.

Word Count: 1.7k

dividers by @benkeibear

Y/n once read in a holy book, though she didn't remember which one was, it said: “On the Day of Judgment, the stars will fall upon the earth.”

In her dreams, stars fell upon her, coating her in light and dusts of hope. Maybe that was why they were called mere delusions, real life was much more cruel than dreams.

Y/n've been witness of many things, endured endless torture of her so-called family to the point there were nothing but Annie left inside her brain.

Do it for your sister.

How can you be so selfish?

What about Annie's reputation?

Everything lead her to this moment, a final decision on attaining peace.

She looked down at the foothills of Hogwarts from astronomy tower, sharp rocks stared back at her. There would be no return from this fall, one slip and every agony of this unfair fate is gone. Cold air was crushing her lungs as she took deep breaths to give herself at least a sliver of courage.

No one would care even if she was gone, only upsetting thing would be absence of a slave for her sister. The role crafted for her was tiring enough not to consider any possibility of leaving someone behind.

Her hands trembled when they reached for the railings. Metal was icy as it was biting her skin. Nibbling at her lower lip, she set one of her feet on the other side of railings. Harsh wind blew her hair to her face, blocking her view partially.

Initially, she reconsidered her decision. Maybe life would give her another chance to get her mind and youth back. However her sister's words and parents’ abuse played non-stop like a record in her brain. They had no intention of setting her free.

“Hey, what are you doing?”

A soft voice interrupted her inner debate on jumping down or stepping back to safe borders of tower. Cedric Diggory's worry filled green eyes scanned where she stood. He cautiously took a step forward to prevent her from panicking.

“What does it look like, genius?” Y/n spat while her grip on railings unconsciously tightened. A part of her didn't wanna die. A part of her wanted to walk on a way flooded with happiness.

“Does it really worth, Y/n?” He was almost halfway through the distance between them. She didn't even realize him getting closer as her eyes focused on his handsome face. It was strange, golden boy of Hogwarts knowing who she was, a meek girl like her.

“Oh you have no idea how much it will worth.” She laughed in pain, something about taking a second shoot on her conclusions was quite scary and unsettling. Thinking more meant to calculating more, which would lead her to eventually regret even coming here.

“C'mon, we can talk about it. I can listen to you and your troubles.” He slowly raised his hand to hold her arm. His action triggered her ready-to-activate panic. She recoiled, her hand accidentally letting go of what she was holding onto. Horror flashed through her face. She was really going to die.

Cedric's breath choked up in his throat as he launched forward. His fingers wrapped around her wrist before she fell backwards. He pulled her as hard as he can to himself. Their bodies collided, meeting with hard floor of tower while tangled to each other.

Her chest heaved with reality of what was about to happen if Cedric wasn't fast enough. She could've been there, body thorn to pieces. At that moment it didn't matter how foreign she was to him. She buried her face to his chest as tears wet his sweater. Cedric sighed with relief after closing his eyes.

His fingers gently fidgled on her hair, waiting for girl to calm down. She was literally having a histeric episode by the way her shoulders shook and hiccups teared her throat. He first propped on his elbows to fix their position, then he completely straightened his back.

Y/n sobbed, she didn't care what Cedric thought about her crying in his arms or her clinging to a boy she barely knew by his name.

“It's okay, I am here. Just let everything bothers you out.”

That was what she needed. Just a few words of sympathy instead of being dead. Her vision was blurred with tears as she looked up to him. “I am sorry for burdening you with myself.” He smiled softly.

“Don't be sorry, be happy because you still can say these words.”

About ten minutes passed for her to completely calm down, and her mind to function without mislead of horrible thoughts. Now both of their backs were pressed against the wall beside the door. For the first time in her life, she actually looked at the stars and admired their beauty.

“Family problems?” Cedric's curious voice cut the silence engulfed roof they were sitting on. She pulled her knees against her chest and wrapped her arms around them. The obvious scars left by a sharp object immediately drew his attention to themselves. However, he managed to hold his tongue back and didn't blurt an inappropriate question.

“Is it that evident?” Her voice cracked mid-sentence while she wiped the tears off her cheeks.

“I mean, you don't seem to be type of girl that would throw herself from astronomy tower over a boy or stupid friends. It can't be because of your grades, because if I remember correctly, and I always do, you have quite good grades.”

She arched her eyebrow as he finished his last sentence. “You seem to observe me a little too much for a person who never knew me personally.” He averted his gaze back to navy blue sky.

“Well, I must admit you striked my curiosity even before this… situation.” Y/n let out a half hearted laugh. “How so?”

“Once I sat next to you in one of our classes together. I saw your drawings, and the butterfly shaped birthmark inside your wrist. I really wanted to ask about the drawings, especially the butterfly and girl ones but you seemed to be very tense. Like, one word and you were going to punch me.”

This wasn't the answer she was expecting. Any memory of Cedric Diggory sitting with her didn't even exist in her mind. Mayne her expression was the thing gave away her shock because he narrowed his eyes what seemed to be offense.

“You don't even remember, do you?” She shrugged since she had no answer that would make him happy.

His eyes stayed still on her face for a few seconds, taking deeper into her reckless expression. “How we make a deal?” Y/n stopped peeling concers of her nails and looked back at him. “What deal?” He smirked.

“Let's make a list of ten things to make you happy.”

She grimaced with idea. Her happiness lied with getting away from that nightmare like house. However it was impossible, atleast for now.

“You have to take me out of that hell of family, which is not something you're not capable of.” She murmured last part to herself. At this point, every offer seemed pointless to her.

He sat straight and gathered his legs under himself. “Don't be such a pessimistic. I am sure you have things you wanna do. For example, do you like books? Let's find the thickest book in library.”

She couldn't help but smile. “You're annoyingly optimistic. I think… it's likeable.” He clapped his hands with joy. “Then we do the list.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

He pulled a notebook and pencil from his pocket, it was small enough to find inside his palm. She narrowed her eyes to see patterns on the cover better. “Did you really bring a notebook here?” He answered while flipping the pages. “I always have a little notebook with me. Sometimes I write my random ideas or thoughts.”

She rolled her eyes. “Sounds like a hassle.” He stuck his tongue out to her to make fun of her, causing her to laugh without even noticing. “Maybe we need to get idea of being optimistic to your head first. Anyways. Start with hobbies.”

She tried to filter her hobbies from tons of things she liked to do. “I like… going out to walk in school's garden, exploring Hogwarts, stars, books, practice to smile.” He stopped writing. “Pratice to smile? Interesting hobby, butterfly.”

“Butterfly?”

“Yeah, like the birthmark on your skin. You're a caterpillar now.”

“That's rude.”

“Don't interrupt me, Y/n.”

“Sorry.”

“You're a caterpillar right now, but I will help you to tear your pod out and fly free.”

She snorted. “Are you reading too many philosophy books?” He poked her cheek with back of the pencil. “Try to think metaphorical, it really helps to be creative.”

“Okay, anyways, golden boy. I like lying down in common room of Gryffindor, and lastly, watching people and trying to guess their moods.”

He finished writing, satisfied with the result. Turning the notebook to her, he made sure her to see yellowish paper properly.

“I've made a list regarding your hobbies.”

She snitched the notebook from his hand and began to read his notes and takes on her. His thoughts about her made her smile time to time.

“So, that's the list. When are we starting?” Cedric scratched his chin. “Tomorrow. Do we really wait more than a night?”

Her thumb brushed against little poorly drawn doodles on corner of paper. “No, we don't. I hope we can complete the list.”

“See? That's an optimistic view.”

“Sure it is, though I can't battle with you.”

Cedric pressed his lips together as one more idea crossed his mind. “We should name it.” Y/n raised her eyebrow. “Is it necessary tho?” He furrowed as revised their options. “Of course it it! And I have the perfect name. Butterfly quarrel with the galaxy.”

She almost let out a histeric laugh. “What?” Cedric held her hand tightly as if he was preventing from escaping. “And butterfly is gonna win the quarrel.”

“You're really strange, Diggory. Even more than me.”

“Are you complementing me?”

“No.”

“I will take it as a compliment regardless.”

“Cheeky bastard.”

“And you already begin to like this cheeky bastard.” He smirked knowingly, making her smile to.

That night, moon witnessed a strange pair of two people come together. For better, for worse. Who knows?

@2024 earthpleasures do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[onyxrider]

Cursed obsession **Part 2 ! **

Part 1 listed above 🥵

Synopsis: in this part 2, you will seek out Sukuna's intentions and try to keep him suppressed under your rule.

Warnings/triggers: smut 18+, MDNI, choking, double dicks, restraints coarse language, true form, use of the word "master", gagging.

Word count: 2,942

Grappling Sukuna's tied, paralyzed body, you hoist him over your shoulder and trudge up the twirling flights of stairs. These stairs have never hindered you before, but the weight of sukuna’s powerful frame pressing down on you, with his muscles tense and unyielding, made it a tiresome walk.  Almost to the top, you retire for a short breather, propping up sukuna against the stone wall, his eyes burning in defiance as he fixes you with a challenging glare-you notice he chewed his gag off. “"You may think you are powerful, but this kingdom was not earned by your own hands. It was handed down to you, a gift from your ancestors. You have not known sacrifice, you have not known loss. You are nothing but a puppet, playing at being a ruler. I would be a better ruler than you would ever hope to be." Sukuna sneered.

You felt a bitter smile tug at your lips as you listened to his words. He had no idea of the sacrifices you had made and the horrors you had endured to get to where you were now. False rumors had spread initially that you overthrew the castle when you were younger with the help of another kingdom in order to ensure you as ruler, and rewarding them handsomely, but they didn't know the truth. Why would you correct them though? Instilling fear  inside them and showing your power would be the greatest weapon in ruling. Annoyed by Sukunas remark, you felt drawn to tell just him alone your true story, he may be defiant and dangerous, but theres something about him that feels similar, and since he wasn’t going to be released back to how he was, what was the harm in telling someone all the nightmares you had trapped inside your head?

“ As a child, I was happy, innocent and unaware of the darkness that lurked in the hearts of men. But that all changed when the neighboring village stealthily attacked the castle without reason.” you pause and feel your heart start racing and your body begins to tremble-you’ve never had to utter any of this aloud…it feels more intense saying it rather than merely thinking about it  “They slaughtered everyone I loved before your very eyes – either tortured, slain, burned or hung -all of them perished horribly. The mere reason I wasn’t slain was because I was playing hide and seek with one of the maids, hiding in a chest where I saw my mother being assaulted and slain through the keyhole. I wanted to burst out and help her…” you hear your voice shaking. You cough, sit up straight and breath slowly, collecting your composure. “But I was a coward, I was helpless. All I could do was watch, what a fool I was. Once I heard the enemy leave, I quickly ran for the door, but as I burst out, he came, my father's once friend whom I never suspected, turned his back against us and took me as his plaything. He tortured me, violated me in ways that still haunt me, crushed my body and my will to live. I craved death, but it never came. I only survived because I pretended  to love him, by weaving a web of deceit around him until I had the chance to strike. He slowly let me roam around the castle with restrictions, the more I obeyed, the more his restrictions on me would subside. When that moment came, I did not hesitate. I killed him quickly and brutally, and it felt so goddamn good, I felt free. But the freedom was short-lived. The physical and mental torture I suffered made me feel like I was losing myself, like I was slipping into a madness that I couldn’t control. The rage and anger that boiled inside of me consumed me, turning me into someone I didn’t recognize. I was no longer the kind,gentle soul I once was. I had become a monster, just like the man who had broken me.I knew then that I could never go back to the person I once was. I am a broken shell of a woman, driven by a need for revenge, a need to destroy anyone who dared to cross me, and to prevent it from ever happening again; for you can’t even trust your closest friends to not stab you in the back. Fear became my weapon, my soldiers and civilians living in a constant state of terror. It is the only way I can maintain control, the only way to ensure my power over them.”

Sukuna, for all his arrogance and defiance, felt a flicker of empathy towards you. He, too, had suffered at the hands of an enemy, had endured unspeakable horrors that had twisted his soul into something dark and vengeful. He hated me, somewhat, you knew that much, but he also understood the fire that burned within you. But to your surprise, he reciprocated, telling you of his own harrowing experiences and of his own desire for retribution and destruction.

“Well I think that’s enough bonding time for now” you hoist him on your shoulder again and tiredly reach the top of the staircase. Through the hallway you enter your chamber in which resides: a fireplace, bear rugs, table with maps, plans and books on it and a large canopy bed. You slam Sukuna down in a chair closest to the fire with a table in front, and sit across from him.

“I’ve brought us to my chambers because I have questions. Are you a spy? Why do you defy me and what is it that you want.” you ask sternly. “What is it that I want?” Sukuna sneered at you. “I am no spy,I am my own man. I just want what you have, I want your power and control, I want to be the ruler for once, and I do whatever it takes to get what I want, even if it means going through you.” You lean back your chair and study him carefully, trying to discern if he was telling the truth or if he was just playing a game. The tension between you was palpable, thickening the air in the room, but you knew he was telling the truth. As the fire burned low, casting long shadows across the room, you made your decision. You would spare Sukuna's life, for now. He will be of great aid to you, but you would keep a close eye on him, knowing that he would always be a threat to your rule. “You will be spared, but I will always be keeping a sharp eye on you and be putting you to work."Sukuna glared at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of hatred and admiration. "I will never bow down to you," he said, his voice filled with defiance. "I will always be a thorn in your side.” 

As you gaze at him, you realize he's inched away from the table somehow and he's leaning back in it. You stand up, push your chair back and make your way over to him, curious with his movement. At that moment, you felt a surge of anger. He burnt off his ropes. Sukunas eyes glisten with malice as he raises his hands, channeling a spell around you. This spell catching you off guard, he started to charge towards you with a sudden burst of strength with a snarl on his lips- with one of his hands engulfed with fire, the other what looked to be a black fire. With his blows coming from left and right you dodged his attacks, and summoned your own energy. You focus your energy to your right hand and you feel a tingling sensation, summoning electricity. You raise your arm and slam it on the ground, sending bolts of lightning crackling towards Sukuna. He countered with a shield of reverse darkness, deflecting your spells with ease.  The castle ceilings were massively high, but between both of your powers and strength, it began to shift, a few bricks starting to fall from the ceiling. Sukuna gazed up at the bricks, giving you an  opening and lunged towards him, your hands glowing with power as you reached out to grasp him. He twisted away at the last moment and, now behind you,  grabbed your waist in one arm and the other arm grappling you upwords from chest to collarbone. “If we keep going at it, it looks like this castle will crumble, and neither of us want that.” sukuna whispers in a low growl.” You try to break from his hold, but can barely move, you slowly lean your head back on him and see a transparent shimmer around you - he summoned a dome that slowed your movement.  He now has you in a tight backwards hug and caresses your body down to your lower abdomen, with him holding your neck loosely with a possessive touch, yet strangely gentle, almost as if he couldn’t decide whether he wanted to hurt you or pleasure you

He leaned in close to your ear, his warm breath tingling your neck "Some time ago, I had wanted to see you dead-but now…now for some annoying goddamn reason I want to see your little cunt get stuffed with my cocks," he whispered, his voice low and menacing.

 He caresses his arm down your waist and into your pants, his middle finger finding and slowly circling your clit while his surrounding fingers spread your lips making you moan, the warm wetness between your thighs growing with each passing moment. “Oh, you like that master? How about this? He pushes his wet, thick finger inside,  plunging in and out of your now soaked pussy with a steady rhythm that sends waves of pleasure through your body.  Another arm protrudes out, fondling your breast and twisting your nipple, just hard enough to still be pleasurable. “If this is your way of trying to apologize -mhmm - your going to have to put those cocks to use” you moan with your voice trembling.

Sukuna couldn't deny the arousal that surged through him at your words. It was a twisted desire, a forbidden thrill that he couldn't ignore. You found yourself leaning into his touch, craving more of the dangerous pleasure he offered. “Don’t worry master, I want to teach this little pussy a lesson too, just like your mouth, it doesn’t seem to know when to stop running.” Sukuna whispered in your ear. Before you could react, he twists you around and shoves you to your bed,your arms were able to catch it, but left you vulnerable and exposed beneath him. ”What the he-mmhmm!"- Sukuna puts a hand on your mouth while one of his other arm pulls your right thigh up on the bed, his touch rough and demanding; sending a jolt inside you. Sukuna wasted no time in taking control, his other pair of arms appear and begin to twist and pull your aching nipples again, sending a sharp thrill of pain and pleasure through you. The other hand wrapped around you and began to tease and stroke your clit, each touch sending sparks of electricity through your body.

You moaned and writhed beneath him, unable to resist the overwhelming sensations he was bringing to life within you. And when he suddenly pushed his girthy cock inside you, filling you in a way that left you breathless, you felt a wave of pleasure wash over you.”Fuck master, this pussy is gobbling me up- mmhm”

His thrusts were hard and fast, each one driving you closer to the edge of ecstasy. His other cock pressed against your backside, teasing and tempting you with the promise of even more pleasure. You felt every vein in his huge cock, every pulse and throb sending you spiraling further into bliss.

His hands were everywhere, touching and exploring every inch of you. “Please more”  you whimper through his fingers. He spits in his hand and begins to prod your asshole with a finger, making you moan. Mouth gagged, tits being tugged, clit being rubbed, cock in your little pussy and asshole being prodded, you feeling yourself going insane. “I think your ready for the finally” sukuna chuckles. He then guides his top cock to your spit soaked asshole, slowly pushing in allowing your body to take him inside you. “Fuck, your so fucking tight, fuuh” sukuna groaned, his voice strained with desire as he continued to thrust roughly. The feeling was overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and pain that had you arching your back and pressing yourself against him, unable to contain the moans of ecstasy that escaped. “Fuck I’m–ah-Im about to cum f-keep going mmhm!” you plead as your body trembles on the brink of orgasm. Sukuna begins to thrust harder and faster now and continues to flick your clit harder as well, his finger picking up your juices from your cock stuffed pussy. You could feel the heat building inside you, a tidal wave of pleasure that threatened to consume you whole.

”Fuck im so close-mmhm!” you shakily scream.The orgasm that ripped through you was unlike anything you had ever experienced before, a mind-blowing explosion of pleasure that left you gasping for breath. As you feel your body tingling and cervix pulsing, sukuna releases his hot cum inside your holes, feeling his cocks pulsate while he smiles down at you with a look of satisfaction in his eyes.

“Were these cocks to your  liking master? Am i forgiven now?” he chuckled in a whisper as he pulls his cocks out, leaving his cum gush out of you, dripping to the floor. You hoist yourself up and turn to look at him. What? You think just one time fucking me after your defiance and rebellion towards me is good enough? Your soft caress around his ear changed into your hand grabbing his throat and pushing him against the wall, keeping a tight grip on him. “My body yearns to dominate and fuck a power at least close to mine, not some sorcerer who throws a temper tantrum when he doesnt get he wants and thinks the bare minimum is a great apology. You still have much to atone for, but for now I will show you your quarters and explain the duties and tasks I expect you to complete” You release his throat and begin to get dressed. You gaze at sukuna while getting dressed, and notice Sukunas eyes are examining you, looking at every curve, every burn and every scar you had. They looked as if there was sadness within them, but also pulsating with hunger. You tried to tear your gaze from his, but found yourself unable to resist. It was as if his eyes held you in a trance, their lustful intensity drawing you closer to him. As you felt yourself succumbing to his gaze, he suddenly averted his eyes, jerking his head to the side as if caught in the act of something forbidden.

Was it possible that Sukuna, the malicious curse known for his insatiable hunger for human souls, had shown a moment of weakness? Had he been captivated by something in you, something that had given him pause? you shook your head, trying to clear your thoughts, he was to be your slave. But as you turned to escort him out, you felt a hand close around your wrist, holding you in place.

Your heart leaped into your throat as you  spun around to face Sukuna, fear clutching at your chest. But to your astonishment, you found that his eyes were no longer filled with hunger. Instead, they held a strange mixture of curiosity and something else - something almost akin to longing.You stared into those crimson eyes, trying to decipher the emotions that flickered within them. There was a vulnerability there, a rawness that you had not expected to find in a being as ancient and malevolent as Sukuna. Sukuna spoke. His voice was low and husky, almost a whisper, but it sent shivers down my spine.

"You are different," he murmured, his gaze never leaving mine. "There is something in you that I cannot quite place. Something that draws me to you, despite myself. I” sukuna was interrupted by a giant cannon ball  crashing into the wall. Within milliseconds, he grabs you out of the way and shelters you against a wall, the brick walls crumbling above you.

The realization struck us at the same time - we were under attack. Our enemies had breached the castle walls, and not only were they after us, but the civilians and my own soldiers had turned against me in a bid to end my reign. I saw faces that I had trusted, now twisted in hate and anger as they raised their weapons against us. It was a nightmare come to life, and I knew that if we didn't act quickly, we would surely be eradicated.

 Betrayal stung my heart as those I had trusted raised their weapons against you. “Why, why would you protect me?” you ask sukuna. Sukuna gazed down at you with his head leaned on yours “Can’t have my master dying on me, I can’t get any stronger if there's no competition. Plus I’ve been itching to masacre these rodents, and you're just the person I would want to do that with” sukuna grins. "Let's give them hell!" you exclaimed, your voice booming with confidence. Sukuna's eyes widened in excitement, a feral grin spreading across his face. Together, you both leaped out from the fallen wall, ready to face whatever the battle had coming your way.

[lastoneout]

New Pinned/Intro Post!

Hi, I'm Loo(or Alex), I'm a disabled queer artist and writer as well as a furry vtuber who streams four days a week on twitch(mostly Minecraft but also Soulsborne games and a variety of other stuff).

You may know me from The Tuna Post, in which several thousand of you came together to "force" me to buy damn near 30 American Dollars worth of imported fancy canned tuna to eat and review live on stream. If you're here for it, said live review can be found on twitch and on my youtube channel. TL;DR: 10/10 would recommend.

I currently can't work, so if you like what I've got going on here and want to help me out, I take donations over on my ko-fi <3 Aside from that, follows on twitch help a lot, even if you never end up watching!

(Also, I sell my twitch emotes as stickers on redbubble!)

I don't have a proper BYF, but as a heads up I'm heavily introverted and have ADHD, and between those and my disabilities eating up my energy I often take a while to respond to messages/tags/reblogs/DMs and sometimes forget entirely. This isn't anything against you, and it's something I'm working on, but just something to keep in mind if you plan on interacting with me a lot.

FAQ:

Do you take commissions?

Not at the moment, but hopefully in the future!

What do you use for art?

Wacom Intuos tablet + Clip Studio Paint on the PC, though these days I mostly use CSP on a Samsung Galaxy Tab s6 since I can use it in bed on my low spoons days.

What do you want to go to school for?

Digital Art and American Sign Language!

You talk about being sick all the time/having health problems, what's wrong with you?

Too many things to list <3 but the most notable ones are chronic migraines, hEDS, and ADHD.

Queer?

I'm ace, bisexual, bigender, and butch. I'm also polyam but currently in a very happy monogamous relationship and don't have plans to change that. My pronouns are she/they, and while I would prefer to not have people use he/him with me you are highly encouraged to use masculine forms of address(sir, guy, dude, king, man, my guy, grandpa, dad, etc.) whenever appropriate. My assigned sex/gender at birth is none of your business.

Who's Yotsuba?

Yotsuba is an adorable little gremlin and the main character of my favorite manga, Yotsuba &!, and you should go read it right now seriously it's amazing go read it go read it GO READ IT-

What's "ask to tag"?

The tumblr equivalent of "author chose not to use archive warnings", I put it on anything that seems like it could use a trigger warning but where no one has specifically asked me to tag for that trigger yet. Things I currently (try to) tag for: flashing lights/eyestrain, insects, suicide, fatphobia/diet culture/disordered eating, my hero academia, gore/body horror, current events, us politics, politics, covid, cats, and anything nsfw goes under nsft.

I can't promise to be 100% consistent with these tho, between the ADHD and the migraines I am very forgetful, so slip ups are bound to happen.

Loo? Like the bathroom??

LOO is short for LastOneOut, I'm american and forgot people call it that, you can write it as Lou or just call me Alex if it makes you feel better.

LookingForLoo?? Like looking for the bathroom??

On websites where LastOneOut is taken I'm LookingForLoo because I'm literally looking for LOO, LastOneOut. I thought it was clever T_T

Sideblogs?

I have a nsfw alt @looafterdark (18+ only I swear to god I keep a loaded gun pointed at the follow list) and a writing inspo blog @last-scrapbook. I also once ran a couple of character ask blogs, though I don't plan on starting them up again, and I was the mod behind @pokeprofshowdown.

Who's Eugene/Ophelia/Sasha?

My ocs from an original story I'm working on. I get brainrot and post about them a lot. You are ALWAYS allowed to ask me about them!

What's your fursona/can I make art of you?

I'm a dog, kinda like a papillion but not really, and yes you may. My ref sheet is here.

Can I repost your funny text posts to twitter/insta/reddit?

Sure, all I ask is that you include the entire post and leave my username visible. You can also tag me if you want, I'm lookingforloo on twitter, insta, and reddit <3

Can I repost your art/writing?

Absolutely not.

Can I plug your art or writing into an AI program?

Absolutely not under any fucking circumstances.

Can I use your art in an amv/fandom board/as a cover for my playlist or fic/ect.?

Depends, DM me first.

Can I write fic/make fanart based on your fics/art/HCs/AUs?

Absolutely <3

Can I write fic/make fanart based on your OCs?

Art yes, fics no.

What's your stance on the discourse?

There is no amount of posting online about contentious topics that could ever match the sheer power of simply going out into your community and finding a project that helps other people that you can dedicate your time and energy to. Also wear a mask, vote(if you can), and listen to marginalized people when they speak about their experiences.

How old are you?

29

[straycalamities]

alright i been meaning to do this so:

what is and is not allowed to be done with any of my characters! this includes art, fics, edits, headcanons, whathaveyou

[general content/trigger warning for uncomfortable, possibly-triggering topics because this is mainly the gist of what i dont want to see]

x = never ? = ask for permission

do nots: x - no noncon (if you engage to work through your feelings, never make my characters the perpetrators, it skeeves me out) ? - no genderbends/sexswaps/whatever they're called anymore? idk just don't mess with their gender, pronouns*, or assigned-sex-at-birth as a general thing unless i already have or okayed you directly. triple-especially if they're not cis x - respect their romantic orientations/sexualities! if you don't know a character's then you can ask me, but yeah. ie: don't ship andrew with women, he's homosexual x - [NSFW] absolutely no ageplay kinks or anything like that with my characters. no raceplay. just..nothing like that. x - no pregnancy. no mpreg. no omegaverse. none of it. (i've come a long way from it being straight-up a trigger but still, yea,) i have had some of my characters naturally be pregnant/have babies but i'd rather handle it myself, if you know what i mean x - this is a duh, but nothing hateful/bigoted using my characters. like, for instance, i do joke abt shit and say mainverse!entre is a conservative but don't unironically use him for anything awful like that. joking/memeing around about his terrible political stances is fine though x - i would never write or have my characters telling anyone to "kill yourself" so please don't have them say stuff like that. even if it's a joke. it makes me uncomfortable. (there may be a few exceptions in my giant roster of ocs but as a general rule just avoid it) x - never use my ocs likenesses or art of them as art for your own ocs. that's never okay. my ocs designs are for my own characters only.

*it's okay to have neopronoun headcanons

okay! generally anything i havent said isn't okay IS okay, but just so anyone reading this has a clearer idea

it's okay to use my characters for expressing yourself, venting, or just personal stuff like that. if my characters help you through something, go ahead and express it. i'm happy they help :)

playing around with gender presentation (not gender) is perfectly okay with any of my characters

shipping in general is fine as long as it doesnt go against the don'ts list. i dont care who you ship them with

[NSFW] i'm okay with pretty much any other kinks other than anything that goes into noncon, bigotry, or underage so go wild even if it's not my thing personally i don't care. (ie: the swagtre piss fic? lol im not a watersports guy but chase your bliss)

my characters are all free game for anything horror themed as well. horror as a genre, body horror, psychological horror, whatever. go for it. i have a personal major squick for eye gore but i can handle (and enjoy) pretty much anything else in this realm. go as gorey or not as you like (just tag appropriately for other ppls sakes)

handling self-harm/suicide idealization themes is technically? okay? for my characters? just uh...be respectful i guess. and definitely tag appropriately. this theme is canon for a few of them so i am okay with it just handle it with care is what i'm saying

go ham-buck-wild with mental illness headcanons or projections or anything like that. i dont think i have an oc that doesn't have at least something, so if you see yourself in their symptoms, go for it. only some of them i have personal labels for some of their stuff but otherwise it's whatever. just be respectful, again.

kinning is also okay! kin, synpath anything like that. go ahead! go wild with it. i think it's neat. just be respectful.

and an important note to all of this, other than being respectful to others and the characters themselves, is to respect me. just because it's okay that you do it with my character, doesn't mean i have to agree with it or make it canon or anything like that. it just means i gave you permission to engage like that. so please don't come to me trying to ask or force me to change something about my own characters or get so lost in your headcanons you start to disrespect what i've established myself

and if you ever have any questions about them or any of this, just let me know. i'm always happy to help

also yet again DONT REPOST MY NSFW ART ARGHHHH!!!

[youlikefanficdontyousquidward]

RECOMe again?

The reader must navigate interacting with their fellow recoms despite having betrayed them as a human! Does anyone know their secret?

A shorter one to get us started!

This is a multiship fic be prepared to get passed around a lil :3c

Chapter 1

Notes: Y/N (Your name), Y/LN (Your last name), na'vi dialogue in bold, fic will contain swearing, nsfw scenes in later chapters (I will warn specifically which ones), violence.

If there are any specific triggers people would like warned for let me know (^・ω・^ )

Tag list: @buzzing-honeybee

Everything seemed off when you peeled your eyes open. Beside the stinging and slight blur from the overhead light, something wasn't right. The ceiling seemed closer and almost bowed? Like a fish eye lens but subtler. When the two doctors hovered over, their voices too distant to distinguish words, they felt somehow far way, despite how close close presence felt.

You groaned trying to sit upright, you felt their... finger tips? The pressure pushing you down felt so small, isolated to tiny spots on your abdomen. You looked down and felt your world shift. Tiny hands, these doctors where absolutely tiny. You felt a sudden flush of embarrassment, like when you'd accidentally told your friend Jake Sully to 'get it himself' when the item in question was on the top shelf. Only these doctors weren't just short or people with dwarfism.

It only really made sense when your vision finally cleared enough for you to see your reflection in the mirror that covered the length of the room. You stared, unwilling to move from the bed, both doctors attention now shifted elsewhere in the room.

Yup. There it was. Your features distorted across a na'vi face. You felt suddenly off, sick, it felt like you'd been stretched out. Your arms and legs long and thin, your torso pulled like taffy, stretched into this new shape. You'd certainly had your fair share of image issues growing up but this was a new level of body horror. As your anxiety grew you heard a thumping at your hip and adding to your horror you saw your tail. You let out a squeak, feeling your new ears twitch.

You remembered it now. You'd gone down to the lab with several other important members of the military team. You'd played along, Max assuring you the whole time that this wouldn't blow your cover, that he'd take care of everything. You thought he'd meant destroying your file somehow so that the RDA would never figure it out.

You'd turned sides, helped them escape and agreed to pass on in-tell from the inside. You remembered all of this and were terrified at how much the RDA knew. You cast your mind back but at no point in the process had anyone really explained how they went about the memory implanting. Had anyone reviewed your memories? Maybe not, it'd surely be a long and wasted task to go through that with everyone's memories? Though if they'd ever suspected you, maybe they'd make that effort.

You realized that Zdinarsik was having something of a melt down at the other side of the room. This was buying you a lot of thinking time. You really couldn't remember anything further then the spinning tube, which made sense. It really dawned on you then, you were a copy, a half clone of Y/N mixed with Na'vi DNA. The real you was dead. You wondered how it'd happened, had someone found you out and put you down. Maybe even Zdinarsik, you cast worried eyes to her. She was hyperventilating but seemed to be calming down, she made eye contact, smiling shakily at you. You supposed for now it didn't matter, she was a copy too, none of the clones here would remember if anything had happened after that day. You smiled back, your lip catching your fangs and nipping the flesh open.

..............................................................................................................................

You were brought through into a locker room with a now put together Zdinarsik. Three others were already in the room, changing into their military issued clothing.

"Think I might have gone up a few sizes now eh Y/N?" Zdog knocked into your elbow. She'd definitely collected herself somewhat but her smile hadn't reached her eyes yet. You grinned back, she'd been a friend before your betrayal, though in her mind this likely had never changed.

"Really? I think I've slimmed down somewhat." You sucked your cheeks in, posing dramatically. Zdog's laughter was joined by the others who'd shifted over to greet you two.

"Wow Y/N? Zdog? Gonna need name stickers at this rate." It took you a moment to recognize Fike but something in his smile made it click.

"Dunno Fike, I'd know that big bald head anywhere!" You shouted over to Lyle Wainfleet, his head whipped up, huge grin plastered to it. He stalked over leaning down to your face.

"All those height genes and they still barely got you past 6ft huh?" You gently pushed his arm, exaggerating a frown.

"How dare you! I'll have you know they measured me in at 8'2!"

"Still over a foot shorter! Midget! Come on, they want us all in when they wake the Colonel." You all saluted, before you and Zdog went to your lockers.

Colonel Miles Quartich. You'd hoped you'd have seen the last of him but fate really had it in for you. Brought back in enemy territory, surrounded by your past and with little idea when the other shoe would drop. You'd had a terrible plan to get some time away from him, time to deliver intel to Jake and the others. It was going to be extremely embarrassing but highly effective, you were somewhat glad you didn't remember how it had gone down.

See since your first days at RDA you'd had something of a strange relationship with the Colonel. Having made quite an impression by first tripping and falling right into him, causing him to have to catch you and then shooting down a viperwolf in the field that had jumped your group. You'd become something of a favourite of his and in those early days that'd only made your little crush on the man grow. It was a silly thing, he was about 25 years your senior at the time but you'd by lying if you said you didn't find him incredibly attractive. Too bad life had pulled you both in very different directions. You spent more and more time with the scientists you'd been escorting and had come to really love the forest that surrounded you. When Jake and the others had finally gone too far and got locked up, it only felt right to help them and when Jake asked you to stay you couldn't refuse.

So you'd planned to 'confess' to the Colonel. It was a ruse, he'd let you down or maybe even call for your dismissal. Either way you could use your broken heart or leave to excuse yourself from duty and run off to assist Norm and Jake.

You wondered how it'd worked, or if you'd even gone through with the plan, as you dressed. You ended up asking for Zdog's help as you'd tangled your tail up down a trouser leg and were having some trouble getting it through the tail hole. She laughed at you, showing off how she'd managed just fine. She came forward regardless, gripping your hips to still you there. She popped her bubble gum in your face smirking as she gripped the base of your tail and tugged. You hissed, Jake had told you they were sensitive.

"Ow!" You complained, pouting up at her. She'd been taller than you before and still had more than half a foot on you.

"Don't be such a baby, see all sorted." She took a step back watching as you swished your tail.

"This is so weird." You couldn't get used to it. You felt like you never would, like a whole extra limb with a mind of its own. Norm and Jake had both talked to you about what it'd been like, entering their new bodies for the first time. Both had been ecstatic, loving every new experience they'd had, though you supposed they had wanted this. You'd never planned for this.

"Yeah you said it, come one we're late!" Zdog touched your arm, gesturing you to jog after her. You weren't late, the Colonel was still unconscious as you joined Wainfleet, Fisk and now Prager in the room. The doctors administered something into his IV drip and he began to stir.

It was strange seeing him like this. You hadn't really noticed with the others but you were all younger now. You must have all been grown around the same time during the trip out. So Quaritch now looked closer to his mid twenties. You admitted to yourself he looked good, even with the more Na'vi features.

You were too lost in your admiring to really catch what happened. Lyle had come forward as he woke and it kicked off from there. Quaritch swung knocking him onto his ass as the rest of you rushed forward. Wainfleet recollected himself and began ushering the doctors out the room. Quaritch dropped Prager and threw something at Zdog.

"Sir please! Colonel." You stepped forward with your hands raised, trying to calm him down. He struck you across the cheek, flinging you back against the mirrored wall. Your head hit it and you stayed dazed on the floor as the rest of the team struggled to restrain him. He continued to fight them off, hissing and backing up before they managed to finally still him. He recognized Lyle first, who smiled through bloodied lips, before looking shocked at the others who restrained him.

"I'm alright" he drawled out. They let him go and he began to examine himself, pushing past Wainfleet to look in the mirror. He stood above you, baring his teeth and touching his fangs. You felt your heart race at his towering form.

"Well, ain't this a bitch." At this moment he noticed you, still dazed on the floor. "Private Y/LN?" You offered a weak salute, he reached down pulling you up by your elbows. You caught your reflection, he'd cracked you pretty good, your nose was bleeding and some swelling was already forming under your left you. You let out a light chuckled turning to your commanding officer.

"I'd say those motor control tests are obsolete, Sir." Quaritch straightened, dropping his hands. Had he been reaching for you again? A doctor returned now, with another officer who commanded your unit to follow.

..............................................................................................................................

If being awoken into a new body wasn't strange enough, now you had to endure the last week of space travel. The zero gravity had always turned your stomach, even the novelty of floating around the room wore off and you were happy to be called into the areas of the ship with working gravity. You watched the video log provided, a short clip of your human self explaining the Recombinant program and soul drive to you, shortly after having exited the machine. It was odd to watch, these clips were past the memories you had, this you was a different you now. It hurt your head to think about it, you focused on her expressions instead. She seemed calm, collected, you were still in the clear here.

Every time you were called upon or came face to face with higher ups you were sure it was all gonna be over. You'd be found out, it was only a matter of when.

To add to your anxiety you'd been made to join the others in a na'vi physiology 101 course. Tail and ear reflexes, body language reading, don't touch your queue and worst of the worst new instincts. You felt 13 again and were flushing like it was sex ed. You kept face by joking with Zdog and Prager, giggling in the back about how these animal instincts were gonna take over. Prager doing a werewolf impersonation that ended with you all being scowled at by an exasperated scientist.

It was true what she'd said however. You'd began noticing the scents of your colleagues, tiny little changes in their smells that you were sure you'd figure out the meaning behind. You feared what this would mean for your cover, you'd been a decent liar as a human. You were sharp, could stick to your story and didn't crack under pressure. Now however you had to worry about your ears and tail giving you away.

You figured you could lightly test it, come up with a little scenario to lie in to see if you could get away with it. Opportunity struck the day before you reached Pandora. Mansk had requested sunglasses be added to his regular kit and it had been approved. He however was in the gym with the others when they arrived, giving you an opportunity to hide them. It needed to be a little inconsequential prank, something the others wouldn't think much of if uncovered but that could be played off as an accident if not.

You sat relaxed on a bench, you'd found that your tail followed you breathing. If you could keep a handle on that then the tail wouldn't thrash around. So it stayed still when the group entered from the showers and headed to their respective lockers. You continued pretending to read as you kept an eye on Mansk. He'd been expecting them and was told they'd be there by now, so when his locker remained empty he grumbled. He turned seeing you and began coming over. Perfect, you thought. You looked up when he got close, you'd positioned yourself where you could catch your reflection in a long locker mirror. Your ears had perked up at his approach but this was normal.

"You see anyone come in with a package?" He asked, his tone wasn't accusatory yet just curious.

"Nope, been here most the day." You lied. You kept eyes on him, feeling for any changes. Nothing in the tail and ears felt relaxed. He grumbled kicking his feet.

"You sure." He looked at you again. You felt the slightest twitch of your ear, pulling back a touch.

"Nope, maybe I missed 'em but I don't remember anyone." You kept your face neutral, uninterested. You tail felt tight, the muscles straining to twitch but you kept it still. Mansk just grumbled again before stalking back to get his clothes. You glanced to the mirror, you looked calm, no swishing or twitching. It worked, if you would maintain calm like before then there would be no tell.

You stood to leave, turning and bumping right into a broad wet chest. You glanced up to meet Quaritch's quirked eyebrow.

"Oh, uh sorry sir!" You felt your ears pin back now, tail swishing behind you. You were not calm anymore, your heart having jumped its way into your throat.

"At ease" Quaritch stepped around you, walking off to his own locker. His broad back dripping, you followed a trail down to his narrow hips and gulped. There was an odd musk to the room now and you decided it best to scamper off before your odd behavior could be remarked upon.

..............................................................................................................................

So it seemed being snapped back in age and given a new body had reignited something of your old crush. Even in your human memories you'd remained nervous in front of the guy, so maybe you'd just been lying to yourself about being over it.

Even now sat amongst the other recoms awaiting Quaritch's commands you felt on edge. Though you could easily blame that on the tension of being caught. Maybe this was the moment, he'd been informed of your past self's crimes and they were going to rip you limb from limb.

His speech mirrored the one he'd given on your first day on Pandora. While they might not have been about to tear you apart you still felt your face pale, though you kept your expression neutral. You were all here to hunt down and kill Jake Sully, along with any other rebels and former RDA. So you were technically on the kill list.

The others cheered, clapping shoulders and getting excited. You smelt the change in the air, you recognized this scent change now, anticipation/excitement. You were still working on a catalogue of these, they'd be invaluable tells if you could pin point them.

Zdog gripped you, her scent was especially strong, mixed with something else. A musky smell you'd caught on her before, though you still couldn't place it yet. You gripped her other hand, playing along with the team, hoping no one else was picking up the scents as well as you. You must reek of anxiety.

[gothcsz]

𝑻𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒇𝒂𝒓𝒆 / Chapter X.

PAIRING: Javier Peña x Original Female Character

SUMMARY: The aftermath of their heated hook up drives our MC into the arms of another man.

WORD COUNT: ~8.7k

RATING: 18+ Explicit topics such as sex, drugs, murder, the occult, religion, cannibalism and other triggering matters will be explored in this body of work. Minors DNI.

CHAPTER SPECIFIC TAGS: discussions of religion, javi being an asshole, angst, crime talk (if it's not accurate don't @ me), talk of violence against women, substance use (weed), slut shaming(?), jealous!javi, other things that I'm probably forgetting.

DISCLAIMER/WARNINGS: The Javier Peña referenced in this body of work is solely based off of the character that appears in Netflix’s Narcos and not the actual person. Very canon divergent and I will tweak things as I see fit to compliment the narrative of this story. While efforts have been made to be accurate in terms of canon timeline, a lot of details will be fictionalized.

A/N: getting down and dirty with the occult aspect of this intricate ass plotline, lol ! i took a lot of inspiration from some of my favorite horror movies (rosemary's baby, immaculate, the first omen) so if you're into that i def rec watching the movies listed! also javi why are you so bothered?! this is literally what you wanted idk what to tell u... as always feel free to drop any type of feedback/support on this blog or ao3. i'd really appreciate it <3

♰  read on ao3. ♰

♰  playlist | pinterest | series masterlist ♰

Paloma feels the excruciating fallout with Javier for the next three days, confined to her bed as if shackled by her heartbreak. Unable to escape the anguish, she seeks refuge in her favorite movies, hoping their familiar narratives might provide a distraction.

She’s also been listening to Olivia Newton-John’s “Hopelessly Devoted to You” on repeat, finding solace in the familiar melody and heartfelt lyrics. Initially, the song’s sweet sorrow seemed to echo her own emotions perfectly, providing a cathartic release as she quietly sang along in the comfort of her sheets, lost in the melancholy tune.

However, by the twelfth listen, the song’s lamenting tones only deepened her sense of despair.

To avoid her father’s concern, she lies, claiming she got food poisoning from the party. He doesn’t question her, fulfilling his fatherly duties with unwavering dedication, bringing her medicine and even attempting to cook her a comforting meal; which says a lot considering he’s a shit cook.

Romeo’s care and concern provide a small comfort, and she doesn’t have to exert much effort to feign her illness. She genuinely feels sick to her stomach as memories of that fateful night with Javier replay in her mind incessantly; a relentless loop she can’t seem to escape.

What she despises most is the lingering evidence of their hook-up that still clings to her skin. The persistent bite mark on her shoulder serves as a stubborn reminder of their intimacy, refusing to fade like a scar upon her flesh. And though the throbbing ache between her legs has dulled somewhat, it’s still there like a faint echo of the pleasure he once bestowed upon her—a cruel reminder of what once was and what now lies shattered.

But none of this negates the venomous words he spat at her, each syllable dripping with malice. He had called her a whore, desperate, and accused her of giving it up for free. How could he? That question has been circulating in her mind for the entirety of these three agonizing days.

How could he say those things to her? Has Javier always been this much of an asshole, and had her rose-colored glasses blinded her to his true nature all this time? No, that couldn’t be it. Everyone adores him. The private, intimate moments they shared stand in stark contrast to the vicious side of him she witnessed at the party.

He played you, Paloma. Did all the right things, said all the right words until he got what he wanted. A spot between your legs. Now that he’s fucked you, you mean nothing to him.

This bitter realization gnaws at her, a relentless ache worse than any physical pain. She replays all their encounters in her mind, dissecting every word and gesture, searching for signs she might have missed. The warmth of his touch, the sweetness of his whispers, all now feel like part of an elaborate ruse.

He had seemed so genuine, so caring, but perhaps that was all part of his act. 

The thought that she was nothing more than a conquest to him is unbearable. She grapples with the harsh truth, feeling a mix of anger and self-loathing. How could she have been so blind? As she lies in bed, these questions torment her, turning her once cherished memories into a source of endless pain.

Tears well up in her eyes and she buries her face in her pillow, sobbing quietly as the overwhelming feeling of being used crashes over her. 

She hates this, hates him. Hates that he wields so much power over her. Javier Peña has found a way to break her completely, shattering her self-confidence and making her feel utterly worthless. All those times she fantasized about sleeping with him, imagining him as a worthy lover who would shower her with praises and kisses, making her feel like the Roman goddess Venus, now seem like cruel jokes.

Instead, she had let him take her against a gazebo. His whispered words a mix of seduction and degradation. At the time, those filthy whispers had ignited something primal deep within her, spurring her deeper into their heated passion. Yet now, in the cold light of reflection, those same words make her feel cheap. 

She had believed in his charm, convinced herself that their connection was special, that he saw her as more than just another one of his girls. But his cruel words and dismissive attitude revealed the painful truth. She feels like a fool for ever believing in him, for letting herself be swept away by his charisma. 

The phone rings but she ignores it since her father is still home so she just lets him handle it. 

She wishes her mother were here. She’s certain that she would know exactly what to say, providing the comfort and wisdom she desperately needs. She had always been a guiding light, someone who could soothe any hurt and offer perspective on even the most absurd situations. This heartbreak is more intense and consuming than anything she has ever endured romantically, including George’s abandonment.

In her mind, she can almost hear her mother’s voice, gentle yet firm, offering comfort and encouragement. She would remind her that her worth is not defined by the actions of others, that she deserves to be loved and cherished for who she is. She would tell Paloma that heartbreak is a part of life, a painful but necessary step towards finding true love and happiness.

A knock sounds at her bedroom door, but she doesn’t move, her face still buried in the soft cushion.

“Can I come in?” Her father’s voice filters through the wooden door. She sighs heavily, lifting herself from the pillow and wiping away stray tears.

“Y-Yeah.”

He enters the room hesitantly, taking in the scene. Her room is a mess, more so than its usual manageable chaos. The black dress she wore that night lies in a crumpled heap at the foot of her bed. He can see she has been crying—the puffiness of her eyes and the red tint on her nose give it away.

“Feelin’ any better, baby?” He asks tentatively, slowly making his way to her side of the bed. He sits down beside her, his presence a quiet comfort.

She shakes her head, laying back down and glancing up at her father. Worry is etched clearly in his eyes.

“Do I need to get you an appointment with Dr. Hughes? She’s not so busy nowadays.”

Daddy, the sickness I’m experiencing can’t be cured with medicine. It can only be cured by a certain someone with beautiful brown eyes and a cruel, unforgiving heart.

“No, I’ll be fine. I promise. It’s just a little stomach bug. I’ll get over it in no time.”

Romeo sighs softly, his hand moving to gently stroke her back. “Alright, little miss stomach bug. I’ll pick up some more medicine on my way back from work. Your friend Slo is on the line again. That’s why I came in here. Just had to check on ya first.”

She feels a pang of guilt. She’s been avoiding Sloane’s calls ever since the heartbreak took hold, too engulfed in her sorrow to face anyone but her father. It’s ironic, given how she often complains about how overbearing he can be, yet now finds comfort only in his presence.

Her father’s touch is warm and soothing, but it doesn’t erase the ache in her chest. She knows Sloane means well, but the thought of explaining her feelings, of reliving the pain with every word, is too much to bear. She nuzzles into her pillow, trying to hide from the world a little longer.

“Guess I should finally talk to her. Thanks, Daddy,” She murmurs, her voice muffled by the cushion.

Her father’s hand continues its gentle motion on her back, providing a rhythm that almost lulls her into a sense of temporary peace.

“You need anythin’, you call me, alright? I’ll be at the station all night. If ya can’t get ahold of me for whatever reason—call Javier.”

At the mention of his name, her breath catches in her throat, her body tensing involuntarily. She hopes her father doesn’t notice the visceral reaction that sweeps through her.

“O-okay,” she manages to choke out, her voice barely above a whisper.

A look of concern lingers in his eyes as he leans in to place a tender kiss to the side of her head.

As he gets up to leave, Paloma turns her head slightly, watching him. She wishes she could open up more, let him know just how deep her wounds go, but the words fail her. For now, she takes comfort in the fact that he’s there for her.

Now, guilt settles atop the heap of unwanted feelings that plague her. How could she ever bitch so much about her father, who has been nothing but supportive and caring toward her? Sure, his protectiveness sometimes feels suffocating, but deep down, she knows it stems from the earnestness of his heart. He just wants to ensure her safety and happiness, especially since she’s the only family he has left.

Once the door closes softly behind him, she lets out a shaky breath. The thought of reaching out to Javier, of exposing herself to the pain of his betrayal once again, fills her with a sense of dread. Yet, beneath the fear and uncertainty, there’s a small flicker of longing, a desperate hope that maybe, just maybe, he might backtrack on all he said and apologize to her— make things right between them.

But she buries that thought deep beneath the layers of hurt and anger that consume her. For now, she’ll remain cocooned in her solitude, grappling with the aftermath of his cruel words and callous actions, unsure of how—or if—she’ll ever find the strength to confront him again.

She shifts in bed, her hand reaching out to grasp the receiver from her bedside table, the plastic cool against her fingertips.

“Hello.”

“About fuckin’ time!” Sloane’s chirpy twang rings out, a sharp contrast to the heaviness in her heart. Surprisingly, the sound elicits a small smile, a flicker of warmth amidst her turmoil.

“Sorry— haven’t really been feelin’ like myself as of late.”

“I thought you died. Had half a mind to stop by your place, but your daddy assured me you were alive and well… well, not well. Heard you got sick. Need me to bring you anythin’?”

She takes a moment, gathering her thoughts before responding. “M’not really sick…” she begins, her words trailing off as she absentmindedly twists the cord attached to the receiver around her finger.

“Um… okay… you’re losin’ me here, doll face.”

And so she begins to unravel the tangled web of her conflict, spilling all the details to her best friend. She recounts every moment of her affair with Javier, from the innocent flirtations at the beginning to the raw intensity of their fight at the party three nights ago.

Each word spoke is a painful reminder of the betrayal she has endured. Yet, there’s a sense of relief in sharing her burden, of finally letting someone else into the depths of her pain.

Sloane reacts just as Paloma had anticipated, her familiar blend of humor and unwavering support providing a much-needed anchor in the storm of her current love life. As she pours out her heart, Slo interjects with witty jokes, each one a lifeline tossed into the turbulent sea of her despair. But amidst the laughter, her words carry a burden of truth, her fierce loyalty shining through in the advice she offers.

“You deserve so much better,” Sloane declares, her voice brimming with conviction. “Don’t matter if he’s got the best cock in the world—he should’ve never talked to you like that or treated you the way he did.”

She feels a fresh wave of tears threaten to spill over, the rawness of her words striking a chord deep in her wounded heart. She blinks them away quickly, refusing to shed another tear over him, determined to reclaim her strength and dignity.

“Yeah, I know,” she murmur, “I just want to get over it. Get over him.”

Sloane’s response is swift after a brief pause. “Your daddy workin’ tonight?”

“...Yes.”

“Perfect,” Slo declares, her tone brightening with mischief. “Me and Gabriel will come get you, and you can ride around with us… I can ask August to tag along if you want.”

She can’t help but smile at the teasing lilt in her friend’s voice. This is Sloane’s not-so-subtle way of playing wingwoman, a role she’s embraced since the moment they met. Despite the pain and heartache, she finds consolation in the unwavering support of her friend, grateful for the chance to escape her troubles, if only for a little while.

What’s the harm in inviting August along? After all, isn’t the saying that the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else? He’s already expressed his interest in her, sparked her curiosity and filled her mind with newfound knowledge that she still pores over during her shifts at the library.

August is smart, handsome, newly rich, and most importantly— he doesn’t treat her like she’s disposable. He sees her for who she truly is, beyond the physical, beyond anything else.

“Earth to Paloma? Hello?”

She snaps out of her thoughts, returning to the present conversation.

“Yeah, that sounds fun. Now I gotta get off my ass and take a shower,” she replies, a hint of self-deprecation in her voice as she realizes how much she’s let herself go during this bout of sadness.

“Alright, stinky girl, be there in like an hour,” Sloane teases, the warmth of her laughter echoing through the phone.

She chuckles softly before saying goodbye and hanging up, feeling a renewed sense of energy after the phone call. She throws off the duvet and rises from her bed, stretching her limbs as she hears a few satisfying pops.

She needs this. To go out, do something, feel like herself again.

After her much-needed and rejuvenating shower, she tidies up her room, the act of putting things in order helping to calm the chaos in her mind. With a sense of purpose, she bounces down the stairs, the anticipation of the evening ahead putting a spring in her step. She waits on the porch for her friends to arrive, the warm evening air wrapping around her like a comforting embrace.

She’s forced to forego her go-to halter top, opting instead for a simple t-shirt to hide Javier's unmistakable fucking mark. It’s a small sacrifice to make for the chance to reclaim a sense of normalcy, a reminder that she’s more than just a pawn in someone else’s game.

The distant headlights announce their arrival and her face breaks out into a wide grin as she stands.

“Hop into the back!” Sloane calls out from the passenger side window, her voice filled with cheerful enthusiasm as she leans out, beckoning her over. Without hesitation, she happily complies, her heart lifting at the prospect of spending time with her friends.

As the vehicle comes to a stop, the girls exchange kisses on the cheek in passing, a gesture of affection and camaraderie that feels like a balm to her soul. She climbs into the bed of the truck, where August awaits, his relaxed posture exuding a casual confidence. A joint dangles from his lips, the smoke swirling lazily in the summer night air, and she can’t help but feel a flutter of excitement at the sight of him.

“Hey, little dove,” He greets her, his voice warm and inviting. “Heard you were sick. Feelin’ any better?”

She settles beside him, the cool metal of the truck bed beneath her, and brings her knees up to her chest as she gazes up at him with soft, grateful eyes.

“A lot better now,” she confesses, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. She’s determined to throw herself into whatever this is, to embrace the warmth and companionship offered by her friends, if only to keep herself from sinking back into the depths of despair that have haunted her for the past few nights.

He smiles at her, a glint of amusement dancing in his eyes as he blows out a plume of smoke, the truck beginning its descent down the elongated driveway. “Good. So I guess you’re up for that date. Finally,” he remarks, extending the joint towards her.

She hesitates, her mind momentarily grappling with the decision. She’s recently taken on a vow to swear off drugs and alcohol, a decision prompted by Javier’s disappointment when he picked her up at the sunflower field. But now, with August’s expectant gaze upon her, she wonders if maintaining that vow is worth it.

“I dunno— you gonna ditch me halfway through it?” she quips, accepting the joint from him and bringing it to her lips, her resolve wavering.

August watches intently, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. “Sorry about that, pretty girl. Some of the guys got into it and I had to go deal with that shit. Being the so-called leader ain’t all sunshine and rainbows.”

She exhales slowly, the smoke billowing around her before dissipating into the air. She passes the joint back to him, a small smile playing on her lips as she recalls their interrupted plans.

The truck hits a pothole, causing Paloma to clumsily stumble into August’s side with a small yelp of surprise. They share a moment of laughter as August throws his arm over her shoulders, drawing her close.

“Fine, I guess I’ll let it slide… but don’t ditch me like that again. The whole thing got busted by the cops, and I was this close to goin’ to jail,” she exaggerates, her tone tinged with mock indignation as she leans further into August’s embrace. The darkness of the backroads envelops them as they continue their leisurely drive through the quiet town.

“Nah, they wouldn’t have laid a finger on you, baby. You’re the sheriff’s daughter—practically immune to everythin’,” August reassures her, his voice carrying a hint of confidence.

He’s right and they both know it. Paloma’s status as the sheriff’s daughter affords her a certain level of protection, a shield against the consequences that ordinary citizens might face. If she had been caught by her father or any of his deputies, they wouldn’t have pressed charges. At most, she would have received a stern lecture.

She tries to knock thoughts of Javier aside, but they stubbornly persist, creeping into her mind like shadows in the night. She can’t help but recall the way Javier had taken care of her, buying her food and opening up about his romantic past. She remembers how he had held her close when the snake brushed up against her leg, how he had hidden them in the shadows when her father awoke in the midst of her sneaking back in.

And she remembers, vividly, how he had kissed her back.

Fuck him, she thinks bitterly, pushing the memories away with a forceful mental shove.

“Not everythin’… just enough,” She quips, a giggle bubbling up her throat as she takes the joint from August once more. This time, she inhales deeply, allowing the smoke to fill her lungs, a fleeting distraction from the tangled mess she's involved in.

The four of them spend the remainder of the night weaving through the darkened streets, their laughter and chatter filling the air as they embark on their impromptu adventure. They stop here and there, finding amusement in open fields or exploring the eerie confines of the town’s abandoned buildings. She feels a sense of exhilaration coursing through her veins, her broken heart mending as she loses herself in the company of her friends. High as hell, she revels in the freedom of the moment, carefree and unburdened by the troubles that had plagued her earlier.

As the night wears on, they find themselves at the graveyard, the moon casting an ethereal glow over the rows of weathered headstones. Amidst the quiet stillness of the night, they swap ghost stories, each tale more outlandish than the last. Despite their best efforts to spook each other, the atmosphere is more comical than terrifying, the shared laughter echoing through the darkness.

“We’re all hangin’ out at the creek tomorrow. You should come with,” Slo suggests, reclining on her back in the patch of grass between two gravestones.

“Can’t. I work at the library all day,” She responds, a hint of regret coloring her voice.

“So? Call out. It’s not like they need you there,” Slo counters, her tone brimming with nonchalance.

She bites her lip, her hesitation evident. “I’ve already been out this week due to ‘being sick’. Olsen relies on me. I’m surprised that place hasn’t gone up in flames.”

“Oh, don’t be lame. Just call in sick again,” Slo urges, dismissing Paloma’s concerns with a wave of her hand.

“And when someone sees me takin’ my happy ass down to the creek—what then?”

“No one worth hiding from goes there anyways.”

“Okay, and what about my daddy?”

“Ugh, you and your daddy issues. Swear I ain’t ever met anyone with a good father figure have the issues that you do,” Slo remarks, her tone bordering on exasperation.

“Fuck off.”

“Let Slo be your cover. Tell him you two are hangin’ out for the day now that you’re feelin’ better. S’not a complete lie. C’mon, little dove, it’s summertime. We’re supposed to be enjoyin’ it,” August interjects, his voice calm and reassuring amidst the back and forth between her and Sloane.

Her mind whirls with differing thoughts as she weighs their offer. It’s not the worst thing she could do, she rationalizes, and it’s certainly harmless. After all, she had only promised Olsen that she’d let him know whether or not she could work the shift the following morning; there’s no outright commitment binding her to the library.

Moreover, she considers her father’s perspective. He’d likely prefer her to be out with Slo, especially now that she’s in higher spirits.

With a sigh, she nods, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips as she agrees. “Fine,” she says, her voice carrying a hint of amusement. “I guess I can make some time to go out there with y’all.”

Their cheers ring out, a chorus of excitement that lifts her spirits even higher. As she looks around at her friends, their faces illuminated by the soft glow of the moonlight, she realizes that, in this moment, she’s exactly where she’s meant to be.

Javier leans back in his chair, exhaustion weighing heavy on his eyelids as he drifts in and out of sleep. The sterile hum of the overhead lights provides a steady backdrop, a monotonous rhythm that lulls him into a drowsy stupor.

True to his word, he’s wholeheartedly been focusing on the cases, his attention shifting from the victims  to the enigmatic symbol that Jessica Valdez had ingested. It’s become an obsession of sorts, his starting point in a labyrinth of clues that he hopes will lead to justice.

To aid in his investigation, Javier reached out to some of the acquaintances he made during his time in Quantico, specifically those who were involved in the infamous Tate–LaBianca murders and the occult subculture that gripped the west coast in the late ‘60s. They possessed a wealth of knowledge about the inner workings of occult groups, their insights invaluable in deciphering the tangled web of motives and allegiances.

After catching up with them over the phone, they promised to connect him with an occult professor at UCLA who could potentially shed light on the mysterious symbol. It’s a glimmer of hope in the darkness, a chance to glean some semblance of understanding from the chaos that lurks over these cases.

The clock is ticking, and with each passing day, the trail grows colder. He isn’t sure if they’re dealing with a lone individual or a larger organization, but he’s determined to leave no stone unturned in his pursuit of the truth.

“Jesus— you’re still here?” Romeo’s voice breaks through the quiet of the office, his tired eyes glancing down at the silver watch adorning his wrist. It’s almost midnight, and yet Javier remains steadfast at his desk, his presence a testament to his dedication.

Javier sits up, rolling his shoulders back with a quiet groan as he reaches for his pack of cigarettes. With practiced ease, he goes through the motions of lighting one, the smoke curling lazily around him.

“Waiting on a call from someone in California. They’re taking their fucking time, though,” He explains, frustration evident in his tone. He should have just given them his home number, he thinks, where he could lounge around in his own space instead of camping out here in the office.

“California? Got a west coast girl I don’t know about?” Romeo teases, his lips quirking up in a knowing smile as he approaches the counter where the coffee maker sits, beginning to make himself a cup.

Javier snorts, exhaling smoke as he shakes his head. “No, just a professor that I’m hoping will give me more information about that tattoo on the scrap of flesh.” His thoughts briefly flicker to Paloma at the mention of having a girl, but the thought diminishes as fast as it came— he can’t let himself think about her for too long.

Since the mayor’s party, Javier has made a conscious effort to rid his mind of anything concerning her. It’s been a challenge, to say the least, since he could still feel the way she had clenched around him when she came undone on his cock; soaking him with her release and letting out the prettiest moans he’s ever heard.

He could also still vividly recall the pain etched across her face, the tears streaming down her cheeks in response to his brutal words. The memory clear as day in his conscience, a constant reminder of the hurt he had caused.

But Javier refuses to dwell on it. Instead, he threw himself into anything and everything that would serve as a distraction. He busied himself in the minutiae of each case with a dedicated fervor. When work became too much, he sought solace in physical exertion, pushing himself to the limit in grueling workouts that left him physically spent but mentally numb.

Yet despite his best efforts, her memory continues to haunt him, a specter that lingered at the edges of his consciousness. It has only been three days since their encounter, but to Javier, it feels like an eternity. Each passing moment seemed to stretch on indefinitely, his actions bearing down on him with suffocating intensity.

“I see, good thinkin’ Peña. This shit just keeps on gettin’ more and more convoluted. Been thinkin’ of enforcin’ a curfew but that’s only gonna spark more fear and unnecessary rumors. Ain’t got a damn clue how to keep this shit from happenin’ again. Need to at least make an announcement warnin’ all the young girls ‘round here,” Romeo muses, his frustration evident in the furrow of his brow.

Javier nods thoughtfully, ashing his cigarette against the overfilled ashtray before leaning back in his chair, the uncomfortable leather creaking beneath him. “Don’t think a curfew is going to do much like you said. It’s just gonna rattle these folks up. We have consistent victimology now. I’m not against spreading the word and raising awareness. Could give the gazette a statement—have ‘em print it on the front page.”

The two men engage in a spirited exchange of ideas, each offering insights and perspectives born from years of experience in law enforcement. Romeo, ever the pragmatic thinker, voices his concerns while Javier, with his keen analytical mind, suggests alternative approaches. Despite the weight of the situation, there’s a sense of camaraderie between them, a shared determination to tackle the challenges head-on.

Romeo places a steaming mug of coffee at Javier’s desk. The gesture is small, but it speaks volumes about the bond between them, forged through countless late nights and shared struggles. With caffeine-fueled determination, Javier braces himself to stay up longer in anticipation of the phone call with the professor.

“Gotta stop by the pharmacy before I leave in the mornin’. Paloma’s been sick as a dog these past few days,” Romeo announces with a hint of concern.

Javier’s grip on the mug tightens imperceptibly at the mention of her name, a flicker of discomfort crossing his features before he schools his expression into one of casual indifference. He can’t afford to let his true feelings show, not when the sheriff is watching him like a hawk.

It’s not like I fucked her good and hard in the middle of the party then completely shattered her afterwards. 

“She okay?” Javier inquires, his tone carefully neutral.

Romeo lets out a heavy sigh as he settles into the corner of Javier’s desk, weariness etched into the lines of his face. “I honestly don’t know. Said she got food poisonin’ from the party, but we both ate the same things and m’perfectly fine. When I went to check on her today, it was clear that she’d been crying. I even offered to take her to the doctor, but she brushed me off. Hasn’t left her bed in three days. Should see the state of her room—s’like a fuckin’ tornado tore right through it.”

Javier finishes his cigarette in silence, the familiar and  bitter taste of regret lingering on his tongue. The image of her bedridden and in tears plagues his conscience, a painful reminder of the havoc he’s wrought. This is what he wanted, isn’t it? To hurt her so profoundly that she would finally break free from him. It’s the only way to definitively end their affair, but the realization offers little support amidst the guilt that gnaws at his insides.

“I’m sure she’s fine. Give her a few days to recover,” Javier offers, his tone carefully measured to convey a semblance of concern.

As if on cue, the phone rings, the shrill sound piercing the quiet of the office. Romeo takes it as his cue to leave, offering a nod of acknowledgment to Javier before disappearing back into his own office.

Javier reaches for the receiver, bringing the phone to his ear and he hears the smooth voice of a woman on the other end.

“Agent Peña, this is Dr. Vivianne Serrano. I apologize for calling so late. My last class ran a little late and then I had a meeting with a student afterwards. You’re in Texas so it’s what—almost midnight? Gosh, I feel terrible,” the woman rambles earnestly.

He rubs at his tired eyes, the strain of exhaustion evident in every movement. His jaw clenches as he scratches at his roughening jawline, ready to get this over with. And yet, despite his weariness, the sound of her sweet voice on the other end of the line draws him in, offering a strange sense of comfort amidst the drama. It must be the exhaustion, he tells himself.

“No worries. I’m more interested in what information you can give me— even if I have to stay up late to get it.”

She laughs, the sound light and melodic, and for some inexplicable reason, a small smile quirks at the corners of his lips in response.

“Right—one of the agents faxed me the photo evidence. It’s pretty brutal. I didn’t recognize the marking at first, but I did some digging and that led me to reach out to a colleague in Rome.”

Javier’s brow furrows at the revelation, his interest piqued by the mention of the city overseas. “Rome?”

“Yes, Rome,” she confirms, “I hope you’re sitting down because I have quite a bit of information to relay to you.”

Spurred on by the prospect of finally making some progress, Javier leans forward in his chair, his eyes intent on the empty page of his memo pad as he waits for her to continue.

As her voice fills the line, painting a picture of a dark and sinister history, Javier’s hand moves almost automatically, his pen poised to capture every word she utters.

“L’Ordine di Eurinomo— The Order of Eurynomos, was a sacrilegious group that masked itself as a Catholic convent in Rome during the 70s,” She begins, her tone grave with solemnity. “This group worshiped the mysterious deity Eurynomos, a flesh-eating demon, prophesying the return of their god in human form. Their quest for a suitable vessel led them to seek out a woman of purity and strength, intertwining her fate with their divine ambitions. They believed that the flesh reincarnation of the deity would bring a new age of power and world domination.”

Javier’s pen halts in its tracks, his brows furrowing in disbelief as he processes the fantastical information unfolding before him. It all sounds too surreal to be true, like the plot of some twisted horror movie or fictional novel. He fights the urge to scoff, reminding himself to maintain his professionalism even in the face of such outlandish claims.

“I know. It’s a lot to take in. Believe it or not, it’s not the craziest thing out there,” Dr. Serrano continues, her voice steady despite the incredulity in Javier’s silence. “They searched for this suitor all over the world, inviting devoted women to their convent. When these women failed to give them what they wanted, their prophesied baby, they were killed. It wasn’t until they had a whistleblower that their atrocities were exposed—an anonymous tip that led authorities to the convent and uncovered everything. No identifying names of any members, just files detailing the women they had taken over the years and records of their rituals. The tattooed symbol was their symbol.”

He lets out a heavy sigh, the intensity of the information taking a moment to process. His hand instinctively rises to massage his tense shoulder, fingers digging into the knotted muscles in an attempt to alleviate some of the tension.

“No arrests were ever made, and the case went cold. So many bodies were pulled from the catacombs beneath the church. None of them identified. All women,” She explains, “That’s as far as it all goes. There hasn’t ever been an indication that this group kept operating after... well, not until now. Where did you say you were located?”

“Seminary, Texas,” he replies, the name of the town feeling heavy on his tongue as he considers the implications of Dr. Serrano’s revelations. “You sure this isn’t just some obsessed person who read about this damn group and decided to indulge in the fantasy too?”

“Could be. Isn’t it your job to figure that out?” Dr. Serrano’s response carries a flirtatious undertone, a playful tease that momentarily distracts Javier from the gravity of their conversation. If he hadn’t been so consumed by the web of information and conflicting emotions surrounding a certain someone else, he might have reciprocated the flirtation without hesitation.

“Suppose it is. Thanks for digging around and finding this out for me,” Javier acknowledges with genuine gratitude for the professor’s efforts.

“No problem. It was quite interesting getting this information. I’ll have my colleague in Rome send you all that they have on this. Is there a time limit on this case? I don’t anticipate you receiving the files for a hot minute,” She inquires, her voice carrying a hint of curiosity.

Javier considers her question for a moment, his mind already racing with the possibilities presented by the newfound information. “Not necessarily, but the quicker I figure this shit out, the quicker we can get some answers and bring justice to the victims and their families,” he replies, his determination evident in his tone. He longs to put an end to the suffering and finally bring closure to those affected.

“That’s all that matters. We’ll be in contact, Agent Peña. Again, I apologize for calling so late. Have a great night,” she concludes, her words soft with a sense of finality.

Javier hangs up the phone, the conversation lingering in the air around him. Despite the late hour and the exhaustion hanging over him, there’s a restless energy coursing through him.

As he sits alone in the dimly lit office, his thoughts drift briefly to Dr. Serrano and the fleeting temptation to ask for her personal number. But he quickly dismisses the notion, refocusing his attention on the task at hand. There’s work to be done, and distractions— no matter how enticing— will have to wait.

“You don’t talk much, do you?” Paloma comments as she rides along with Gabriel, the engine of the truck humming steadily beneath them as they make their way to the local convenience store. They’ve been tasked with buying some more beer for the gathering at the creek, and she finds herself curious about her companion.

Gabriel glances at her, his expression unreadable. “Don’t got a lot to say,” he replies simply, his attention returning to the road ahead as he maneuvers the vehicle into a parking spot at the gas station.

She sighs inwardly, feeling a pang of disappointment at the lack of conversation. She had hoped to get to know Gabriel better considering how close he is to both Sloane and August. However, she understands that not everyone is as forthcoming with their friendship as she is.

Exiting the truck, Paloma shields her face from the afternoon sun, the warmth enveloping her like a comforting embrace. Dressed in a tube top and tight shorts, she feels the heat seeping into her skin deliciously, momentarily distracting her from the lingering discomfort of the bite mark. She had fabricated a story about its origins when they picked her up earlier, claiming it was from a hookup with a random guy at the bar.

It’s not entirely a lie, she reflects, knowing that Sloane is the only one to know the truth about the bite’s origin. However, she’s not eager to divulge the details of her… encounter with the deputy sheriff to her new friend group.

As she strolls through the aisles of the small convenience store, Gabriel excuses himself to take a piss, leaving her to browse alone. She runs her fingers over the various snacks and drinks on display, considering her options for something to bring back with her.

The soft chime of the bell above the door draws her attention, signaling the arrival of a new customer. Without looking up, she continues her perusal until she senses a shift in the air—a subtle change that prompts her to glance in the direction of the entrance.

There, standing in the doorway, is Javier Peña, the star of her all her current struggles. Despite her internal turmoil, she can’t help but be drawn in by his presence. His shirt is unbuttoned at the top (like always) revealing a hint of skin adorned with a glinting gold chain. Aviator sunglasses rest effortlessly on the bridge of his nose, his hair is tousled yet impeccably styled, and his choice of jeans and boots only serves to enhance his rugged allure.

She knows what he feels like inside of her. How big he is. How good he can fuck.

Her heart quickens at the sight of him. Despite the anger and resentment she feels towards him, there’s an undeniable attraction that pulses within her. She quickly averts her gaze, hoping to avoid detection.

To no avail since he noticed her the second he stepped in.

Her eyes drift downward, her focus settling on the colorful array of snacks that line the aisle. She tries to steady her breathing, to maintain an air of composure as Javier traverses the aisle opposite hers. Despite their deliberate avoidance of each other’s gaze, the palpable awareness of their proximity remains in the air.

A subtle smirk plays at the corners of Javier’s lips as he observes her. The flimsy top stretches obscenely over the swell of her tits, her nipples stiff due to the chilly air of the store. Though his gaze fixates on the tousled locks cascading over her shoulder, revealing the evidence of when they fucked. The memory paired with this tantalizing visual stir something in his chest, despite his attempts to remain aloof.

“Don’t look very sick to me,” he remarks casually, his voice cutting through the tense silence between them.

Paloma’s eyes shoot up to meet his, a mixture of frustration and defiance flickering in her gaze. She bristles at his audacity, the resentment bubbling beneath the surface threatening to spill over.

Of course her father had told him about her being sick. Of-fucking-course.

“None of your damn business,” she retorts sharply, her words laced with an edge as she maneuvers away from him, putting distance between them.

Javier merely shrugs in response, feigning casual indifference as he continues to peruse the shelves, his nonchalant facade belying the underlying tension that simmers beneath the surface.

“Got your pops stressin’ the hell out at the station over you being a bedridden mess yet here you are… out and barely clothed. S’not enough to distract me from the job so you had to pull a stunt for your father, too. Are you really that desperate for attention?” 

Every fiber of his being screams for him to let go, to relinquish his hold on the frayed threads of their tumultuous relationship and pretend she doesn’t even exist. Yet, the magnetic pull of their shared history, both bitter and sweet, proves to be an irresistible force.

Javier’s words hit with calculated precision, each syllable laden with a mixture of accusation and disdain. Paloma’s jaw clenches in response, a surge of anger coursing through her as she struggles to contain the torrent of emotion that threatens to engulf her.

The audacity of his presumption— that her actions are merely a ploy for attention— stings like a slap to the face. It’s infuriating the way he casually reduces her actions to nothing more than a petty cry for validation.

For a fleeting moment, a pang of concern flits through her mind, a gnawing worry that he might disclose her whereabouts to her father. But the prospect of facing her father’s wrath pales in comparison to the seething resentment she harbors towards Javier.

“Why the hell do you care about what I’m doing?” she fires back, her voice dripping with hostility. “You made it crystal fuckin’ clear where we stand. I want nothin’ to do with you.”

As Gabriel emerges from the bathroom, the tension between them persists. She shoots a pointed glare at Javier before sidling up to the guy she came here with, her movements deliberate as they proceed to gather the items they came here for.

His eyes follow them the entire time, that pesky jealousy rising up his throat like hot bile. It doesn’t help that she’s got on the thinnest pair of shorts, and she’s clearly not wearing underwear as her ass bounces with each step she takes. If she bent over just slightly, he’d be able to see the outline of her cunt.

She’s such a fucking tease— and now she’s out and about with Gabriel? Is August out of the picture too? Had he hurt her the same way Javier had?

Together, Paloma and Gabe make their way to the register, the atmosphere heavy with unspoken animosity. She remains acutely aware of Javier’s presence, the weight of his gaze lingering on her like an oppressive force as they conclude their errand and leave the small store.

She doesn’t even bother looking in his direction again.

As Javier strolls to the counter, the hum of the convenience store provides a backdrop to his turbulent thoughts. His gaze drifts to the window, where her departure sends a pang of longing coursing through him.

The urge to follow her tugs at him, an instinctual reaction fueled by envy and skepticism. But he forces himself to resist, recognizing the folly of succumbing to base impulses driven by sentiments he can scarcely afford to indulge.

His thoughts drift to the enigmatic group of youths led by August. There’s a nagging suspicion that refuses to be ignored, a sense that their presence in Seminary may be more than mere coincidence.

With a determined set to his jaw, Javier resolves to tail August and his cohorts, his instincts sharpened by the unsettling convergence of events. Yet, even as he prepares to pursue this lead, a lingering doubt nags at the edges of his consciousness.

Two things can be completely true yet unrelated at the same time.

Is he allowing his personal biases to cloud his judgment, grasping at straws in a desperate bid for answers? Or is there truly a connection waiting to be uncovered, hidden beneath the surface of the cryptic symbols and stories that haunt his investigation?

He takes his cigarettes from the clerk after paying, stepping outside to make quick use of one. The acrid smoke curls upwards in lazy tendrils and he finds himself grappling with the uncertainty that looms on the horizon. With each step forward, he plunges deeper into the murky depths of the unknown, unsure of what revelations await him in the shadows.

Paloma’s laughter dances through the warm afternoon air, a melody of joy that mingles with the gentle burble of the creek and the distant hum of cicadas. With a mischievous glint in her eye, she creeps up behind August, water sloshing playfully in her hands as she readies herself for the perfect sneak attack.

In one swift motion, she douses him with a cascade of cool water, a triumphant grin spreading across her face as she revels in her victorious prank. But her victory is short-lived as August retaliates with equal fervor, lunging forward to catch her before she can dart away.

Their laughter intertwines, a symphony of shared amusement that echoes off the surrounding trees, punctuated by the playful splashes of their impromptu water fight. The carefree atmosphere of the creek is a sanctuary of youthful exuberance where worries and troubles are cast aside in favor of simple, unadulterated joy.

As August pulls her close, her heart dances with exhilaration, her cheeks flushed with the thrill of their playful antics and she throws her arms around his neck.

“You’ve got the prettiest laugh I’ve ever heard, baby. Can’t get enough of it.”

His words, whispered against her ear, are a sweet melody that sends her heart aflutter, filling her with a warmth that eclipses the summer sun.

“Then don’t stop makin’ me laugh.”

His hands fall on her waist and she craves for him to move lower, to cup her backside in his big hands.

“I won’t. I’m finally free to take you out Friday. Still got time for little ‘ol me or has this bar hookup already swept you off your feet?” August’s playful words carry a hint of teasing as he gazes at her shoulder, his expression inscrutable.

She feels a brief pang of irritation at the mention of Javier (though August doesn’t know), the man who seems to hover over her thoughts like an unwelcome specter. 

As if. He wants nothing to do with me except to chastise me any chance he gets.

“You tell me… whose arms am I in right now?”

His response is a charming smile, loving how she replied. His fingers tighten ever so slightly around her hips as if to reassure himself of her presence. “Friday night I’m taking you out on that date I’ve been promisin’,” he declares with a hint of excitement, his gaze locking with hers.

But her smile wavers at the realization. “I have a show Friday night…” she starts, a note of disappointment creeping into her voice.

August’s response is immediate. “So cancel it,” he suggests, his tone firm yet persuasive, his hands beginning to explore her body in ways that send shivers down her spine.

Paloma’s initial resistance melts away, “First you have me call out of work, now you have me canceling my shows?” she counters with a playful shake of her head, though her heart races at the thought of spending a night with him. “You’re a bad influence, Dixon.”

But August’s response is smooth and reassuring, his voice a seductive murmur that sets her pulse racing. “Oh, don’t be like that, little dove. You perform every weekend. Just take one night off, I promise to make it worth your while,” he murmurs, his hands now moving lower and gripping her ass how she had just been wanting him to.

She lets out a gentle hum, pressing herself closer to him as her eyes darken with lust and intrigue. 

“Mmm okay, I’ll cancel.” Her eyes drop to his lips as the overwhelming urge to kiss him washes over her.

Sensing this, he tilts his head down, brushing his nose against hers. Feeling his warm breath against her skin, she shivers slightly, her heart racing at his proximity. 

“Good girl,” he murmurs, the praise having her pussy clench around nothing, sending a flutter through her chest, and she can’t help but lean into his touch, savoring the tender moment between them.

As he leans in to place a kiss on her cheek, she turns her head, her lips meeting his in their first, official kiss. She melts into the embrace, her senses overwhelmed by the sensation of his lips moving against hers.

Lost in the moment, she revels in the feeling of his fuller lips. She pulls him closer and one of his hands comes up to grope at her breast, her sensitive nipples reacting to his touch.

“Hey lovebirds, get a room!” Their moment of intimacy is interrupted by a raucous call from nearby, accompanied by laughter and crude remarks. Blushing furiously, she pulls away, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

“Sorry, got lost in the moment,” she mumbles, feeling a rush of self-consciousness.

“Don’t apologize, darlin’,” August reassures her, his voice warm and affectionate. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while now.” With a gentle squeeze of her backside, he pulls back and takes her hand, leading her towards the deeper side of the creek.

As they wade through the cool water together, Paloma can’t help but feel a sense of excitement. She knows that this date with August is just the beginning of something special.

[therealprismcat]

PLEASE DO IT

the people have decided, here's a fanfic rec list of dsaf fanfics that arent focussed on davesport! (in no particular order)

Centipedes by Raccoonsandpossumswritesometimes [incomplete]

Dee centric fic which is a swap between Dee and Jack. Not only is davesport not the main focus, it's also pretty toxic. TWs at the beginning of each chapter, but heed the tags.

Hello, You. by galaticanthem [incomplete]

Another similar premise to Centipedes. If you think davesport is toxic in centipedes though, here it is arguably worse. Plot is a bit confusing as of chapter 7, but as it stands, here are the trigger warnings that I can remember off of the top of my head (but basically, if you're sensitive to disturbing themes, i'd skip this one):

Murder

Abuse

Kidnapping (by the looks of it but ????)

Underage drinking

Neglect

Body horror (I think??? it's so early into the fic im unsure of half these warnings but as it is rn i think it is important they're there because thats what it looks like at least)

Dave is very objectively NOT a good person in this fic. Like, at all. I don't think any future chapter could change that. If you're a person who cannot read about their favourite character committing absolutely heinous things theres nothing wrong with that and I wouldn't read this. If you can stomach all that though, it's a good story.

Dave and Old Sport Adopt a Kid by Wario_Speedwagon [incomplete]

Davesport is there and it's prevalent and not toxic, but it's not the main focus. It's more of an accidental baby acquisition fic. I can't think of any trigger warnings for this one, but check the tags. always.

Matted Fur by Afval [one-shot]

Evil ending fic with rabbit symbolism for Dave. All TWs are in the tags.

Sharp-Toothed Rabbit by orphan_account [one-shot]

More evil end Dave ft. animal metaphors! what more could you want? All TWs in the tags.

happiest day by grimkid [one-shot]

A fic about Jack's happiest day. Jack x Steven, no TWs iirc but heed the tags.

Octane Rating by dontrollthedice [one-shot]

Canon compliant fic about the good ending, only its harrysport. i dont even like the ship but this fic makes me so unwell /pos. No TWs I think but look at the tags.

NO MIDDLE-CALLING by XYZ_Countoriss [one-shot]

Silly chatfic, what can go wrong? -oh that right. No TWs needed, but look at the tags.

Operation Get Your Brother to Remember You After Years of Thinking He is Dead by Sockth [incomplete]

A fic focussed on Peter and Jack, I think the title is self explanatory. No TWs but look at tags.

Safety Infiltration by themostneontwig [incomplete]

After Jack betrays Dee in the evil route, Dave decides he needs to be stopped. A fic based around the idea of Legacy Jack founding the pizzaplex. No TWs that instantly come to mind other than the fact that it's set almost immediately after Jack kills Dee. Look at the tags though.

Hot Chocolate by Wario_Speedwagon [one-shot]

Ouch, set right after Jack dies the first time round. This fic physically hurt me and I mean that in the best way possible. TWs in tags.

After the Storm by themostneontwig [one-shot]

Christmas fic focussed on Peter and Jack. Read this one after Hot Chocolate, it can save you. No TWs unless you're Ebenezer Scrooge in which case dni

Jack's Squad Has UNO Night by Wario_Speedwagon [one-shot]

The title's a lie they play cluedo /j just some wholesome fun. No TWs.

An Unexpected Connection by End_Transmission [one-shot]

Post good end, but Jack 'lives'. We all know Dave had at least ONE kid. No TWs.

Peter Kennedy and the Worst Place on Earth by biptari [incomplete]

AU where Jack and Peter swap places. Steven x Peter. As for TWs I can't say everything off of the top of my head but I KNOW Henry is homophobic and transphobic in this. I can't remember if he says slurs 100% but I'm pretty sure he does use at least one so like, watch out. Other than that, heed the tags.

That's all I have right now. If you know some more then feel free to reblog to add them. No hate to davesport or anything but if you write dsaf fanfics that aren't focussed on davesport then you are my lifeline /hj

[mundmutter]

A Guide to Interaction

as a disclaimer: this is a comprehensive guide to how to form a interactions with my muse. Qistina is not a character who will change for another person. She will remain as ruthless and monstrous as she so desires, changing only by her own volition. She is rotten and wicked, and depending on the verse, highly murderous. With that being said, let's begin.

trigger warnings for: machiavellianism, cannibalism, death and resurrection and horror elements

NPC's involved: Chaffee, Owen Wolfram, Alessandra Marcus

To preface, this is not a closed-interactive list. There will always be open room for plotting and verses, so it's not 100% needed, it's just more of a list of ways to make the process easier.

To begin, There is a special hospital known to cure and heal even the most dangerous of ailments in her universe. The hospital is run a mafia group operating under the name Homunculus, with each member carrying a special Ouroboros branding somewhere on their body. The doctors and other persons beneath certain members have tattoo’s as well. Sometimes, directly onto their hands depending on their importance. they're the code name of alchemists that are aligned with Khrosteia or the Atropa House.

The Atropa House, works in tandem with the Cult of Khrosteia. Their main goal is to bring Khrosteia back into her truest power by way of human sacrifices, crime-lording, blood sacrifices and even less 'nefariously' appearing in operations dealing with blood and bodies. Hospitals, blood drives, etc etc. She wishes for that same power, and believes that Khrosteia's cult will help her achieve her goal. With this goal, aside from their obsession with Khrosteia, by her good grace may they rank higher to receive more power and knowledge from her. Some are even granted glimpses into the Ein Sof with Qistina's help. Though, it comes at a great risk: There is no guarantee the person will return alive and whole. Most are either mad or completely power hungry but remain loyal to the House - these are the sorts of persons that your muse will have likely encountered with her insignia. They can be friendly in appearance but are usually just out for themselves and can be just as rude.

As Qistina gives off a particularly 'kind' bit of friendliness in the way she speaks and behaves it's easy to become lax and unguarded around her. She takes it as a sign of weakness. If your muse manages to understand that there is a tricky and more nefarious glint behind her smile, there is a great chance she will notice, thus, making her even more interested in your muse. She greatly enjoys picking apart your opinions and thoughts on the world, wishing to understand but remaining terribly closed off emotionally. She will still tell the truth ( if nothing else, she's honest ) but she may change subjects at the drop of a hat.

Interactive #1: As the House exists within her main verse the first and 'easiest' way for coming into contact with her is to have been scouted for having residual alchemical energy sensed on your muse. This can apply to muses that have inhuman power, are from other worlds or planets, or are not human at all. These types make her interested enough to invite you in at least. As for what she can do for your muse; it' all depends it's only a matter of what they want. Most all things she can indeed make happen. For a price or for your servitude.

Interactive #2: If your muse should have a crime-related group of any kind there is a chance that they 'could' have run into members of the House before. Particularly an NPC by the name of 'Owen Wolfram' who takes the code name of Hohenheim when on missions. Organ theft, attempting to take control of areas where alchemical feedback is high ( buildings, land, neighborhoods, etc ) loan sharking, museum heisting and even collection of strays and homeless individuals. His code name at the very least would be known underground, thus leading someone to the House where Qistina is.

Interactive #3: There is a high possibility that she will go off on her own to gather catalysts and tomes to further advance. She is rather open and brazen on the street, so there's no doubt that one might have seen her and followed her back to the House out of curiosity or maybe even a death wish! If she senses the ordinary she may just lure you back to the House to kill you and use you for spare parts. Or perhaps turn you into a chimera.

Interactive #4: Not as likely, but there is a second-in-command within the House by the name of Alessandra Marcus. He will be met within the home, near the gates, tending the gardens . . . out on the street or prowling at night for further sacrifices. Alessandra may also reach your muse by telephone on occasion.

Interactive #5: your muse may have had a run-in with Chaffee, Qistina's wolf/polar bear chimera. Growing alongside her since the late 1400's, Chaffee is bonded to Qistina by the soul and can thus 'tell her' that he has 'met with' or had an encounter with your muse. Chaffee consumes souls to retain his immortality, by flashing gold sparks of lightning snaking into the sky. He has red eyes, and when he consumes souls he has three - one in the middle of his forehead, so he's quite noticeable. He may also attempt to bring you back to the House if he senses the right energy ( or knows you already )

There are countless of ways to interact, but here are the 5 best and 'easiest' ways to get things going. Whether predetermined or newly meeting, everything is completely up to plotting in the end.

[vanoefucks]

book recommendation tag game!

rules: recommend as many books as you like. please include genre and some basic information on it (either your words or a copy+paste synopsis). feel free to include cover art, a personal review, trigger warnings, and anything else! just don’t spoil the book!

Tagged by @dekarios <33 ty!!

BITTERTHORN : Kat Dunn

Genre: Gothic Fantasy Romance (sapphic) (adult)

Blumwald is a town overshadowed by an ancient curse: in a sinister castle in the depths of the wild wood lives a monstrous Witch. Once a generation, she comes to claim a companion to return with her – never to be seen again. Now that time is drawing near once more... Mina, daughter of the duke, is grieving and lonely. She has lost all hope of any future for herself in Blumwald. So when the Witch demands her next companion, Mina offers herself up.

I adore this book and although it took me a while to warm up to the prose (it had been a while since I’d read anything other than ya) it drew me in and I finished it over the course of 2 train rides. It’s beautiful and made me cry but it’s so??? Comforting in the strangest way.

ALL THESE BODIES : Kendara Blake

Genre: Mystery & Horror (ya)

Summer 1958. A gruesome killer plagues the Midwest, leaving behind a trail of bodies completely drained of blood. Michael Jensen, an aspiring journalist whose father happens to be the town sheriff, never imagined that the Bloodless Murders would come to his backyard. Not until the night the Carlson family was found murdered in their home. Marie Catherine Hale, a diminutive fifteen-year-old, was discovered at the scene—covered in blood. She is the sole suspect in custody. Michael didn’t think that he would be part of the investigation, but he is pulled in when Marie decides that he is the only one she will confess to.

I love a small town vibe & saw this at the charity shop with its shiny! Cover so obviously I picked it up. I read it slowly but only because I didn’t want it to end. It was so cool to read it from the point of view of Michael and the details get pretty fucked up so warning with that. Heavy discussions of murder and gory details.

PRINCE OF THE SORROWS : Kellen Graves

Genre: Fantasy Romance (lgbt) (adult)

the book gives you a list of tws at the start worth looking at

Without an academic endorsement to make him valuable to the high fey, Saffron will be sent back through the veil to the human world. When mistaken identity leads to Saffron learning the true name of brooding, self-centered, high fey Prince Cylvan, what begins as a risk of losing his life (or his tongue) becomes an opportunity to earn the future he wants. But as other human servants soon fall victim to a beast known only as “the wolf”, Saffron realizes he has embroiled himself in a manipulative reach for power like he never anticipated. Between the wolf, uncovering forbidden magic, and his growing feelings for the prince, Saffron will have to decide which is most important to him

Now this series is literally what made me buy a kindle in the end. I love the rowan blood books even if the second one after this had me tearing my hair out. It’s the first and only fae book series I’ve read and I don’t think any will ever hold up to this. The characters are to die for and the author does so well with having you root for saffron. I love it so dearly.

Bonus: the Spider-Man and & Deadpool comic run LMAO

Ok so!! I’ll do 3 for now ^^ thank you again for the tag <3 i love reading even though I’ve slowed down due to work :[ & I'll take any chance to share some of my faves.

Tagging @leonbastralle @landgraabbed @ambrozians & @gallusneve (no pressure whatsoever as always <3)

[freesia-writes]

Howzer + Aurelia Ch. 14

Beginning with his shiny days, this story follows Howzer's character arc through some heartwarming romance, action, adventure, yearning, angst, and growth.

Content/Trigger Warnings for Entire Work (individual chapters not labeled): wartime peril, injury, and death; sexual assault up to kissing; relationship passion up to making out and heavy petting; sexual relationship alluded to (smut is posted separately); pregnancy, birthing trauma, and stillbirth (chapters 30-39, can be skipped and still keep up with the story).

Master List of Chapters

Word Count: 1.1k

14. Loss

"Sprint!" shouted Howzer, starting to run up the stairs, but the ground shook with a nearby explosion, throwing him to the side against the wall. The top of the building above the doorway broke in half, falling with a deafening crash and landing on the steps above Howzer. The next shell landed almost on top of them; a blast of heat rippled out with the shockwave as stones and beams tumbled down.

It felt like an eternity before the dust settled. There was nothing but chaos and flames, and Howzer couldn't hear anything past the ringing in his ears. Slowly rising to his feet and getting his bearings, he could see the outline of the stone that had fallen, framed by the orange glow of flames beyond it. It had landed with one end at the top of the steps and the other end smashed up against the building overhead, making a rudimentary roof over the subterranean doorway. If it had been tilted ten degrees in either direction, he would have been crushed instantly.

He took a shaky breath, placing a hand on the rock wall next to him, standing up straight with agonizing slowness, afraid that he might break in half at any moment. He blinked, shaking his head a little bit, and then turned to the doorway behind him, opening it a crack. The stairs continued downward into a basement room, where he heard the worried voices of the Twi'leks.

Suddenly, he remembered Sprint, kicking himself mentally for being so thrown off by the explosion. He shut the door and climbed up the stairs, finding a small opening at the side and squeezing through it. The scene that met his eyes made his stomach drop to his feet in shock and horror. The place had been leveled, with nothing but heaps of rubble remaining. Flames danced here and there, and the heat and smoke hit him like a wall.

A flash of motion caught Howzer's eye, and he turned to see a brother limping out from one of the demolished buildings that was still on fire. He ran to him, putting an arm around him for support and helping him away from the blaze. A fallen wooden beam made a makeshift bench, and Howzer gently helped the clone to sit, trying to ignore the yelp of pain. The man leaned back, head rolling in obvious discomfort.

"Did you see anyone else?" Howzer asked loudly, receiving only a shake of the head in return. "Okay -- wait here, I'll be back." He stood, casting a frantic glance around the clearing. The droids had gone, and the entire crater was lit with flames and devastation. There was no sight of the rest of his squad. He began to search, looking for any signs of white armor, any movement, anything.

This was the part of war that wasn't glorified in the tales told, the part that pierces the soul and separates bone from marrow with unfathomable horror as survival instinct takes over. He found two more brothers, bodies broken and crushed grotesquely, and checked their pulses regardless. He felt a growing sense of dread, continuing to call out amid the piles of rubble, straining to hear any signs of life.

His heart leapt as he spotted a white helmet up ahead, near a partially collapsed building, and he ran as quickly as he could. It felt as though he were underwater, but he pressed on with an urgency. Drawing near, his heart sunk once again at the sickening realization that the helmet had been painted teal green on the sides. He moved toward the building, which had broken down upon itself, and shouted into the darkness.

"Sprint!"

Nothing.

He stood, looking around on the ground for any blood or tracks to give any clue where the helmet's owner was. And then he could have sworn he heard a voice. He whirled around, eyes casting about frantically, checking all the spots he had already checked three times. He felt a bead of sweat roll down the side of his face. Then he heard it again.

It was coming from the side of the building. He discovered another set of stairs, leading down to a doorway much like the one that had protected him. It was covered in chunks of stone and wooden beams, but there were gaps. He bent down, listening intently, and now he was positive: a weak, feeble voice. Someone was under there.

"Help!" he shouted, without really thinking about it, "Anyone! Help!" He felt as though he were breaking apart, which came as a surprise considering how much he had loved to remind people how cool and collected he was in all of his training drills. He began to pull away at the stones, pressing his weight against the larger ones to shift them out of the way. He was simultaneously terrified at the possibility of making them all collapse while also feeling the sense of urgency to get to whoever was down there.

He moved a big beam aside, and the light from the fires streamed in, revealing a small green hand flailing through a criss-crossed beam beneath it. He pushed the beam aside and reached down, finding the little hand and grasping it firmly. Pulling it upward gently, he fished the Twi'lek boy out of the mess, setting him to the side. He was covered in dust and splotches of blood, from his lekku to his bare feet, and he trembled violently.

Howzer dropped to one knee in front of him, placing his hands on either shoulder and staring at him intently. "Where is Sprint?" he asked insistently, trying to get his point across with his hands. The boy shook his head, still crying in panic, and Howzer had to resist the urge to try to shake him out of it. "Where did he go?" he tried again.

The boy continued shaking his head, grimacing in an awful expression of despair, and pointed toward the rubble he had recently been pulled from. Howzer leapt to the beams, pushing with all his might to make a bigger opening. A large rock fell from the side, and half of the pile crumbled away with it. The sudden lack of resistance made Howzer fall to his side as the stairs below suddenly came into focus.

Sprint's body, unmistakable with the teal armor accents, was held in place by the wooden beam that had taken his life. He was frozen in a hunched position, arms out on either side, and the space beneath him was the perfect size and shape for a child. The building had collapsed on both of them, and his last effort had been to bend over the Twi'lek boy and brace against the wall. Howzer realized then that he was shaking uncontrollably, and as his eyes found the nauseating mess of what was left of Sprint's upper body, he felt as though he was going to be sick.

"Trooper!" came a voice from behind him, but Howzer didn't move. The same steps, the same doorway that had saved his life had killed Sprint. He felt as though he should be feeling so much more, but there was nothing but empty, immobilizing shock. A hand on his shoulder jostled him, and the voice repeated, "Trooper! You alright?"

Howzer finally turned to see a clone with maroon-accented armor -- General Windu's battalion. He shook his head, taking a moment to find his voice. "Sprint is dead under there. Two more back over there. There's one more alive, back in the clearing, and this kid's family is back there too." He recited the facts dully, as if they were rote historical facts.

"Scroller? With the broken leg? We got him. Let's get this kid back and we'll get you cleaned up."

Howzer straightened slowly, beckoning to the Twi'lek boy and moving as if in a trance. Picking up Sprint's helmet on the way, he led the child to the stairway, opening the door and showing him the family below, who screamed and cried in relief at the sight of the boy. Howzer returned to the scout, who led him to the LAAT in a nearby clearing. Scroller's leg had been immobilized, and a few helmets were gathered in the corner on the floor.

Howzer took his own helmet off then, placing both his and Sprint's in the pile and mustering all his strength to stand and grab hold of a strap instead of collapsing onto the ground as the ship took off.

.

Next Chapter

[otome-mondays]

Virche Evermore -ErroR:Salvation- First Impressions 🥀

This will be my first time doing a first impressions post, since I started Radiant Tale before starting my blog, so quick rundown of how this works: I play through the prologue of a game (maybe part of the common route if a prologue is too short) and give my initial thoughts of the game and any love interests that appear. These posts are going to be relatively spoiler free for most the plot, but I won’t limit myself from spoilers of what I’ve seen for those who want to play a game completely blind. I am writing as I encounter things so if it seems all over the place then haha yeah it is!

Trigger/Content Warnings: violence, murder, suicide, body horror. Please be mindful of your triggers and don’t interact with this post if you’re not in the capacity to handle such topics! I’ve put a read more for those who would like to avoid these triggers. I am not aware of all the triggering content in this game yet, so please look up a full list if you feel the need!

For Virche Evermore, I played the prologue and Chapter 1 for this post. I am trying to do these posts before the first necessary dialogue choice, but because of how short the prologue was and how you only see 3 of the 6 LIs at that point I decided to wait until a bit later. I started playing January 15, 2024.

Also, I’ll note my most anticipated and least anticipated with the respective emojis: ✨ and 💥

General Thoughts

Oh my god this starts out so wild??? The prologue portion was INCREDIBLY short and I immediately saved after and it said Act 2 so was that Act 1? No clue. Anyways, this poor girl has gone through it. I feel so bad for Ceres. I don’t like that everybody but Salome ignores her essentially. Ok so I didn’t realize we’d be taking a Piofiore route of introducing religion but that’s fun. I struggle with games addressing religion sometimes because of some personal issues so I’m anticipating this game will take me a bit to get through like Piofiore: Fated Memories.

Mathis

He seems very nice! He’s definitely one of the pretty boy characters and I have a stellar track record of picking those ones as my favorite. I did think he was wearing a dress at first and then was sad for 0.3 seconds when I discovered he wasn’t.

Lucas ✨

Oh boy another pretty guy. We’re off to an amazing start people. I was not expecting his voice but it fits, they almost always do. OH HE’S A TEACHER COOL! I am begging for at least one of these guys to have a full on dress at some point please they’d all pull it off flawlessly. Especially Lucas or Mathis. Oh he’s coughing that’s not good…I wanna fix this fictional country’s problems just to save this dude from dying he’s too pretty.

Scien

I have seen this man for 10 seconds and he is already getting on my nerves omg. Now to be fair, he is another pretty boy character…they probably all are now that I think about it. I was not expecting that voice from him though.

Yves

Ok this is the cover art guy…immediate first thought is he’s a little strange. I’m 99% sure he’s that kid who saved her in the fire. Yeah he basically instantly confirmed that, cool. Oh sweet the game confirmed it quickly on too, makes my life a lot easier. Somebody with braincells yay!

Adolphe 💥

Ok so I started my thoughts here at the first official time he makes an appearance. Interesting, I like him more than I thought I would when I was just seeing his sprite. He’s got some braincells unlike most these people so that’s a win. What’s not a win is the older brother-little sister dynamic we have here! Cute for anybody that’s not a love interest! Something from seeing his sprite enough now, does the dude wear a shirt because it doesn’t look like it?

Ankou

Oh my god he’s wild and not in a good way to start off! Ok he’s scaring me genuinely wow. But he is pretty…ok what is he even talking about. Oh and that’s it there’s the op. Well let’s see how this game goes!

[phoenix-pheces]

Part two of Bleeding Hearts! Full credit to @turquoisespace35 for this AU. Please see the following list of trigger warnings for this update. I am happy to provide anyone with specifics if you’d like to message me before reading.

Trigger Warnings: Blood, Graphic Violence, Death, Use of Weaponry, Body Horror

—————————————

Bleeding Hearts - 2/3

Though Amity had tried her best, she was no match for twelve trained soldiers: especially with an injured Willow by her side. The two of them had been swiftly escorted to the dungeon below the palace. They thankfully had been permitted to share a small cell. Willow wasn’t sure she could bear to be alone at the moment. Amity had let Willow lean against her side and cry until her voice was hoarse. She knew they needed to be working on a plan of escape, but her fear and guilt had overtaken her. Amity was nothing but understanding and sympathetic, content to stay there as long as a friend needed her.

“Don’t move,” Amity whispered as she silently rose to her feet.

“What’s happening?”

“Torchlight. It’s faint, but I’m pretty sure it’s headed our way.”

Soon, Willow could see the glow as well. She couldn’t make out who was approaching, only that there were two of them. Amity suddenly jumped up and squealed.

“Ed! Em! How did you find us?”

“You’re the only prisoners here,” Amity’s sister said with a laugh. Willow approached the bars to greet them.

“Can you two get us out of here?”

“Way ahead of you.” Amity’s brother held up a small bronze key with a smirk. “They honestly make it too easy. Maybe we’ll break into the armory next.”

“Ed,” Amity interrupted. “Important mission here.”

Together, the twins opened the door to the cell and embraced Amity. They led the two back through the palace, including through the armory. Edric insisted they may need some weapons, and definitely had no personal stake in seeing the elite craftsmanship. Willow took a small dagger for herself, while Emira and Amity took matching spears.

“Alright, let’s go save Hunter.”

The king and his soldiers had been conducting searches of every house in the kingdom. They had lost too much time. He would find Hunter hidden away in Gus’s home soon enough. Willow wanted to run straight to him, but Amity had stopped her.

“Willow, I know you want to go protect him, but we would just be confirming his presence there. The best thing we can do is lay low and hope that Gus was able to move him in time. Maybe to my house, knowing it would be empty for a while?”

Willow reluctantly agreed, but felt little hope. They had ruled out everyone else’s home before deciding on Gus’s. Everyone else had plenty of family coming in and out of the home who could accidentally see Hunter. Gus was the only one who lived in a two person household, and his dad would hopefully be understanding if he were to arrive home and find Gus with an unexpected guest.

The search party arrived at Gus’s home. Amity had insisted on staying far from the home to remain hidden, and described the scene for Willow. Gus answered the door, with the bravest expression he could muster. Neither of them could hear what was being said, nor could they spot Luz or Hunter. The guards pushed past Gus, who began to yell in protest. Amity pulled Willow to her feet, and the two ran for the house.

“Please, I can’t have the house a mess, my dad will be beside himself!” As soon as Gus saw them, his face froze. Making sure he couldn’t be seen, he gave them a frantic nod.

Hunter was still inside.

Willow’s heart dropped. She grabbed Amity’s shoulder.

“We have to go in after them.”

“Willow we can’t,” Amity said, her voice breaking.

“I’m going.” She let go of Amity and made her way into the house.

The guards mostly ignored her, currently tearing through Gus’s home and belongings. Chairs shoved to the floor, blankets thrown about, even the bowls in the kitchen weren’t left undisturbed. Willow pushed her way through the guards just in time to hear the king shouting to the guards.

“Avert your eyes! Don’t let it look at you!”

“No!” Willow screamed.

“Willow!” Hunter’s shout was soon muffled by the sound of a sheet.

“Good work commander, bring it outside. And someone, grab that girl!”

Willow was forcefully grabbed by the wrists. Hunter was brought out beside her, two guards restraining his hands while another held a sheet around his neck, effectively blinding him and protecting everyone else around them. Willow and Hunter both fought to free themselves, but the guards only held their arms tighter. The two were pushed, struggling as they were, out of the house and into the street. The king approached them and addressed the gathering crowd.

“Citizens! Behold! These traitors in our midst smuggled this horrendous monster into our kingdom. It could have turned all of us to stone!” The crowd gasped.

“He’s innocent!” Willow thrashed against the guards. “He can’t control it but he never wanted to hurt anyone! Amity and I are living proof! Please-“

“Silence her!” A guard behind her slapped their hand over Willow’s mouth. She fought against them, but they held their ground. The king spoke again.

“For the crimes of treason and attempted murder, I sentence this girl and her monster to death.”

“The only monster here is you!” Everyone fell silent as Hunter yelled. “You killed my parents, and you sent countless subjects to die knowing I can’t control this power. Admit it!”

Doubt spread as the crowd began to murmur amongst themselves. Amity, Gus, Ed, Em, and now Luz pushed their way through.

“They speak the truth,” Amity called out. “I was chosen too, both Willow and Hunter ensured I wouldn’t be harmed. I would be dead if he was intent on hurting me.”

“I kept him in my home! He was nothing but careful and polite!” Gus added.

“Silence!” The king’s voice echoed through the street. “I will tolerate no more of this deceitful insurrection. Citizens, while it is true these two survived, how many of our bravest warriors have died at the hands of this beast? How many of you have lost parents, siblings, or children?”

The crowd was silent. The king let out a long sigh.

“I wish this monster was capable of living peacefully, I truly do. But at any moment, it could turn on us and turn everyone in the village to stone. Surely, good citizens, you understand?”

“I believe them.” Camila, Luz’s mother, spoke up. Luz beamed at her.

“I believe them.” Willow’s fathers stepped forward together.

Slowly, the crowd agreed and stepped up to join them.

“He looks like just a kid!”

“He didn’t hurt the last two chosen ones.”

“What would they gain by lying and bringing him here?”

Finally, Amity approached the king and dropped her spear to the ground.

“Your Majesty,” she said with determination, “we all know he is no monster. Release him.”

“And if I refuse?”

“We’ll take matters into our own hands.” Edric and Emira joined Amity, each giving her a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder. The king chuckled, but the chuckle turned slowly into full blown laughter.

“Oh, now this is tragic. You all truly believe this thing is worth saving. You trust it more than your own apparently cruel king.” He smirked. “Well if you think I’m a monster now-“

The king grabbed the spear Amity had dropped and plunged it into Hunter’s neck.

“Hunter!” The guards let go of Willow and she ran to him. He collapsed into her arms. She pulled the spear out and shouted to the crowd. “Everyone, look away!”

Willow pulled the sheet off of Hunter. Blood was bubbling up from his neck, and his snakes had gone completely still. Willow’s gaze met his: terror and pain collided in his eyes. Hunter grabbed her arm. He tried to speak, but only dark blood flew from his lips. His grip on Willow began to weaken.

“No, no Hunter please! Please stay with me!”

Behind her, the king began screaming in pain. His back arched sharply and his hands flew to his eyes. The crowd ran, screaming. Willow’s friends tried frantically to reach them. They finally made it to her sobbing and clutching Hunter’s head to her chest.

“He’s not moving.”

The king screamed again as emerald scales began to push their way from beneath his skin. Blood followed, and spilled all over the new surface. His hair fell out in droves as reptilian strands instead made their way to the surface, rippling beneath the skin of his scalp.

He was turning into a gorgon.