#readers discretion is advised

[gotham-daydreams]

Honestly, in a situation like not [] where they aren't willing to physically hurt the reader but psychologically mess with them? It's fucked but at the same time I have too good of an imagination. When it comes to neglect there's so many aspects of it that could happen and even if I'm pissed I could keep my mouth shut to the point I feel numb.

I mean they can't change you or break you if you just stay in your own head after all? Lil stories in your head to keep you busy, unholy amount of hours spent sleeping. I don't care if I waste away if it means not having to deal with people who won't even listen or admit that it's gonna take time to undo trauma and won't take the proper steps to undo it.

They take things up a notch and limit food or start doing things that prevent you from sleeping? Do it, at least the hat man will be a better friend. Can't break what's not there, the batfam always has this mindset that so long as they get their way that they would do what's necessary but that's entirely because they are all too selfish to actually really respect how you feel. And no amount of bugging me or yelling at me or trying to get a rise out of me will change the fact I can just slip into my mind and ignore it all.

The only way I'd ever stop being in my head and not even wasting time on them is if they actually tried to be genuine in fixing things and admit they fucked up and are doing it out of guilt. Either put down your pride or stay with a reader who will gladly stay tucked away in the crevice of their brain in an imaginary field of flowers with whatever lil character they make to enjoy the time in their head <3

Anyways I love your series and can't wait for more!! Please take care and hydrate!!!

I do agree! Especially in this scenario where they’re way more unwilling to physically hurt the reader, because... well, they want to hear your music! Like a little songbird, just tucked away from the public eye, just for them to hear you sing...

It'll definitely get on their nerves, and some will probably crumble under the pressure - but those that don't aren't actually the ones you should be worried about. I mean, of course they'll try to do everything else they can, and at that point - its a contest of willpower and to see who can outlast the other (and spoiler, most of them will definitely lose), but some are definitely more stubborn than others. After all, their 'love' is spawned out of guilt, obligation, and a messy mix of things that's turned into this ugly beast of a thing they see as love - if you aren't willing to take it, then that's fine, but you definitely aren't getting anything until you do.

Though, again, at some point the time and treatment definitely begins to effect them too. And that’s... not good, especially when some of them are known for their resolve, will, and general ability to withstand so much crap despite not even being superhuman (even if in all honesty, compared to the average guy, they may as well be). Them being insane does not help with that fact.

They'll begin to consider things they wouldn't have even thought of before out of sheer desperation and need. They'll think about it, plan it out a little, and before they even know it - they're losing hours of sleep trying to find ways to actually execute it. Hell - some may even act impulsively, and just flat out do it without giving it a second thought. Because they can't. They can't think. They can't sleep. Not without you - not after another month, another week, another day, another hour, another second without you.

They need it. Need you. Need your warmth, your presence - to feel like they're doing something right, even when its so wrong. Even if they've left you damaged beyond repair, some still want to feel like they can fix you, put you back together... and what better way to feed that delusion then to hold you in their arms? To do all of these things with you... even if you're not mentally there?

At that point, they'd sacrifice never being able to hear your music from you to get that. To have that fabricated connection. They'd give up that one thing that's been keeping them from harming you physically, and go all out.

[Which... descriptions of losing limbs, and general gore under the cut, it's not pretty but not super detailed either? Yes, it's towards the reader. Yes the reader is awake. There is no cut away, but some dancing around using some phrases repeatedly. Consider yourself warned and advised. Even if it's just descriptions - the family isn't playing nice.]

Maybe they'd start small... just a leg, maybe two, not even a foot- your legs from the knee down are going indefinitely. Maybe even the whole thing if certain people do it impulsively, and aren't thinking - aside from the fact that they need you close, but they just have to get these things out of the way. To lessen your struggle, to reassure themselves you won't run, of course - after all, you can't run if they just... take away that option, right? It's for the best, they'd tell themselves, they need to do this. They have to. You gave them no other choice- and now... now they had to make a tough choice. They have to do this.

If it's done impulsively, it's messy. I guess not having a lot of experience cutting off limbs or disabling someone isn't going to make things easier, who knew, am I right? Taking lives (for some of them), and beating people up is one thing, but cutting off arms and legs? It's weird to think about until you're the one doing it, and in a frenzy no less.

Some of the more impulsive ones you really have to look out for, because if they do it then it is painful, and that is no exaggeration. As much as they're thinking about you, they also aren't at the same time - at least not you in the present as they're doing the removal. You'll pass out from pain, or just the visceral sight right before you witness your leg getting torn off. Real messy stuff. It's not subtle at all, they barely hide it - if they even try to allow you that luxury. If anything, you see too much of it. Either way, you're out like a light, and left with whatever you saw as nothing is left to the imagination. Unless your fucked up mind makes it worse, to which- a lot is left to the imagination as that nightmare of a scene is messed with and mixed in your head like a toddler left in the kitchen.

Of course, the family will take care of the messy outcome, and get you to another room and everything (after all, they have one too many spar ones), but, well, that won't change the reality of the situation, will it? Hell, get one of the more rough ones pissed off or just do something one of the more impulsive ones doesn't like, and you'll lose your arms, and depends on who does it - you'll lose them just as you lost your legs, and you'll get to watch... before you pass out, of course.

Maybe they'll get you things to help, like robotic limbs and such, though its not that great and doesn't make things easier. Not even a little. They'll be able to control everything you do, essentially, down to what you can even touch or interact with.

You'll feel more trapped then you ever have before, as even your body, every limb attached to your torso is theirs. Theirs to control. To mess with, and just like before, they'll take it away if you do something that makes them upset.

They'll leave you more than just defenseless.

[marleyybluu]

Differences

husband!Rio x f!black!OC ( Toni - no relation to Miss Braxton.)

Word count: 3.2k

Content warning: 18+, smut out the ass, riding, fingering, p in v, creampie, use of the word cock sorry oops, baby-making boogie, doubts about marriage, doubts about kids, fluff, Rio being in love, lot of switching between his names, allusion to food play if you squint hard enough (?). lmk if I missed any.

A/N: this was orginally for... someone else iykyk mind your business, but I switched last minute. Also I gave Rio a middle name lol

(Not my gif, found off Pinterest. but FUCK ME he looks good)

They'd been married for four years. They enjoyed their marital life, going on various trips, spending their money all willy-nilly since it was just the two of them, having parties at their house every holiday but something was missing. At least for Toni. She always wanted to be a mother, children invaded her heart and soul her whole life. Her sisters had children that she loved to babysit, she was even in the delivery room a few times. She'd become a teacher for the sole purpose of spending her days with young ones, making a difference in their lives and loving them wholeheartedly as much as she could.

But it seemed like Rio wasn't in the same boat. Which was stupid because they made sure to have this discussion before they got married and he was on board one hundred percent, Toni wanted to make her husband a father, she wanted to see him cradle a little blanket in his arms, she wanted to see him snuggling next to the chubbiest cheeks and she wanted to see his face light up at their first word but, again, he seemed to not want it for himself.

It was frustrating.

She'd let the four years pass, it was a good time window, they had time to get their lives together and buy a house, fully furnish it, settle into a decent neighbourhood and buy an SUV to fit the little family they dreamed of.

Toni even made sure to let him know when she was ovulating, the perfect opportunity to try and make a child, but he'd shrivel up and disappear when she brought it up. Then she'd spend her nights quietly doubting his interest in kids, his interest in her.

They hadn't spoken in four days, the aftermath of their first real argument, the vibes in the house were heavy and sometimes a bit awkward. She even started staying late at work to avoid him even longer.

They weren't all that selfish, they still said good morning and good night but that was about it. Little to her knowledge it was killing Rio. He hated the silent treatment from her, she was his girl they talked all the time, this had been the best relationship he'd ever been in, he didn't want to fuck it up but it felt like he already did.

He tried sneaking his way back into her heart by leaving little love notes, cooking her favourite meals and turning on her favourite shows in hopes she'd join him on the couch but all he got was the cold shoulder and he understood. He fucked up big time.

"I'm ovulating." She stated plainly. Rio just blinked and shrugged. She groaned. "Christopher, I can't do this anymore, I'm dropping hints that I want to start trying and you... you ignore me."

"I'm not ready."

"When will you be? Because I am."

He chuckled nervously. "Come on, Toni, we cannot be parents. We'll fuck it up."

The look on her face sent his heart into the pit of his stomach, her eyes glossy with tears coming in, and a harsh; "Fuck you, Christopher!"  To follow suit. It stung hearing those words, if she ever said them it was more so in a playful manner but this time she had rage, anger behind her words and rightfully so. But tonight he was determined to make amends, he could not keep living like this.

It was Friday, and Toni decided she'd come home a little earlier. Rio sat up quickly at the sound of her car door slamming and the keys on her keychain jingling as she sifted for the house key. The door opened and he tried his best to keep his cool. "Hi, darlin." He greeted.

"Hey." She said in the most monotone voice he'd ever heard. "Hungry?" He asked. "Nah, I'm cool."

Toni slipped off her shoes and crept up the stairs to their room, she placed her purse on a chair nearby and sighed, just ready to shower and lay down for the rest of the weekend. She walked past their bathroom intending to head to her Vanity but a red spot on the floor caught her eye, and then another... and another. But they weren't spots, they were rose petals, a trail of them leading up to the tub that was already filled with water, the smell of her lavender bath bomb invading her senses. On the counter were a few lit candles and her little speaker so she could play music.

She swallowed her smile and headed back to the room to collect her clothes for the night. Meanwhile, Rio was finishing the final touches on his persuasive dinner downstairs. He made Macaroni just the way she taught him, some rice and chicken, even topped it off with a red velvet cake... okay so he bought the cake but it was the thought that counted right?

He set up the table for both of them to eat together, he set up the forks and knives on the table with a small vase of her favourite flower, pink Dahlia's. His palms were suddenly sweaty, tonight was make or break. If he didn't fix things tonight he had no idea where they would stand after.

Almost an hour later, Toni decided she'd close the distance between them only because she was hungry. Her feet pressed against the carpeted stairs as she descended onto the main floor, the living room was empty, Rio left whatever he was watching on pause. Her head whipped over to the kitchen smelling a lovely fragrance, she followed the trail and stopped in her tracks at the opening to the kitchen. She watched as Rio scrambled to plate their food, she tilted her head and smiled lightly, her eyes slowly forming into hearts. Oh, how she loved him.

"Do you want help?" She asked making her presence known, Rio shook his head. "Just sit and be pretty." She giggled. "I have no problem doing that."

She sat around the table, her eyes landing on the Dahlia's, her smile widened. "You got these for me?"

"Of course," He replied walking with two plates in his hand like a waiter, he put hers down first and then his. "Any drink requests?" He asked. She motioned her finger in a 'come here' motion, his eyebrows knitting with confusion but following her non-verbal instruction, she cupped his face pulling him even closer until their lips, moulding into one. She'd been wanting to kiss him for days, she didn't know if she could ever hold a grudge this long again.

The kiss was quick, just a little show of appreciation. She could see a light shade of pink take over his cheekbones. "Do we have any wine?"

"Went and got two new bottles." He says matter of factly. Toni pecked his lips again before sending him off for her drink. He grabbed two wine glasses and the bottle. "You're going to drink wine?" She asked in utter confusion. He couldn't stand wine, his famous line was 'I don't know how you drink this shit.'

He shrugged sitting down. "I can drink wine."

"Christopher... baby you hate wine."

"I can learn to like it."

She knew he was doing everything to soften her up, but the look on his face when he took a first sip was priceless. "Go and get a beer, leave me and my wine alone." He chuckled and quickly grabbed a bottle from the fridge.

The two sat and actually conversed for the first time in four days. It was nice. They talked without missing a beat, he was making her smile and laugh, she told him about the kids at work and the twinkle in her eye at the smallest mention of them was beautiful. She truly loved her students, they made her day every day with the silly stuff they'd say to her. He was in love with how motherly she could be toward everyone, how forgiving she was of anyone and especially of him. He didn't deserve her and he'd made it known numerous times and in the same amount she'd reassured him that he was just for her.

In the middle of her ramble, she noticed the way he was staring at her and suddenly she became shy. "What?" She asked. "I love you, mama."

"I love you too, Christopher."

He shook his head vigorously. "No, I love you more than you could ever imagine, Toni. And I am so so sorry for what I said."

She sighed. "It's okay."

"No, it's not okay. You will be an amazing mom to our kids and I couldn't picture anyone else having them, shit I couldn't even picture having a family until you came, it wasn't in the cards for me." He confessed. "My whole life has changed and I'm forever grateful for it. I want it to keep changing."

She tugged on her bottom lip, trying her best to swallow her tears. "When I saw how my words affected you, baby, my heart broke. I never want to be the reason you're sad. Never. I've missed you these few days. I need you back. I'm sorry."

Toni was speechless, her lips parted to say something but how do you respond to the sweetest apology ever?

Her eyes darted between his pretty brown ones, she stood up and walked over to him, swinging her leg over his she planted herself comfortably on his lap. His hands instantly rested on her hips. She didn't say anything, just leaned down and kissed him and he could swear that on her lips he could taste his past, his present and his future and she was there for every step, for every second. He wouldn't dare say such foolishness to her again.

Toni could feel a little poke through his sweats, she quietly moaned into his mouth, his hands exploring her warm chestnut skin under her shirt, his fingers trickling down her back. His lips moved to her chin and down to her neck to the spot he knew oh so well, his facial hair tickling her skin only adding to the sensation and a ray of goosebumps formed on her skin. "Christopher...mmm." Was all she could mutter, her hips involuntarily moving back and forth desperately searching for friction to soothe the aching of her clit. He got the message though, firmly splaying his hands under her ample ass, he stood up and she wrapped her legs around him.

He was halfway out of the kitchen when he realized; "Wait, I got you a red velvet cake."

Toni laughed, and she kissed his forehead, god he was so cute. "Boy, forget the cake. Take me upstairs and you can eat a different cake."

Rio raised his eyebrows, didn't have to tell him twice. "That's why I married yo ass girl."

She gladly hung off of him while he carried her up the stairs and once they made it to the room he dropped her on the bed, her sweet laughter filled the room. He settled between her legs, peppering her with kisses and affection. "I can't wait to see you, walking around here with a little belly, carrying around our love." He twitched at the thought and she noticed. A small surprised look on her face. "Is the thought of me pregnant... turning you on?"

"No." He quickly denied it. "Christopher Javier Martínez, yes it does." She teased reaching in between them to cup his hardening erection. "Mm, so you want to fill me up? Hm?" Her voice was so smooth and silky yet seductive, her lips pressing against his only for a moment. "You want to see me carrying your baby around? How swollen and plump my breasts are gonna get? Practically spilling over my tops."

"Toni." He groaned. She giggled but her taunting was cut short when he reached into her (well, his) boxers, his fingers teasing her slit, her wetness coating him. Her back arched as he quickly dipped his fingers inside her heat and back out. "Stop playin' with me." She moaned. "Why?"

Her shirt slid up her torso and past her breasts exposing her erect nipples, his mouth quickly latching onto one, his tongue swirling around her pretty brown areolas, so delicious. His free hand massaged her other one, his thumb and index fingers playing with her nipple. Her back arched and her legs squirm under him.

"Christopher, baby, please." She whined. He chuckled and something about was kind of sinister like his intent was to tease her all night until she begged for what she wanted. He popped her nipple out of his mouth, planting a kiss on it before moving on to the next, his hips grinding into hers pressing his clothed cock on her needy clit. "Yes... oh, I need more, please." She gasped.

He kissed between the valley of her breasts, down her torso and finally reaching his destination above the band of her underwear, he tugs them off in almost a hungry manner, his mouth attaching to her pussy like a magnet. His tongue going to work on her clit, his thumb caressing the rest of her slit. Toni's entire body shivered, her legs slowly closing around his head, he used his free hand to smack her inner thigh, she squealed and spread them out, holding the under of her thighs for support.

Her eyes glided to the back of her head, she squirmed, her back arching just a little bit. "Oh... y-yeah." Her toes cracked while pleasure coursed through her veins. Rio hummed against her sensitive nub, his own hips losing themselves as he hunched against the mattress with neediness. Her thighs trembled as they partially rested on his shoulders. She moaned and whined, whimpered and croaked as he devoured her existence.

"fuck, baby, I'm so close." She warned with her jaw slacked as the hairs on her arm stood, her body stiffened, her nails scratched at his scalp with appreciation and love as he carried her through the tantalizing loops of her orgasm.

She was dripping down his beard and he smiled against her thigh, his teeth gently biting on the flesh. "Oh!... Mr. Martinez." She giggled. He kissed his way back up her body, his lips landing on her chin. "I'm so glad I married you." She hummed running her nails over his skin. "Hm, I love you, ma." He cooed pressing a kiss to her nose. Rio slid off his sweats and boxers, dick sliding between her soaking folds. Her hand reached between them wrapping her fingers around his well-sized shaft.

Their lips connect as she guides him inside her soft walls. She gasped and softly moaned as he eased his way in until she was stuffed. Toni wrapped her legs around his waist. "You good?" Just checking. She nodded, too full to speak. His lips occupied her neck, her mind in the clouds as he fucked her stupid. Mutters and mumbles of "fuck me! Yes!" Or "right there!" As he skillfully worked his hips. He held her close, his face buried in the curve of her neck. His thrusts were hard and slow, he was making her feel every inch, every bit of stretch he provided.

Her high creeping its way into her bones, her moans became louder as he consistently tapped against her g-spot. There was no way he was about to make her nut again in such a short amount of time. He could feel her juicy walls contracting around him, hugging him so tight. "You're so wet for me, huh, my pretty baby?" 

Toni's jaw slacked while he talked to her, nibbling on her ear. "So fucking wet, can feel it dripping down my balls, fuck." 

She whined. "I can't- shit! shit! ooooh!" 

He chuckles as he pulls out, regrettably at that. Toni cried out, her climax so close yet so far. Rio fell onto the bed, slapping her thigh he said, "Get on top." 

She sucked her teeth, in no mood to be on top, still irritated from being denied her needs. Rio pinched her and she yelped. "Ow! You dick!" She laughed slapping his arm. "Hurry up and get on this dick." He urged pulling her arm to help her over. She swung her leg across his body, perching herself on his lap like earlier. His dick resting perfectly against one of her cheeks. She looked down at him and he was so fucking pretty. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed thickly, her eyes landing on that notorious Eagle tattoo on his throat then down over the rest that he had scattered on his body, she moaned at that alone. 

She leaned forward, raising her hips and skillfully lining him up with her entrance, no hands needed. She watched as his rosy lips parted slightly and a small crease in between his eyebrows formed when they came together. "Fuuuuck." He dragged out feeling his dick be re-enveloped in her velvety walls. Toni moved her hips back and forth with one goal in mind, to get herself off. She used her knees as leverage to lift her hips up and back down, her ass jiggling when colliding with his thighs. With her lip between her teeth, her head tossed back she got to work on him. 

Rio's hands gladly squeezed at her sides, her moans filling the room once again. "You're so fucking pretty on top of me, mama." He encouraged, but he truly meant it, she looked like a fucking angel. "Oh god, oh god... fuck yes, Rio!" He felt himself twitch, his wife rarely called him by his street name, she only did it when she wanted to tease him, loved to do it when they were around others. 

He groaned spanking her. She smiled, a hazy look in her eyes. "What's my name, mama?" 

Toni cried out, her head falling forward as she bounced out her orgasm. "Fu-fuuuck, Rio!" 

"Squeezing this dick so fuckin' tight, come on..." He sat up hooking his arm around her waist, his tongue darting out to the underside of her breast, tasting the saltiness of her sweat. Toni sang out his name, her back arched and her eyes rolled. He grabbed her hips and guided her up and down, her body going limp. "Shit! Oh... Toni, I'm comin' baby." He growled through gritted teeth, he pressed his forehead against her sternum and she softly smiled feeling his warm seed spread inside her. "Fuck... that feels so good." She giggled, she was cock drunk. He kissed her glistening skin. 

They stayed like that for a moment, she kissed the top of his head, her hands on his shoulders as she slowly pushed him onto his back again, she climbed off of him and sighed in satisfaction. "You want something to drink?" He asked, she shook her head. "Nah, you gotta hydrate ma. I'm making sure I put a baby in you tonight." He laughed lightly smacking her thigh. Her cheeks warmed as a smile fell onto her face. 

She watched as Rio, naked and all, left the room to go downstairs. "Bring the cake too!"Toni shouted, he could just hear the smirk in her voice.

"You are so nasty!" He yelled back.

 "You love it though!" 

If you liked this fic free to like this fic, likes, reblogs and comments are appreciated. peace and love, see you in the next one 🤙🏾 If you're interested in reading other fics based on songs just like this one you can find them here in 'The Mixtapes.' playlist.

tags: @darqchilddaydreamz @rio-reid-whoreee @skyesthebomb tags that might be interested: @bigenergy777 @realhotgurlshit @lovedlover

[perpetual-fandom-brainrot]

Shadow (Dark Link x Reader x Link)

Summary: The reader accidentally stumbles into Dink's boss room while scouting ahead for monsters.

MASTERLIST Warnings: 18+ themes such as gore, graphic descriptions of death and fatal injury, emotional/psychological manipulation, etc. coming up. Reader actually dies and is revived. This story is not suitable for small children and easily disturbed individuals.

The temple is completely silent aside from the moves of yourself and your best friend, Link. At first he'd warned you to stay in the safety of Kakariko, but lost that argument when you'd held your own in a sparring match.

Now, the two of you gaze upon the expanse of the room you'd emerged from. Lots of water, as expected, fills the area. You notice a plethora of hookshot points, platforms, and tectites. None of them see you or Link as you swim past them to a hallway entrance. You find that it leads to an underwater passage.

In fact, most hallways do, you realize as you trail Link throughout the temple. Most of that trailing is spent picking off monsters Link can't get to, helping point out puzzle solutions, and quickly stealing Navi's attention if her timing is inopportune. Conversation between Link and yourself is scarce, both a strategic decision and a comfortable one, especially for you. Too many other things might come up right now, things that will cause more problems than will be solved if you choose silence. So you do, especially underwater, where magic is your lifeline. Both you and Link have fully stocked up on bottles of magic for this reason.

That magic almost goes to waste when a sing-song voice calls Link's name. You resist a gasp as your attention is drawn to the literal princess who produced it. How in Hylia's name is she here? You suppose, as the sacred house to the water medallion, it's technically still part of the Zora domain, but you distinctly remember hearing how all of Hyrule's royalty is dead, hiding, or otherwise decommissioned. Perhaps Ruto is safe here? When you look to Link's face to read his expression, he looks shocked and semi-afraid.

"It's me! Your fiancée! Ruto! I never forgot our vows from seven years ago." The princess' words horrify the hero and leave you nearly choking again. Fiancée? Vows? Seven years? She's not serious, is she? "You were so mean to keep me waiting," definitely serious, "but this moment can't be for love. My domain, I know you saw it's completely frozen! A man named Sheik freed me from the ice. The others haven't woken, so I need your help to save them! As my future husband it's your duty!" Ruto, finally ready to drop the marriage topic, proceeds to explain the temple's three water control points, and even leads you to one of them. She's gone by the time you and Link reach the top, most likely continuing ahead without you.

Link reads over the symbols on the wall, muttering to himself the whole time you're inspecting this tiny room. A soothing song comes from that ocarina of his mere moments later. The water level lowers, much to your intrigue. Magic must be part of the architecture here, you think. Instead of vocalizing your curiosity about the subject, you wordlessly follow Link into the next room and help pick off the monsters you find, grabbing the map out of the chest that appears. After examining it, you decide to head back for the bottom floor. The string of rooms brimming with monsters and puzzles begins with that simple jump down. A puzzle, a new room, some monsters, a key. This process repeats twice to get you to the second water control point, which also has to be activated through song.

This one raises the water, although not as high as it was earlier, allowing you and Link to enter a newly revealed passage. It leads deeper into the temple, where the new area leads to a puzzle, more monsters, and another key.

"Is this what every temple is like?" You ask, fingers tapping against your weapon's grip point.

"Yep." Link grunts as he stores the key in his satchel. "There's usually more foes than this," he adds. Your chest swells and tightens at the same time, your eyes going wide with a harsh realization. He could die here. You could both die here. What if one of you gets fatally injured in the midst of a difficult battle? It would be a choice between saving the other person or trying to fight off the monsters quick enough to still have time to do so. What if you ran out of healing items?

"We should split up soon," you find yourself blurting, partially for good reason and partially for the selfishness of not wanting to potentially see Link die.

"Why?" He asks firmly. He was difficult to persuade when it came to your accompaniment, you hope this might be easier.

"We have no idea what to expect in here! Monsters, items, locked doors, sure we know that. Not what kind of monsters, or how many, or where any of those item chests might be. Plus, if you run out of supplies before we split up, I'd be able to smash a jar here and there to bring you back more."

At your words, the same reluctance from Kakariko this morning crosses his face. You know Navi can identify new monsters for him, but you also latch onto the glimmer of consideration adorning his eyes at your offer to pick some off and scavenge for extra items.

"Fine," he finally says, hesitance mostly gone. Warmth blooms in you at his trust that you can handle yourself on that level. This isn't something any random Hylian can handle. You keep that thought in the front of your mind as Link dives back in the direction you came from. You follow soon after.

The third and final water control point sits above a room containing a water geyser puzzle. You draw your bow to shoot the crystal once you and Link both stand on it, raising you to the door leading to the control point. With the water only partially filling the temple, the point you've entered appears to be a vantage point over the temple's main area. It becomes level with everything else when Link brings the water up, and on you go to the next locked door.

You instantly shoot down two waiting keese on the wall behind the door, returning it to your gear when no more show up. Link yanks you back as you attempt to step further into the room. You're preparing to be annoyed, but immediately take notice of how the room is built. You would have fallen clean off the area you now stand on and landed on a platform about 10 feet below you. That platform leads to more platforms, one of which sits on the same wall and four others slowly fall down a waterfall's current. You groan when you notice the hookshot platforms. Link laughs softly beside you.

"The hookshot is uncomfortable!" You whine in defense, while a much worse feeling creeps up your spine. How many rooms has it been since you last encountered a monster? "Tell you what, I have to get used to it anyway. Let me scout ahead now! I'll tell you all about the next puzzles when I come back," you hastily promise before snatching the hookshot from Link. You cross the room before you can back down and before he can protest. The next room, another hookshot puzzle which contains a crystal, almost makes you want to rip your hair out. You don't, instead keeping a cool head as you pass through the room, alternating between bow and hookshot to activate the crystal and cross gaps between the platforms.

You're about to celebrate when you see one last hookshot point, but your face goes pale when you notice spikes directly underneath it and a slime creature bigger than you waiting on the other side. With sword drawn, you hook onto the ceiling, immediately doing a downwards spin-slash to finish it off when you drop to the floor. The next door is not locked.

The room it leads to is not inhabited. Instead of monsters, puzzles, or chests, you're greeted by a peaceful scene. An endless expanse of calm, shallow water expanded on all sides. The only disruptions are the door you came from, the door leading forward, and a small sand mound with a leafless tree sitting between them. You take a step forward and find that the water reflects your face perfectly. You feel oddly safe to take another step despite no visual of solid ground. Your feet sink slightly, but nothing more. You walk, then pause when you notice the door ahead has bars on it. The room is empty, isn't it? You turn around in a panic, trying to spot anywhere a monster could hide. In the water maybe? You take a second look at the surface, only to see a lack of your reflection. The pit of your stomach sinks. This room, and whatever is going on, is fueled by magic. This thing didn't need to hide from you, it could hide itself.

"You're not the hero," a voice sneers, sounding as though the room itself is speaking. That tone, that slight rasp anyone else would miss, it sounds just like-

A hand suddenly covers your mouth, your body being pulled backwards against another. Your instincts call on your weapons, but your assailant grips your wrist with superior strength. A sob begins building in your throat. This is a foe, one who is clearly prepared for Link and not some Hylian girl. You're dead. You'll never get to run around the village again. You'll never get to train with a sword again. You'll never get to tell Link-

"That's right, you'll never get to tell Mr. Hero-boy that you loOove him~" the voice purrs against your ear, his its tone cruel and mocking in a level whisper. Your lungs freeze when you process the words' true meaning. this thing knows your deepest secret and deepest fear. Worst of all, its voice sounds almost like Link's with the exceptions of a heavier rasp, being slightly deeper, and a permanent sadistic venom lacing every word he it spoke.

"I'm so touched you know who I am," it continues. Your body is jerked in a 180-degree spin and shoved to the ground, leaving you sprawled out and disoriented. You're still reeling from being winded like that when you notice a blade at your throat and freeze. A familiar blade, only darkly colored rather than the hauntingly beautiful silver you're used to. You slowly bring your gaze upwards, eyes meeting Link's face when you fully meet the monster's. It's Link?

"I am not that foolish child of the light," it says with a snort, still sounding calm and deadly whilst amused. "No, I am the stronger and more courageous warrior he could not bring himself to be. That Link, that hero that you love so much, he will never be what you think he is. He will never be what I am. I will pry what is rightfully mine from his sinking corpse." The last sentence is a growl full of venom and jealousy that has you trembling. Something tells you this monster really does stand a chance against the mighty hero of time. You would be mad, you should be mad, but his blade still sat against your neck. You don't dare to move or speak as you try to form a plan.

"Tell you what, here's a plan:" Link's evil copy presses his blade against your throat more, "I kill you, possess your corpse, and force hero boy to choose between letting it kill him or mangling it in order to stop me!" The monster says it like it's trying to suggest a fun new game you haven't heard of before. His eyes are wide with a sadistic kind of glee, one that enjoys seeing you so terrified, meanwhile something in you stirs. At first it's slight, something you bite back, but you can't just let him talk about Link like that.

"Don't even-" Evil Link begins, slashing his blade, but you roll away in time to get slashed on the shoulder instead. It isn't too deep of a wound, but you need to make quick work of this foe or else you'll lose your edge. Springing up, you jump backwards before drawing your sword and shield. The monster charges at you with a cry not unlike your Link's. You try not to think about it as you raise your shield to parry the incoming slash. With the opening it creates you manage a minor slice on his its shoulder. It isn't the monster's sword shoulder, but if it causes any struggle it's worth it.

As you take the second to acknowledge your handiwork, you find your own wrist being slashed at. You get a mild cut, hand starting to shake as you force yourself to support your sword. You back away in even steps, Link's dark version matching your pace. He It suddenly sinks back into the floor below when you're about to reach the other door again. Your reflection not returning keeps you on guard. As you survey the room for the monster, its words pop back into your head. It talked about Link like he's nothing! You internally seethe. Clinking behind you gathers your alert and you turn around just in time to brace your shield against his blade. It bounces backwards harshly enough to dent your shield and send the monster stumbling into the wall behind him. You step forward and slash at him again, inflicting a gash on his arm that's severe but not deadly. He drops his sword and shield, one arm now too hurt and one arm holding the gash. He only grits his teeth at you and glares before disappearing again.

You smile victoriously and saunter back to the door leading forward. I never could've gotten a hit on the real Link, you think as you reach for the bars over the door-

Wait, what? Your heart speeds up immediately as you retreat from the door. That's impo-

You feel warmth travel down your abdomen, a very heavy warmth that makes you instantly sleepy. You yawn and reach down to try to pull it over you like a blanket, hands wrapping around something. Your hazed mind doesn't realize the object is sharp as you weakly tug on it, becoming frustrated when you have no success pulling it up. You tear up, but a soothing feeling settles in your throat when you try to cry rather than choking. Slowly, you find yourself falling asleep as your vision fades out.

You wake up what feels like hours later, to Navi's concerned voice and a fairy missing from your inventory. Exhaustion is still burrowed into your bones and unconsciousness keeps a desperate grip on the corners of your mind.

"Y/n! Y/n! Thank Hylia! What in her name happened here?!" The fairy's voice is fast, full of panic. You open your mouth to speak, but as the memories fade back you can't even begin to process it. Saying it proves impossible when you burst into tears, resisting the urge to scream when your body instinctively tries to choke.

"I- I'll get Link! Stay here!" You reach to try to stop Navi when she flies towards you, but you're too fatigued and a sharp pain in your abdomen stops you. You lose the ability to keep your cries silent. It hurts so badly, you don't even want to breathe because even that causes pain. You swear you can feel it in your organs, even. The little blue-winged fairy carefully, silently, sifts through your belongings and extracts the hookshot before she leaves the room. You curl up in the water, which no longer bears your reflection in the absence of the shadow being, and lift your armor slowly to peek at the wound.

Despite having a fairy's healing applied, the wound is horrendous, and looking at the surrounding skin has you in hysterics. Inflamed, red, with a bubbling rash and several tender bruises already visible. Not to mention the stab wound sitting in the center, looking somewhat scabbed over but still obviously new. You try not to think too hard about it, or about anything except Link, as you slip into the simplicity of the morning's memories for comfort.

"Link! Link!" You call excitedly as you jog towards the Death Mountain gate to greet the currently blue-clad hero. You notice he's brandishing a different sword than the famous Blade of Evil's Bane. "New tunic and a new blade in the same day? Awesome!" You cheer, skipping next to Link, who stays quiet beside you. "Where're you headed now?"

"Water temple," Link grunts. When he notices the spark in your eye, visible concern replaces his typically stoic expression.

"Do you need extra eyes?" You ask eagerly. "An extra blade to back you up?" Link turns to you and grabs your shoulders. You know what he's about to say when he opens his mouth.

"Y/n, it is my job to save Hyrule. Not yours. I'll be back before you know it. You're safest in Kakariko," he says in a firm yet comforting tone. A cheeky grin spreads across your face as you form a plan.

"Let me spar you! How about that? If I can't defend myself against you, I'll stay here!" You announce. Link sighs with a defeated look as you celebrate and prepare your gear.

The door opening and Link's alarmed exclamations bring you back to your unfortunate reality. You open your mouth to try to explain, but break all over again when he gently moves to shush you. You can't help but flinch away from his hand. He looks confused, hurt for a moment, before he notices a fairy missing from your healing items. Potion is immediately poured into your mouth, your eyes tracking the seams on the leather covering his hands. You physically relax as the calm warmth of healing comes over you, a much different and more blissful warmth than the one you remember from earlier. You drift back to sleep, barely registering a pair of arms lifting you as you fade away.

You wake in the middle of Kakariko. It's the middle of the night and it's foggy. Everyone is inside for the night. The village is dead silent. The moon and stars are absent, yet a gentle light is barely visible through the fog. It's beautiful, and red. You think it may be a torch at first, other villagers you can't see, but the light seems to shrink as you approach. Curiosity fills you, urging you forward. More characteristics about the light become distinct the closer you get. The source splits into two separate ones when you're what seems to be a few feet away. Their shape becomes perfectly circular.

Your blood goes cold. You freeze in place when you see Link. The evil one, the one made of darkness. The one who had... encountered you in the temple. A smirk crawls up his face as he yanks you towards him and pivots. You feel the edge of the abandoned well dig into your back. You don't have time to process how his eyes aren't red, how his hair turned white, how his skin turned grey. How he looks more human now. He completely fills your personal space, his body pressed wholly against yours as he tips you backwards over the edge of the well, lips poking your ear.

"Welcome home, y/n~" he whispers before shoving you over the well's rim. A scream rips from your throat as you fall into infinite darkness, Kakariko village, your home, getting smaller and smaller. You flail, you cry, you helplessly try to grab for anything that will get you out of this. The air feels like it's moving too fast for you to breathe.

"Help! Help!" You scream out desperately as your heart twists and your stomach flips inside out. Your hands finally grip something you can't see, and you squeeze as hard as you can, not caring when you feel tingling in your knuckles. You pray to Hylia for safety as you clench your eyes shut.

You wake in Kakariko, in your bed, in Link's arms. You tense, prepared to scramble away from him, and burst into tears when you process that this is your Link. Your hero, your best friend, your crush, not the monster that-

You choke at the thought. Link gently brings you into a full embrace, one you desperately want to find comfort in, but all you can think about is how many times that's happened to him.

"D- Does it a- always hurt?" You choke. Link lets out an audible breath and holds you closer.

When he departs for the temple again, you want to beg him to stay. You want to cry to him and tell him everything eating at your brain. Instead, you insist he at least takes your remaining healing items. Two fairies and five potions. You made him pledge to give the bottles back when they were empty, those things took years to gather. All you can do now is wait and hope he makes it back safe and sound.

Read the next chapter here

[chackyxyooj]

The Beginning

──────────.★..─╮

Description: Gene just wants to have a smoke on school grounds but you, a Student Council member, particularly take an issue with this. Pairing: PDH!Gene x Reader. WC: 2.4K Content Warning: Smoking; Swearing; Implicit SA framing. !!READER DISCRESION IS ADVISED!!

╰─..★.──────────╯

Leaning back against the wall, Gene tucks his lighter into his pocket and takes a drag of his cigarette. With the fall playoff season just around the corner, the teachers and hall monitors of Phoenix Drop High have become lenient with students leaving class early. It makes it extremely easy for the boy to slip in and out of the school with no consequence - and with how slowly classes move through material, only Irene knows how bored Gene can get. He’s finally starting to remember why school is such a drag.

A bell rings from inside the school and Gene naturally checks the time on his phone. It’s the five minute warning bell; not that Gene intends to go to his next class. He’s perfectly content staying out of sight and out of mind.

As Gene takes another slow puff of his cigarette, his attention is drawn to the sound of footsteps. Shit. He didn’t think anyone would waste their time sweeping the perimeter of the school when they had their little sport teams to worry about. Not in the mood to receive a lecture, the boy prepares to put out his cigarette. That’s until he sees that it’s a student who has rounded the corner.

At first he doesn’t recognize the person who stands before him, but the look on their face as they approach sparks familiarity. It’s you.

Gene feels a frown begin to pull at his lips. His conversations with you have always been brief (and under dubious circumstances) but you’re not the kind of person he wants to deal with right now. Council members like you are always stuck up and self righteous; even more so than the teachers. Gene’s point is only proved right when you place yourself right in front of him, arms crossed and eyes narrowed.

“Smoking on school grounds is prohibited.” You state, your gaze briefly snapping down to the cigarette Gene has in his mouth.

“And?” 

“And it causes significant damage to your health.”

“It does?” Gene scoffs and takes another huff of his cigarette, blowing the smoke at your face. “Well aren’t you just the sweetest little thing to tell me that.”

Gene attempts to blow another puff of smoke at you but you pluck the cigarette from his mouth and crush it with the heel of your shoe. It’s not unlike Council members to be so uptight about following school rules but Gene has never taken you for someone so confrontational. Something about that would be amusing if it wasn’t so damn annoying.

“The hell’d you do that for? That brand ain’t cheap, you know.” Gene scowls. When you don’t immediately reply the boy takes a step forward, grabbing your wrist and holding you in place. You instinctively twitch away but don’t really try to run. “Destroying someone else’s stuff is real mean. You ought to make it up to me somehow. Let’s say twenty bucks and we call it square.”

“Really? That much for a single cigarette?” Your voice comes out strained; as if you’re pushing out every single word you say. “Damn delinquent…”

“What was that?”

You frown and turn away. “Fine. I’ll pay you back at the end of the day, so meet me at the Student Council room when classes are over.”

“See? Was that so hard?” The boy grins down at you as you jerk your wrist away from his grip. You roll your eyes as you adjust your uniform, retreating from Gene almost immediately. The boy can’t help but let his eyes drag across your form as you begin walking away.

Gene doesn’t really like Student Council members, but he does seem to like you. It’s the only logical reason to explain why he’s so willing to go along with your terms. As soon as the school day is out and classes are dismissed, Gene meets you exactly where you told him to. It isn’t until he’s standing right outside of the Council’s door that he realises how troublesome you are.

Several voices talk over one another; about what Gene doesn’t care to find out, but the boy realises that he agreed to your terms a bit too easily. He won’t let that happen a second time.

Instead of knocking Gene opts to let himself inside. The weight of the entire student council staring at him doesn’t phase him. Rather, he finds it amusing how the entirety of the Council scowls at his sudden appearance. Questions like ‘what are you doing’ and ‘why are you here’ are like music to Gene’s ears. It’s an especially sweet sound when your voice lulls over the rest and you clear the confusion in the air.

“Apologies everyone, but it seems I’ll have to cut today’s meeting short. We’ll take care of everything in relation to the upcoming school sports event tomorrow.”

Quiet murmurs of confusion ripple through the room but they don’t last long. The room clears quickly, with the final exiting Council member closing the door as they leave. It all but leaves Gene feeling a bit impressed.

“All that for me? How sweet.”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” You quip in reply. The boy watches with curious eyes as you begin rearranging the desks in the room. The group of desks that were previously arranged to face each other are moved into two rows of five. “Did you know that there are four separate teacher lounges across the school? This room was supposed to be another lounge but the school board deemed it unnecessary because of its proximity to the teacher lounge on the floor above. We’re right underneath it, actually.”

“And why do I care?”

“It’s called small talk. Ever heard of it?” You sweep the perimeter of the room before retrieving a clipboard that had been hanging on the door behind Gene. There’s a slight click as you pull it off the door and your brows furrow. “Seeing as you’ve become so adept at avoiding the teachers to sneak around, I thought a delinquent like you would find it interesting that the ‘esteemed Student Council room’ was once a teacher’s lounge.”

Gene rolls his eyes, his patience quickly wearing thin. “How about you stop stalling and give me my money already?”

You cross the room with a quiet sigh, placing yourself on top of one of the desks and twisting how you sit so that you face Gene. Only one desk sits between you and Gene and you’ve elected to rest your feet on its edge. “Money? When did we ever agree to that?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, sweetheart.” Gene’s voice comes out in a low, irritated grumble. You, on the other hand, smile a pleasant sort of smile - one that only serves to make Gene’s blood boil. “What are your fellow Council members gonna think when they find out you’re a stupid little coward who goes back on your word?”

“Are you trying to threaten me?”

“You? The Council President? Never.” Gene remarks sarcastically as he steps further into the room. He rounds the desk where your feet are rested and leans forward, reveling in the way your gaze narrows when he catches you off guard. “What? Didn’t think I’d notice the way your little council members followed your every whim? I wonder what they’d think of their president if they knew your true character.”

At first you frown, but then you smile. And finally you laugh.

“I’ll give you this, delinquent. You’re more intelligent than you let on. A near perfect grade point average is almost unheard of for someone who skips out on class so much. Who would’ve thought that a bad boy who loves smoking behind the school and who goes around calling himself a ‘Shadow Knight’ actually does all his homework? Students like you are a troublesome bunch, but you’re also… useful. So lend me a hand.”

“Lend you a hand?” At first Gene thinks you’re joking, but he quickly realises that he’s wrong. “Not a chance.”

“Oh, I wasn’t asking. I was simply displaying the extent of my generosity.” You use your hands to support your weight as you lean back against the desk. “Do you know what kind of trouble the school will get into if a scandal of some sort were to occur? What a silly question, of course you do. And as Council President, I can’t just sit by and let troublesome students do as they wish. I need to ensure that all of them are… compliant.”

“Compliant?” Gene scoffs, nearly amused. “You call that psycho sophomore girl compliant?”

“Her? She knows her place. I’ve made sure of it.” You muse, tilting your head ever so slightly. “And now it’s your turn, Delinquent. It’s about time you learn your place.”

Now it’s Gene’s turn to narrow his eyes. “Gonna write me up for smoking or some shit?”

“That? Oh, no. That would only get you a slap on the wrist.” You lean forward with a coy smile. “You’re going to agree to the terms of my generosity because it’s what’s best for you. Unless you want to find yourself expelled.”

Before Gene has a chance to question you, you reach up and roughly grasp his loose tie and jerk him off the desk. Once the boy is standing you kick over the desk in front of you to send it crashing against the floor, quickly followed by you calling out for a teacher to help. Almost as if on cue, there’s scraping and the sound of scrambling feet - as if someone from upstairs put an abrupt halt to whatever they were just doing.

Up until now Gene would’ve called your actions the result of a temper tantrum, but your intentions suddenly become obvious when your grip on Gene’s tie tightens.

Gene tries to pull away from your grasp but your grip is surprisingly strong. As the footsteps from upstairs approach the door, their hand fumbles against the doorknob. The door wasn’t locked when he barged in earlier but the sound of the approaching teacher’s keys makes it obvious that’s not the case anymore.

Just as Gene opens his mouth to speak you pull him down to your level. He has to put his hands on either side of you to prevent himself from falling into you completely.

“Imagine what a teacher will think if the commotion they heard is followed up by the sight of an intimidating delinquent like you towering over the Student Council President.” You speak ever so softly, your breath hot against Gene’s ear. “Not to mention that the door was locked when they arrived. How hard would it be to convince them you had less than savoury intentions?”

“You wouldn’t…”

“I would.” You laugh sweetly against Gene’s neck, your laugh soft and breathy. If not for the circumstances Gene might’ve called your laugh addicting, but right now that was anything but the truth. “Watch me.”

Gene can feel his blood boiling at the way you’re so smug. He racks his brain for some kind of solution to this mess but he knows you have him beat. Through gritted teeth and clenched fists, Gene submits to your will.

“Fine.”

“What was that?”

“I said fine!”

Not a moment sooner that the door to the Student Council room flies open, you release your grip on Gene’s tie. The boy immediately makes distance between himself and you but that didn’t stop the teacher from catching a glimpse of what happened. Or rather, what you let them think was happening.

The teacher quickly places themself between you and Gene, though their attention is very obviously focused on you as they ask what happened.

You, in all your Student Council ways, smile in apology. Off the top of your head you weave a lie that appears to alleviate the teacher’s suspicions. It’s almost disgusting how quickly you managed to turn the tides in your favour, though Gene would be remiss to think that he ever had a chance against you in here.

You get off the hook with barely a slap on the wrist, leaving Gene a frustrated mess. He can hardly wipe the scowl that has etched its way onto his face. On the other hand, you seem completely and utterly satisfied.

“Don’t look so upset with me. It’s not like you got in trouble.” You remind Gene in some cruel attempt to soothe him. You reach forward to straighten his tie but Gene swats your hand away.

“Fuck off.” Gene growls and you comply, but not without a smug laugh.

“Alright, you don’t have to be so hostile.” You back away from Gene and pick the desk up off the floor. “But as for your compliance, there’s only one thing I need from you for now.”

“For now?” Repeats Gene but you show no signs of hearing his question.

You tap around on your phone until you finally come across what you’ve been looking for. You turn your screen toward Gene and he’s irritatingly met with a map of the school, but several spots around the perimeter have been highlighted with different colours.

“You have to abide by this outline if you’re ever trying to sneak a cigarette break during school hours.” You explain.

Gene scoffs. “As if I’d listen to any rule you give me after the shit you just pulled.”

“I think you’ll find that the places I’ve highlighted are already many of the places you and your ‘Shadow Knights’ have scoped out for your shenanigans. I know the patterns of the teachers and hall monitors as well as you do, so I think you’ll find that this request is perfectly reasonable.”

“And if I refuse?”

“You can’t.” You feign a sweet smile as an airdrop notification appears on Gene’s phone.

Gene accepts the image but not without rolling his eyes first. “You’re a real sweetheart, aren’t you?”

You laugh, pulling your school bag onto your shoulders as you make your exit. Just before you leave you shoot Gene a quick glance. It’s surprisingly soft. Gentle, even. Gene isn’t quite sure what to make of it but it feels… different. He thinks it’s unsettling to be honest, but that word alone isn’t enough to describe the emotional highs and lows you just forced on him.

Never the matter. If there’s one thing Gene knows for sure, it’s that people reap what they sow; and you’ve just sown a particularly bittersweet seed.

[corazondebeskar-reads]

the art of breaking, part two (coming may 25, 2024)

the art of breaking, part two: theory of decay

very dark!Joel Miller x f!reader

NOTE: DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT. this fic contains themes of abuse and extremely dark content.

words: 10k

summary: joel knows just how to make you his forever. a sequel to "the art of breaking"

warnings (new warnings in red) and a preview under the cut; reader discretion is advised.

Warnings: dead dove do not eat, non-con, dub-con, very dark!Joel, BAD bdsm etiquette, not SSC/RACK compliant, sadist!Joel x masochist!reader, coercion, corruption, manipulation, isolation, gaslighting, glory hole, reader gives tommy a blowjob (joel and tommy do not touch), body modification, permanent marking, captivity, sadism, masochism, pain play, extreme punishment, whipping, impact play in general, mentions of vomit (no description), oral, vaginal, degradation, humiliation, Joel sees reader as property, inadequate aftercare, blink and you miss it piss "play," straight up abuse this time guys, overstimulation, forced eating, needles, voyeurism, objectification, human furniture, nipple/clit pumps, this one might be worse than the first idk sorry

Again, I cannot say this enough. This is a dark fantasy and should not be taken as representative of a good d/s relationship—it’s abuse masquerading. Just because I wrote it doesn’t mean I’m condoning it. 

Please read responsibly. 

preview:

“Y’ain’t got nothin’ to be sorry about, baby. I didn’t expect ya to remember. But you’ve been mine for two years now, and you’re still worried I ain’t gonna keep you. But I’ve been thinkin’, and I know how to prove it to you.” 

If this doesn’t convince you, he thinks, nothing will. Never mind that his whole goddamn life revolves around you. Never mind that you’ve worn his collar for the last 731 fuckin’ days. 

You’re busy wondering why he made you suck another man’s cock today if he cares about your anniversary. But then again, you’ve long accepted that what he wants won’t always make sense. It’s not your job to make it make sense. It’s just your job to do it. 

“C’mon, let’s go downstairs,” he says. 

You swallow hard around the sudden fear, and he laughs. 

“What? Had enough yesterday?”

“No, sir,” you say. It’s mostly the truth. Mostly.

😬 see y'all on the 25th

[idontplaytrack]

Can you write something with a regressed Janis?

Either Janis x Reader or rejanis please

(I love all your work you’re amazing)

Tiny monkey

Janis ‘Imi’ike x Regina George

Warnings: age regression, fluff

Janis gets into Regina’s gummy bears, unintentionally slipping into regression in front of her for the first time

The gang was all gathered at Janis’ after their thanksgiving dinners. It was a little plan they decided on to spend some time together after all the family chaos at home. “Hi, baby.” Regina was the first to arrive. “Hey.” Janis smiled into the kiss, smooching the blonde a second time.

“You alright?” Janis asks, shutting the door.

“My back’s been acting up a bit the last two days, but yeah. I’m alright.” Regina promised, “I already took something for it.”

“Okay,” Janis nodded, her palm caressing Regina’s lower back comfortingly before they both sat on Janis’ couch.

They started a movie while waiting for the rest of the group to get here. Over the next twenty minutes, they all came streaming in nearly one after another. They didn’t have a solid plan for the night, just wanting to sit around and hang out. Cady suggested a card game, then Karen wanted to play Mastermind, then somehow, they were playing drinking games. Well, it was kind of a stretch. They were just playing any card or board games they wanted but brought alcohol into the mix just for the heck of it. Two beers on, Janis was officially clingy, leaning against Regina as she sipped on beer number three. Regina notices the warmth of Janis being so close, looking down to see her so comfortable. “You might want to slow down on the beer, Jay.”

Janis mumbles, “No.” Reaching into a bag of gummy bears, popping one into her mouth. She wasn’t at all focused on their game of Uno anymore.

Regina lets out an exhale in amusement, but resumed playing the game, adding a +4 card to the deck, Cady was next so she grumbled but took four cards from the deck.

When Janis started giggling at Cady’s reaction, it caused Regina to look at her again. “Okay, what’s so funny about that?”

“G, is she…”

“A little kooky? Yeah.” Regina raised a brow, pulling a confused face at the smaller girl. It only made her laugh harder.

“Okay— what the heck is going on with you?” Regina asked softly, losing focus of everything and everyone else but Janis.

Janis shrugged, scrunching up her face before sulking.

“Are you high?!” Regina’s eyes went wide.

“Hi.” Janis chuckled airily, looking up at Regina.

“Oh, yeah.” Damian chimed in, “Girl — why are you always doing something like that?”

“Sorry.” Janis mumbled, putting the beer can down as she shuddered. Damian narrowed his eyes at his best friend.

“Okay.” Damian stood up, “Everybody, out. Party’s over.”

“What?” They chorused, “I mean, she’s okay? Right?”

“Yes, but honestly she’s too out of it.” Damian continued, “Y’all, out you go, good night. We’ll do this again sometime.”

The group was a bit confused, but they promptly said bye and left anyway. Once it was just the three of them, Damian asks, “Do you have any idea what’s going on?”

————

“I know she’s high.” Regina shrugged.

“Okay, yes.” Damian confirmed, “But, she’s also…regressed.”

“What?” Regina asked, eyes panning over to Janis who was currently trying to grab the bag of gummy bears. “Baby, no. Don’t eat that anymore.”

“Whyyyy.” She sulked.

“Don’t pull that face on me.” Regina sounded a little irritated, but truthfully it was confusion that she was feeling— and perhaps a little bit of worry, “It’s mine, I was taking that for my back pain.”

“You might need to talk to her a little differently right now.” Damian began, “Age regression. Do you know what that is?”

Regina blinked profusely, looking between Damian and Janis, then back at Damian again, “Oh.”

Damian kept the eye contact, “So is that a yes?”

“Yeah.” Regina nodded, “Yeah, I know what that is. I just need to figure out what works best for her during.”

“Need my help? Should I stay for a bit?” Damian offered.

“Ooh.” Janis gasped, getting up from the floor and rushing to her closet to rummage through it.

“What— hey!” Regina wasn’t used to just how much quicker Janis seemed to be when regressed.

“She’s fine.” Damian said confidently. “Probably just getting her favourite fluffy blanket.”

“How long has she been using this as a way to…cope…?”

“Uh, I’ve known for a year, give or take. Don’t really have the heart to ask more about it. I just know how to tell when she is in that headspace.” Damian answers, “Now I know she feels safe enough around you to not hold herself back.”

“So why—”

“It’s a lot. You don’t want to get into that right now. Just keep her fed, happy and safe. We’ll talk about that another time.”

Regina bit the inside of her cheek as she watched Janis happily walk back to her with a fleece blanket and a tiny little monkey plushie.

‘So, she keeps the stuff she needs in that storage box in her closet— got it’ Regina made a mental note.

“Are you cold, baby?” Regina ask, like on reflex as her hand ran up and down the brunette’s back. Janis had the blanket draped over her shoulders much like a cape while holding onto the little toy in her hand. As she answered with a nod, she absolutely just leans onto Regina.

“Very clingy, aren’t you?” Regina teased.

“She’s either clingy or running all over the place.” Damian remarked, then he gets hit in the face by the stuffed animal in Janis’ hand. Regina cackled, “Why are you ratting her out like that, Damian? That’s not very nice of you.”

“Ha ha.” Damian scoffed but nicely handed the stuffed animal back to Janis.

“That’s what you get for talking about someone right in front of them~” Regina smirked, wrapping her arms around Janis.

“You’re one to talk.” Damian gave her a look jokingly.

“How old is she?” Regina mouthed to the guy.

“Five.” He answered the same way, holding up a hand to show it.

“Damn.” Regina said back, brows raised for a moment. “Oh, she’s out.” Regina realised Janis had dozed off.

“If she’s not fussing or anything, just let her nod off until she wakes up. If you move her, she’ll most likely get woken up and be upset.” Damian informed hers

Regina nodded, Damian continues, “Everything she needs are in those two storage boxes in her closet. No one else knows that she regresses, so don’t bring it up anywhere else, to anyone else.”

“I got that, yeah.” Regina assured.

“She’s pretty good at telling you what she wants even when she’s regressed so just ask if you’re not sure. If she gets the zoomies or whatever you call it, she’s good in the garage. It’s her safe space. Otherwise? Backyard. Playgrounds or any other places like that— only when there aren’t any other people around. If you have to bring her out, let her bring this monkey or whatever other comfort item she wants. It will keep her calm.”

“Has she ever…gotten into that headspace in public?”

“Only once. I took her home immediately because she was starting to seem like she was just going to full on, be sobbing in the mall. And I mean actually screaming and throwing a fit.”

“There are usually triggers. Right? Do you know hers?”

“Yeah but I don’t really know how to explain some of hers. But one of them would be lack of sleep, higher chance when coupled with high stress or anxiety.” Damian carried on explaining.

“Okay.” Regina nodded solemnly, “So then food and drinks wise, what’s not okay for her?”

“She regresses to about 5 to 7. So all is fine, just don’t intentionally be giving her alcohol or make her high for shits and giggles. She will ask for them gummy bears or brownies and she has— I’ve only ever given in once and regretted it almost immediately because the girl was first laughing, then laughing so hard her stomach hurt so she started to throw a goddamn fit and cried.”

“Sounds about right.” Regina bit back a laugh, “She still kinda does that sometimes.”

“Well now you know more.” Damian shrugs, “I think you’ll be fine if I leave you alone with her, right?”

“I think I got it.” Regina decided, “Thanks.”

“If you have any other questions though, just talk to me.” Damian pointed out.

“I will.” Regina promised, “I have your number, dude.”

“Alright, good night.” Damian got up, gathered his belongings and headed home.

It was barely 9 at night, and Janis’ little nap came to an end about half an hour later when she woke up on her own and decided she’s rested enough. “Will you blow bubbles for me?!” Janis asked eagerly.

“Huh?” The question had failed to fully register on first listen.

“I want bubbles. Can we play?” Janis repeated herself.

“Do you have—”

Janis nodded before Regina could say anymore.

“Of course you do. Sure, baby.” Regina caught up with Janis, now just keeping an eye on her to make sure she wasn’t going to somehow injure herself. Janis had dragged out both storage boxes and then located the bubble wand. She wasn’t about to just let them both sit inside and make a mess on the floor with the soapy liquid— though she could. But since they were in the garage, the door could easily be opened and allow them to sit right by the driveway so the mess landed outside of Janis’ safe space.

“Come here, baby. Let’s sit down right here.” Regina took her by the hand and led her to sit down right outside her garage. Regina struggled a little due to her back, Janis looked at her with worried eyes. “I’m alright.” Regina assured with a smile. “Kay.” Janis replied, arm resting on Regina’s thigh. Regina untwisted the cap, dipping the wand into the container a few times before bringing it up to her lips. Effortlessly, Janis was entertained by the bunch of bubbles that started to float around. “Wanna try?” Regina held the wand out for Janis. She nodded excitedly, giggling before she blew some herself and started to laugh harder. Janis’ excitement over something so simple really tickled Regina, making her laugh a little too. “Is it fun?”

“Yeah.” Janis answered, “Do it again.”

Regina did as she said without hesitation, wanting more than anything to hear that laughter. It sounded like music to her ears and was absolutely adorable. Was she laughing because she’s regressed or because she got into my gummy bears for pain? Regina wasn’t sure, but as long as she could tell Janis was physically fine, she couldn’t really care less.

“Gina, I want a snacky.” Janis said quietly.

“You want a snack?” Regina asked in confirmation.

The other girl nods, “Uh-huh.”

“What snack do you want?” Regina crouched down a little to catch her gaze, Janis finally looks at her.

“String cheese?” Janis asked with a toothy grin.

“Okay, I’ll be right back, hm?” Regina got up again and left Janis seated on the floor alone, “Will you be good and stay put or do I have to take you with me?”

Janis pondered for a moment, “I be on the couch.”

“You’ll be on the couch? Alright.” Regina’s lips tug into a small smile as she messed with the shorter girl’s hair while she stood up still holding onto the bubble wand. Janis scrunched up her face again and laughed when she felt her hair getting messed with. “I’ll be back in a second, Jay.”

“Okayyyy~” Janis said back, flopping onto the couch as she tilted the closed bubble wand from side to side, watching the soapy liquid inside move towards either direction. She even chuckles at that and when Regina returns bearing the snack Janis asked for and a couple of Capri-suns, the brunette set the bubble wand down on the coffee table.

“Alright.” Regina began, “Do you have the soapy water on your hands?”

“Nope.” Janis answered, popping the ‘p’.

“Really?” Regina teased, sitting down by her girlfriend, “Lemme check.”

Janis scrunched up her face, unimpressed but obliged, holding out her palms to let the blonde see.

“Okay, they’re clean.” Regina smiled at the facial expression that she seems to be doing a lot of currently, “Here you go. Brought you a drink too.”

“Hehe, yay.” Janis grabbed the string cheese from Regina’s hand, “Thankies.”

“You’re welcome, baby.” Regina was smiling so much, her cheeks hurt. She didn’t mind though, she just happily sat next to Janis and watched her enjoy her snack. “Hm, you wanna watch TV?”

As Janis nibbled on her snack, she naturally started clinging onto Regina again soon enough. Janis nodded without a word. “What do you want to watch?” Regina asks, recalling that the girl had several DVDs in her designated storage boxes. Janis got out of her seat and back to those boxes by her closet to retrieve the DVD. Regina took one from her and helped her set it up quickly.

Regina would’ve never thought she’d be sitting through a full hour or so of My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, but for Janis, she did— with no complaints. Well, Regina could’ve dozed off but she didn’t. It wasn’t too bad after all. Tolerable.

“Bed soon?” Regina asks absentmindedly.

“Nooooo.” Janis gasped, the string cheese packaging she was fiddling with, fell from her hand onto the couch.

“Please?”

“No.” Janis sulked.

“Whyyy.” Regina played along.

“Cause.” Janis snuggles closer.

Regina wasn’t sure if she wanted to laugh or scoff. To her, this squabble was hilarious, but she was also worried about Janis getting enough sleep.

“How about…we snuggle together till you sleep?” Regina suggested.

“No.” Janis says that just to spite her.

“Aw.”

Janis then started to giggle, barely able to stifle it.

“Please, baby, you need to rest enough.”

“Aw.” Janis mocked. Regina’s eyes went wide, “Did you just mock me?”

Janis blinked and looked right into Regina’s eyes, “No.”

“Sure you aren’t.” Regina resisted the urge to pinch her cheeks. God, why was she so cute?

“I like you.” Janis says, nearly chuckling, “You’re nice.”

“Oh, I am?” Regina glances at her.

“You areee.” Janis nodded, then leaned her head on Regina’s chest. Her arm was then looped around the blonde’s torso.

“Still don’t wanna sleep?” Regina asks.

“Need to brush my teeth.” She mumbled.

“Yeah.” Regina rubs her back, “Let’s go, then we can snuggle some more. Deal?”

“Deal.” Janis agreed quickly.

Janis grabs a different toothbrush from the storage box before Regina took her inside the house for the bathroom. It was quiet, neither of her parents were downstairs so she could only assume they were in their own room, and thank goodness for that since no one else knew about Janis being regressed. While she didn’t want to rush Janis, Regina also made sure to keep things moving.

“Okay, all clean?” Regina looked at Janis in the reflection of the bathroom mirror.

“Yup.” Janis nodded, smiling to show the blonde.

“Good job.” Regina smiled back, kissing her on the cheek, “Let’s go snuggle.”

“Yayyyy.”

As promised, they snuggled up in Janis’ bed once they got back into her garage. “I’m gonna need you to just close your eyes and sleep, okay? It’s getting late and I don’t want you to be tired tomorrow. Can you do that for me, baby?”

“Can we get milkshakes?” Janis asks sleepily, “Tomorrow?

“Of course, tomorrow.” Regina agrees, “I promise.”

“Okay.” Janis smiled, contentedly as she reached for another stuffed animal— a monkey too, but a more huggable size. Regina noticed the little bit of a struggle so she helps her grab it, “Here you go, baby.”

“Thankie.” Janis laughed lightly, instantly hugging the toy tightly, nuzzling her face against the material.

“Good night, you little monkey.” Regina sighs, hand returning to the up and down motion to lull her girlfriend to sleep.

“Nighty nighty.”

🏷️Tag list:

@ashecampos @auliisflower @cheesysoup-arlo @frogs00 @ludoesartandstuff @pda128

💭A/N:

I just about died from cuteness overload writing this request 😭 hopefully tumblr doesn’t glitch out again and make this one poof 💨

[emmyrosee]

y’all gonna hate this and I’m okay with that. tw//feet. nothing explicit, but I hate feet so here’s your warning too LMAOOO-

Annoying Sunarin is your favorite pastime.

He’d be a liar if he said his wasn’t annoying you, but there’s just something so satisfying about the way he sits there and takes it, only to snap and turn completely feral right back at you.

And it’s not like your annoying is mean or rude, you do it strictly to inconvenience him- like eating all the crusts off his pizza, or drawing smiley faces all over his volleyballs (although, the one time you put “I love you!” sticky notes all over his car was one of the more aggressive annoyances) he still chooses to forgive you when you get under his skin.

This, you’re sure, is one of those times you’re extra determined, wanting his attention and his alone.

But instead he’s doing a stupid Instagram live, talking about his rest week before his team leaves for the next two.

You want war. You’re ready to fight it.

Creeping into the living room, you’re smiling at the sight of him, slouched over the coffee table and head resting on the glass while he talks about the team, his practices, and least importantly, how much he loves you.

That, definitely, is not going to fly.

“Yeah, It’s definitely been weird not having practice every day, but I do like being at home-“

Instantly, he sees your grinning frame standing in the doorway. He looks you up and down in suspicion, but even he can’t wipe his own smile growing on his face. “What’re you up to, booger?”

“Wanna see something cute?”

And at this point, okay, Rintaro should know better than to say yes, or at the bare minimum tell you to show him later, but for whatever reason, he stupidly says ‘sure. Why not?’ and watches as you toddle over eagerly.

You take your spot on the couch and lay on your back, shuffling slightly to be comfortable, and suddenly, before he knows it, your fuzzy-socked-foot’s on his shoulder. He feels his annoyance grow, but he knows you’re doing this on purpose, and he’s not going to give you that satisfaction of making him agitated.

“Guys,” he begins, addressing the livestream which is filling with comments. “I think I spoke to soon about the happy to be home thing.”

“Don’t be rude!” You snap, poking his cheek with a pointed toe. “I’m excited, don’t be mean!” Your fuzzy toe moves to play with his ear, and he shrinks his neck at the feeling.

“Seriously?” He snorts, looking your foot up and down. “On Doja Cat’s green, Planet Her, you’re shoving your feet in my face? On my Instagram live?”

“I wanted to show you my socks!” You say happily, wiggling your toes. “They’ve got toe beans.”

“That’s nice dear, now let me get back to the people.”

“Uh, your live is not as important as my socks with toe beans,” you scoff.

“Please excuse my insignificant other’s nasty ass feet, they’re being a disappointment to their bloodline,” he says, poking his tongue in his cheek before casting you a warning look.

“You’re just mad because your bloodline likes me more than you!”

He blinks with a lazy smirk on his lips, and you, with your foot still on his shoulder, gently go to prod him one more time with your socked toe.

Except now, to your horror filled excitement, his massive hand wraps around your ankle, and you cackle in anticipation. “You’re on camera!” You warn, jerking wildly. He glances over at the Instagram live, comments now flying over the screen, and he shrugs, “they’re fine. You gonna behave?”

You don’t say anything, merely giggling and trying to tug your foot back. It’s another sign of your defiance without actually saying anything at all, and damnit, if it’s a war you want, it’s a war you’ll get.

Shrugging, he rips the fluffy sock off your foot and throws it back at you, looking at your foot curiously.

“Do you think I could fit your whole foot in my mouth?”

“EXCUSE ME?” you shriek, immediately trying to pull your foot from his grip, which only tightens as he looks up at you with a smirk.

“Do you know how famous we’d get on the hub? Just me, suckin’ at your toes, flicking them with my tongue-“

“GIVE ME MY FOOT BACK!” You cackle, swatting him with your sock as he chuckles and finally does release your leg, watching in full amusement as you scramble away.

He watches his viewers reactions to his filth fly across his screen (some of the more perverse ones having to be blocked) and he shakes his head at you as you escape quickly to the bedroom. “Keep your dogs in control, will ya? This live is important!”

“You were just talking about pregnancy cravings, no it’s not!”

He takes a deep inhale through his nose, then he sighs dramatically and shakes his head.

“I’ll log back on later, guys. Gotta go polish some piggies.”

“NAAAOOOOO!”

Needless to say, that would be a tactic you’d never use again to get his attention, this mission being unsuccessful.

Or… was it?

[captainkurosolaire]

~ Me Giant Problem ~

You'll pay fer making me a size-play queen. So I'm going t' give you a new-fetish, an opportune fisting. That'll make my native Quicksand whores, proud and jealous. Knuckles-up! It's history-making time.

(Bonus sceneries below, couldn't decide between-the-one. They're all pretty grand.)

[wingedcat13]

Synovus: A Wishing Star

[Canonically, this takes place before ‘Call Me Menace’ - which is why there’s a notable lack of Alexandria and Minerva in this segment. This was requested by an Anon, with the prompt of Synovus being asked for by a Make a Wish child, through the Make a Wish foundation.]

[Trigger warnings for childhood cancer, descriptions of illness and hospitals, and discussions of suicide. Reference is also made to the possibility of substance abuse. Unlike most of my writing, for this, I cannot promise you will find this ending happy.]

“Your name came up today,” Rosie called up to you, laboriously walking laps around the cafeteria.

“Of course it did.” You replied laconically, keeping a careful eye on her progress from a perch in the rafters. Your shadows were ready to catch and steady her if she stumbled, though you both pretended you were too occupied with your knitting. “I am an incredibly interesting person. On a completely unrelated note, tell Dr. Grouch that he will receive payment shortly.”

That wasn’t an epithet, ‘Dr. Grouch.’ It was genuinely the man’s name. Dr. Jeremy Grouch, a pediatric cancer specialist, who had the good fortune of being the best choice for you to kidnap when Rosie had finally told you why she’d been half-joking about retirement. He was no longer your ‘guest,’ having returned to the mainland full time a few weeks prior, but he still communicated with Rosie quite often.

A bark of laughter had Rosie pausing, out of breath, to brace herself against the wall. She turned to rest her back against it, but since she didn’t sit, you didn’t jump down to see if she was alright. Even if you had stopped knitting.

“Not for the money.” Rosie assured you, when she had caught her breath enough to reply without wheezing. “He thinks you’re more than generous.”

“Dr. Grouch could stand to live up to his name a bit more.” You tsk’ed, “I kidnapped him, forced him to work for me. He didn’t even haggle.”

Not that this would have done him much good in the beginning. Historically, you did not respond well to threats or extortion. But you did respect a good hustle, and you were fairly certain that Dr. Grouch had been aware he could’ve pushed for more of a reward once Rosie was declared in remission. He hadn’t taken the opportunity.

“He isn’t hurting for wealth.” Rosie pointed out. The sardonic note to her voice had made you smile. You and your minions were in the business of exploiting greed and committing evils, but that did not make any of you less inclined to judge others for anything less than your own morality demanded. And that often included each other.

But Rosie’s tone shifted, becoming something lighter, “He said one of his patients asked to meet you.”

“What?”

“One of his patients wants to meet you.” Rosie repeated patiently. “Wished for it, even.”

You forced your tone to remain light, glad you were up in the rafters where she couldn’t see your body language. “Well, there’s a rarity. How many people ever say ‘I wish to meet Synovus?’”

Rosie sighed. “Usually just people who want to kill you.”

“Are we certain that isn’t what the child wants? I’m assuming it’s a child, adults usually know better.” You picked up another stitch, fumbled it, did it again. This time it stuck.

It wasn’t the idea of a child trying to kill you that had you so… disoriented. You’d been responsible for the deaths of a lot of parents over the years - you wouldn’t be surprised if there had been hundreds of vendettas sworn against you, or all villain kind, or even the heroes who had failed to stop you, over the years. But kids - children - you had a soft spot for.

You remembered too clearly what it was like to be young, sheltered, and out of control of your life. It was debatable, some days, how much of that still applied to you in some way or another.

“I’d bet on the kid.” Rosie remarked.

“I-“ You twirled one knitting needle, intending to point it at her, and snagged it in the trailing end of your yarn instead. It didn’t matter, because she couldn’t see you. “- take offense on the child’s behalf that you would doubt them.”

“Oh yeah?” Rosie perked up, “Offended enough to defend their honor in person?”

Frowning, you set down your knitting again. “What are you asking me here, Rosie?”

“I want to know if you’ll honor the kid’s Wish.”

There was something in the way she said it that gave you pause. You mulled it over.

“When you say ‘wish,’ you don’t just mean a general expressed desire, do you.”

It wasn’t much of a question, but Rosie answered anyway, “Nope. I mean the Wish. Apparently they hadn’t wanted to say anything, because they didn’t think anyone would let them, but they were talking to Dr. Grouch, and asked where he’d been -“

You groaned. You’d been assured of his adherence to HIPAA, but hadn’t pushed too hard on the ‘never tell anyone where you’ve been, ever, on pain of excruciatingly over described death’ angle. Maybe you should’ve.

“- yeah, I know, but apparently he only told the kid and asked them to keep it a secret, and the kid ‘lit up like it was Christmas.’” Rosie relayed this information, complete with air quotes, without moving from the wall.

To avoid thinking about the idea of being anyone’s last, true Wish - the big W, the heart’s desire, the crown of a bucket list - you instead thought about how Rosie had trapped you. You couldn’t just disappear because then she’d be alone, and could still collapse. You couldn’t call her physical therapy completed for the day yet either, because she hadn’t finished this lap.

Evil, your minions. Absolutely evil.

You sighed, sure Rosie would feel it, even if she couldn’t hear it at this distance. “Very well.” You conceded, morose. “When are we meeting this little miscreant?”

—-

Hospitals were not easy for you to break into. Not when you were in costume, at least. You could get terrifyingly far in a white coat with a coffee cup and a clipboard, but that came down to timing and confidence and an aura of ‘fuck off, I am incredibly busy’ that you’ve always felt most doctors cultivated on purpose.

That didn’t really work when you were in all black with a cape and a helmet. And this was a children’s cancer ward, so it wasn’t like you could just wait till everyone went home. Windows didn’t open up here either.

So you’d had Dr. Grouch let you in from the helipad on the roof.

“You’ve taken the precautions I requested?” He asked, as you paused outside of the ward itself. “Fully clean, as you would have for Ms. Rosie? You will not touch anything you do not have to, and will call for assistance if she seems overwrought?”

“Yes, Dr. Grouch.” You replied, accepting another antiseptic wipe for your gloves. “I am here to answer a summons. That is all. I swear that your charge will not come to harm from me.”

You did not point out he had been the one to arrange this meeting. His face made a strange expression, as though he were surprised, and surprised at being surprised, and a bit disappointed in himself for that sequence of events. Still, he recovered quickly.

“At least I do not have to remind you to wear a mask.” He granted, in an attempt at levity. Luckily for you both, you didn’t actually need to reply, because he was already triggering the ward doors for you to enter.

While Grouch moved to the ward station, motioning to calm the various staff on duty, you moved with purpose for the room you’d been directed to earlier. Grouch was telling the staff that he’d found someone willing to stand in for you, as a way of reassuring them. You weren’t sure they’d buy it, but it really wasn’t your problem for the moment.

You moved quietly. You weren’t sure whether or which other rooms were occupied, and you didn’t intend to scare anyone who hadn’t requested to see you tonight. For that same reason, you double checked the number on the door you opened, and lifted it faintly on its hinges, that it would open smoothly and as silently as you could make it.

The room beyond was dim, if not completely dark. The corridor behind you was also dimmed for the night cycle, trying to give the ward’s occupants a chance at sleeping, though the ward station was still well-illuminated. You made sure its light wouldn’t give you a halo or shadow as you entered, and quietly shut the door behind yourself.

You aren’t familiar enough with hospitals to say whether this room is average or not. Tiled floors, the bed that is also a gurney, sparse furniture, windows on the far wall. There are signs of life here, in the form of some decaying flowers on the dresser, with several cards propped around their vase where the bed’s occupant can see. A television is mounted near the ceiling on an extendable arm, but it’s off for now.

There’s a few sources of dim light - the distant aura of the streetlights casts the bars supporting the windows on the wall across from the bed. A floor light illuminates the tile enough to show any potential tripping hazards. The odd blinking light on the medical equipment provides a dash of color to the gloom.

And in the bed, there is a lump curled on its side, as far as the IV line and monitors will allow it, blankets pulled tight over the shoulder and tucked near the chin. Dr. Grouch told you some basics about the patient before you reached this floor, so you know who you are supposed to be meeting. You feel bad for waking her, but you’ve been assured she doesn’t sleep well anyway, and is likely awake. Judging by the faint rustling of a body’s small movements, that judgement was accurate.

You are reminded of Dr. Grouch’s planned lie, out in the hall. You do not want this child to think they are being tricked. So you stay where you are, in the deeper shadow of the door-well, and you summon your shadows to life.

The window frame shadows make an excellent trellis for your branching additions - they stretch out, forming words in deeper darkness than the natural shadow from which they are woven. If you are mistaken, if this is the wrong room, if the girl sleeps, you won’t have disturbed them.

But you see the streetlight illuminate the planes of a too-sharp face as it turns to focus bleary eyes on what you’ve written.

Hello, Loralai.

At fourteen years old, Loralai should still have the roundness of youth. She does not. Nor is she quite skeletal, despite the advanced nature of her illness. It almost seems, in the half light, as though a slight push would be all that was necessary to send her in either direction: back to the hale softness of health, or further on to the sharp stillness of death.

She blinks. Her eyes widen, then narrow, then widen again. You belatedly wonder if perhaps she needs glasses. Or what if she’s dyslexic? Your shadow-words are hardly the easiest things to read. Damn it, Synovus, now is not the time for posturing and-

“Synovus?” Asks a breathless, whispering voice.

“In the flesh.” You reply, because you are a melodramatic moron. Still, your voice is quiet, and you remain unmoving.

There’s some more rustling. The bed is already mostly elevated, so Loralai doesn’t need to try and sit up so much as readjust how she’s sitting. There’s a click of a lamp - and then there’s a real light source in the room, even if it’s dulled by the lampshade.

You step forward as Loralai rubs the spots from her vision with one hand. There’s an IV catheter taped to the back of it from some recent event, the bruising around it just beginning to ripen. You don’t remember what that might mean, if anything.

As she gets her vision back and examines you, you turn your helmet, pretending to survey the room. Eyes bright with curiosity flick from the helmet to the cape to the patterns of padding over your torso. She does not seem scared, but then, why would she be? Dr. Grouch had informed you she was well aware her case was terminal. You may be a specter of death to some people, but this child has already started staring down the real thing.

“You are Loralai Weber?” You ask, turning back to face her directly.

She nods, leaning back against her pillows. You can see exhaustion on every line of her too-young face, but it seems not to have any power over her at the moment. “Yes. I didn’t think you’d actually come to see me.”

You gesture aimlessly, “I am not often asked for.” You reply candidly. “You’ve piqued my interest. And.. one could say I was in the neighborhood.”

Loralai’s expression brightens, “Are you going to attack the hospital?”

You frown. The prospect seems to excite her. Still, you keep your voice casual, noncommittal, “Not tonight, at least.”

“Damn.” Loralai sounds disappointed now. You muffle your amusement at her cursing as she continues, “Any time soon, maybe? Like, in the next week?”

She can’t see you raise your brows, so you tilt your head to one side, “You sound almost hopeful, Ms. Weber. Why could that be?”

Loralai averts her gaze for a moment, plucking slowly at the top blanket of her bed. This is the moment of truth, really. You spent hours trying to figure out what you might be asked for:

Could you kill someone for her? A doctor, a nurse, another patient who was really annoying? Or could you attack the hospital, so she could help you wreak havoc, and have the chance to feel as powerful as a Villain? Alternatively, what if she were the one to stop you? You were dreading the deathbed request that you ‘turn good,’ but that doesn’t seem to be forthcoming. Maybe she simply wishes to witness a hero battle up close, and needs you to initiate it. Or-

“I want you to kill me.”

You freeze. Most of you, anyway, as your stomach seems to have left out the ground floor entrance. You had not anticipated this. You feel like you should have.

Remorseless for your shock, Loralai continues, managing to look directly at your helmet face as her words spill over each other, “I know I’m dying, and that I don’t have long left, but I’ve been dying for months, and I just feel worse and worse every day, and I - I want to die fast, not slow. I want it to be over. You - you could make it quick for me, couldn’t you?”

You have not been inclined towards religion for a very long time. Yet, in this moment, you see the appeal of dropping to your knees and offering a fervent prayer of gratitude to whoever or whatever might be listening that you gave Dr. Grouch your word in the hall. You do not want to answer Loralai’s question, or know what your answer would be. You refuse to acknowledge the burgeoning answer within you.

The horror of it all still threatens to overwhelm you. The shadows in the room thicken, automatically reaching for you to provide shelter from unfortunate truths and uncomfortable conversation. This is why she asked for you. Because you are evil. Because you are terrible enough to meet a child face to face and kill them at their own request. Because you are not beholden to law, morality, or sympathy.

The black pit of despair yawns, and it is only by the barest shred of your willpower that you stay out of it - as awful as you feel in this moment, as much as you know you have only delayed your own suffering, the fact remains: you are not the one dying here.

It does not matter how you feel, looking at someone younger than you were when you finally found freedom, and knowing they will never reach the same age, the same feeling. It does not matter how you feel about their request. Loralai Weber sits in a hospital bed, terminal at 14 years old, and she is suffering badly enough to seek the Scourge of the West Coast.

So you scrape yourself together, and move to the end of her bed.

“May I sit?”

Loralai nods, brow still furrowed, and shuffles her feet so you can avoid accidentally sitting on them. You perch there, partially leaning on the rail at the foot of the bed, and watch her for a long moment.

“Yes.” You say, finally. “I could make your death swift. There is little you could do to stop me.”

You have Loralai’s undivided attention. When you stop speaking, she waits. The clearer it becomes that you will not say more, the further her face falls. “Could.” She says tonelessly. “But won’t.”

“No.” You confirm quietly. “I will not.”

“Why?” Loralai cries. She tries to gesture to herself, to the room that she’s in. “You’ve killed so many people! What’s one more to you? Why not me? Is it - do you want me to suffer, is that it? Would this be too merciful for you?”

You let her yell, and gesture, even when she comes within several inches of you. “No, Loralai. I do not want you to suffer. But nor do I think this would be an act of mercy.” You avoid addressing the issue of your body count.

Loralai looks offended and confused, gaping at you for a moment. “Does this look like a life worth living?” She demands.

Your answer is without hesitation, “Yes.”

The girl’s face contorts with incredulity, then despair, then anger. Her eyes are increasingly red-rimmed, and there’s a wet quality to her wavering voice when she responds, “Fuck you.”

Grimly, you brace yourself for much worse before the night is over. She hasn’t ordered you out yet, so you have to attempt to explain. Even if you cannot give her what she wants, you can be an outlet for her anger, and the face she cannot show to her doctors.

“There are cards on the dresser.” You point out.

“Classmates I’ve never even met.” Loralai responds flatly.

“Flowers, too.”

“Another parent bought some for the whole floor after their kid bit it. It’s a pity gift to make them feel better, nothing to do with me.”

“You still have family.”

“So they should get the honor and joy of watching me die? Paying a fortune for every extra hour I sit here and wait for it to be my turn?”

“It is worth it, to them.” You explain, matter-of-fact. “Every penny. Every extra shift. Every loan. Every night on your fold-out couch. How did you convince your mother not to be here tonight?”

Loralai flinches. “She has a bad back.” She mutters, “She - it’s better for her to be home, in a real bed. And so what if it’s worth it to them? What if it’s not worth it to me? Can’t I choose how and when I die?”

You sigh, “If that were true, the world would be full of immortals. And suicides. You realize that is what you asked of me, yes? An assisted suicide?”

Loralai draws back at the word, but doesn’t deny it. “It’s not like it would be anything new for you.”

The truth of that statement is painful. For a moment, you hear a distant ringing with no physical source. You are acutely aware of the shadows in this room - their patterns under the bed, on the wall, the sky behind the window, in the spaces under your skin-

“I am not your tool.” You rasp, before remembering that Loralai couldn’t possibly know about your past. She is a teenager. A hurt one. They always have a gift for striking true, even when they lash out blindly.

You take a deep breath, and suppress the shadows again. You don’t want to know how far up your arms they reached before you regained your senses. “And I will not be baited into killing you either. You are right - I’ve killed. Plenty. I will again. But I do so for my own reasons, and not because someone asks me to. You asked for me by name, Ms. Weber, out of all of the villains on the West Coast, so I’m guessing you know that.”

Loralai opens her mouth to respond - then looks away.

“You have every right to be angry.” You continue into the silence, “With me, with the people around you. With the doctors and nurses for how often they check in and the poking and prodding they do. With the kitchen for the quality of the hospital food. With your parents for not sparing you this life, or being overbearing in their concern, or not being able to balance what it is you really need.”

You pause. Loralai doesn’t respond. You continue, “I would be angry. I would be furious with every car that passed by and honked its horn, because I’m stuck up here dying, and they only care about the stupid traffic. And I would be even more angry about the fact I can’t tell anyone that without becoming the bad guy, who can’t take their situation with grace.”

“But you won’t kill me.” Loralai says finally, “Before I do something I regret. Or become a husk of myself.”

This time, it’s your turn to remain silent. Loralai turns to look at you, even if she can’t find your eyes in the mask. She’s crying now, but so far managing to hold off actual sobs, “Why can’t I be selfish? Just once?”

You offer her your hands, and aren’t surprised or offended when she doesn’t take them.

“You should be selfish.” You tell her, and the ferocity in your voice takes her aback. “You should be as selfish and greedy as you can. You should seize every moment - every conversation with your parents, every breath of conditioned air, every chance you get to actually smile. Even if you only get one more of those, Loralai, it’s one more than you would get if I did what you’ve asked. Dying isn’t selfish. It isn’t selfless either. It just is, the same way taxes are due and commercials always take too long and the drivers outside your window have road rage. It’ll happen whether you want it to or not. Don’t lean into it.”

Converse to your own advice, you lean towards Loralai, adding, “Kick the bastard in the balls.”

On reflex, she gives you a confused, watery half-smile.

“Yes!” You cry, as though this is a great victory. “Just like that! Rip and tear your joy from the universe.”

That wins you a snort - though the amusement doesn’t last.

“I’m not strong enough to do that.” Loralai deflects, turning a hand over in your general direction. “I’m not like you. I can’t literally steal happiness from - banks, or whatever it is you rob.”

“Banks.” You admit, “Though usually their corporate offices instead of the average buildings. Irrelevant, however: how many of my fights do you actually see me win?”

Loralai frowned. “Uh….”

You don’t leave her hanging long, “It depends on your definition of ‘victory’ really - but if I count it like the heroes do, where a victory is when I have my opponent in my custody, I haven’t won a single fight in over ten years. My track record is abysmal.”

(This is not strictly true - but it does count for your fights with heroes. Interpersonal villain matters you handle rarely make the news.)

“So, what, you’re bad at your job?” Loralai says bluntly, sarcasm tingeing her voice.

“I’m fantastic at my job.” You can’t help the rebuttal, it’s too much in your nature. “Because even if I don’t take down the hero who comes after me - and let’s face it, they’ll keep sending them endlessly, it’s exhausting - I still do what I set out to do. Sometimes that’s steal something. Kill someone. Make a scene. On bad days, just get out and away. And if you use that metric, well, darling, my track record is spectacular.”

Loralai considers this for a moment, staring into the middle distance between you. It’s impossible to figure out what she’s actually thinking of.

“Your metaphors suck.”

Well okay then. “My metaphors are elegant contrivances -“ You give up when Loralai gives you a look, and sigh instead.

Still, what you’ve said seems to have made some difference. Loralai has stopped crying, and she doesn’t feel as.. raw, as before. You hope it’s the right kind of difference, and that you haven’t just chased her further into a shell. You wait for her to break the silence again.

“So you think I should live, for the people around me?” She challenges, indicating the flowers and cards. You both know that’s only a fragment of your argument, but you’re willing to play ball.

“Nope.” You reply succinctly. “I think you should live for you and your own experiences. However, I think you are currently in a position where you have to see your joys in others before you can see them for yourself. If they anchor you, use it.”

She’s staring at you now, expression unreadable. “And you think that will get better.”

You almost answer ‘yes’ - but you know that isn’t quite what she’s asking. There’s a second half to that statement that is a question, left unspoken: ‘will it get better before I die?’

And for all of your lies, you answer her honestly. “I don’t know.”

Loralai nods. You want to clarify, to explain that even a chance is a chance worth taking. You want to give her some of your own rage at the world, the defiance that makes it possible to simply refuse to die. The conviction that let you kill a god.

No, maybe not that. You’re not sure that would be a blessing after all.

“Okay.” She says, after several moments. “Fine. I get to live. For now. But when I die -“ Loralai’s attention abandons the far wall and the middle distance, zeroing in on you, “- if my life gets any worse between now and then, if I don’t get any more good stuff like you’ve described, I’m haunting you.”

You believe her. “I believe you.” You say solemnly. “And there are few things in this world more terrifying than a teenage ghost. No, that isn’t sarcasm, I’m serious. Once-“

—-

You spend the rest of the hour telling stories of the teenaged ghost you’d met once in New Orleans, back when that wasn’t quite anyone’s territory. It’s not nearly enough time to share all of her stories - but it is enough that you remember her fondly, and smell the faint scent of bergamot and citrus that always heralded her presence.

When you spoke to her more regularly, you teased her about being a ghost who smelled like Irish Spring, and she ensured your cape got caught on everything it possibly could. You feel a tug on it, as you are moving to leave, and understand the prompt.

“Here.” You tell Loralai, unclasping your cape from your shoulders, and draping it over the bed.

“Does this have magic powers, or something? Is it bulletproof?” Loralai lifts it’s edge, rubbing the fabric between her fingers. She’s in higher spirits, but the bags under her eyes have deepened. She’s also cold, though you don’t think you’d be able to get her to admit it.

“Nah.”

“Then why would I want it?” Remarkable, how little your status matters to teenagers. You aren’t sure if it’s your curse or a trait of the species.

“Capes are cool.” You reply confidently.

There are other reasons too - it gives your ghost friend an anchor to stay with her better, it’s warm, it will remind her this wasn’t a dream. If her family needs to, they can sell it to cover some of the medical bills, since (unlike some heroes and villains) you rarely leave a trace behind, and collectors would love to get ahold of one of your capes. Actually, Tallflawes might even buy it at an exorbitant price, just to taunt you with it. But this isn’t a lie: capes are cool.

“Whatever.” Loralai says sleepily, resting back on her pillows, your cape tucked up under her chin. “Goodbye, Synovus.”

“Goodbye, Loralai Weber.” You say gently. You aren’t sure if she even notices your shadows flip the switch on the bedside lamp, returning the room to darkness. Your shadows muffle your exit back into the hall.

You leave as quickly as possible, after that.

—-

The good thing about being a dramatic fool on purpose, is that when you are having a public meltdown, it can appear as though you are simply performing again. The shadows contorting and swirling around you? Ah, Synovus, making an entrance. Disappearing between one blink and the next to the unobservant, because you’ve turned and booked it into the dark? A classic exit.

Your minions know you too well for that facade to hold. They also know you too well to ask.

You stalk down the halls, lights seeming to ripple in your wake with the amount of shadows you’re dragging, like a toddler with their blanket on their way to throw a tantrum. But you skip the training room. You wind up in the kitchen, as Oflok watches from a distance.

You spend an indeterminable amount of time staring at the collection of alcohol. You don’t indulge, because you are terrified of what might happen if you lose control of yourself. You know you are a walking bomb. Your minions can partake as they like, however, and today, reminded of how destructive you are, you want very badly to join them. To get wasted beyond memory.

“I want you to kill me.”

You get as far as reaching up one hand for a bottle. You don’t know which, you didn’t bother to read the labels. You lower your hand. Spin on your heel. And leave.

—-

It’s Rosie and Doll who hover in the corner, silent witnesses while you dig through the cabinets in the infirmary. You grab the first ampoule of a drug that looks like it would force you out of your mind that you can get your hands on. You have a tray laid out with syringe, bandages, tourniquet, disinfectant wipes, before you realize what you’re doing.

“Does this look like a life worth living?”

You walk out without a word.

—-

The grave at the bottom of the island is not well tended. It is not a monument to be remembered. This is the third time you have visited it since you stopped obsessively checking for signs of disturbances, in case it’s occupant decided to crawl back out.

You tell the empty space about Loralai Weber. What she looked like, what she asked of you, what that means. This time, you’re free to cry, though whether it’s for her or yourself, you’ll never be able to parse. By the end, you are screaming in the dark cave, knowing it’s all pointless at this stage in the game.

The man in the grave could heal himself, when he wanted. And very rarely, when he was convinced it was ‘appropriate,’ he could heal others too. He wouldn’t have counted Loralai Weber as ‘appropriate’ for his gift. You would. It doesn’t matter, though.

It’s the one part of his powers you never inherited.

—-

[Thank you for reading Synovus: A Wishing Star - if you want to read more of Synovus, you can find the rest of their stories on my blog, in the pinned post. Further, if you want to find out more about the Make A Wish Foundation, you can read stories of children they've helped (in rather different ways than Synovus) on their website, or donate here.]

[I do not have a personal story to share for Loralai's inspiration. However, I did tap into my experiences as a chronically ill individual, and the mental state I experienced both before and during treatment. There are still days I wonder as Loralai does - but I wholeheartedly believe as Synovus says: This life is worth living. It is for you too.]

[marleyybluu]

So Fine

Rio Martinez x black!fem!reader

Word count: 1.5k

Content warning: 18+, little bit of porn, little bit of plot, quickies in the bathroom, oral (m receiving), hitting it from the back, reader is described as curvaceous (but like once), no use of y/n, someone's not wearing panties, use of the word cock oops again, established relationship, sort of a shit ending cus I'm fried, creampies (obviously)

A/N: not necessarily inspired by the song I guess, I was listening to it when i wrote it so. and again no deep descriptions but reader has braids so shes a black woman in mind

(Sorry if the gif quality is shit lol)

His eyes were on her all night and he knew the minute this engagement party was over he'd be able to have his way with her. They didn't really want to make a big deal about their engagement but both their moms insisted they have a little party, and collect some gifts, they bared through it for the love of their sweet mothers. She wore an olive green dress that seemed to be glued to her, the outline of her curvaceous shape had him drooling, with a bit of champagne in his system he was ready to go home. But you can't leave your own party early, can you? 

He had gotten caught in a conversation with her father and as much as he loved the man he told some long ass stories, always deriving to a different one and explaining how it's connected to the current one. All he could do was hum and nod and throw in an occasional word or two, but his eyes seemed to never leave her as she participated in her own conversation with her cousins. Her laughter tickled his ears and he was surprised he could hear it over the music and talking. One of them nudges her and tries their best to point him out discreetly but he catches it, she turns her head and smiles at him and he smiles back. She excuses herself from the girls and makes her way over to them, she places a hand on her dad's shoulder and his attention is now on his little girl. 

"Are you talking his ear off again?" She asks kissing his cheek. Her dad shakes his head. "No, just... tellin' him some stories." 

She sighs and tilts her head. "I'm supposed to marry this man, do not tell him anything else embarrassing please." 

Her dad laughs and shrugs. "I mean you already got him, he's not going anywhere." 

"He's right, I'm not." Rio finally chimes in, she leaves her dad's side and slips her fingers in with Rio's. "Can we put a pause on the story? I just need his help for a second." She lies and he relaxes with relief that she'd come to save the day, happy to finally get a moment with her too. "Of course, take him." 

They say goodbye and she tugs him inside and towards a hallway where there are fewer people. "Thank you, I love your dad but-"

"I know, trust me," She giggles. He squeezes her hand affectionately and lifts their arms up, she doesn't hesitate to give him a twirl and he groans. "You're so fucking fine. I love this dress." 

"Thank you." She says looking down at her own body, she did look good tonight. She takes a last sip from her own glass of champagne and holds the now empty glass at her side, she eyes him up and down before boldly stating, "I have no panties on." 

His eyes widened a bit, she got him. She looks around to make sure no one notices that both of them vanish into the guest bathroom nearby. She pulls him inside and locks the door, she puts her empty glass on top of the counter and turns to face him with her palms pressed against the cold countertop as she leans back. Her tongue swipes across her bottom lip and her eyes shift down to the tent forming in his pants, she smiles and looks back up at his dilated eyes. She slides down into a squatting position, her high heels helping her put less pressure on her knees, her hands run over his brown belt and she eagerly undoes the buckle.

She pulls them down along with his boxers and his half-hard cock heavily pops out, she smiles gently taking him in her soft grip, her tongue slides from the base to the tip, she takes him in her mouth and his hands immediately fall on top of her head. She moans feeling him grow inside her mouth with every suck and lick. His rosy pink lips part and small huffs of breath escape, his eyes close for a moment, enjoying the feeling of her wet and warm mouth around him. His hips buck forward, his tip hitting the back of her throat, she pulls her head back-- a trail of drool connecting from his tip to her chin. 

She was such a pretty sight to see. She looks up at him holding eye contact while taking his dick in her mouth once again. Rio whines throwing his head back. She bobs her head at a slow pace, her hand comes up to cup his balls and he nearly loses his fucking mind, she carefully squeezes them, and fondles them to add to his pleasure. 

"Fuck, you're gonna kill me, baby." He moans. A familiar feeling washes over him, his eyes blink open, his hands grip her hair and he pulls her off of him. "I don't want to come in your mouth." He says between pants. "Why not?" She pouts. He wraps his hand around her arm pulling her up on her feet, he turns her around and she bends over for him. His hands greedily lift up her dress so that it now hangs around her hips. His eyes flash with desire when he realizes she really went commando. "You think you can tell me you're not wearing panties and expect me to not want to come inside you." 

She moans at his remark. His hands roved her body, squeezing her fleshy thighs, the feeling of her soft skin making him harder to the point where it was almost painful. He runs his fingers over her swollen pussy, her arousal dripping out of her, he licks his finger and practically melts at her taste. "Baby..." She whines pushing back on him, he smiles at the fact that she was just as needy and horny as him. His hands land on her hips, his foot nudging her legs further apart. He drives his hips forward, slowly pushing himself inside. Her eyes roll in pleasure. A throaty "Shit!" from him as he buried himself inside her. She was so fucking warm and her walls were plush and welcoming. She grips the counter as he bottoms out, neither of them was going to last long and they both knew it. 

Rio pulls out and pushes back in. "Oh!" She squeals as he fills her. He thrusts slowly at first, he liked to tease her, to see how long it'd take for her to crack and beg him to go faster. Her eyes roll and her lips part making the perfect 'O'. 

"Oh, shit." He moans lightly tugging her braids and forces her to hold her head up instead of resting on the counter. 

She cries out as he repeatedly hits her sweet spot, she reaches back and holds onto his forearm, her nails digging into the material of his clothes. "Fuck me, please, harder." She whines, he yanks her towards him, her back pressed against his chest, her head falling back on his shoulder her arm hooking around his neck, his nose nudged in the crook of her neck, her precious perfume tickling his senses. "Always smell so fucking good, you feel so fucking good." He says hotly in her ear. He feels her clench around his shaft. "You're squeezing me, baby." He moans the two of them go at it without a care in the world of anyone potentially hearing them, the sound of skin slapping probably seeping through the crack of the door while he pounds into her. The squelching sound of her wetness being penetrated by his dick, her arousal dripping onto him. 

He kisses the back of her neck. "Don't stop, Im gonna cum." She cries and her pussy weeps as she coats him her slick, her body stills and pleasure takes over her entire being just for a moment. He gives her a few more thrusts dragging out her orgasm as his approaches, he lets out a choked-out moan as he empties himself inside of her, and she hums at the feeling as it turns her on all over again. "Mmm, I'm ready to just go home and fuck you on the couch." He flirts leaving a trail of kisses over her shoulder. She sighs contently and smiles. "We can't." 

"I know, I know." 

She feels his length soften inside her and almost whimpers when he pulls back leaving her empty. He stuffs his dick back into his boxers while she tugs her dress down to cover herself up. As she cleaned herself up and fixed her appearance as best as she could he stood behind her admiring her through the reflection of the mirror. "What?" She asks. "I love you. I'm glad you said yes." 

She smiles warmly and looks down at her ring. "Me too, I can't wait to run you dry." She jokes and then looks him up and down. "In more ways than one." 

If you liked this fic free to like this fic, likes, reblogs and comments are appreciated. peace and love, see you in the next one 🤙🏾 If you're interested in reading other fics based on songs just like this one you can find them here in 'The Mixtapes.' playlist.

tags: @darqchilddaydreamz @rio-reid-whoreee @skyesthebomb

that might be interested: @realhotgurlshit @lovedlover @librarian1002

[somer-writes]

ok last one for today XD

im caught up hell yeah

uuuh yk how i wrote lashings. promised comfort. wrote subjection. promised comfort.

heres some comfort. during a whump challenge.

sue me

[sofiiel]

There & Back Again : xReader Edition

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄 : 6000+ words: (CW: angst. nightmares. toxic family dynamic. mentions of blood. violence. implied domestic abuse & SA - not done by Eddie )

Table of Contents | Next ->

The room is unervingly frigid.

You toss and turn in your bed. A cold sweat slips down your neck, sliding down your arms, and rolling along your legs.

Chest rising and falling rapidly as you cannot catch your breath.

Locked inside a void dream with the sound of skittering little legs. Your fingers claw at the bedsheets in the same way they clawed at the dirt walls in the darkness. Silent screams echoing in your head as tiny stings leave your limbs tingling with pain.

"I took you so that they might not," A lithe voice echoes in the quiet spaces of your mind. 

Limbs that once stung now felt numb, and a throat sore from crying at the top of your lungs fell still.

You find yourself looking up into unapologetic eyes that went on like oceans. Feeling smaller than you've ever had, and as he closed his eyes, your eyes opened.

You awoke with a start, eyes wide open but unable to move no matter how hard you willed your body.

"Don't scream, just wait for it to pass... it's too early to wake Dad up."  you think.

Talking yourself down within the confines of your head, you continue to will your limbs to move and soon can sit up.

With a sigh of relief, you brush your hand against your face, your eyes going to a tank near the window in which a tarantula scuttled peacefully.

"Good morning Shelob," You called, getting to your feet.

Your legs still ached from the night before, a grim reminder that sent a shudder down your back. It nearly brought tears to your eyes.

Leaning on Shelob's tank You choke back tears, pulling open your drawer you pluck out an old-fashioned soft blue dress and your underwear.

Retreating to the bathroom, you get ready for the day ahead of you.

Casting one last glance back at your home, you can see your father looming in the master bedroom window.

You force on a smile and head toward your black 1979 Chevrolet Chevette, waiting there in for Patrick.

In the rearview mirror, you check your face, the cold water had taken the puffiness away from your eyes.

"Morning Pat." you call as your brother climbs into the car.

But he said nothing in return, his whole body facing the window, and he rests his head in his hand looking out.

"Just come on before we're late, I said I'd meet Jason early for practice," Patrick grumbles.

You give a weary sigh and remind yourself that Patrick is going through a phase, before starting the car.

At school, Patrick was quick to flee off to his friends. You swing your backpack over one shoulder and look around the packed parking lot.

Heart thumping heavily in your chest, eyes scanning the many faces, it was all becoming overwhelming.

"Hey," A grounding voice calls behind you.

Robin slips her hand onto your shoulders. "It's the same thing every day, yeah? Just breathe," she says.

You give a stiff nod

"Come on, I have got to tell you about the amazing movie I saw just last night!" Robin cheered, taking you by the hand and leading her into the school.

"Movie?" you question.

"Yes!" Robin cheered.

"And so then it took me ages to figure out what happened at the end, but I was still in tears, and it was just amazing, you know!" Robin rambled on as the two of you cruised the hall.

"Huh yeah..." you murmur, nearly walking under Robin while avoiding stepping too close to others. 

From the corner of your eye, you could spot Hawkins High's most famous couple, Steve Harrington and Nancy Wheeler.

You could hardly take your eyes off of them. You could say you've had a crush on Steve for well over three years now. It was a shallow pool that glistened on the surface, but that was it.

You were more in love with the idea of love, always had been, and nothing ever looked better than the way Steve was capable of looking at the girls he dated.

But more recently? The way he looked at the Wheeler girl, and the way she gazed right back.

Your chest would ache, not because you wanted Steve specifically, but because you longed for what they had.

"Oh..." Robin breathed, watching her friend watch the couple.

"Um...um, Hey!" Robin called frantically, "What do you say we go get like some snacks and chill at our spot? You can help me practice for my solo in band." Robin offered.

You pry your eyes away from the fawning couple and offer a small smile to Robin, Whose eyes fluttered as she inwardly melted.

"Sounds good." you reply.

"Hey there Buckley, McKinney - Performance at the Hideout," Jeff sang, passing out flyers in the hall.

"Yeah, whatever," Robin spoke quickly, brushing him off as if he hadn't been there at all.

However, you quietly take the flyer and give him a nod. 

He knew, by now, that ____ McKinney never showed up to anything other than her brother's games. But he was still extending the invite, Eddie would have, It was a well-known fact that the McKinney siblings were like night and day. 

"Wait, are you seriously going to go?" Robin asked you.

You shrug in reply quietly stating, "Probably not."

"Well, I think you should, you can tell your dad that...you're staying at my place. We'll go together and you can spend the night. It'll be fun." said Robin.

You look down at your feet with a shake of your head. 

"Dad doesn't allow sleepovers anymore," you sigh.

"That's bullshit, Patrick just spent two whole nights last week with Jason and the team." Robin raged.

You could only muster a feeble excuse of, "That's different."

Robin exhaled in defeat and shook her head. "I know, he's your dad and I know they took you in, but I hate him, and he is an awful person." Robin seethed.

You look up at Robin and smile, laughing slightly, "thanks Robin."

"Yeah." Robin sighed, "but don't thank me, it's not like I can help you." she murmured.

"More than you think, really," you utter with gratitude, before the two of you part to head to your separate classes.

"And after she totally drug my flute skills through the mud!" Robin ranted.

"I had this great comeback in mind, but Ms.Wiggins started giving us a lecture about how we need to stay coordinated, and I have no coordination," she went on.

"Let alone when I am seething because I can out-flute Sherry in circles twice on a frozen river, and she's talking about my flute skills?" Robin's ramble finally came to a halt.

You sat at a small table in the woods near the school, watching Robin rant with a small smile on your face.

"You let Sherry the mouth get to you?" you ask her.

Robin shrugged, "it's that voice...you know better, but it still gets under your skin." she confessed.

"So, flute solo?" you hum, trying to reel in her thoughts.

Robin blinked a few times towards you...

"huh...oh!" she gasps, trying to open her flute chase in a fluster.

"Yeah, sorry totally forgot, my bad...heh, and it was my idea." Robin said bonking her palm against her forehead, "earth to Buckley" Robin whispered.

you giggle, "It's fine, Robin." 

Robin pulled out her flute and put it to her mouth, "it's a classical solo, so...." Robin said teetering her head.

"I figure maybe you'd like to practice, your Ballet? I mean.... I heard last Spring's Swan Princess camp was pretty brutal." Robin said. 

You side glance, you'd almost forgotten you told Robin that you'd gone to Ballet Camp.

"Y-yeah....they worked us into the ground." you stammer.

"I should say so, you had bruises all over your back for a whole week after," Robin said.

"I thought you were great at those leaps and...shots...and things..." Robin added.

"Saut De Chat, and apparently not." you sigh

Your stomach knotted and squirmed, it made you sick inside lying to Robin again.

"Sooo, will you dance?" Robin asked hopefully.

With a nod you start to remove your shoes.

"Yay!" Robin cheered, getting ready to play her flute.

"I told you man," Eddie said in an irritated sigh.

"I don't do refunds, you asked for Heavy Nova, I warned you that stuff was known to put you to sleep. It isn't my fault you crashed during your interview." Eddie stated dryly, leading his classmate and customer, Paul Elwood, from the football team.

"That's bullshit Munson!" Paul shouted.

Eddie turned on his heel, walking backward he held out his arms and shrugged.

"You had fair warning, look I can offer you a four percent discount if you want to buy something else. And this time, you might want to go with the Crystal Mother." Eddie said. 

Stopping in his tracks, Eddie reached into his leather jacket and pulled out a bag of dark green bundles.

"Won't get a better deal." Eddie said.

Paul rolled his eyes, and reached into the back pocket of his jeans, pulling out a small bundle of money, separating it, and passing Eddie the payment.

Eddie let Paul take the bag from his hands, "thank you, you won't be sorry this time." He said with a small bow.

"Weirdo.." Paul muttered, stalking off in the opposite direction.

"Yeah, but I'm a paid weirdo, and you're out ten bucks." Eddie murmured.

Putting his money safely in his pocket, the sound of a flute reached his ears. "Someone is at my sales table?" Eddie thought, following the sound.

With closed eyes, you'd fallen into a seemingly endless pirouette.

"Whoa h-hey, chill a bit, you're making me dizzy." Robin whimpered, pausing in her playing.

Coming to a stop you gave her an apologetic smile.

you sheepishly state, "Sorry, it's a good way to think, or you know not to think... I kinda got lost somewhere in my head, zoning out."

Robin gave a wave of her hand, "I do that all the time, but I don't have to be spinning." She chuckled.

you chuckle as Robin picks back up her flute.

"But keep going, it's like a free concert at the theater or something." Robin urged.

You gave a nod and continued.

"I wish I was half as good." You sigh.

"You will be. You are - I don't know anyone else around town who can do what you do." Robin paused to say.

Eddie leaned from around a tree, peering through to the table in the clearing, he watched the two friends carry on and found he couldn't take his eyes off of the twirling figure.

"That's unreal." He thought, watching your steps, which almost seemed inhuman. 

Further and further Eddie leaned out from behind the tree following your steps with his eyes and his body wanting to follow.

You spun, briefly catching a pair of deep brown eyes staring back at you from the trees.

Startled, you fall back, landing in the dirt.

"Oh! Are you ok!" called Robin, dropping her Flute onto the table, she hopped up clumsily to help you.

Eddie quickly hid back behind the tree, his back pressed to its trunk, "why are you hiding?" He asked himself.

Maybe it was how frightened those glistening eyes had seemed.

____ McKinney, a name known around the whole school, as the most skittish person anyone had ever met.

"I thought... I saw someone, someone was watching us." You stammer, shaken, getting to your feet you quietly stood behind Robin.

Glancing around, Robin could see nothing but a quiet forest,.

"Well, I don't see anyone, it was probably just someone taking a shortcut back home." Robin reasoned.

She offered you a reassuring smile.

However, your eyes were glued to the spot, you could have sworn you'd seen the eyes.

Robin sighed, she would need to prove it to you.

"Hey! Anyone out there!" Robin called, stepping forward.

"Let's just go." you say quickly, gathering your backpack.

you add with rushed words, "I need to hurry back home anyway. It's already too late."

"Alright, can I pick a tape for the car?" Robin asked, following you back to the school parking lot.

Meanwhile, Eddie listened keenly and once the two of you had fallen silent he exhaled.

Stepping out, he looked in the direction you'd left, vaguely he could see their figures in the distance.

"Eddie Munson, you were not meant to see that, and boy are you doomed." He spoke quietly into his fist, covering his mouth.

"Hello! Eddie! Dudes gone off to lala land..." Scott said from around the game table.

"Can't we just dump water on him?" Jeff asked.

"No! You'll ruin the DM screen!" Gareth called out.

"Eddie!"

The three of them shouted. 

Eddie jolted out of his daze, "My ears work!" Eddie gasped.

"Or at least they used to!" he shouted back at his friends, "what gives?" He asked.

"You were lost in some other realm dude." Gareth explained. 

Eddie's chest heaved as he drew in a large breath and quietly exhaled,

"I have seen the daughter of the starry twilight in the woods of Neldoreth," Eddie murmured.

"What?" Jeff asked, looking towards Gareth who simply shrugged.

"Did you smoke some of that shit, man?" Gareth asked.

Eddie shot him a look, "No, I don't touch the merchandise, rule number one!" Eddie shouted.

Scott however leaned in, "man, no way!" he gasped.

"In the woods?" asked Scott.

"In the woods," Eddie repeated.

He covered his mouth with his hands, "she was even in blue," Eddie said.

Scott's hand slammed down on the table, "shut up! Blue?" he asked.

Eddie nodded slowly with wide eyes.

"Was there anyone else there? Anyone else who saw?" Scott asked carefully.

"Just Buckley, but they were together,"  Eddie answered.

Jeff and Gareth watched the two in confusion.

"But did she see you?" Scott asked.

Eddie sat up and paused, "I think so....not well, she just knew someone had been out there." He said.

Scott raised a brow, "So no true identification of your presence?" Scott asked.

Eddie started to sulk, "no..."

"Well, next time you gotta be seen if there even is a next time," Scott said. 

"Are you two going to keep talking like girls, or are we going to play?" Jeff asked.

Eddie and Scott turned to him. Eddie pointed and turned his hand around, dropping the dice onto the table.

"Let's hope you are ready, we left off in a heated battle against the twin earth elementals, your mage's flesh golem was slain, crushed to paste after your last roll, and you are down to two fighters." Eddie recapped.

The boys started to sweat.

"Almost forgot about poor Bob." Scott said, shaking his head.

"Who names a flesh golem Bob in the first place," muttered Gareth.

Everything seemed quiet as you sat in your car. Your eyes are glued to the front door of your house.

"Dads car isn't in the driveway." you exhaled in relief.

"Maybe mom won't notice me come in if I'm quiet..." you turn your body to look out the rear window as you throw the car in reverse.

"If I park up the block and walk...." you planned.

After parking a block away, you quietly entered the house, a few lights were on and as you head up the stairs to your bedroom you find a note on the wall. 

Looking about cautiously, you pluck the sticky note away.

"𝓌𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝓉𝑜 𝒹𝒾𝓃𝓃𝑒𝓇, 𝒹𝑜𝓃'𝓉 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓎 𝓊𝓅 𝓁𝒶𝓉𝑒. 𝒫𝒶𝓉 𝒶𝓉 𝒥𝒶𝓈𝑜𝓃'𝓈"

Read your mother's elegant handwriting. your eyes nearly welled with tears as you can feel your whole body sigh in relief. 

Peeping at your surroundings, you smile faintly, "I've got the house to myself?" you wonder.

You steal a glance to the bottom of the note.

"𝒽𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝒶𝓇𝑜𝓊𝓃𝒹 𝟣𝟣: 𝟥𝟢"

"What do you think?" you ask Shelob while dropping her live prey into the tank.

"Do you think I can get away with spending some time downstairs for a bit?" you asked the spider.

Shelob paused in stalking her prey and turned her body towards you.

"I can't do much harm, other than make Mom mad." you sigh.

"All she does is shout," you added, wandering away from the tank to your bed, changing into your pajamas. 

"I think Robin and I were being watched today.... It's probably nothing, but with everything, that's happened these last two years." you murmur.

"Or Dad might have sent someone to spy on me." The thought, causes a shiver to roll down your spine.

Ever since he'd taken over as CFO of the Power Plant, the stress levels in the home had skyrocketed, he'd become more than just mean, more than just hurtful, and it had been going on for a year.

You wrap your arms around yourself in a hug, "We're just capital that will get him in good with the higher-ups. A perfect family...and,"

Turning around, you look in a mirror you had taped off with notebook paper.

"Bargaining chips," you whisper.

Suddenly feeling more tired than you'd ever been, you climb into bed.

While a night to use the house in any manner you wished was a rare treat, nothing sounded more tempting than to sleep for a few hours in peace.

No shouting, no tears, no pain, no fear.

Just yourself and Shelob in the quiet, deceiving house with the perfect lawn and apple tree at the end of the street.

Even if it meant facing the nightmares that had only been growing in frequency.

"I feel I know the demons in my dreams, and they can't hurt me like the waking ones can." you think.

Snuggling into bedding that somehow felt cold you close your heavy eyelids.

"Two more years." you murmur, a thought that kept you moving most days.

"And I'm already halfway there." 

However, those precious few hours did not last long, flying by as time usually does.

The door to your room cracked open, the hinges well maintained, it did not so much as peep. A hand gently shakes you awake, a touch that makes you cringe. 

Turning over in the bed, you look into the dead eye of your father as he gives you an overly pleasant smile.

You fight off the urge to wretch and carefully sit up in bed.

with your voice void of emotion but kept sweet so as to remain 'polite', "Yes sir?" you ask.

Your father pet the top of your head once before holding up a brilliant red dress.

"I have a gift for you." He sang.

your stomach fills with rocks and your limbs felt cold.

It was short and full of ruffles, something He'd never let you wear on your own.

"I-it's...." you tried to bite back your fear as taking too long to answer was never ok.

"Lovely, sir." you voice quietly, forcing a smile onto your face as you reach out to feel the ruffles between your fingers.

You know it's not real but the fabric seems to sting against your skin. Much like the creation of a papercut.

"It's for the dinner you will be attending for me, with the new COO of the Loxion Corporation, Jeremy Ford. It's very important, He and his wife have been trying for a litter girl of their own for years." He said.

Your eyes flutter, "o-okay...wh-what time?" you whisper.

"Five pm, you are to drive to their house, I'll leave the address and directions in your backpack tomorrow morning." He said.

You give your lips a lick as they are dry with anxiety.

You quietly question, "It's not a restaurant?"

Your father's eyes hardened as he took a single step back.

"No, but it is very kind of Miss Ford to cook a home meal considering I cannot attend myself." He said, voice strained and stern.

"It's not completely business, it's a gage of....character. " He lectured.

"Right, a man with well-behaved children must have the skill it takes to run a company just as well as a wild teen." you droned, it was the same thing every time.

"I'll be good." you said, the faint quiver in your voice unheard as your father hung the dress up on the bookshelf and left the room.

There you listen as his footsteps vanish down the hall. Until you could hear them no more, instead replaced with the sounds of muffled bickering from the master bedroom.

You draw your knees to your chest, hiding your face in them. Bitting down on your wrist you muffle your crying.

A spider came above you, lowering slowly from a single strand of web.

Its spindly legs reached down towards you as she perched herself on your free hand.

Lifting your head you peer at the tiny creature facing you, and are unafraid.

A bite would be the least of your worries, instead...

"Thank you," you murmur for the creature's comfort, sniffling the tears away and gently running your finger over your newfound friend.

"Are you sure you're ok?" Robin asked you. "You haven't said two words all day." 

You sigh and focus on your notes while at the lunch table with Robin and the rest of the school band.

"I'm ok." you state simply, but your voice lacked any personality Robin had become familiar with over the past year and a half. 

"You haven't eaten anything...you can have my pudding if you'd like." Robin offered.

"I'm not much hungry, besides, we're going out to dinner tonight with a colleague of my dad's," you stated quickly.

For a moment, you panicked, "I shouldn't have said that." you scold yourself in silence.

"Oh well, that's good, does that mean your dad's in a better mood?" Robin asked.

You shrug a dry response, "I suppose so."

Robin gave a heavy sigh, and you knew she'd given up for now.

  Distant laughter from across the room filled your ears, one of the more genuine laughs you'd heard other than Robin's.

You instantly find yourself looking up, trying to find the owner.

Searching the sea of faces until your gaze fell on eyes you'd seen before.

"It's the lurker!" you think with a gasp.

Eddie's eyes widened, it had happened again.

"From across a forest of the people," Eddie thought, he tried to hold eye contact with you, but you quickly glanced off.

Eddie drummed the table with the palms of his hands as he grinned.

Leaning towards Scott, Eddie whispered, "it just happened again."

Scott arched a brow and glanced towards his friend, "what are you looking at-" 

"oooooh!" Scott mouthed.

"Destiny." Scott said with a nod of approval.

"You think?" Eddie asked hopefully.

"What else? You want her to show up wearing a golden flower crown?" Scott asked.

Jeff shook his head, "you two are crazy," he said slowly.

"Look, don't be made just because you need to read better literature." Scott scolded, to which Jeff rolled his eyes.

"wh-what are you reading?" Jeff asked, seeing Gareth with his nose pressed into a book.

"Finrod no!" Gareth shouted, standing from his seat with his palms slammed onto the table.

Eddie hid his face in his hands and groaned, "couldn't warn you about that one man, sorry." he sighed.

"What the hell is that shit!" Gareth shouted.

"Is your voice..are- are you crying?" Jeff laughed.

"N-no...shut up..." Gareth muttered quickly taking his seat and closing the book.

"I don't want to read anymore...." he sulked.

"What the hecks going on over there?" Robin asked.

You shake your head, but as you watch the odd group of friends carry on you find yourself smiling.

Tilting your head curiously before glancing at Robin.

"You should try talking to more people...I mean I'm sure I'm great but, I won't get jealous if you make new friends, more friends." Robin whispered.

you look at Robin and give a small smile, "Nobody wants to be my friend, Robin, honestly some days I'm surprised you do."

"Oh please, that's not true - you just....well," Robin trod carefully, "you just need to open yourself up to people is all." she said.

"How so?" you ask.

Robin shrugged, "I don't know, saying 'Hi' helps. You know nothing changes we just get older and forget how it works. Teens are cruel, adults are cruel but Kids are cruel too,  but when we're little it was no big deal finding friends, trusting people." Robin said.

The word makes you flinch "Trust?" you echo quietly.

"Yeah....you see it's simple, its just a question - will you be my friend. the worst anyone can do is say no." Robin said.

You raise a brow, "Then how come you don't do it?" she asked.

Robin smiled a bit, "I did, and now you're my friend." she said.

You blink a few times, "I guess you have a point."

"Only problem is....my dad's got to approve of all my friends." you sigh.

"He approves of me, how high can his standards be?" Robin snorted.

You chew the skin of your bottom lip, "He uh....he thinks you want to be a doctor after high school."

Robin watched you with wide eyes, "he believes I look like doctor material?" she chuckled. Y

At Robin's words you muffle your laughter with the palm of your hand.

School didn't last long enough, you stand in your bedroom watching the dress hanging on your bookshelf.

"It's like it's mocking me." you think, glaring at it.

You exhale, "It's both beautiful and the most hideous thing I've ever seen."

"I feel the same about you, dear." Your mother's voice slithered in, as she slid through the door.

"Mom?" you question quickly, wrapping your robe around yourself tighter.

"It's fine, your father sent me, to help you dress." 

You can feel the sharp bitterness on your mother's tongue as you are eyed up and down.

your gaze lowers, "I'm sorry." you say, tightening the robe more.

"I can get dressed in the closet..." you offer.

Your mother passed you the dress, "please do." was all she said.

"Yes, mother." you sigh, quickly retreating. 

Mrs.McKinney gave a huff as she scanned over the items on your dresser.

There was little that showed any individuality. Contraception pills, study notes, a textbook, some unscented lotion, and a few scrunchies. Which seemed normal enough.

"What is this?" Mrs. McKinney asked with a sour frown. Plucking a tiny bracelet off the dresser.

You exit the closet and exhale, "it feels a little tight." you think, pulling at the hemline of the dress, "and a little short."  

"Are you listening?" your mother snapped.

As you glance up you stumble backward.

"w-where'd you get that?" you ask your mother.

"Tone." she growled in warning.

You lower your gaze once more, "sorry."

"What is this?" your mother repeated.

Gripping the end of your dress in each hand, your arms start to tremble.

"It was... it was from spirit day, the school band gave them out to Robin, and they gave me an extra..." you stated quickly.

"This doesn't look like a school bracelet." she pushed.

"It's a golden chain," she said.

Your eyes shut tightly, "It was from last year after the missing boy was found, to celebrate. I swear."

"We don't swear in this house," you mother said.

"I think it's from a boy" she hummed, a fox-like grin crossing her face.

"You know your father has to approve of your dates." 

Your voice is hardly above a whisper, "It's not from a boy."

"I mean it, it's from the school," you confirm.

Her mouth curled in scornful amusement, "What was that you wrote in that desperately sad little diary of yours? What was his name?"

Your mother sang mockingly.

"You had an awful little doodle of him, what was his name?" she asked.

You side glance muttering, "That was middle school, mom. Steve's got a girlfriend, Steve always has a girlfriend. We don't even talk, it was just..."

You sighed, "a crush." 

Your mother tossed the bracelet to the floor.

"You're a dull little girl, I was just having fun." she simpered.

"You do not have the spine to be sneaky, let alone pull anything other than the lonely overheated busters your father has you charm."  she spat.

You tried to calm your breathing as tears threatened to spring

"you're a dull little girl" your mother's words echoed in your head. Unable to separate the time when those words would have never dared come from her mouth and this present moment.

"I'm sorry." was all you could muster.

Your mother simpered again and lit a cigarette.

"Anyway, come here, your father wants me to make up your face, ugly little thing, you need all the help you can get." She mumbled, the cigarette dangling from her lips.

As you walk closer to her, She spins you around and glares at your face, pinching her chin between fingers donning long French tips.

"Your father used to say I wowed a room in red." she hissed.

You remain silent, refusing to make eye contact with her, cringing as the eyeliner pencil is dragged roughly across your face.

"Now he dresses you in red and sends you away to the company dinners like I'm old and worn." your mother said bitterly.

"That's not true, your be-"

pain cut off your words.

"Ow!" you gasp, a trembling hand clamped over your eye.

"Oops, you really should stand still." She mused. Your mother's eyes glinted with a an odd mixture of pride and disgust.

You bite your lip tightly, drawing blood when suddenly your eyes fall on a little creature crawling up her mother's arm.

"There's um...you've g-got uh..." you fumble over your words.

Feeling a tickle on her exposed shoulder, your mother glanced down.

She began to shriek at the top of her lungs.

"No, don't!" you shout, as your mother swatted the bug off.

Her hand flew fast and before you know it, you find yourself on the floor, backhanded.

"Did you want me to get bitten? Did you know? How long has it been on me!" She shouted.

"It's harmless." you whimper, "It was a baby..."

"A baby? Of that god awful thing?" you mother asked, pointing to Shelob's tank.

You manage to get to your feet, water welling into your eyes.

"Don't you cry, you'll mess up everything" your mother barked.

You glare down at your feet, "No Shelob's got no babies... It came from a nest...in the ceiling." you sighed.

"I've been, looking after it. The mother went away," you speak in a hushed confession.

Your mother shook her head and took a long drag from her cigarette.

"Get out of my damn house before I put you and your creatures on the street." she huffed, brushing off her clothes and storming out of the room.

You stood still, waiting for your mother's footsteps to fade before getting down on the floor.

"Maybe she missed," you whisper, carefully scanning the carpet.

"Oh, Shelly.....where'd she go?" You ask Shelob. 

The lights in the room flicker faintly.

"Great, a problem with the electrical is going to put mom in a great mood." you think, looking at the lamp briefly.

Turning your attention back to the floor, a smile springs onto your face.

A little critter lingered on your hand, watching you.

you're breathless, "No way." you say, lifting your hand carefully to eye level.

"How'd you survive a swat like that?" you ask it.

You move with care as you get to your feet, letting your hand hover in the air as you wander to the bed.

You kick off your heels and stand on top of the mattress.

"There you go." you say in satisfaction, raising your hand up to the low popcorn ceiling.

You stand by and watch as the spider finds the hole in the ceiling and scuttles inside.

"At least someone is safe tonight." you think, climbing off the bed and reluctantly retrieving your shoes.

It was time.

"It's going to be ok, sweetie. You're home now."

A warm, gentle voice flutters through your memory as you sit gazing up a block lined with large white houses, with wide lawns that all seemed to mimic each other.

Every car in every driveway favored the one it neighbored down the silent, lifeless street.

You tightly pinch your arm

"You cry you mess up the makeup, you mess up the night. Stop it!" you bark at yourself.

Closing your eyes, you walled off your mind.

"It will go fast if you go with it," you whisper.

You breathe in deep, holding it within your lungs, "It's just a waking dream...." you whisper.

slowly releasing a shaking breath you allow your eyes to open.

"so go to sleep," you tell yourself, moving the car forward to the address your father left you.

Parking the car, your feet felt like lead as you walk up to the bright red door.

With a sigh, "it had to be red." you think.

Smoothing out your dress to stall for more time, you eyed the doorbell.

"It will go quickly...it will go quickly." your mind droned, finger pressing against the doorbell.

At the loud toll, you took a few deep breaths. 

"Why hello, there you must be ____. Gregory has had so much to say about you, come in, come in." The elegant blonde woman offered you a flawless smile as she opened the door.

"Thank you, miss Ford." you say, forcing a bright smile of your own.

"Oh, dear. You can call me Norma," said the blonde, allowing you to step inside the house.

Following Norma down a long entrance hall, you notice the strange collection of artwork on the wall, if one could truly call it that.

Black and white photo's in pale wooden frames.

"You have some lovely artwork, miss Norma." you say, if only to fight off the unease.

You can feel Norma glancing back at you, but you can't rip your eyes away from the odd gallery.

"Artistic nude is an enchanting medium of study, don't you think? Raw humanity, captured in the individual view of the artist." Norma said with a pleased smile.

"Mmhm, en-enchanting...." You struggled, though this was hardly artistic nude.

You were sure of that much. It didn't lend the air of artistic value.

The paintings seemed to be of young women, of all the same figure, holding mundane objects in ways that made a cold chill run through your body.

There was no light in any of their eyes, just hollow stares.

"This will go fast," you told yourself again, following Norma through the house.

As you pass the dining room, you are left baffled. Your gaze hones in on a small empty table.

"Are we not having dinner?" you question. 

"Oh of course dear, dinner is going to be served downstairs," Norma hummed.

"Jeremy just had the basement redone for business affairs, he's excited to show it off. It is a pity your father couldn't be here to see it." Norma said.

Down a short flight of steps, you continue to trail behind Norma.

The smell of pot roast fills your nose and part of you relaxes.

"See, a roast dinner." you mind sighs in relief.

"Jeremy, Gregory's daughter, has arrived," Norma announced.

You stand behind Norma before a large room. Its walls were heavily ship-lapped and feature plush carpeting.

A long table stood as a centerpiece in the room, lined with wine glasses and delicate fruits.

But the centerpiece of the table sent your heart tumbling down to your gut.

"Welcome ____," Jeremy nearly purred, eating a fruit from the belly of the girl on the table.

Your lip trembles as you try to hold back tears.

Deep denim blue eyes looked clear through you, with the same amount of pity you were sending to her. 

"Your father tells me you struggle making friends, this is Amy," Jeremy said with an unfaltering grin.

"A-amy? My da- er, Father, never mentioned you had a daughter?" you stammer.

"Oh, she's just a friend of the family, she likes to play body shots, would you like to try?" Jeremy asked.

"I..." Your words faded as Norma walked around you and held up a wine glass.

"Take a sip, you look parched, dear." she lulled.

"I don't want to." your mind whispered, eyes still glued to the tears welling into Amy's eyes.

Only now Amy wasn't looking at you at all, rather across the room.

Following the frightened girl's gaze, past the small kitchen and bar to the far left of the room. On a long foldout table lay many items. A riding crop, clamps, a metal bat, as well as various scarves and boas.

You hold back the urge to scream, instead, turning your eyes to the glass of wine.

"Is it?" you ask, Norma smiled and nodded.

Closing your eyes you take the glass quickly downing it, "a waking dream...so sleep" you tell yourself.

Fading in and out, faint screaming and cursing echoes and swirls in your ears.

"Wh-what's going on?" you slur, as a hand tries to sit you up.

"Can you walk?" a voice asked quickly.

"I-I don't... ah!" you cry out as you find yourself doused in ice water.

Your vision came in clear and your gaze met with Amy. 

Left in disoriented confusion you rub your eyes,.

"You? How?" you ask her.

"You need to get out." Amy said firmly, reaching down to your wrists, she unlocked the cuffs.

"Out? B-but I can't..." you stammer.

"Look, they don't have to know. I'll tell them you tried to stop me, and then you ran away," said Amy.

"I don't understand, y-you're here just like me, for the same reason....aren't you?" you ask.

Amy was silent, "You're not who I thought you were going to be. Ok, you're scared, you aren't the mosquito. I didn't plan this right. You have to get out, or they will blame you for what happens here tonight." Amy said quietly.

"What do you mean?" you ask as Amy pulls you to your feet.

"Just get out, tonight's your lucky night," Amy said.

Glancing around nervously you question,"Where are the Fords?"

"Held up for now, but if you take too much longer to get out-"

"Well, then come with me! We can both get away, and nobody has to know," you urge Amy.

"No, nobody is going to know, but the world will be safer," said Amy.

She gave you a light shove, "Now go, there's a cellar door to the backyard, it leads into the woods, if you run long enough you should hit the road. Find some help for yourself."

"But-"

"And if anyone asks, you don't remember what you saw, you just ran," Amy said.

"I don't understand!" Myrtle shouted. "Go! Dumbass! You're free! Run!" Amy yelled back.

You watch as Amy picks up a baton and looks towards the basement kitchen.

"You won't want to see this." you faintly hear Amy whisper.

You cringe and with painful sluggish steps make your way to the cellar doors.

As the door closed behind you, you hear a muffled, deep shout.

Pausing you watch the door, brows knitted together.

"I should go back." you hesitate, but the red seeping down your legs and the screaming of your arms and legs said otherwise.  

You look towards the woods, "I need to run, She seemed to have a plan." you murmur, hobbling towards the darkness and safety of the trees.

As the laced wine slowly wore off, the pain in your body went from a scream to a bomb siren. Leaning against a tree, you catch your breath.

your vision wavered and all you want was to sleep.

"It can't be here, I need to get home." you think, pushing off the tree to continue.

Ahead of you through the night lingered a soft orange glow.

"Houses... I can say I got into a crash," you reason with yourself.

But something in your gut twisted, and you couldn't clear Amy's face from your mind. Shutting your eyes tightly, you shook your head.

"Nothing about tonight makes sense, for all you know you were drugged walking through that door." you told yourself.

"Just keep moving."

Eddie, hopped out of his Van and locked the door, chuckling to himself about the events of the campaign and what he already had planned next for the party.

"Maybe I shouldn't have left them so hopeful." Eddie thought.

A rustling came from the brush near the tree's behind the Trailer Park, Eddie paused in his steps.

Tilting his body forward for a closer look, "Did the Thornton's dog get out again?" Eddie asked himself.

With a sigh, he headed for the trees, "Hey! Winston! Come here boy!" He called in a whistle.

But what emerged through the trees was no lost dog.

"Jesus, McKinney!?" Eddie asked wide-eyed as he looked your disheveled form up and down.

"Um, I-" taking a step forward your leg finally gave way.

"No, no, no," said Eddie, pulling off his vest, he removed his leather jacket.

"Hold on, here your dress is um...kind of ripped." He said, holding it out to the shaken girl. 

You gaze at the jacket in a daze before your eyes trail down your own body to examine your dress.

you gasp in mortification, "Oh my god!"

"I'm sorry." you fret.

You rush to slip on the jacket and zip it up, but every movement makes you wince.

Eddie's eyes scanned over you, "what happened? Do you...do you need me to call somebody, like the hospital, maybe?" He asked.

You feel the panic settling into your core and it matches the building panic in his eyes.

"I um...no, It's not as bad as it looks, really. I was just tired and um....the car veered off the road and-"

"You're bleeding from your legs..." Eddie muttered, eyes wandering down two thin trails of blood from your thighs to your calves.

"What? Oh, th-that... that's just" you clear your throat "My period."

"Please, I just need to clean up, and then I can walk to a payphone and call my dad." you reason. 

Eddie wanted to protest, but he could see you were struggling to talk through gritted teeth. Turning his back to you, Eddie stooped down.

"Well at least let me give you a lift, My uncle's at work, you can use our bathroom." He said.

You pause, unable to imagine climbing onto his back with the way your insides were feeling, walking was hard enough.

"Um... I can walk, really." you speak quietly. 

"No offense, but Zombies could walk better, come on." Eddie urged.

you sigh in defeat, you can't afford to let him get suspicious, so carefully you step forward and climb onto his back.

Shutting your eyes tight, it was hard to ignore the new pain. 

Eddie could feel your hands grip his shoulders tightly and your body tense.

"You ok?" He asked carefully.

"Mmhm" you hum.

Eddie side glanced and hurried as gently as he could around the Trailer and up the steps.

Table of Contents | Next ->

[shift-shaping]

fifty sovereigns

enaste 'makes contact' with the mercenaries targeting clan lavellan.

rating: m

pairing: solavellan (broadly)

warnings: canon-typical racism, threats of sexual assault, blood

previous fics | 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14

Enaste had been a hunter first, and she liked to think her feet still knew the steps. She wore the moonless night like a cloak, her dark armor obscuring her shape within the tall grass and fertile hills of Wycome's coastal plain. Though her clan's precise location was unknown to her, she had taken notes of Roshan's map and knew the stars above her well.

Isabela had helped her slip away from the rest of her group in the middle of the night. Enaste needed to see her clan first, to determine how dangerous this 'plague' was before she let her companions get too close.

The long grasses hid her well, but they were far from silent. She kept her movements controlled, used magic to muffle the sounds, yet still she felt the itch of being watched. She stopped, listened, and reached out with her will to feel the Veil around her. Spirits shuddered in the dark, the same menagerie that often watched her from the Fade. She heard crickets on the grass, felt the gentle wind rustle at her coat.

Nothing. But still...

She continued on, visualizing the map in her mind, using her staff to carefully part the grass before her. In time she came to a copse of trees, the type of which matched the instructions Roshan had relayed to her. The tall grass gave way to soft, mossy ground and hard-packed dirt.

A man's laugh echoed in the distance. Other voices joined him, jeering, shouting. She froze. They were coming closer. Hoofbeats too, though not many. Two horses, at most, but maybe three times that many men. She ducked behind a fallen tree and cast a silencing spell over her. As she sank down she set her staff gently on the dirt.

The laughter grew close, and then a group of men crashed through the grass and stumbled drunk into the forest. She lowered herself to her knees, peering from behind a branch. Her estimate was right: two horses, riders for each, plus four other men. They were all humans, dressed in mismatched armor and weighed down with heavy weapons. They spoke the trade tongue in slurred Marcher accents, and laughed so loud it pierced the quiet night.

"This is bullshit, Barozzi!" A man with dark, shaggy hair jeered. "That damn horse can't smell a rabbit!"

Enaste’s eyes widened. She sank lower to the ground.

"He can!" One of the riders insisted. He swayed atop a russet-colored horse that seemed unsettled by his wobbling. "We just haven't found it yet."

"He's just smelling the elfroot. Plenty of that around here and it sure as shit isn't what the duke is paying us for." The shaggy-haired man replied. He kicked at a bush and barely kept himself from falling over.

Enaste's brows furrowed. The duke? Gaspard? No, that didn't make sense, not out here. Was that a code name? One of the men wandered off from the rest of the group while loudly announcing his intention to urinate. Enaste's night vision was excellent, and when he strode past her she saw his too-big armor bore no obvious symbols of allegiance. Between that and their talk of being paid for hunting elves, Enaste assumed these were the mercenaries harassing her clan.

A twig snapped behind her.

"Hey Barozzi!" A heavy, armored hand grasped her neck and yanked her violently upward. Her back hit hard against a metal chestplate, knocking the wind from her lungs. She tried to inhale, but her breath choked in her throat, squeezed shut in the sudden vice around her neck. Hot, wet, stinking words seared against her skin. "Think the duke would let us keep this one?"

"I fucking told you pricks!" One of the man gloated. "Reggie can smell rabbit!"

"You got lucky!"

Enaste closed her eyes. The leathered hand cut into her windpipe. She grasped at it desperately, tried to peel the fingers from her neck. Each one cut into her like daggers, pain shooting through her flesh. "What's got you away from the other savages, eh? Sneaking off to meet someone?" Her lungs burned. Her vision erupted into stars. “I bet I’m a lot more fun.”

"She's turning blue, dumbass!" The man closest to them laughed. "They're no fun unconscious."

The grip on her neck relaxed slightly. Her chest screamed with pain as she sucked in a ragged breath. The man's fingers still dug into her skin, into the soft tissue just below her jaw. His voice growled against her. "You wouldn't know, shithead. You've never caught one before."

"What?! I'm not the one who got his ass kicked by their apostate!"

"That's because you ran away the second someone got shot," the man behind her snarled. She panted desperately, her throat aching, her vision slowly clearing. His grip tightened again. It wasn't enough air.

"They poison their arrows! I'm not dying of knife-ear shit disease for the duke of fucking Wycome."

The duke of Wycome?

Enaste had heard enough. This was far from her first interaction with men like this; she knew their kind well, though the strangling was new. The Veil shuddered around her, lightning jumping to her fingertips--

The hand around her neck suddenly released her. Her feet hit the ground. Fire burst through her chest as she sucked in a deep, gasping breath. She turned to see a dagger running through the torso of the man that had held her. His eyes widened, his mouth slack in a shocked gasp.

He fell to his knees, and Cole pulled a long, bloody dagger out of his body. Cole’s hat covered his eyes, and the metal of his armor glimmered in the dark.

Enaste grabbed her staff and lightning leapt from its focus, bolting from man to man as thunder split the air. The sound made the horses buck, their riders crashing to the ground mid-shock. They took off, galloping out of the trees.

"Cole! Get the horses!" She yelled, and Cole vanished after them. Two of the men struggled to their knees, and she slammed them back into the ground with the force of the Veil itself. This time they stayed down.

The six men in the clearing were in varying states of misery. The lightning spell had hit them hard, fueled by her pain. Some groaned, none moved. Obviously, the one Cole stabbed was dead. Three others were entirely unconscious: one of the riders, and both of the ones she'd hit with a veilstrike. The remaining rider, the one she'd heard called Barozzi, curled on to his side with his hands pressed against his head. The other groaned quietly and flinched when she approached. She turned towards the rider, and he looked up at her from under his arm with bloodshot eyes.

"Fucking apostate whore," he slurred, voice shaking.

"How many of you are there?" Enaste asked, a low rasp all she could manage through the pain in her throat. She gripped the hilt of her staff so tight it hurt her palm, and though her voice was quiet, it did not waver.

Barozzi pushed away from her weakly, hatred bright in his eyes. "No. Get fucked. Not sayin' shit."

Enaste glanced back at the other conscious mercenary. He was still shivering in pain, cowering from her. She covered herself with a barrier regardless, and knelt beside the one who could speak enough to curse her. "I don't want to kill you," she rasped, "give me information, and I will let you live."

He glowered at her, lips curling. Blood trickled from a wound in his forehead. "Fucking knife-ear fucking whore."

She exhaled and closed her eyes for a long moment, trying to calm her racing heart and ignore the pain. Then came a voice from behind her.

"Please! I'll tell you, just don't --don't kill me!" Still kneeling, she half-turned towards the other man. He was shaking, eyes wide, one hand pressed to his head and the other laying limply and awkwardly at his side. "Anything you want, anything--" It occurred to her that this was the man who'd walked by her earlier, the one in the ill-fitting armor. "It's not worth it, not for this. It's not enough pay, not to die out here."

"Shut up!" Barozzi coughed. "Shut the fuck up, Klein!" 

"No! I'm not dying for fifty sovereigns!"

"That's all?" Enaste laughed, so surprised it momentarily distracted her from the pain in her throat and neck. "The duke is only paying you fifty gold coins?"

"Shut the fuck up, Klein!"

"Yes! It's--"

Enaste looked at the one who'd taken to spitting slurs at her. "I'll pay you double if you tell me what you know."

"I don't want your fuck--" he broke into a coughing fit, and she waited for him to finish, taking the time to attempt to steady her own breathing, to will away the burning in her chest. "I don't want your filthy fucking knife-ear gold!" His voice strained. The blood from his head wound dripped into his eyes and down the left side of his face, giving him a dark, shining mask in the night.

"I do!" Klein yelled, also hoarse.

"Which duke are you talking about?" Enaste asked the compliant one. "The Duke of Wycome?"

"Y-yes," he replied.

"Why?"

"I- I don't know, really!" She said nothing, and he went on quickly. "I don't. The orders didn't say why."

"What orders?"

"Klein!" Barozzi hollered until the pain strangled his voice to a bloody hiss.

"To attack the Dalish!" Klein said. "To get them to leave the valley, at least, or kill them if we had to."

Her heart pounded in her skull, so loud she could barely hear her own thoughts. Her tongue tasted like cotton. "Did you? Did you kill any of them?"

Klein shook his head. "No. Maybe. I don't think so. They --they know the area, they're fast, can't --we couldn't keep track of them."

"Fucking cowards," the other man hissed. "Won't fight us like real men. Hiding in the trees, fucking rabbit bullshit."

"When you met them," Enaste went on, ignoring the whinging bastard, "did they seem sick?"

"What?" Klein's confusion was reassuring. "Sorry --I, no? I don't remember. I don't think so. Sorry."

"How many of you are there?" Enaste asked.

"Not many. Twenty, maybe. Most of us are at camp."

"Where is camp?"

Klein weakly pointed west, and Barozzi groaned. "That way. Follow the deer path down the hill, take a left near the rock formation, can't miss it."

"Traitor!" Barozzi cried. "She'll kill us all!"

"I haven't killed you yet, have I?" Enaste asked, turning back to face him. The man glared up at her, nostrils flaring through the blood.

"You killed the rest of us." He shuddered, then spit at the ground. "You just want to see us grovel. Kill me, get it over with. I won't bow to some knife-ear bitch."

She fell quiet, watching the pathetic, miserable excuse for a man writhe in the dirt.

"You don't know that," Klein said. "You don't know they're dead."

"They might as well be. Rabbit-hunters killed by a fucking rabbit." Barozzi's lips curled in shivering disgust. "Put 'em out of their fucking misery."

She heard the sound of hoofbeats behind her, and turned to see Cole leading both horses back into the clearing.

"Reginald!" Barozzi gasped with sudden, renewed energy. "Don't you fucking touch him!"

Enaste rolled her eyes. She stood and met Cole as he approached.

"They were scared. They didn't want to come. But they like each other, and scratches on the chin." Cole looked at the man on the ground. "Why did you name him Reginald?"

"None of your fucking business."

"Okay."

Enaste exhaled shakily as she looked at the forest around her. The unconscious men were still unmoving. Klein had settled into a sort of shivering, whimpering mess, and Barozzi was swaying back and forth, propped on one arm, face covered in blood.

"They hurt you," Cole said softly. Enaste frowned at him. Cole pointed to her neck. "Aching, burning, lungs screaming, hand on my neck, fingers like daggers." She reached up and touched her neck where the man grabbed her. It felt tender, and hot, and it stung. "Blood rushing. Nothing yet, but it'll smart. Heart so loud there's no room for thoughts. Will the others see? Does it matter? I can find a scarf. They shouldn't worry. I'm okay, I will be." Was it just in her head, or could she still feel the leather on her skin? Cole looked up at her with narrowed eyes, brows knit in determination. "I wasn't fast enough. I didn't stop him before he hurt you." There was a faint glow in his eyes, like sparks before a fire. "It will never happen again."

His intensity was somewhat worrying, but she couldn't dwell on it now. "I'm alright, Cole. Really." She glanced back the way they came. "I thought you were still at Skyhold."

"I am not."

"Right, of course." She swallowed. It hurt. But she forced herself to speak through the pain. "I think we can take both of these men to my clan. They're hurt badly enough they won't be a threat. We can treat them there and get more information about their contract from the Duke of Wycome."

Cole looked at Barozzi, who was quiet now, collapsed fully into the dirt, his bloody face bathed in darkness. "He thought we were going to kill his horse. He thinks the Dalish eat horses." The horse in question bent its head to snatch a branch from the bush one of the men kicked at earlier. "Orange evening, tears on woolen sleeves, brown hair shining red in the dying sunlight. Blunted swords. Only a scratch, but so much blood. Why did it have to be him? Reginald, Reggie, red like ginger hair, like fresh blood on the bandages." Cole paused. "It was play-fighting. He never blamed you. How could he? It was fun." The mercenary curled into himself, and heaved a sob that shook his battered body. "Your mother was hurting. She blamed herself, but she couldn't so she made it your fault instead. The blood wouldn't stop flowing. How could you have known?"

Enaste and Cole took the time to check the other men. They were alive, barely, but Cole thought they would at least make it until the rest of their group came looking for them in the morning. The one Cole had stabbed was long-gone. They left his body where it lay, but dragged the other men closer to the deerpath Klein had mentioned. Klein and Barozzi were in no state to fight as Cole and Enaste tied them down and sat them on the horses. They left behind a warning to the rest of their crew: the constellations Visus and Judex intertwined, burnt into a tree, the watchful eye of the Inquisition. 

The first light of dawn glowed on the horizon as they rejoined the path into the valley where Clan Lavellan was camped. Cole offered Enaste his scarf. She wrapped it around her neck, high enough to cover what would surely bruise, and thought somehow it smelled like home.

<- prev fic | next fic ->

[captainkurosolaire]

Father of Shadow

Grey skies of bone waste, dry uncertain humidity polluted the air, in a time stone of an oppressive era. When a peaceful Nation was under siege of a Garlean Empire was prominent conflict. Depleted soul's were torn from destruction brought upon them, not able to spark their rebel spirits. Hopelessness festered, longed, in the dark-void, absence reigned. Until those who dwell and thrive in night, answered. A Doman elegant-magpie, colored descended below gracefully upon a leather-glove, with a braille message-strung delicately for delivery, to who wields sharp steel and handles Black Miracles. It read two-words, stroked in Hingashi. "Unsheathe Shadow." The figure clad to black, descended below a tall cliff-side using a large-bright dragon-theme kite at the last daring moment, blocking a Magitek Armor with an Operator and fellow squadron leading a convoy of spoiled slavers, formerly settlers, farmers of the neighboring land, that'd know a harvest again. Feet-padded quietly a step in their pause. This mask-silhouette figure gave a small startle. Keen eyes of one Imperialist gave rise to a Eastern-forged scabbard blade, letting out a small-laugh from his throat, "Hey, Men! Seems we forgot one. Ki--" Cut off before the executive order, through a sleeved kunai punctured the throat. The specter of death, was swarmed instantaneous. Time felt frozen momentarily, when two-pursuers stepped in striking distance, before they were aware of the next breathe, they were struck down from a blinding quick unsheathe. A firm masculine gloved-hand grappled one of the defeated imperialist by their skull and used their cadaver as a shield-charge to block, a volley of ballistics sponged to the reload, swiftly, the assailant lunged his blade through the deceased into the reloading legionary, puncturing two-hearts. Crushing flail came swinging towards the assailant from behind, stern senses strengthened for obscured sight gave an acrobatic bending dodge, strands of raven hair's plucked grazing overhead, the swordsman withdrew his blade full of heated ichor, blinding the bruiser. Handicapped and shouting obscenities, he withdrew his chained-flail, the assailant vanished alongside the call-back, leaping carefully on returning weapon. Graciously leaping overhead. A swift-slice midair struck. Another head fell below removed from neck. Sudden commotion and pause made the prisoner's of war began up-roaring with renewed spirits, kicking at their confines. Magitek-Armored pilot took firing aim and unleashed a mini-gun of bullets at the shadow. The figure-glided with the wind, feline ear's rattling towards the preparing machinery coiling before assault, heel's building up wind, his blade let out a howling gust, rocketing him forth towards a hanging-tree, bullet's closely racketing behind. Fluid-movement, his free-arm locked onto a sturdy branch. He parted his blade-flat below his feet using it like a temporarily standing-board. Then unhooked from hip satchel a paper-scrolled bomb strung to another kunai, a fuse laid underneath the hilt like a switch, once launched and struck its target, it'd detonate. Ilm's from filling the assassin with swissed-holes, the weapon's arm of the machinery imploded and cracked pilot's glass windshield, the magitek armor fell off balance, exposed trying to regain control. His eye's-opened widely. Sole's directly above his small-layer between him, in the death-dealer who had catapulted and sprung himself with a feline leap. Shedding a last-gasp before expertly steel slid between the cracked- creases, and impaled him unable to evade demise. His skull ragged dolled forth bashing into the detonation button. Electrical in-balance was felt predicatively, the assassin leapt backwards, yet was unable to clear. Blocking with his arm's and blade, shrapnel of machinery projectiles dug into his flesh, boom sent the shadow careening below harshly.

Ember's surrounding him, scorched land and concussed with his hearing shrieking, distorted, his mask cracked. His body was tortured fashioned to these sensations. Adrenaline coursing inside him, nullifying the extent of his injuries, momentarily, he rolled instinctively feeling the heat near his feline tail. Despite being a deadly-weapon, expressionless, empty-nearly. He finished his task employed, by releasing the prisoner's door, they flooded out looking to find their rescuer but only a blood-trail remained mixed with all the other disarray. He had a date, with someone, that daringly made his sharpest blade, blunt. Even demolished like this, he wouldn't miss the intended target who'd forever alter his knowledge of Life. Using his blade-hilt as a cane to hold uprightness. In all or any; Darkness... There was somewhere a Light, to appreciate.

[Prev:Chapter]: ~ ♪"As Above, So Below"♪

[chokopoppo]

Fandom: 1917 (Movie 2019) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Tom Blake/William Schofield, William Schofield & William Schofield's Wife Characters: Tom Blake, William Schofield, William Schofield's Wife, William Schofield's Daughters Additional Tags: Lavender Marriage, Period-Typical Homophobia, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Explicit Sexual Content, Mildly Dubious Consent, First Time

Summary:

"Sometimes, Blake doesn’t say anything at all. Sometimes he sits, quietly, and his nearness alone drives away the sound and fury in Will’s head. He is a tether to here, to now, and when Will finds himself trying to drift away, to go into some other place where his memories are hot and thick and suffocating as black construction tar in his mouth, that tether holds him back. Do not go away, Blake seems to say, even as he lies on his back, stripping a piece of grass apart in his hands, not even looking at Will, not even minding. You are here now, with me. Stay here."

[no-hwei]

Kayn/Rhaast, graphic depictions of death and violence, gore, suggestions of guro, Rhaast typical nonsense Remember us— if at all— not as lost Violent souls, but only As the hollow men The stuffed men.

— ts eliot, the hollow men

The weaklings are afraid of them. It makes Rhaast's soul sing, the skid of panicked feet against the ground as they run or the stuttering hesitation as they pass them in the corridors. Kayn watches them with contempt, but Rhaast, Rhaast loves it,

The only thing better than the miasma of fear that dogs their steps is the blood they bathe in when unleashed.

Kayn makes a disgusted little noise.

"Messy." he mutters under his breath, the little hypocrite.

You love it. Rhaast tells him, because Kayn does. Rhaast lives in his head, his heart and guts and very fucking soul, he can tell when the brat is filling himself up with the sensation of blood drying sticky and thick on his bare skin.

Kayn doesn't answer him, just flicks his head so his hair thumps against his back, accompaniment to the discordant thrum of emotions he's not even trying to hide from Rhaast.

The denial, the smug pride, the professional detachment, the part of him that aches to scream, the part of him that aches to kill.

Rhaast presses a sense memory into his head.

The last twitches of a dying body, claws deep in the intestines. Those things don't die easy, the muscles writhe and contract around their hands. The thing below them, their kill, breathes their last, and Rhaast smiles down, stroking a thumb gently through the cavity they ripped open from sternum to groin.

Don't you love it, baby? he asks. He thinks of stroking Kayn that way, deep inside.

Kayn shudders.

He doesn't need to tell Rhaast with words. He can feel it under Kayn's skin, the way he wants to be touched.