#where another kid is dead and it’s his fucking fault again

[uhyeahnoabsolutelynot]

the juxtaposition between how joel acts in the ep4 scene with the little girl clicker climbing into the car with ellie and how he acts in the hospital is delicioso

[steddieas-shegoes]

four times eddie gets carried and one time he does the carrying

one

Eddie opens his eyes to chaos: a heartbeat under his ear that’s furious, a voice echoing just above him yelling profanities and directions, hands digging into his legs and side that should probably hurt.

But nothing hurts.

He can’t feel anything, actually.

Which is probably a good thing considering the last time his eyes were open, he was dying.

Maybe he is dead. Maybe this is Hell.

But he catches a somewhat familiar scent, and he turns his head towards the solid but soft wall holding him.

He must make a noise because the voice vibrating against his face stops, the movement under him stops, and a different panic ensues. He’s not sure what’s being said now, too focused on the comfort he’s feeling.

Maybe it’s not Hell. Maybe he’s found his way to Heaven.

But that’s Steve’s smell and Steve isn’t dead. Is he?

Eddie’s eyes open and he finds just enough energy to make a small noise, one that wouldn’t have been heard in the chaos, but definitely gets heard in the silence surrounding him now. He hates silence. He hopes if he’s dead, he can at least hear some music sometimes.

“Eddie?”

It’s definitely Steve’s voice, and Steve’s smell, and probably Steve’s strength holding him up.

“You don’t have to talk if it hurts, but can you tap my chest if you can hear me?”

Eddie could do that. He could.

His hand was already brushing against Steve’s chest as they walked, so he lifted a few fingers and brushed them against the material of Steve’s shirt.

“That’s good!” Steve sounded pretty thrilled about such a simple touch.

Eddie was familiar with being touch starved, but he didn’t think Steve could be this bad off with all the times he’s been practically glued to Robin.

“St-“ he tried to say his name, maybe get some answers for why he was being carried, but couldn’t quite manage it.

“It’s okay. I’m getting you safe. We can fix it,” Steve was walking still, but no other voices could be heard anymore. It was like the world had narrowed down to only them. “I promise I’m gonna fix it.”

“Mkay.”

Blackness clouded Eddie’s vision again as he lost consciousness.

two

Eddie’s physical therapy sessions in the hospital sucked, but the ones at home sucked worse.

At least at the hospital, no one was around to watch him struggle and fail except the physical therapist. At home, Steve was watching and making sure he did everything right, never more than a few feet away in case he needed help.

Eddie could walk with support, but he refused to use the stupid walker the hospital gave him. Wayne found a cane in his room from when he hurt his back a few years ago and told Eddie he could decorate it however he wanted if it meant he’d use it.

And he sure did.

He covered it in black paint, stickers, and had all the kids paint their names on it.

But he still hated using it.

So he was focusing on the walking movements the PT gave him, and Steve was constantly hovering beside him, waiting for any sign that he needed to stop.

“Your legs are shaking, Eds. We should stop for today,” Steve put his hand on Eddie’s shoulder, careful not to put any weight on him. “You can do more tomorrow.”

“No, I’m almost to the couch.”

The silence was loud as he looked ahead at where the couch actually was. He wasn’t almost there. He wouldn’t make it.

But he was stubborn, dangerously so, and he was gonna make it.

He took another two shuffling steps, then felt a shooting pain in his side and nearly collapsed.

Steve’s arms were under him immediately, lifting under his legs and supporting his back in a fucking bridal carry.

“Put me down!” Eddie squirmed, but Steve was strong. “I was almost there!”

“No you weren’t and you were gonna push yourself too hard. You would’ve fallen and got hurt and if you get hurt again, it’ll be my fault.”

Eddie’s mouth snapped shut before his argument could be said.

Did Steve think he was actually responsible for Eddie?

“Stevie, it’s carpet. I would’ve been fine,” Eddie said quietly as Steve walked them over to the couch. He didn’t set Eddie down though, just held him. “Are you okay?”

“I’m not letting anything happen to you again.” Steve set him down gently on the couch, making sure his legs were stretched out so he could do some of his sitting movements. “I’m not letting you down again.”

“What do you mean? You didn’t let me down,” Eddie stayed frozen where Steve had set him down, unable to even breathe properly.

“I should’ve been there so you didn’t run back to distract the bats. You never should’ve almost died.”

“Steve…” Eddie reached a hand out, tugging on Steve’s hand until he was sitting on the coffee table across from him. “None of this is your fault. I’m an adult. I made my choices. I would’ve made them even if you were there.”

“But-“

“No buts!” Eddie smiled at him, ignoring another sharp pain in his hip. “You know how stubborn I am. Do you really think you had a shot in hell of stopping me once I decided to be a distraction?”

Steve shook his head.

“Then stop blaming yourself. You saved my fuckin’ life, man. You stayed by my side nearly every day since then. You couldn’t let me down if you tried, okay?”

“Okay.”

three

He’d fallen asleep on the couch, he knew he had.

But he was currently in Steve’s bed. Which is upstairs. He hasn’t mastered walking up stairs yet.

How the fuck did he get here?

It was dark except for a hint of moonlight streaming between the curtains and a glow under the door from the hall light that was always on.

He turned on his side and nearly screamed when he saw a black outline of someone else in the bed.

The body moved and Eddie could just make out the hair.

Steve.

He was in Steve’s bed with Steve.

“You okay?” Steve’s raspy sleep voice startled him, his heart rate climbing to probably dangerous levels.

A hand reached out and touched Eddie’s chest, right over his racing heart. Steve’s hand was warm and wasn’t moving away.

“Mhm. How’d I get here?”

“Carried you.”

He couldn’t see if Steve’s eyes were open, or if he was even properly facing Eddie, but he was grateful for the dark hiding his blush.

“I could’ve stayed on the couch.”

“Wanted you here,” Steve mumbled against his pillow, his hand bunching up Eddie’s shirt as he pulled him closer. “Sleep.”

Eddie could think about it tomorrow. Or maybe never.

Maybe this was a dream, or maybe Steve was still asleep and had no idea what he was doing or saying. Maybe he’d wake up and Steve would be gone and he’d never know for sure if he dreamt it or it was real.

But for now, Eddie fell asleep with Steve’s hand against his chest and his body heat keeping him warm.

four

“I don’t know why you picked a spot so far into the woods. Are you trying to murder me? You were just being nice for the last three months because it would be easier to trick me?” Eddie paused to catch his breath. He was admittedly very out of shape, but this trek seemed particularly difficult.

“Are you in actual pain or are you just tired?” Steve asked, not slowing down at all.

“Can’t it be both?”

Steve finally stopped and turned to Eddie, the worried set of his brow almost making Eddie feel guilty.

“We can go back, Eddie,” Steve offered quietly.

Eddie saw the disappointment on his face, though. And he was a little sore, but mostly from being tired, not from actually overexerting his muscles.

“No, I can make it. How much longer?”

Steve looked around for a moment. “Less than half a mile, but most of it is uphill.”

“I’ll just take it slow. Sorry,” Eddie apologized.

“Hey,” Steve was suddenly back in front of him, hands on his arms to stop him, to comfort him. “We can go as slow as you need. We’ve got all day. Need any help?”

Eddie didn’t. He knew he didn’t. He was doing a lot better than he expected, truthfully.

But if it kept Steve’s hands on him, he was obviously going to say yes.

Steve wrapped an arm around his waist and helped him over a particularly large log.

They continued in silence, but Steve’s arm never left his waist, and Eddie’s breath never quite went back to normal.

When they were almost at Steve’s destination, Eddie lost his footing and nearly face planted into the wet soil. But Steve tugged him back just in time, until his back was flush against Steve’s front.

“Let me help,” Steve said against his ear.

His hands went under him, lifting him up in the familiar bridal carry that seemed like second nature for them at this point.

Steve held him close, made sure he had a good grip, then started walking forward.

“You don’t have to do this,” Eddie barely whispered. He felt a bit ashamed, that he couldn’t do something so simple, that Steve felt like he had to help, that he was a nuisance.

“I want to.”

Neither of them spoke again until they reached their destination.

Steve didn’t put him down at first, walking over to a clearing that looked out over the lake.

Eddie had no idea this was even accessible to people, had only ever noticed the cliff from the edges of the lake and assumed it was just untouched wooded area.

“This is a nice view,” Eddie said as he looked around. He could see a lot of the outskirts of town, even some of the surrounding areas that were mostly untouched by the events of spring break. “Can already see some stars.”

The sun was still up, but it was near dusk. The walk back would be dark if they didn’t leave soon.

“Yeah,” Steve finally set him down on his feet, but didn’t put any space between them. “Wanted you to see it.”

Eddie watched as Steve’s hands fiddled with his sweater, a nervous habit that he noticed back when he was still in the hospital. He’d never mentioned it, wasn’t even sure Steve knew he was doing it, but he always offered his ring-covered hand as a replacement.

Maybe it was a little selfish, but Steve never seemed to mind.

As soon as Eddie slipped his hand closer to Steve, he started toying with his mood ring, a gift from Dustin when he got out of the hospital so they could tell how he was before asking. It didn’t actually work, but they all thought it was fun.

“You come out here often?”

Steve shrugged. “Not as much since Vecna. Don’t really like being alone anymore.”

“Yeah. I know what ya mean.”

They stood there in silence again, looking up at the stars and out at the vastness of rural Indiana. Steve moved on to fidgeting with another ring, spinning it and twisting it every way possible.

“Wayne asked when you’d wanna move back in with him. Said he’s settled in the new trailer and can get your room set up whenever you’re ready,” Steve finally said.

Eddie turned to look at him, noting the shakiness in his voice. He was biting his lip so much, it was a miracle he wasn’t bleeding.

Something was off.

He’d been staying with Steve because it was easy, it was best for everyone to have easy access to a bedroom and bathroom while he healed, and Steve was the only one with parents who weren’t around. Wayne was stuck in the second floor of a motel, which wasn’t ideal for Eddie at all. But now he had a new place, and Eddie could handle stairs now, and it just made sense to go home.

So why did it feel like he’d be leaving his home if he went back to Wayne?

“Do you want me to go?” Eddie asked, bracing for the ‘yes’ he was certain was coming.

“No.”

Eddie pulled back in shock.

“What do you mean, ‘no’?”

“I mean no, I don’t want you to go,” Steve grabbed his hand again, tracing along the outside of his rings, making goosebumps pop up on Eddie’s arms. “I want you to stay. But I know you love Wayne and probably miss him. You should go if you want to.”

Eddie fishmouthed for a moment, unsure how to respond. He knew what he wanted to say. He knew he should probably think about this without Steve in front of him.

“And if I don’t wanna go?”

Steve searched his face for any hint of a lie, but Eddie knew he wouldn’t find one. He wanted to stay.

He wanted to stay with Steve.

“Then you should stay,” Steve choked out, almost in as much shock as Eddie had been only a moment ago. “Stay. Please.”

“In the guest room?” Eddie pushed. He shouldn’t push, but he had to know if this was Steve acting out of fear of being alone or if Steve was feeling the same about Eddie as Eddie was about Steve.

“I was thinking you could stay in my room. My bed.”

Eddie smirked. Steve was a charmer, no doubt about that, but he was clearly nervous, in uncharted territory.

He leaned in, watched Steve’s eyes widen in surprise at the shift in control of the conversation.

“And if I get sharing bed privileges, does that mean I also get kissing privileges?”

Steve nodded, eyes still wide, still shocked speechless.

“Could I start that privilege now?”

“Yeah. Yes, please.”

Eddie had never enjoyed a privilege quite as much as this one.

+ one

“You said the front step was fixed!” Eddie screeched as they stood outside their new home. “Look at it. It’s depressed.”

Steve snorted. “It’s just a little…crooked.”

“It’s barely even attached anymore.”

Steve nudged his shoulder and held out the key. “Would you like to do the honors?”

Eddie shook his head. “Oh no, no. We had an agreement, didn’t we?”

Steve rolled his eyes. “I didn’t think you were serious.”

“I’ve been training for this moment for over a year!”

“Throwing me around on the bed is not ‘training’, baby,” Steve smiled. “But if you really wanna do this, I’ll unlock the door.”

Eddie grinned and leaned over to pick Steve up into a bridal carry.

Steve yelped when he almost immediately dropped him, his hand fisting in Eddie’s shirt to try to keep from falling.

“I gotcha, sweetheart,” Eddie said, tightening his hold on his legs and shifting him up so that his face was level with Eddie’s. “You know what’s nice about living in the middle of nowhere?”

“What?” Steve breathed out, eyes darting down to Eddie’s lips.

“I can kiss you right here in the open and no one’s around to see it.”

“Then do it,” Steve challenged.

Eddie was always up for the challenge.

He kissed him, smiling into it as he realized this was their whole future. This house, this life, it was theirs.

Eddie carefully stepped up onto the porch, avoiding the worst of the step, and walked up to the front door.

Steve leaned over to unlock it, pushed it open, and waited.

He looked up at Eddie as Eddie stepped through the door.

“Maybe someday we can do this married,” Steve’s voice was quiet, nervous.

“You wanna marry me?” Eddie half-teased. He still couldn’t quite believe how much Steve wanted him, how much he loved him.

“I’d do it today if we could.”

“We could pretend anyway,” Eddie kissed his forehead before setting him down. “We’ve got a lot of rooms to christen.”

“Where do you wanna start?”

“The living room has a fireplace and I’ve had fantasies-“

“Fantasies? Seriously?”

Eddie tugged Steve to him by his waist, captured his lips in a heated kiss. “So many fantasies.”

Steve started walking them backwards towards the fireplace. “Show me what these fantasies looked like then.”

“You got it, big boy.”

[loveindefinitely]

02 — 𝘞𝘏𝘈𝘛 𝘐'𝘔 𝘛𝘏𝘐𝘕𝘒𝘐𝘕𝘎 𝘈𝘉𝘖𝘜𝘛

༊*·˚ LUST FOR LIFE — task force 141 x reader

featuring. simon 'ghost' riley + johnny 'soap' mactavish + kyle 'gaz' garrick + john 'bravo six' price

warnings. nsfw, fem!reader, fmmmm, legal age-gaps, inexperienced reader, angst, graphic violence, slight power imbalance, enemies to lovers, slow burn, betrayal

series masterlist. read on ao3. fanfic playlist.

// NSFW CONTENT UNDER THE CUT //

"You assaulted two Special Forces Operators, kid," Price says, a barely veiled grimace contorting his features. "That's not a good look."

You tug against where your hands are cuffed to the metal bars, your brows furrowing. "Kidnapping the girl -- whose dad you killed after taking her virginity -- isn't a good look either."

...Alright.

So, if you could go back in time, and never eavesdrop on the four men who have completely ruined your life, you would take up the offer in a heartbeat.

Between landing your fist to Gaz's jaw, and where you are now, your life has become a total shit show.

Like, complete, this might just be a fever dream level of crazy.

It started from the moment you saw blood trickling from your now late father's forehead, and in the glint of the moonlight, seeing Ghost holding the gun.

Then, you'd turned, without another thought, and landed a punch right to Gaz's jaw. The man who had taken your first kiss no more than two hours ago.

You can relive the moment even now, under the harsh neon lights of an interrogation room, as if you're experiencing everything for the first time once more.

༊*·˚

Gaz hisses, wincing as he brings a hand up to the aching pain radiating from the bone that'd taken the brunt of your punch.

"You guys -- what the fuck --" You stammer out, eyes wide and borderline manic as you gape at the man before you. "You guys just killed my dad!"

"Yeah, but," Gaz starts, before backtracking. You figure he has enough braincells to realise that 'rationality and reason' isn't going to work with you, not in this state, and especially not after you just witnessed the murder of your only living family member. "Ah. Well. He wasn't a good guy."

You really, truly, cannot believe the audacity of this man.

Your mouth opens.

Gaz grimaces.

Your mouth closes.

He takes a step closer, hands raised in a placating gesture.

"Take another step near me and I'll punch you again!" You threaten, with an aggressive point of your finger.

You're extremely aware that your punch had done next to nothing, and Gaz's reaction to it was more one of sympathy, but the threat lands nonetheless.

"Alright, alright, we're not gonna hurt you," he raises his hands further, eyes bouncing between your own. You're not sure what he sees -- maybe resentment, or horror, or fear.

Whatever it is, it makes his frown deepen.

He goes to say something else, when your bedroom door opens with a soft click. "Finishin' up, ya read--"

Soap pauses his whisper, ice-blue eyes meeting yours. His grimace isn't unlike the one Gaz is sporting, and it only worsens your mood. If looks could kill, he would be lying on the grass beside --

Oh god. Your dead dad.

"Steamin' Jesus," Soap mutters under his breath, looking up to the roof in some semblance of a last minute prayer.

There's a moment, then, for a decision to be made. It's as if your brain can only come up with two options, and one of them will lead to your untimely death.

So, really, it's not entirely your fault when you pick up the salt lamp sitting on your bedside table and throw it right into the arrogant Scot's face.

"Holy shit," Gaz's eyes are comically wide as Soap cries out, the heavy pink rock slamming into his nose. He stumbles back, and the sound of your lamp hitting cartilage even has you wincing, panicked state or not. "How the fuck have you survived this long with those kinda reflexes, Soap?"

Soap drops into a squat, cradling his nose in his hand as he tilts his head back, squeezing the ridge between two calloused fingers. His voice comes out nasally as he mumbles, "Mighta' broke 'gain."

Your entire body is trembling, adrenaline coursing through your veins as you creep to the window with soft, quiet steps.

Maybe, you think, in the back of your mind, I can make the jump into the garden.

It's not to be, however.

"You're smarter than that," Gaz directs an unamused glare your way, before grabbing you by the wrist and pulling you towards your door.

Digging your heels into the carpet, you attempt to wrestle out of his grip -- but a trained military expert and you are no match, not even with the energy overtaking your body.

"Let go of me!" You grit out, tugging and displaying your weight in the opposite way to his goal. He doesn't even turn around as he drags you out of your room, slamming your door shut behind you.

"What the fuck is goin' on," Ghost's growl comes from the stairs, heavy bootfalls following until he's standing, gaze drifting from you, to Gaz, to Soap, back to you again.

"Fuck, man," Soap whines, squeezing his eyes shut as he keeps his head tilted back, blood running down his lips and chin. You somehow find it in yourself to feel slightly bad. Not enough to apologise, and certainly not enough to stop fighting back.

They were going to kill you. Probably. Or, like, what's the skin trade like in your area? Oh god. Fuck. Shit.

"She saw," Gaz mutters to Ghost, and his eyes narrow, black face paint crinkling where it's been put on the upper half of his face, skin not covered by the balaclava.

There aren't any lights on, and it's the lights on downstairs that cast shadows and highlights over the men's' faces.

"Fuckin' christ," Ghost groans, before turning and walking back downstairs without another word.

You continue to struggle against Gaz's hold, but both of your wrists have been collected in his hand, and he's pulled you so your back is to his chest. If it were any other circumstance, you'd be blushing, most likely turned on from such an embrace.

Right now, however, you're questioning every possible decision you've ever made.

"Ye Dad treated ya like shit 'nyways," Soap says, too loud to be under his breath, but too quiet for it to be conversational. "Dinnae why yer freakin''."

"You're murderers!" You hiss back, lips pulled back into a snarl. Your muscles ache from the punch, the hefty throw, and now from struggling against Gaz. "And I don't exactly have any other family, do I?!"

Gaz makes a sound of agreement, before shaking his head and countering. "We're not murderers, not really."

You choke a laugh, but it's entirely too wet and sad for it to be threatening or cruel. "So you guys didn't just shoot my father?"

"Si pulled th' trigger," Soap pouts, almost like a child would over a lack of candy.

"Soap," Gaz exasperates, and although you can't see his face, you're sure it's dismayed and annoyed. "Seriously?"

"What?!" Soap counters, and when it comes out high-pitched, he squeezes his eyes shut and holds his nose tighter. "Jus' tha truth, dinnae why yer so shitty. Yer not tha one bleedin'."

Speechless.

You are fully, unbelievably, speechless.

What the actual fuck was wrong with these... men? And what was wrong with you for being more than ready to spread your legs for them not too long ago?

You needed therapy. And coffee.

And a time machine, preferably. If one was made available at this given moment.

"Get down here," the final man of the hour shouts up the stairs, and your blood runs cold. There's something about him that's not quite as threatening as Ghost, but somehow makes you even more fearful.

Gaz, with surprisingly careful and gentle movements, guides you down the stairs. The parallel of how Ghost's hand had been at your lower back as he invited you to the lounge room, mere hours ago, isn't lost on you.

His hand doesn't move from the tense grip it has on your wrists. You can't help but feel like it's a completely unnecessary gesture, considering the fact that any of them could take you down within seconds if they really needed to. Hell, they all had actual, military-grade weapons.

"Seriously, Gaz?" Price huffs, looking entirely like a disappointed dad in this moment as he stands, leaning against your kitchen counter, arms folded over his chest, ankles crossed over. "One job, mate."

"You lot weren't exactly quiet," he retorts, but he slowly releases your wrists.

At this point, you know it's a lost cause to try and escape this situation, so you just ball your hands into wrists at your sides. You can't imagine it's an overly threatening position, considering how your entire frame trembles, and your lips wobble.

Your father was dead.

And the men that had made you feel so comfortable, so cared for, are the culprits.

Stupid, stupid girl.

They are dangerous men who do dangerous things.

"Peas," Soap's voice is practically a beg as he stumbles into the kitchen, opening the freezer door with no preamble as he scours it for... peas.

They're in the far right of the bottom shelf.

You don't tell him that.

"Have some water," Price encourages, holding out a glass cup full of chilled water.

Your eyes narrow, standing your ground. "Not accepting drinks from murderers. Dad taught me that, y'know?"

Gaz chokes a laugh, before covering it up with a fist to his mouth and a clearing of his throat. It fools no one, and you allow yourself the tiny bit of pride that fills your chest at the reaction to your taunt.

"Ghost," Price mutters, resigned and almost frustrated as he looks at you.

You understand why, as soon as the feeling of a needle imbedding into your neck has you flinching, pain prickling at the intrusion in your muscle.

"What --" you begin, before your legs fall out beneath you, your eyes falling to half mast as Price hefts you up, beefy arms holding you beneath your armpits as your body becomes dead weight.

"Sorry, kid," are the last words you hear, before black overrides all of your senses as drugged sleep takes you.

༊*·˚

Sometime between then, and now, you've found yourself in a white-walled room, blinding lights turning the throbbing in your head from a low pound to an echoing boom of a drum.

"We didn't plan for... any of it to happen the way it did. This was our only choice." Price shakes his head, hands resting at the top of his vest as he studies you.

Right. The virginity, kidnapping and assault thing.

...Great.

"I must've forgot the part where I resisted arrest," you retort, forcing your eyes to remain open, despite the heaviness to them. It's as if a weight has been hung from your eyelids, and every blink drags them down more and more each time.

"Jesus -- you're not under arrest," Price rubs at his eyes, head dipped down as if he's recollecting his thoughts. You're not sure if he's had any sleep, although your sense of time has been completely thrown out of the window.

"Then release me," you say, voice softer than you'd intended, more pleading -- a truer reflection of your current state of mind.

The air is crisp, cool, like that of a hospital. Chemicals and bleach are a potent undertone to the clean scent, and it makes you question what could've previously been done in this room to warrant them.

Your heart pounds almost weakly, and you know if there's any more heartbreaks to come, it might just give out.

How you've resisted a complete mental breakdown is beyond you, and frankly, you'd give yourself a pat on the back if you could. Although, that act might in itself be a sign of insanity.

"Not until we can be assured you're safe," Price insists. "And not until we can clear your name from the books. We have enemies, sweetheart, and those enemies were also your father's. They are not above punishing you for your father's sins."

Your heart is lodged in your throat, and it takes everything in you not to just burst into tears and pray. Pray that this is all some sick joke, some terrifying nightmare that you haven't woken from yet.

But you know it's a baseless hope. You know that this is real.

You're in a military base, somewhere, surrounded by the country's most dangerous men. The most dangerous men on their side, at least.

"So I'm not getting charged for assault?" Your voice is entirely too small for the situation, not for someone who's still cuffed to a bed, going through grief in the most ruthless type of way.

The worst part is that you don't entirely miss your father. You miss the comfort of having a family member, that's true, but he wasn't a good parental figure, and his treatment of you could be classed as abuse to most people.

And from what these four are saying, he wasn't a good man either.

People didn't often talk about how separate the two things were. It was possible to be a great man, but the worst of fathers, and the opposite could be true, too.

Fate had dealt you a bad hand, in giving you one who was terrible on both sides of the coin.

"Technically," Price leans back into his chair, his voice littered with exhaustion, "We... should report it."

Your stomach drops.

Price's eyes meet yours, and somehow, he must see the turmoil battling inside of your head, because he lets out a deep breath, deflating just a bit.

"No. You're not getting charged for assault, sweetheart."

"Don't call me that," you reply, too quick for your brain to catch up. The endearment is entirely too wrong, smarting on a chafing wound, a reminder of the mistakes you'd made, and the deception these men had pulled on you. "...Please."

You refuse to meet his eyes as he nods, slowly, as if in understanding.

"What did he do?" You don't mean to utter those words, to ask that question, but after you do, you can't find it in yourself to regret it. "What made him worthy of death?"

Price rubs a hand over his face, and for the first time, you register the lines of his face. Lines of a story having been told, proof of a life lived. It makes you want to learn, to find the origins of the small scars you can see, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes.

"He broke many promises. Betrayed his team," Price states, and you can tell the millions of words he leaves out, the context better off left unsaid. "He did terrible things. Killed people who had made no faults."

Oh.

For some reason, it hadn't truly hit you, not before now, the truth behind his death. What hadn't you been told?

How hadn't you been made aware that he was -- he was part of the special forces. He was a dangerous man -- he was one of the men he'd warned you about. How blind had you been? For so long? Those business trips, when he'd come with bruises, brushing them off whenever you gained the courage to make attempts of caring, of forming a relationship with the man who raised you.

They weren't business trips. They were missions -- ones with impossibly high death rates.

And he just.

Hadn't said a word. Just continued to treat you like you were worthless, a nuisance, a pain in his ass. Something worth protecting, if only so your weight in gold wasn't minimised.

What were you to do, if he just. Didn't come home after a mission gone awry? If he died on the field. If you woke up one day without a single living family member left.

You only realise that tears have fallen down your cheeks when Price's thumb brushes them away, your nose scrunching with a sniffle.

Jerking back, as if electrocuted, it takes everything in you to glare at the man whose gentle hands had led you to this position in the first place. "Don't touch me."

He backs away. Doesn't argue.

It hurts your heart in a way you don't want to touch with a ten foot pole. Not right now. Not ever, maybe. Preferably.

You let out a deep, stabilising exhale, before weakly meeting Price's gaze. "Can I sleep? Feeling kinda shit after the drugs," you mumble.

Price's lips twist into a grim line, but he nods curtly. "'Course, kid. Call out if you need 'nything."

You just lay back, turning on your side, facing the white wall as the lights turn off, leaving pitch black in its wake. Your wrist smarts where the handcuff has left a red mark, your free hand rubbing at the small patch of visible skin.

If you were more aware, more... ready for the conversations you needed to have, you would've demanded all four of them speak to you right this moment.

But your head is heavy, and thoughts are few and far between.

Grief and confusion cement in your brain like a thick fog, your emotions like cars without lights in the thick mist.

No directions, no ability to brake before crashing into one another.

You're an absolute mess, and you have no one to blame but you and your sick curiosity, your reckless decision making.

But, you realise, this was a long time coming.

Because there's one thing Price -- nor the other three men -- don't know.

Your father wasn't the only one who held secrets.

And it was you who held the key to this force's undoing.

a/n. lol so like. who's ready for some enemies to lovers? sorry to everyone who wanted immediate hurt/comfort!! for some reason plot lines and depth hit me and i was like. i need to do it justice. so here we are!!!

thank you all SOSOSO much for the reception of the first part. it genuinely means a lot to have people excited about my stories??? like omg youre all SO kind. comments and reblogs make my absolute week!! mwah mwah mwah

taglist comment/msg to be added. @captainjamster @alfa-jor @simp4miguell @yaboibauldano @dreamaboutpinkk @guyser @lovewithasideoflust @redz0mbie @ghost-is-my-bbg @astro-ghoul99 @the-faceless-bride @casterousaudrey @cutiecusp @kit-williams @lilpothoscuttings @florabelll

[whoviandoodler]

been thinking about pok a lot again and that moment when riz told him sklonda was dating gorthalax (in some capacity or another) and pok just went quiet for a bit before he wished her well and like. he's riz's father to such a degree that it hurts. he died young, got to paradise and then said, ok time to go back to work, chop chop. and he does take breaks to listen to riz at his grave and he works in a beautiful meadow when he's not down in hell and -literally speaking- he does sit down but metaphorically he keeps on going and going.

and i'm just imagining that- obviously he knows that he's dead, right? but the human* brain is weird in that way where you'll know things, and you might even sit with them and think you've processed them, but then something will hit you out of left field and you'll realize there are so many aspects of the situation you hadn't internalized yet, and i think that one of those aspects for pok was sklonda, or rather all the dimensions in which her life branched off after he died. because with riz he'd always been painfully aware that his kid was growing up and changing, but with sklonda it's a bit more complicated, it's a bit easier to process the grief of being apart from her, purely on an unconscious level, as being away for work. he's working, she's working, she probably tells him about her work and about riz and riz includes his mom in his stories and it's like, oh this is horribly painful, that i can't be there, but in a way he and sklonda share a lot of what they used to when he was working abroad, no matter how far apart- they're always connected by their love for each other and the quiet but omnipresent nuptial tie and the state of being riz's parents.

and then he's suddenly hit with the reality of an area of sklonda's life that hadn't been on his mind before, considering they were happily and monogamously married. truly just a matter of like, this is not a space you occupy anymore, you're fucking dead, until death do us part and all that, and she might still love you but she loves you like a dead husband like a source of grief like the man she once knew not a living partner. and it's neither of their faults, it's purely a tragedy, and he genuinely wishes her the best because he loves her, he doesn't want her to be alone nor does he expect her to be faithful past reason and the vow they made to each other. but the grief of it still really fucking stings, doesn't it?

[leviackermanscleaningbuddy]

SKZ DRABBLE-Minho

Part III of Mafia!Minho, bitches. Saddle up. A/N: I know this isn't SKZ!Pack, but it's been in the works for a looooong time and I wanted you to have it. <3

Tags: SKZ, Stray Kids, Mafia!Minho, Lee Minho, Lee Know, Minho, Y/N, FemReader, SKZ x you, SKZ x reader, Minho x you, Minho x reader, Mafia AU, Part III, Skz imagines, Skz reactions, SKZ scenarios, Fluff, Angst

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Light Smut

Warnings: Mafia Shit-guns, death, illegal dealings, daddy issues and misogyny, allusions to sexual assault and rape, loss of viriginity, blood. Mentions of previous pregnancy loss, miscarriage, current pregnancy. Breeding Kink, kinda? You'll see. Minho's just REALLY in to pregnant reader. 😂

"He's dead."

His blunt, cold words ricochet around the inside of your head, like a round fired too hastily from a gun, sloppy and dangerous, wounding everything they touch.

There's no way. There's no fucking way.

You say as much.

"That can't be true-"

His face contorts in anger, and he leans down to pinch your chin in a vicious grip that makes you wince, yanking your head back to meet his gaze, hot and pinning.

"It is true. Would you like to see the pictures, girl? The reports from Lim? His blood splattered across the wall?"

You sink to the floor.

Not JinYoung. Not your brother. Fuck, it can't be-

He straightens, releasing his iron grip on you and straightening his suit, glaring down at you with little more than cold disdain in his dark, narrowed eyes.

"He's dead, and you're worthless." He growls out, stuffing his hands into his pockets and considering you with something akin to disgust twisting his features.

Hot tears fill your eyes, and your fists clench in your lap, twisting the fabric of your dress.

You bite your bottom lip hard enough to taste blood, and will yourself not to let a tear fall for him to see.

He scoffs, reaching down once more to take your chin in pinching fingers, making you whimper.

His eyes darken at the sound, as if he's a predator that has sensed weakness in his prey.

"You're worthless to me until you're wed." He hisses out, teeth clenched, muscle in his cheek bulging. "Remember that. You are nothing without a man in this world, girl, nothing."

He releases you without another word or look in your direction, whirling on his heel and stalking down the hallway, slamming the door to his office, probably already on the phone yelling at some poor inferior for killing his son.

You let your chin drop to your chest, and squeeze your eyes shut as you take several harsh, shuddering breaths, clenching and unclenching your fists.

It was his fault JinYoung was dead. His fault you were now all alone.

There was nothing you could do about it, not realistically, but you hated him for it all the same.

********************************************************************************

"You're thinking too much again."

You jump slightly at the sound of Minho's voice, still husky with sleep, his fingers finding the warmth of your bare skin beneath the blankets.

You sigh, wanting to be irritated at his perception when it comes to you, but can't quite manage, not when his fingers are tickling your sides.

"How did you know?"

"Mm." Minho hums beneath his breath, pushing himself up behind where you lie propped on your elbow in the big bed, staring out the window at the slowly rising sun.

His fingers trace up the curling lines of the snake that wraps your spine.

"I know everything about you, princess." He replies in a murmur, fingers still slowly ticking their way up your spine. You hear a slight smile enter his voice. "Well, that, and your thoughts are so loud currently that I feel like you're speaking audibly."

You give another sigh, this one conceding, and feel Minho brush a light kiss across the family crest that marks your shoulder.

"It's going to be okay, princess. I promise you."

You feel panic well into your throat at the surety behind his words.

"It wasn't okay before." You blurt out without really considering, hand tracing down beneath the blankets without thought to rest on the small swell of your belly.

It's normal not to feel any movement yet, you know that, and yet-

Minho's soothing, firm voice sounds in your ear, his warm breath brushing across your cheek, grounding you.

"That was before. This is now."

The surety is still there beneath his words-strong and constant-and yet, the acidic taste of panic is still slowly filling your mouth, making it hard to breathe.

"Princess." Minho says in a low tone, taking not of the rapid rise and fall of your chest. "Look at me."

His hand snakes around the front of your throat, and he gently squeezes with his fingers, angling your head back until you're staring up at him, his gaze serious and dark.

You drink him in like you're parched and he's the only water source-the soft curve of his lips, the upper fuller than the lower, the tan sheen of his skin, the sharp angles of his face, the dark wave to his tousled hair, the black ink trailing across his upper chest and arms, teasing at his throat, the pink, fading scars littered across his otherwise flawless flesh.

Minho is the only thing in this moment that's keeping you sane, and you hold onto that thread with a desperate fervency that frightens even yourself.

The corner of his mouth curves slightly as he stares at you, one hand around your throat to keep you in place, the other slipping beneath the blankets to cover your own where it rests on your bare belly.

You glance down, and the sight of his inked fingers covering your own calm the hammering of your heart.

"It's going to be okay." Minho repeats softly, firmly. "Whatever happens, princess, we're going to be okay."

You stare up at him and force a shuddering breath from your lungs, your fingers intertwining with his own.

"Okay." You whisper back with finality, because whatever happens, with Minho here, you're going to be okay.

********************************************************************************

You pause, hand splayed on the cool, carved wood of the door, and glance behind you to where Minho stands, several feet back, lingering in the mouth of the darkened hallway.

"You're not coming in?" You question softly, hesitantly, sudden butterflies swarming in your stomach.

Minho arches a brow, leaning against the wall, his expression unreadable.

"Do you want me to go with you?" He queries back, voice low and neutral.

You hear the quiet chatter of men's voices from beyond the door, the clink of glasses, and a shudder of fear goes down your spine at the thought of facing them alone.

"I don't know-" You stutter out, staring at him, trying to get a read through your suddenly mounting panic. "I just thought I need-"

You.

You don't finish the sentence, the words dying in your throat, and Minho's expression shifts slightly, his eyes darkening, his lips pulling into a serious line.

"Princess." He steps toward you, reaching out, and his fingers creep beneath your chin, tilting your head back to meet his gaze.

His features soften slightly, and he takes in a slow breath.

"I will always stand beside you, I will always be here whenever you want me, but let me make one thing very clear-you do not need me."

You stare up at him, words thick on your tongue, and the corner of his mouth quirks into the hint of an amused curve.

He lets a finger stroke along your chin, his voice dropping slightly even as his eyes grow fiery.

"You do not need me-or any other man-to make you powerful. You are powerful entirely on your own, and it is a beautiful sight to behold."

You take in a shuddering, sharp inhale, his fervent words settling into your bones, and let your fingers slide beneath the cuffs of the expensive suit he wears, tracing the ink you know is hidden there.

Minho smiles. "Who do you think runs the criminal world, darling? It's not the men. We're the face, yes, but behind every great man is an even greater woman."

He tilts your chin once more, and you let your head fall against the door behind you, staring up at him openly now.

He reaches out, and brushes a stray hair from your forehead with gentle fingers.

His skin is warm, and you lean into his touch, as he presses his lips to the flesh just below your ear, brushing a kiss there as he utters beneath his breath, for only you to hear, "Women mask lethality behind femininity, and it is their greatest weapon. You are not powerless, princess, no, far from it. You do not need anyone, because you are the queen."

He presses another kiss against your throat, right above your fluttering pulse, and pulls back.

You stare at him for another moment, and then straighten the gown you wear.

"You're right. I have the power here."

A smirk flickers across Minho's lips, his eyes heating with admiration as he watches you.

He jerks his chin toward the door and the voices beyond.

"Yeah, you fucking do. Remind them who's the queen. Give them hell, princess."

********************************************************************************

"Yeong-ah." Changbin whines, stamping his foot impatiently where he stands beside the island, a dramatic pout on his face. "You're taking too long!"

Yeong-Ja giggles at his antics, glancing up from pulling on her second shoe. "I'm almost done, Uncle Binnie!"

You hide your smile behind a sip of coffee, as Chan appears, tossing the car keys to Changbin-who catches them easily- before crouching down to finish helping Yeong-Ja with her shoe.

"Thanks, Uncle Channie!" Yeong-Ja beams, bouncing to her feet beside him, as Chan grins and straightens, patting her head.

"You're welcome, Yeong-ah." He straightens the bow in her hair, before he glances to Changbin, already standing in the door way, keys in his hand. "Now, let's get going huh? Your mom and dad have a very important appointment today, and we have puppies to see."

"Okay, Uncle Channie!" Your daughter's face lights up at Chan's words, as she slips her hand into his, her tiny fingers curling around his own, dark with black ink, reminiscent to Minho's.

It never ceases to amaze you how gentle and loving all these big mafia men are with your daughter.

"Oh, fuck me." Minho grumbles beneath his breath at Chan's statement, brow furrowed in a sour expression, as he leans against the counter beside you and takes a long gulp of his own coffee.

You hide another grin behind the rim of your cup.

Chan glances up at Minho's muttered curse, ever sharp, ever alert, and gives your husband a crooked grin, brow arched.

"What do you say, boss? What color of puppy do you want? Brown or Black?"

Minho levels the other man with a glare, as Yeong-Ja bounces excitedly beside him.

"I could not care less, Christopher."

Changbin grins broadly from the doorway, enjoying the little goading match from afar.

"Ah, c'mon. Don't you want a matching set?" He motions with a jerk of his head toward Suwon, currently sleeping under the large kitchen table. The black Doberman barely raises his head at the commotion.

Minho takes another drink from his coffee.

"The only matching set I want is you and Chan's heads on sticks."

"Sorry, boss!" Changbin calls, ignoring Minho's dark threat entirely, a grin slipping across his lips as he twirls the jangling keys around his finger, turning toward the door. "Can't hear you. Gotta go."

"Okay, on that note-" Chan clears his throat, coughing over a chuckle, as he herds your daughter toward the door. "-let's get going."

"Bye mommy, bye daddy!" Yeong-Ja calls over her shoulder with a little wave, before she disappears, dwarfed between the two large men.

Changbin throws one last amused, knowing look over his shoulder in Minho's direction, giving a cheeky little wave, before they all leave from sight.

"Fuck." Minho swears vehemently beneath his breath and promptly moves around the counter to dump the rest of his coffee down the sink.

********************************************************************************

"He's going to ask to see her again, you know."

Minho glances up from his phone to meet your gaze from across the backseat of the car, his expression darkening slightly at your words, and the open worry etched across your face.

He tucks his phone back into the pocket of his suit coat, and slides across the seat to sit beside you, hand coming down to rest on your own.

"And my answer will be the same as it always is." He replies back in a hushed, but dangerously serious, tone, his fingers squeezing your own. "When he comes to see her as his granddaughter, and not just as an heir to a massive criminal empire, then he can meet her."

You take in a shaky breath and glance out the window.

The roads are becoming familiar, you're close to your father's estate.

"Princess."

Minho's cool fingers tilt your chin back to him, making you meet his gaze. The corner of his lip curls into the hint of a smile.

"You do not reside on your knees for him any longer. He has no power left to lord over you."

You take in another breath, and will the butterflies to soothe in your belly.

You give Minho a small, shaky smile, and squeeze his hand. The metal of his rings are cold, grounding, against your palm.

"I know."

"If anything-" Minho glances past you as you pull into the long drive, your father's opulent mansion rising quickly in the distance.

He gives you a smirk and an arch of his brow as you turn into the gate.

"-now that you have myself and all my resources at your disposal, he should be absolutely terrified of you."

The car comes to a stop, and Minho slides out, straightening his jacket and offering you his hand.

You take in another steadying breath, holding onto his arm as you walk toward the entrance of your childhood home.

The door swings open as you approach, and your father appears, stepping onto the top step of the staircase, watching the two of you with a penetrating gaze.

You resist the urge to shudder under that look you know so well.

Minho pulls you up the stairs with him, his steps confident, and you try to borrow some of his courage, stiffening your back and shoulders as your father steps to meet you both, a fake, overly large smile sliding into place across his pale, thin lips.

Of course he would greet you personally, no butler was good enough for Lee Minho, not when you were trying to keep up appearances.

"Ah, there he is, my son-in-law, man of the hour." Your father extends a hand, and Minho shakes it, though you can see by the slight tic of the muscle in his jaw that he doesn't enjoy the contact.

To his credit, your husband does a hell of a good job putting on a front, his slight smile in your father's direction much more believable than the man's who raised you.

"Boss Park. A pleasure, as always."

Your father doesn't even glance in your direction, motioning for Minho to follow him into the cooled, dimly lit air of the front entrance hall.

You can hear a record playing from somewhere farther within the mansion, probably your father's office.

"Now." Your father waves away an approaching maid, and she scurries to grab an empty tray, headed for the kitchen. He turns, that same sickly smile on his face, and rubs his hands together gleefully. "Shall we get straight to business then?"

"You know I don't enjoy small talk." Minho inclines his head to your father, who takes that as a yes to his previous question.

"Of course." He motions for Minho to move down the hallway, his arm extended. "I'll have Maria bring us refreshments in the parlor. Shall we?"

Minho's hand moves to the small of your back, warm through the thin material of the dress you wear, coaxing you forward with him as he moves to step past your father.

You're thankful for the support, you worry the trembling of your legs will give you away.

"Ah, ah, ah." Your father holds out his arm, stopping your forward motion, and for the first time since you arrived, his eyes flit to you, the corners of his lips curling up into something akin to a disgusted sneer. "You know the rules of my household, daughter. Women are not allowed in business meetings. You can wait here. Catch up with that little maid and the old household cook you were so fond of growing up."

You swallow, your mouth suddenly dry, and something triumphant flashes across your father's dark gaze.

He knows that the cook you were 'so fond of growing up' was executed-shot in the garden while you were made to watch-on his order.

Can't have your daughter getting too close to the help now, can you? Not when secrets could be spilled, reputations dirtied.

Minho is talking, his voice fuzzy through your panicked memories, and you blink, focusing in on what he's saying, staring your father down with a serious, almost deadly, expression.

"I'm sorry, Boss Park, but when your daughter married me, she became my wife, and where I go, my wife goes. Those are my household rules. You understand."

Your father's lips part as his gaze flicks to you once more, as if he's thinking about disagreeing with Minho, but the flash of threat in Minho's dark eyes must convince him otherwise, because he plasters a strained smile onto his face and laughs, throwing his hands out.

"Of course. My apologies. Right this way then."

Minho glances at you, giving you a small reassuring smile, before he squeezes your hand, and you fall into step behind your father.

********************************************************************************

"Try to relax, (Y/N)."

Your doctor gives you a kind smile, the ultrasound wand posed and ready above your bare belly, the screen tilted toward the bed.

You swallow hard and nod, trying to focus on relaxing the tense muscles of your entire body one by one.

Minho squeezes your fingers where he crouches beside the bed, keeping up the pressure until you glance at him, your bottom lip sucked between your teeth as you worry it incessantly.

He reaches out to free the raw skin from your hold.

"Breathe, baby." He admonishes quietly, inked fingers stroking your knuckles in a reassuring pattern.

"Ready?" Your doctor asks, glancing between the two of you, lowering the wand slowly as she waits for your go ahead.

You stare at the blank, dark screen behind her, and try not to vomit.

"I'm scared." You admit to Minho in a whisper, hand tightening around his own, your breath coming slightly erratically now.

Minho pushes himself to his feet without a word, releasing his hold on your hand, and you almost reach out to grab for him again, before you realize he's sliding behind you on the bed, tugging you back against the warmth of his chest, his arms going around your shoulders protectively as he tucks your head beneath his chin.

"What did I tell you before, princess?"

You swallow again, gaze darting to your waiting doctor, and the screen beyond her shoulder.

"That it's going to be okay."

"Mm. Good girl." Minho hums a sound of approval in his throat, and you feel his lips brush across your forehead. "And it's going to be."

You take in a shuddering breath, and then give a little, jerky nod.

Minho's fingers find your own once more, and you feel him lift his chin from your head, glancing at the doctor.

She must see what she needs to in his gaze, because with a nod of her own, she finally touches the ultrasound wand to your belly.

Your body tenses at the contact as she begins to move the wand around slowly, her gaze laser focused on the screen.

Minho reaches his hand around to the front of your throat, his fingers finding purchase beneath your chin, and you don't resist him as he tips your head back, guiding you to meet his gaze.

"Just look at me, baby. Deep breath."

You force your chest in and out-once, twice-and Minho gives a nod of approval, leaning down to kiss your forehead once more.

"Good girl."

There is quiet, you don't know how long it's been since the doctor started her exam, and you feel your stomach twist, bile burning your throat, the longer the oppressive silence drags on.

Fuck, shouldn't you have heard something by now?

What if-

"Ah, there we go." The doctor murmurs, almost to herself, and suddenly, the sound of a heartbeat-fast and fluttering, like a hummingbirds wings, echoing the frantic pace of your own-fills the room.

Minho grins down at you, and you see the relief flash across his eyes as the heartbeat continues, strong and steady. "See? Nothing to worry about."

Your body sags with relief, and you glance at the screen beyond the doctor's shoulder-no longer dark-a shimmering, spiking line flickering constantly across the monitor in perfect time with the rapid heartbeat.

"Baby sounds perfect." Your doctor continues, smiling up at the two of you, as she moves the wand around and the heartbeat heightens a little. "Right on track."

"Oh my god." You breathe out, putting a trembling hand up to your mouth, sudden hot tears filling your eyes. "Fuck."

Minho laughs a little, leaning over to press a lingering kiss to the crown of your head, his arms squeezing you protectively.

His next exhale comes out more than a little shaky.

"Fuck indeed, baby. Fuck indeed."

************************************************************************

There is blood.

Blood smearing the inside of your legs, blood pounding hard in your ears, blooding staining the disgusting cock of the man looming over you, leering.

You glance to the door where your father had disappeared, giving his men free reign over you, some sort of lesson, and you know, deep down, that there is blood on his hands too.

But unlike the crimson marking you and the man creeping in, it's not the visible kind.

There is blood.

Dripping down between your fingers, coating your palms in slick red, so thick and so ingrained that even the running water is not enough to wash it away, not completely.

You scrub frantically at your hands, but the crimson only seems to multiply, filling the cracks and seeping into the edges of your vision.

You are hyperventilating, your chest heaving, tears streaming down your cheeks, and without your bidding, your gaze slides back to the man on the floor.

Dead.

Lying in a quickly congealing pool of blood and slaughter, your bucket and rag left hastily beside his blown out head.

The rag is already wet and sopping with blood, even after only one quick stroke across the cement.

You lean over the sink and vomit.

There is blood.

You can feel it, pooling beneath your hips, but you're too scared to look beneath the covers, too sure of what you'll find, your heart already shattering in your chest.

You feel sick to your stomach, and the cramping is worsening.

Rolling to your side, you curl your body into the safety of the fetal position, and try to drown out the low murmur of the doctor's voice from the other side of the room.

Screwing your eyes shut, you keep it all inside, and scream with rage where no one will hear.

There is blood.

Flecked across the tawny skin of his cheekbones, spattering the front of his white dress shirt, his prized shoes, congealing and blending with the dark ink that flows across his knuckles until they are almost one.

He steps toward you, and you run to him without a second thought, terrified enough that the breath in your lungs refuses to leave, not until you've got your hands on him and made sure he's all right.

Your bodies collide, and Minho holds you up as a sob tears from between your lips.

You reach up and put your palms on either side of his face, the crimson splatters, sprinkled across his nose like morbid freckles, accentuating the gold flecks that flash in the dark recesses of his eyes.

Minho's lips twist into the hint of a smile.

"It's not mine, princess. Don't worry."

You feel your lungs collapse, your chest caving, and you throw your arms around him violently, never willing to let him leave your grasp again, at least for tonight.

************************************************************************

There is blood.

You step around the puddle on the floor with nothing more than a disinterested glance, your sneakers squeaking on the concrete.

Behind you, Felix makes a muffled sound of disgust in the back of his throat.

"God, they really need to clean up down here."

You glance over your shoulder at him, as he steps around the bloody puddle on the floor with an open look of horror on his face, a grin breaking free from your lips.

You wait for him to catch up to you, and link your arm in his as you continue down the long hallway.

"C'mon, Lixie. I think it's charming."

He gives you an arch of his brow, and you laugh a little.

The interoggation rooms built beneath the mansion serve a purprose-regardless of how dark-and honestly, you're grateful Minho had thought of them.

It's a way to keep the men you hold dear close enough that you know they're not in danger while they do their jobs.

Plus, hearing the screams when you come down here can be therapeutic in a way.

"Besides-" You reach the end of the hall and stop in front of the door there, glancing over at the man beside you as you reach for the knob. "I guarantee, when they come down here, cleaning is the last thing on Changbin and Chan's minds."

Felix rolls his eyes. "Savages."

You grin once more, and roll the door knob in your hand, pushing the door inward easily.

"It's why we love them."

You step into the room, Felix close on your heels, and as the door shuts behind you, your eyes flicker around the small chamber, taking everything in.

Chan is standing against the far wall beside Changbin, muttering something to him rapidly in a low voice.

There's a wall of instruments on the north side, anything from clamps to syringes, all used to get enemies talking.

And in the center of the room, a hunched form of a struggling man, bound to a chair, face covered with a sack.

You can just make out the muffled swears coming from beneath the rough fabric.

You take a step into the light that beams down on the man, encircling him in the gloom, and Chan and Changbin push up from the wall as one, their chatter ceasing immediately.

Changbin grins at you dangerously, as Chan rolls his head from side to side, waiting for your instructions.

Felix, silent as a ghost, leans against the door behind you, watching.

You tilt your head toward the man.

"Show me his face."

"Gladly." Changbin's teeth gleam sharply, as he leans forward and rips the cover roughly off the man's head.

The man looks around, disoriented, his long, gray hair wild, eyes wide and white with fear, the gag held between his teeth stained with spittle.

You feel a spark of fear light in your stomach at the sight of his face-older now, lined, but still recognizable-but force it back down with a long breath, stepping closer calmly, until the man's frantically roving eyes land on you.

"Take off his gag."

Chan steps up silently now, untying the gag at the back of the man's head, and as soon as it's loose enough, the man spits it out, licking his dry, chapped lips, as he glances between you and the men surrounding him with fury in his eyes.

"What the fuck is this? Who do you think you are? I could have you thrown to the bottom of a lake so no one would find your bodies, you know-"

You tsk your tongue in disapproval, and the man halts his tirade, his eyes narrowing, his weaselly features sharp.

"Empty threats." You sigh, stepping toward him, cocking your head as you study him.

He's shrunk after all these years, his skin almost paper thin, his hair greasy.

The eyes are the same though.

Hungry, predatory, evil.

His lips lift into the start of a snarl, revealing yellowing teeth.

"I don't know who you think you are, you bitch, but I assure you-"

Changbin's hand tangles into the man's stringy hair, yanking his head back roughly, shutting him up.

"Shut the fuck up, old man. Watch your tongue." He growls, glaring down at the man, his eyes blurring with tears as Changbin tugs once more on his hair painfully hard. "Or else I'll make sure that what she does to you will feel like mercy when I'm done with you."

He shoves the man's head forward, and he sputters, trying to catch his breath, his chest heaving, spittle flying from his lips.

Chan steps around the chair and holds out a knife toward you, his brow arched.

You take it without hesitation, and play with the razor sharp tip for a moment, ticking it off your fingertips as you study the man, lost in thought.

He glares up at you, his eyes full of hatred.

You almost laugh.

Oh trust me, not as much hatred as I hold toward you, Wu Chen.

You sigh, a long suffering sound, and address the man sitting, still now, before you.

"Do you recognize me, Mr. Wu?"

His dark eyes flash with something full of anger, but no recognition crosses his murderous gaze.

"Why should I?"

You cluck your tongue in annoyance, glancing up from the gleaming knife held in your hands.

"You took something from me once."

A brief flash of confusion swirls with the fury, and then his jaw clenches, his features going hard.

He gives a humorless laugh.

"I've taken things from a lot of people." His eyes glint with the predator, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as he lets his gaze fall down the length of your body. "Quite a few of them delicious, mouthy little cunts such as yourself."

He's trying to unnerve you.

It's not working.

You've given him enough fear for one lifetime already.

No more.

You step forward, and lean over him, your hand going on the back of the chair, the knife held alert between the two of you, dangerously close to his jugular.

His eyes flick down to the steel, and you don't miss the way his throat bobs with a swallow.

"You took something. Long ago. Took something from someone who couldn't fight back. Something that was never yours to begin with. Do you remember what that was, Mr. Wu?"

Your voice is quiet, steady, but venomous and deadly as a viper waiting to strike.

His eyes meet yours, and when it's clear he's not going to respond, you sigh, sliding the knife up the column of his throat slowly, watching as the crimson appears in the shallow cut you leave behind.

He flinches, but remains quiet.

"A girl." You continue, voice dropping to nothing more than a deadly murmur.

Something like recognition flashes in the dark of his eyes, and suddenly, the man sitting bound before you looks a hell of a lot more nervous than he did before.

You let a small smirk flick the corner of your lips, as you lean back, taking the knife away from his throat.

"She wasn't strong enough to fight you back then. But she is now."

You lift your chin at Chan, and he steps around in front of your prisoner, leaning over to rip open the closure of his suit pants.

"What, what are you doing?" He splutters, immediately writhing in the chair once more, as Chan proceeds to easily tear his pants open, baring thin, scarred legs to the cold air of the room.

Changbin steps up as Chan finishes and goes around the chair, back to his side, holding the man still with firm hands on his shoulders as you approach once more.

You lean over, and easily shred the boxers he wears with one quick flick of your wrist that holds the knife.

The man before you screams and struggles, as his shrunken, shriveled cock springs free for all to see.

"Mm." You hum in your throat thoughtfully, staring at the man and his member with consideration. "It's a lot smaller than I remembered."

Changbin leans over the man's shoulder to get a look and grins, his eyes glinting.

You glance back to your prisoner, and a smirk curves your lips as he cries out in terror, fighting against his bonds and the hold of Changbin's hands.

You step closer and hold up the knife for him to see, the metal glinting in the overhead light.

"No, no, please-" He flails, begging pathetically, but you ignore him, angling the knife expertly as you close in.

The smirk doesn't leave your lips, as you arch a brow and stare down at the writhing, pathetic excuse of a man before you.

Your voice is steady when you speak, rising above the sound of his pleas.

"You took something precious from me, Mr. Wu. Now it's time for me to take something from you."

************************************************************************

You hear Minho before you see him.

The door to the bedroom sounds, and the room is immediately filled with curses and general angry lamentations as he struggles to get through the crack he's made in the door without letting the dogs on the other side in with him.

You can hear him yelling all the way from the ensuite bathroom.

"Get back, you hairy fuckers!-Jesus-Suwon, don't do that, you damned beast!-fuck-and you! Fucking bane of my existence!-ow-Give me back my fucking shoe and go find a ball, you damned fucking demon hound!"

The door finally slams, and you hear rapid paws head down the hall on the other side, Suwon and the new puppy, probably in search of Yeong-Ja.

Minho appears then in the doorway of the bathroom, looking frazzled, a lone dress shoe held in his hand, his lips smashed into a thin line of rage.

You try to hide your smile, glancing at him over your shoulder, as you continue to ready to get in the already running shower.

"Have a bit of a struggle, Boss Lee?" You query innocently, eyes wide as you regard him, like you haven't just heard everything that occurred.

He swears under his breath and tosses the chewed shoe into the trash, reaching up to swipe a hand through his disheveled hair with an agitated rake of his fingers.

"Fucking dogs. That fucking puppy is even worse than Suwon was."

You grin now, turning toward him, and his eyes trail down your naked body, catching on the prevalent bump that now takes up your midsection.

"Baby, Bohoja will learn, just like Suwon did. You won't be stuck with ruined shoes forever."

"Mmm." Minho hums something like distracted agreement under his breath, his eyes still on you, as if he's lost his train of thought and is no longer thinking about the hellhounds that roam the halls. "He had better. Or I'll have Chan's head on a stick." He takes a step toward you. "But that's not what I came to talk about."

You arch a brow, playing innocent for awhile longer.

"Oh? What did you come to talk about then, husband?"

His eyes darken predatorially at the lilting tease to your voice, a challenge, and he growls, closing the space between you, his hand going up to grip your chin.

Your bare chest brushes his through the material of the dress shirt he wears, and you can already feel his arousal, long and rock hard against your leg.

It makes you want to shiver, even though the steamy bathroom is more than a little warm.

His eyes trace up your body once more, and then flick to your face, catching on your cheekbone, before he reaches up with his free hand to brush something on your skin.

You lean into his touch, brushing your lips over the inked skin of his knuckles.

"You have blood on your face, princess."

You arch a brow. "Does that turn you on?"

Minho's eyes flash dark, dangerous, and his lip curls up to reveal a flash of his teeth, his voice a husky growl in the back of his throat.

"Incredibly."

You smirk, and he stares at you for another moment, hunger clear in his eyes, and you think maybe he'll give in and take you right here, against the bathroom counter, but instead, he sighs, and lets his free hand tangle into your hair, tilting your head back so your gaze meets his.

"You found him then."

It's a statement, not a question.

You nod. "Yes."

Minho's brow arches, and the corner of his mouth lifts into the start of a smirk.

"And?"

You sigh, pulling from his grasp as you step away, turning back when you reach the waiting shower.

Minho hasn't moved, watching your every move.

Eyes locked on his, you step backward into the flowing water, and it immediately coats your skin in hot rivulets, making everything slick.

You arch a brow, watching the predatory look come back into Minho's eyes as the water wets your skin, pooling in streams down between your breasts, your thighs.

You cock your head, as if considering, and then say without preamble, "And I cut off his pathetic excuse for a dick. I gave it to cook. She's going to make a fancy pate out of it and feed it to the dogs."

Minho breathes out, you see it in the way his chest rises and falls and then he's striding to the open air shower, ripping his tie off as he comes, stepping into the stream of water in the rest of his clothing without a second thought.

He takes your chin in a bruising grip with one hand, and snakes his other hand down between your thighs.

Your breath hitches as he touches the wetness there, just for him.

"God, you're so fucking beautiful, princess." He grits out, tilting your head back so that he can look into your eyes while he finger fucks you.

"So you tell me." You try to give him a teasing smile, but the expression is lost as your mouth parts and a gasp escapes your lips when he curls his fingers.

"No, I mean-" He backs you against the wall with his body, the water drenching the shirt he wears, you can see his tan skin and the ink across his chest through the wet material, and lets his gaze travel appreciatively down your length once more. "-you're always fucking beautiful, but god-"

He groans gutturally , leaning into you, mouth open against your own, as he hits a spot that has you gripping onto him, keening audibly.

"-there's something so incredibly fucking sexy about you when you're pregnant."

His words send a thrill of heat straight to your core.

"Take this off." You practically beg, pawing uselessly at his shirt, and he pulls his hand away from you to undo the buttons, tugging it open impatiently, as you reach down to free him of his pants.

You're eager for him to take you, to claim you, but instead of immediately finding purchase inside you, Minho drops to his knees in front of you, and runs his hands reverently over your swollen belly, glancing up at you through the streams of water.

His hair is dark, dripping, and you bury your fingers into it.

"I put this here. You, carrying my kid, princess-" He takes in a deep breath, his fingers still caressing your skin. "Fuck, now everyone knows who you belong to. Everyone knows you're mine."

You stare down at him, this man on his knees for you, this man who has given you everything-and you smile.

"I don't think there was ever any doubt about who I belonged to, Lee Minho. It's always been you."

Minho surges to his feet and covers your mouth with his own, your tongues tangling instantly, your body melting into his, his fingers finding you once again right where he left off, making you jolt against him and gasp in pleasure.

"What do you want?" He asks, voice husky, gravely, against your lips.

"You." You breathe back, hand already trailing down between your two bodies to find him. Your fingers close around him, and Minho shudders. "All of you. Always."

"You have all of me, princess. Always." He repeats in a hoarse voice, before he sheathes himself fully inside of you without warning, making you both cry out.

And you know he means it.

************************************************************************

"Ow." You huff beneath your breath, shifting on the chaise, as Yeong-Ja looks up from playing with the puppy on the floor in front of the fire.

"What's wrong, mommy?"

You give her a smile that's more like a grimace as the baby kicks you strongly again, foot sinking up under your ribs.

"Baby brother is just kicking me, that's all, baby. I'm okay."

Yeong-Ja immediately turns back to Bohoja, teasing him with a rope toy.

"'Baby brother'?" Minho queries, leaving his desk and sliding in beside you on the sofa, his arm going around you as he pulls you close.

You smile, glancing up at him. "Just a feeling."

Another kick, another curse under your breath.

"Fuck. Minho. Tell your son to behave please."

Minho chuckles, burying his nose in your hair and breathing you in, his hand sliding down to rest on the apex of your stomach.

"Sorry, princess. You know how we Lee men are."

The baby kicks again against his palm, and Minho curves his fingers along the curvature of your belly, as if holding the unborn baby close from the outside.

You sigh, and snuggle back into him.

He presses a kiss to your forehead.

"Well-" You acquiesce, stifling a yawn as you lean your head on his shoulder, and watch Yeong-Ja playing happily with the puppy, Suwon dozing near by. "-I'd better get used to it then, because I wouldn't have them any other way."

You feel the warmth of Minho's breath as he buries his face once more in your hair, holding you close.

"I love you, princess. And the murderous little creature currently growing in your womb."

You grin and kiss his chest through the thin material of his dress shirt.

"I love you too, Boss Lee."

Love.

There is so much love.

[oh-no-its-bird]

"Madara and Kakashi's field trip from hell"

Where warring era Madara somehow time travels first to kid era Kakashi (before his dad died), then manages to accidentally kidnap him, time travels AGAIN to future Konoha, then eventually back to warring era— all of this with a very very angry, very very kidnapped kid Kakashi in hand.

Madara is screaming wordlessly as Kakashi screams back and tries to bite him, an older Kakashi physically cringing and averting his eyes while team 7 watches in awe

It's hated on sight for kid Kakashi and Sasuke actually, but like the mutual respect kind of hatred. It's just hatred for Sakura and Naruto. Damn, even in the future Kakashi is surrounded by incompetent children, this is tragic. (Older Kakashi is putting his head in his hands in tears. Why was he like this.)

Kid Kakashi tells Naruto he's just as stupid as his dad, which Naruto takes as a compliment and also an earth shattering realization bc WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU KNOW MY DAD???

Kid Kakashi mistakes older Kakashi for his dad at first and it's exactly as painful as you would expect

(Somewhere in another timeline, Sakumo is losing his SHIT over Kakashi's kidnapping by Madara. Madara is so so sorry he did not do this on purpose oh god put the sword down listen we can talk this out wait nO LISTEN WE CAN TALK THIS OUT—)

Kakashi hates himself but especially hates himself at that age and it definatley shows and is very painful for everyone around bc hes just straight up mean to like an actual 6 year old. Who is also himself. It's a lot.

Kid Kakashi also absoloutley DESPISES what hes become like holy shit Kakashi is everything he hates in a person

Madara genuinley did not mean to kidnap Kakashi btw. He actually didn't even mean to time travel. I'm thinking it was an Uzumaki seal in some old ruins activated by accident and gone wrong. Madara lands in a new place and uses his sharingan to replicate it in an attempt to get back, but knows very little about seals so like 90% of it is guess work and the other 10% is prayer

Kakashi somehow gets involved by snooping and gets hit with his attempt at a return seal (honestly his own fault) and now Madara is just kind of. Stuck with him. AND not even home what the fuck !!! They have to work together kind of but also Kakashi wants to see him dead and Madara is having to physically wrestle him away (he is a demon baby holy shit) <- then repeat that process with his next attempt at a go home seal but like, this time it works!! He's home!!! But also he was actually trying to go back to Kakashi's time to put him back. So. Oops.

It's like a really bad situation for Madara actually bc he has this whole KID now. This kid who hates him (tho somewhat less, after all they've gone through on their little field trip) and Madara wants to put him back!!! He does not want to keep Kakashi!!! Holy shit he does not want to keep this child. But he only made it home on pure fucking luck and he can't risk trying AGAIN and never making it back. But he also can't just send Kakashi ALONE, he's 6! He's 6 and the seal is unstable and Madara doesn't know where he'll end up and look Madara isn't a good guy but he is NOT about to see this whole ass toddler dead because of his fuck up.

When they eventually go back to the warring states together Kakashi is like a miniature Tobirama and people react appropriately

The Uchiha are eyeing Madara like uhhhhh Madara-sama is there something you'd like to share with us.

(Also Kakashi is actually Tobirama's blood related nephew but neither Madara or Kakashi is aware of this)

Madara doesn't really want to just set Kakashi loose on the world??? It's a dangerous world! Kakashi is proven dangerous but like FUCK he's kind of Madara's responsibility now and oh god he has a kid why does he have a kid he's going to fucking kill it by accident and—

So anyways Madara is stressed.

The Hatake are a Senju ally and also fucking impossible to track down or contact if you aren't one of them. They're nomadic and in Iron country, so there's actually 0 chance of Madara trying to pass Kakashi off to them

Madara debates trying to throw Kakashi at Tobirama/Hashirama and run away to avoid awkward questions

The Uchiha elders are pushing for him to be a political prisoner to use against the Senju, maybe Madara makes some bullshit up about Kakashi being related to Hashirama and Tobirama idk (it's not even that much of a lie, I mean, he IS, just not in the way anyone expects)

Uhhh endgame getting peace early by bluffing really really hard about Kakashi being a missing Senju brother?? And like "ransoming" him for peace (Hashirama has NO fucking clue what Madara is on about but yeah sure he'll take any excuse to end the war)

Hashi and Tobi are staring at a tiny little glaring Kakashi like 👁👁👁👁 "So, Madara. Wanna talk about where you found our,,,, 'long lost brother',, you said he was?"

Madara, visibly sweating and unable to meet their eyes, "n,,no,,,"

[bonefall]

Mapleshade Discourse O'Clock

It's that time again!!! SO I just kinda want to jot down all of my various thoughts about it as a story and just generally weigh in about Mapleshade.

I like the idea of Mapleshade more than the actual Mapleshade that is used throughout the books.

She has a really good gimmick-- to haunt Applekin though the generations. I don't like how they turn her into a generic "cat satan" for Tigerclaw's Fury and keep making her appear as a vain lackey demon.

I like her characterization in Mapleshade's Vengeance the most, of all her appearances.

But, I don't think my reading of the character depicted in MV is what the author intended.

See, I like MV as a story with no hero. The only blameless characters are the kittens who drowned and Perchpaw, while everyone else is some flavor of selfish, cruel, or vengeful. Everyone thinks they're in the right, but no one truly wins in the end.

Nothing about it was noble. Every tragedy that happened was utterly avoidable. In the end, everyone bears some responsibility for the pain and suffering that happened the day those children drowned.

BUT I'm pretty certain that the intended reading was that Mapleshade would be the one clearly in the wrong the whole time, as she justifies her own actions like a villain does.

Especially knowing how poorly the writers thought of similar female characters like Squilf and Leafp lying about the three, or Nightcloud being jealous her crummy husband is acting strange around another woman.

I feel justified in assuming that when Mapleshade is not happy she's being cheated on, or when she refuses to correct Frecklewish's record knowing it's unsafe if her kits are revealed as half clan, the writer really does think you're not supposed to take her side.

Because women should just not have emotions about being cheated on or something, and lying is unspeakably bad even if the truth puts you and your children in danger.

But. Y'know. We can all use the braincell for a moment and see that this is fucking stupid

SO when the book goes on to have Mapleshade ignore all the warnings about the swollen river, show both ThunderClan and RiverClan being obscenely cruel to her, and then walk across that bridge while insisting in her head that the deaths weren't her fault, I think the implication is obvious AND SHITTY.

Ergo I reject it completely. I can see what the book wants to say, and I think it says something trashy.

In spite of how badly the writer wants it to be Mapleshade's fault the kittens died, I say it was the asshole who threw a bunch of kittens out into the rain for being mixed race, actually.

Oakstar had the power here. Ravenwing had some power as well, but he makes it clear it wasn't his suggestion to throw the babies out into the woods.

And when it comes to Bridge Discourse, it was at least the afternoon, raining heavily, and Mapleshade was trying to get to RiverClan Camp. A straight shot across the stepping stones.

I think it is ridiculous to imagine an extremely emotional parent managing three very scared children, attempting to get out of the rain and dangerous wilderness before nightfall, would be rational enough to realize a large detour would be safer.

MAYBE the distance from ThunderClan Camp to the Bridge is equal to the distance to the Stones. But the distance between the bridge and RIVERCLAN Camp is longer.

I hope this goes without saying; but Frecklewish didn't deserve the Dark Forest.

Even in Banana World logic where she was sitting on the bank watching those kids doggy-paddle. Do not fucking jump in to save drowning people if you are not trained to do that.

I'm dead serious, this is the first thing you learn in any kind of water safety course. They WILL panic, you WILL get dragged down, you WILL become another liability someone else has to save instead of helping your initial target.

And that isn't even mentioning this being a flooded river. That's POOL safety.

In spite of how I think Mapleshade was right to lie, I do think Frecklewish being that upset and angry was understandable.

You're entitled to your feelings, but not how you treat people. She still attacked Mapleshade and called the kittens a slur.

That's what makes her interesting, though.

I don't think she deserves the Dark Forest, but Frecklewish's anger is an interesting trait. I don't like how a lot of defensive interpretations of her character end up downplaying how she acted at the exile

why does a woman being rightfully angry suddenly strike people as "unsympathetic." Girls can also say things in fury they don't fully mean. OR girls can rationalize their unjustified, ballistic response post-hoc out of pride.

Idk let girls be mad. Admit they were wrong without deserving HELL. I don't like the woobification impulse.

It's not really a hot take anymore I think, but Frecklewish is definitely only in the DF because the writing team judges women characters more harshly. Oakstar threw babies out in the rain in fury, and Ravenwing didn't stop it. But somehow only Frecklewish, a normal warrior, gets DF'd.

But what really rattles around in my head about the whole story is the way that the in-universe culture is able to suddenly value ethics like peace, forgiveness, and tolerance when MAPLESHADE is ready to throw those things out, but BEFORE then, it's well established that Clan culture is violent, vengeful, and intolerant.

One of our earliest scenes is Rainfall snarling at Mapleshade that he loves the way Birchface and Flowerpaw drowned. He's threatening that he'll kill even more ThunderClan warriors.

Over in ThunderClan, everyone is itching for revenge against Appledusk for those deaths, even though it seems to have been an accident. Oakstar even hates RiverClan well into sequel books for this.

But then later on, everyone acts Shocked Pikachu that Mapleshade actually went and GOT revenge.

And like, let's be real. This is a battle culture. Yes, by OUR standards Revenge Is Bad.

But in these books, so full of war and clan conflict...?

What I'm saying is that I wish the books let Mapleshade be a little more "controversial" in-universe. Like some cats actually frame the story very differently, and you can learn a lot about a person by who they think the hero is.

And how RiverClan responds to the drowned kids bugs me a lot tbh

We just established over in ThunderClan that there are people who think the babies were born filthy for being HalfClan.

We know everyone there stood by and watched as Oakstar threw them out into the rain-- only Ravenwing even seemed uncomfortable.

AND we know very well that in a few generations, TigerClan will rise. Which openly executed a HalfClan cat and wanted to kill 2 apprentices.

We KNOW the bigotry in Clan culture is deadly and unfair.

But then they go over to RiverClan and Darkstar is sad these three kids are dead? And RC is furious with Mapleshade for that?

Again, YES, you and me with OUR morals know that this bigotry is insane and spiteful. What I'm getting at is that IN-UNIVERSE half clan kittens and their parents face extreme discrimination. Even within this book.

It's odd to me that Darkstar refuses to let Mapleshade bury their bodies, sends her away for the death of the kids while saying it's "not the season for losing warriors" to Appledusk, and it's meant to come across as delusional that Maple thinks her babies were buried dishonorably

I wish more women in WC got so pissed off at the absolute injustice of it all that they went on a girl rampage. Perhaps it's my own taste, but I like it a lot more when the villain isn't entirely wrong and there's several angles you can read the story from. If she didn't do what she did, she would have been the only one who saw any consequences for anything that happened.

Anyway in conclusion uhhh idk murder is wrong. But Mapleshade's allowed to do it because she's a silly billy. Her greatest crime was not killing Oakstar also

[alicelufenia]

A Guide To Keeping Wyll And Karlach After Siding With Minthara In Act 1

Or as I like to call it, how to permanently recruit Karlach and Wyll (because I have yet to complete a full playthrough with both of them)

Ever since Larian added a way to legitimately recruit Minthara by knocking her out, I've wanted to help the community be more successful in their efforts to give my favorite drow yet another concussion. Because like all things related to Minthara, the KO method was buggy as hell, non-intuitive, and metagamey as fuck. I wrote multiple guides on it, to the point where I made the master post my pinned for a while. You may have seen it at some point, but here it is again for reference [x]

As happy as I am with the success of those posts, it's time I revealed my true alignment. I'm actually one of those scary Minthara stans who has killed the grove more times than siding with the tieflings. I know, you'd never guess by looking at my blog (don't look at my blog) I did it my first playthrough and it's only gotten easier since. And while I stand by it as the single best way to experience Minthara's character and story arc, I'm not so cold-hearted as to deny that it's a shame we miss out on Wyll and Karlach in the process.

So rather than play the villain, what say we have them stick around by taking on the REAL villains of Act 1:

The Druids

To start off, you'll want both Wyll and Karlach in your party, and Withers in camp. I've had him show up upon crossing one of the bridges in Act 1, either to the blighted village or the goblin camp, I forget which, or you can bust him out of his Dank™ crypt. Proceed through Act 1 as normal. To be safe I got as much approval from them as I could in early game, but that may not be necessary. Offer to kill Kagha for Zevlor.

Now, both of them need to die, and preferably not by the hand of your party members. I had them suicide charge the gnolls and get wrecked, as on Tactician mode they'll attack downed party members until they're dead. I don't know if having them jump off a cliff works, but it might. We need to entrust them to Withers by asking him to look after their bodies instead of reviving them. Their bodies will then appear in camp by their tents.

Now go kill Kagha without revealing the shadow druid conspiracy. This should trigger the Druids to start fighting the Tieflings, which will happen off screen as you deal with Kagha and the few druids inside with her (killing Nettie earlier might make this easier in case she joins in. She tried to poison you, so serves her right.)

Steal that idol! I'm not 100% sure this is required, but it takes no effort at this point and you need to sit tight for a minute, so might as well.

Also if you thought you could return the idol to Mol, no luck, she won't accept it until the fighting ends. Unfortunately all the tieflings need to die for this to work, so rip Ring of Protection. But not exactly rip the tiefling kids, more on that in a minute.

OOF, rip Dammon (and most of Karlach's questline. Don't look at me like that, it's Larian's fault for tying her entire story onto one npc and giving nothing as an alternative)

I'll give the tieflings credit, they did not go down without one hells of a fight. This bear was found burnt to death, probably due to Zevlor.

Damn, they really killed all of them. I wanna point out this can happen even on a good playthrough with the best of intentions.

In the end, only four(!) druids survived. I don't know how they'd fare with Kagha fighting too, but overall I'd say the druids talk big for doing this badly against a bunch of unarmed civilians. We kill the last four of them, then get ready to move on.

With trepidation, I go to check on the kids. Not recommended if you raid the grove for real, but here:

It's just... empty. No bodies, no npcs hanging around, they completely cleared out.

I like to headcanon that Mol followed through on protecting her kids, and they escaped down this hole. I'm still very early in this run used for testing, so I have legit no idea if they show up later. But this is good enough for me to include them all in my fanfiction so :D Congrats, the only tieflings with rights (sorry Karlach!) are gonna be alright (because if we don't see a body it doesn't count)

Next step is to just... keep going. Sazza can get you into the goblin camp no problem, and if you play a Drow or have Shadowheart use disguise self, you can gain entry without any checks or dialogue. My half elf needed to talk her way in (or just use AUTHORITY)

best goblin btw

MOMMY

Lookit how happy she is after Sazza has brought her the grove's location! A lead on the weapon AND another True Soul AND she's concussion-free? Everything's coming up Minthy!

It's at this point things get a little weird (I did warn ya), as the game now has flagged the grove as "raided" even though we haven't done an actual grove battle, which is a different thing (as I'll demonstrate later), so Shadowheart has her "post-raid" dialogue when we wake up on the next long rest. The Raid The Grove quest is also marked as Completed, but still has a marker on the map. Have patience, return to the grove and walk through the (destroyed) gate, and suddenly:

The quest will update, and direct you to speak with Minthara in the secluded chamber where she normally is at when the raid is finished. There's also goblins milling about the grove now, same as the post-raid grove.

Get someone who looks at you the way Minthara looks at a cave full of dead druids and tieflings.

"No Minthara, I never meant for any of this to happen. This was all my fault, I shouldn't have gotten involved, they're all dead because of me-"

"Nevermind I am no longer morally conflicted about all this."

To the goblin party!

LIES. He never mentions it again lmao. C'mon patch 7 fix this! (you won't)

Why we're all really here 🥰

The next morning, speak to Withers and ask to collect your dead party members. He will have you confirm payment for their resurrection.

And it works! Karlach and Wyll are back, they can rejoin the party, and their approval is Unchanged!

Since I was on a roll, I went ahead and checked a few other scenarios: what happens if we don't start a fight with the druids and just raid the grove directly, with Karlach and Wyll dead? Well you can revive them afterwards, but...

Dang, Wyll still leaves (he's still so nice about it though! Even wishes you well!)

Meanwhile Karlach: Feck off, cunt.

Well, she's not leaving, but she's never been this blunt or cold towards me before. I wonder how much-

Damn, -49?! That's literally one away from leaving permanently! She started at 50, which means Karlach looses 100 approval from raiding the grove, and being dead doesn't change that. I think the only reason she's at -49 instead of -50 is due to that +1 from reviving a party member. So, she's grateful for being brought back to life, but not happy about anything else. You know what, that's fair.

One last thing I tested (and no pics for it cause this post has reached its limit! But those extra pics of Sharp-Eye Sluck are important, so I'll just write this next part out) I wanted to see if it was even necessary to finish off the remaining druids after they killed all the tieflings. So I left the grove (manually, you have to journey quite a distance before it lets you fast travel, almost all the way to the first bridge) and headed to the goblin camp to start the raid as normal.

Like our first time, we arrive at an empty grove. Even the druids we left behind are gone, meaning you can safely headcanon this method as joining up with the goblins and Minthara to take revenge on the druids. The game still acts like you killed the tieflings though, down to Gale's threatening to leave.

But Karlach and Wyll still get brought back without a problem! You can even revive them DURING the goblin party and they'll act like nothing's happened!

Wyll And Karlach Recruited Alongside Raiding With Minthara: Success!

So Baldur's Gate 3 community! I now implore you to put down your Pommel Strikes, switch off that Non-Lethal toggle, and stop giving poor Minthara even more brain damage than the tadpole and the Absolute already gave her!

And when you reach Moonrise Towers to rescue her, for the love of Selûne, when the guards are torturing her in the prison, don't just swing on them. Agree to enter her mind first. You'll have a dicey roll to deal with, but trust me, it's SUPER worth it!

As for the whole process, well. Despite the clunky way quests update after you start the grove civil war, the resulting lack of direction and narrative inconsistencies in the dialogue post-goblin party, this still feels like a more immersive way to recruit Minthara on a run with both Karlach and Wyll still present, than the KO method, in my not-so-humble opinion.

Consider this: You've got a major twist in the Act 1 plot now, with the Druids turning on you and killing the tieflings you were trying to help, leaving your party dispirited and lacking direction, other than to continue their search for a cure, which leads them to meet the Absolutists, the goblins, and the drow commander leading them and looking for the druids' sanctuary. And in the midst of your grief and anger, you side with her, both to get close to the source of the infections (as the Dream Visitor suggests) but also to take your revenge out on the druids.

You can feel conflicted, regretful even, but the context has changed enough that I think even a good-aligned Tav with no qualms about methods can live with this result. It just takes a bit of filling in the gaps (do you simply point the goblin army at the druids and look away, or lead them yourself by Minthara's side? Either way works for the results)

The only real downside is, again, Karlach's story just sorta ends here, until the confrontation with Gortash. I personally think this is a problem with Larian's writing for her, and at this point fanfiction is about the only solution in sight. But if you don't mind her not getting the chance to touch others again, you really have nothing to lose here

Besides, were you really going to pay Dammon for that act 3 armor? Of course not, you steal it every run and don't pretend otherwise, "hero."

[rinrinx2]

My Brothers Wife

Sewe

Ran x (Y/N) x Rindou

Summary: A change of tides is on its way

Warnings: Mentions of S@, mentions of @bortion, language, mature content, kinda smut, angsty.

My brothers wife Masterlist

You looked the young lady up and down, her skin pale, her eye bags dark as if she hadn’t slept in months. And worst of all was the physique as you caught small glimpses of it as her heavy brown coat would move around making it able for you to see the bloating of her abdomen and the swelling of her ankles.

“So, you’re the woman my husbands been fucking?” You asked rhetorically, without much care to how you spoke to her.

“Yes” she said with her head hung low.

“And why are you by my house door, begging to see me?” You questioned on.

“Well, this isn’t your house door this is Haitani Ran’s”

“Congratulation detective you’ve cracked the case. But I’m sure you know exactly how my house looks by now. Tell me how many times has Rindou brought you over there”

You watched as her faced turned in distaste as you spoke, you didn’t care if your words held venom to them.

You felt hurt and betrayed and when things finally started to feel hopefully you see the brunt of your husbands actions standing at your door step.

“I didn’t come here to argue with you” she spoke on looking you in the eyes.

“Then why are you here?”

The brunette took a deep breath, as if calming herself before she spoke on.

“I came here to ask for help” she said as she let go of all the oxygen in her lungs.

“Help with what?” You said now with a raised eyebrow.

“Help with the baby. This is Rindou’s” she said as she moved her coat open to display a semi round belly as a smile began crept onto her face.

The little restraint your held had snapped and Ran could sense it to all the way from his study, as he heard your chair scrape against the wooden floors.

“You asking me to help with your baby?!” You said now standing to your full height, as she remained seated at the opposite end of the table.

“Yes, you know we could work out something. Like help pay for medical bills and you know baby supplies. This whole secretary gig doesn’t pay the best”

“I mean that makes sense” you said with that fake laugh that lulled others into a false sense of security.

The young lady began to laugh with actually believing that you agreed with her.

“You’ve got some fucken nerve. You seek me out to ask for help because you got knocked up by my husband, so instead of trying to muster up an apology you go ahead and have the audacity to ask me to pay the bills of your kid”

You looked at the brunette starring daggers into her just as she did the same to you, now having a starring contest as anger shoot from each of your gazes.

“Get the fuck out of my house” you commanded.

“Like I said earlier this isn’t your house” she said now standing up herself, as she kept eye contact with you.

“Get the fuck out” you heard Ran say from behind you causing you to let go of your eyes on her.

“Make me. I’m not leaving here till use tell me where Rindou is” she said now changing the reason as to why she was invading your comfort of your home.

Without another breath wasted on her, you heard the clicking of Ran’s gun as he unholstered it from its casing. The loaded barrel pointing straight in her direction.

“You’d shoot a pregnant woman” she said in disbelief.

“I’ve done worst” Ran replied nonchalantly as he played with the trigger.

“Tell me where Rindou is” she continued on as she stamped her feet into the wooden floor, the wood letting out an aching noise.

“It’s not my fault my brother fucked you and discarded you. You should’ve taken his advice when it came to you getting pregnant.”

“Oh, and also scuff my floor again and you’ll end up laying dead on it” Ran added.

You watched as she turned around in defeat as she stormed to the door, her hand at the door knob as she turned it. So close to leaving until she tried to twist it and was unable to, and then suddenly the door flung open showing none other than Rindou.

“(Y/N) please talk to me about this” he said as he looked only at you not even noting the woman he’d been fucking or his brother aiming a gun at him.

“Perfect timing Rin, you can take your woman and both fuck off out of my house” Ran said with a smile as he moved to stand beside you.

You don’t remember how long Rindou stood in the door way begging to get a word out of you or how long that young lady nagged on Rindou’s arm for him to spare her a glance, you could only recall Ran letting a bullet whizz pass the two of them missing them by a millimetre. A good enough warning to get the two of them to finally leave.

“You think you’re going to have a peaceful day then that shit happens” Ran said as he laid draped over your lower half just below your bump as you played with the tuffles of his hair.

You remained silent not commenting on Ran remark, rather keeping attention on anything other than the situation you were in.

And you let that silent build up until finally it snapped within and all your worries frame bubbling out like ocean foam on the shore.

“Ran, I feel like this is all my fault” you said as you stop playing with his hair.

Ran lifted his head from your lap as you tried to look you in your eyes as your head hung low.

“It’s not (Y/N)” he said softly as he tried to reach out for you, but you pulled away from his touch.

“I just feel like none of this would’ve happened if i just didn’t start sleeping with you, I’m like a slut I just can’t help myself when it comes to you” you said holding back tears.

“It’s just the effect I have on women” Ran said with a snicker trying to lighten the mood but it was when he heard your sniffles and saw the reflection of your tears in the light did he realise the severity of the situation.

“Come in don’t cry, it’s not your fault really. I played a part in this two and when we started seeing each other Rindou was already 3 months in deep with that secretary”

Ran said trying to comfort you but did little of the way of helping as you continued to sulk, now with your hands covering your eyes as you sobbed harder.

Your cries echoed throughout the room for what felt like forever and your mind plagued you with thoughts of guilt.

“You know I started seeing because I always loved you” Ran said quietly, more to himself than anyone as he now kept his gaze lowered.

“And I know you might think that I’m just saying that because of what’s happening but I mean it. I remember when Rindou and I went to that club and we saw you. I was going to go up to you but I saw the excitement in Rindou’s eyes and let him go after you. I thought nothing much would come of it and then I’d get to speak to you afterwards but I was wrong. You looked at him the way I wished someone would look at me and you laughed at all his horrible jokes and when things got serious between the two of you I would hope something horrible would happen so you’d call the wedding off, but nothing ever did. And on your wedding day when I saw you I nearly cried tears of joy because for a minute it almost felt like you were walking down the aisle to spend the rest of your life with me. So, when I heard about how Rindou was having an affair and how it was affecting your marriage and he was neglecting you it was like my luck had finally changed and I did my best to show that I cared even if I did it the wrong way….

…and I’m sorry it ended up like this, I should’ve just told you what he was doing instead of getting tangled up in this. So, if you’re going to blame someone blame me. I love you to much to have you feel the guilt of this all”

You eyes still wet from your freshly fallen tears as you heard Ran quietly speak as he remained unaware that you listened so attentively.

Ran finally looked up, seeing you sit puffy lips and red rimmed eyes that held so much admiration and love towards him.

For a moment neither of you said a word just the two of you slowly approaching each other until you felt your lips softly collide.

Taking in each other’s breath, feeling as his tongue swirled around yours.

His hands travelling along your sides, gently squeezing them as they moved venturing across your body.

His hands dipping in between your thighs as two fingers pressed against your clothed cunt as his other hand played with your ever hardening nipples.

His fingers finally moving your panties to the side as he began to play at the outside of your pussy, teasing your clit but never fully sinking in until you began to whine out in need.

“Ran please” you begged out.

But all Ran did was let out a chuckle as he bit you lip playfully as he pulled his fingers away.

“You’re gonna have to wait if you want more”

You looked over at Ran as you gave him a stare that could kill, while he licked at his fingers shooting you a smirk.

“You know we can just elope” Ran said licking the last of your remnants off of his fingers.

“Real funny Ran” you commented back at what you presumed was a snarky remark.

“I’m being serious. Rindou is on your case and I doubt that but job of a secretary is going to be any better. So, why not, just you, me and Ran junior over there”

“How about Hong Kong.Mikey has a sister headquarters up there, I could ask to supervise there I mean I heard they kinda doing shit so instead of Mikey being situated there for awhile I can” Ran said with all his attention on you now.

“What ya say, gorgeous?”

“If you make me cum then it’s a yes” you said teasingly.

“So, then it’s a yes” Ran said as he now moved back onto your body.

Rindou walked into headquarters with full skin and new worry lines that a man of his age should not have dawned. He knew what he did was reckless and careless but he was trying his best to make amends.

And his thoughts of trying to fix things felt like porcelain falling onto the floor when he heard the voice of the woman who he dreaded.

“Rindou” she called out from the front desk trying to get his attention before he could make it to the elevator.

“Rin!” She called out louder this time.

“Rinnie!”

The name calling finally irritating Rindou enough to get his attention, as he now stormed towards her.

“I told you not to call me that” he said through gritted teeth.

“I’m sorry it’s just I haven’t seen you since that day at your brothers house”

“And you weren’t suppose to see me since 5 months ago when I paid you off enough for you to live a new life” Rindou said in an irritated tone.

“I’m pregnant Rindou, you can’t just neglect that fact” she said with the same venom back towards him.

“Well Suki, you weren’t suppose to be now because we had an agreement”

“Oh that would make your life so much easier just to get rid of that wouldn’t it” Suki said with a scowl.

“Yes it would. God, you fuck me when I’m shit blown out of my mind which sounds like a fucking criminal offence because it is and now you knocked up and won’t stop harassing me”

“Well would you look at that, the gangster caring about the law how ironic” Suki said with a grin

“And let’s not forget to mention the fact that you are the one who neglected your wife enough for her to go find comfort by your brother, so you really are the one at fault.”

“Fuck you” Rindou said as he turned on his heels.

“You wish you could” Suki said with a laugh.

She watched as Rindou walked towards the elevator not even sparring her a departing glance. She hated how he hated her, she hated the fact that she was regret and mistake in his eyes.

When Suki got this job as a secretary a year ago she didn’t know that’s when she would see the man of her dreams, with his lilac mullet and charming gaze.

And when the time came when he was tripping his was over to her desk, barely able to hold himself up she knew that she had to take the opportunity. She had to somehow get into his pants, and when she did she took full advantage of it never once letting up from his dick as she let him cum in her over and over.

She loved Rindou and when she found out he had a wife she knew she’d love him more than you ever could. She knew everything about him, how he liked his coffee to how he liked to get his dick wet. And when she heard from a passing by Ran who was talking to Kakucho how he’d been neglecting you for his duties at Bonten she knew it be a waiting game till she was the new Mrs. Haitani.

Rindou let out a sigh as he sat at his desk. His hands combing through his hair as he thought of the mess he was in. He couldn’t stand the time he was away from you, the house felt so soulless without you in it, no warmth from your love to keep it vibrant and he knew the way the situation looked just made you hate him more.

He couldn’t change the way you saw the situation with him being the villain because you saw him as some guy who was fucking the secretary and that’s why you neglected him, he wish he could show you that it wasn’t like that. All Rindou wished was that he’d be able to tell you was that he didn’t fuck his secretary on purpose she would come onto him when he was high off of whatever drug in some stupor unable to comprehend anything when she’d come after him. He would never fuck another woman, but how could he tell you that because you’d be upset at the fact that he was doing activities you told him to stop as well as still telling him that it takes two to tango.

Every way he looked at the situation he always came out with him being the villain and he hated himself for it.

Rindou let out a sigh as he threw his head on the desk. So distraught he hadn’t heard Kakucho enter his office.

“What’s gotten you like that” the younger male asked.

“My life is in the shit” Rindou replied not even lifting his head up.

“Yeah guess that’s been the buzz of the office, but don’t let it defeat you. Takeomi was in a similar predicament but him and his wife are stronger than ever now”

“Takeomi got taken advantage of by one of our secretaries, who got herself knocked up on your semen. While simultaneously neglecting his wife because he was so stressed with work that his own brother noticed and started giving his wife attention that cause the two to fall in love and have an affair that now had his wife pregnant” Rindou said as he had raised his head from the desk.

“I mean something along those lines but probably not the same details” Kakucho said with a nervous smile as he scratched the back of his head.

“Thanks for the support Kakucho” Rindou said as he dropped his head back onto his desk.

“Don’t mention it” Kakucho replied with a gleeful smile unable to read the severity of Rindou’s situation.

“Well anyway, Mikey called you into his office”

Rindou heard as Kakucho left his office as he began to pick himself up from his desk.

Rindou walked through the corridors till he reached Mikey’s office with its large glass windows that allowed you to look into his office.

Large enough to give him the full sight of his brother talking to Mikey.

Rindou walked into his office not caring that Mikey and Ran were still talking.

“You called” Rindou said sluggishly, as he looked at him and Ran who were still talking.

“So it’s settled you’ll be going to Hong Kong then” Mikey said finishing up talking to Ran.

Rindou sat down in a chair watching Ran left without sparing his older brother a glance.

“So Ran’s finally leaving” Rindou said with a snicker.

“Matter of fact he is” Mikey replied which caused Rindou’s attention to be fully on Mikey now.

Rindou’s heart began to beat faster at the idea of his brother finally leaving Tokyo, it was as if his prays were being answered and he’d finally be able to get you back with his brother’s absence.

“That’s why I called you in here today. I need you to take over Ran’s responsibilities in Roppongi as well as few other areas since he’ll be moving to Hong Kong”

A smile began to spread on Rindou’s face at the news of his brother leaving. For the first time in a long time things were finally looking up for him.

“Will do” Rindou said trying to hold his composure.

“Yeah and please don’t fuck the areas in giving you any further than they are, ever since Ran’s been busy with (Y/N) his been disregarding some of his work”

“Don’t worry I won’t” Rindou said with a smirk full of hope.

“Yeah let’s hope Ran doesn’t do the same with since she’s going with to Hong Kong”

And the minute Rindou heard Mikeys words his smile fell.

“What do you mean she’s going with” Rindou questioned, already knowing the answer.

“(Y/N) is going with Ran to Hong Kong”

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All rights reserved

[multiwreckedmess]

February Filth Fest - Day 27

Pairing: Wolf!Chan x Fem!Reader Prompt: Hybrid (furry) WC: 3.4k Summary: Your yearly visit home to catch up with your neighborhood friends was something you looked forward to every summer. Especially your fleeting moments with Chan. There’d always been something inexplicable about him, about the two of you. TW/CW: Knotting, rut/heat (implied), breeding, predator/prey, dubious consent. DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT. Extended tw under the cut, 

Dubcon all the way. Obviously two sides to wolf!chan, this might fit better under omegaverse? I’m not a consumer of either hybrid or omegaverse really so I’m sorry if i get stuff incorrect. This gets dark, reader kinda likes it? Sort of more Werewolf than wolf. i’m unsure of what kind of tw/cw are needed but I think i covered it.

“Let’s play wolves,” Chan’s eyes flash amber. Smiling, but not. It’s not Chan’s smile. He stalks closer.  “Chan?” Fight, fawn, or freeze and your body has elected the latter of the options. Standing still as he circles around you “C’mon, let’s play wolves. Like we used to.” “C-Christopher. You’re scaring me.” Pulse rushing loudly between your ears it’s hard to think. Full animal instincts kicking in. He presses his wide chest to yours, lips to the outer shell of your ear.

“Run little wolf.”

It had started when you were young. Pretend games you’d play with the neighborhood kids, wholly innocent. The first game was “three little pigs” where the “big bad wolf” would stalk the playground, trying to stop the “pigs” from getting to their “houses” but as the neighborhood grew so did the game. Now you were rival wolf packs, able to act together in teams, almost a large scale tackle football game without the ball. You were kids pretending to be wolves, you were rough with each other. It was all in the name of pretend.

This did not feel like pretend. 

It was a split second, calves tensing beneath you and jolting your body forward into a full sprint in no particular direction. Not until you are well into the woods at the edge of the neighborhood park do you realize just how utterly fucked you are. It was your fault. Of course it was your fault. You’d pushed Chan to come out with you to the old playground to kick back a couple drinks and reminisce. You’d seen how antsy he was, unable to say no to your insistent pleas. You’d even kept him out an hour passed when he said he’d need to be back for unnamed “prior engagements”. How stupid could you have been. 

There’d always been something different about Chan and his family. Unnaturally beautiful, unnaturally charismatic, natural leaders. Chan was one of the few neighborhood boys that stuck it out with the girls during the great puberty divide. Never falling victim to “girls have cooties.” Always ready with a small bit of chocolate to satisfy sudden craving. The girls of the neighborhood loved his gentle and understanding nature. Good at playing both cute younger brother and doting elder. 

From behind the large tree you’d concealed yourself with your hearing strained. Sense of sight dulled by the lack of light every other sense was sent into overdrive. But why were you running from him? It was just Chan, just Chan playing around. You repeat it over and over trying to make yourself believe it. It’s just Chan. The sound of a twig snapping sends you into high alert, spine stiffening. If it was just Chan why are you reacting like this? He’s going to laugh at how good he’d gotten you.

Another twig snaps. Your nails dig into the rough bark of the tree. 

This was ridiculous. You felt ridiculous. Just turn around and head back out the way you came. There’s a telltale tickle to the back of your spine, some vestigial nerve that tells you he’s almost on you. Holding your breath you hear more snapping of twigs and rustling of leaves. You crouch in place. Fight, fawn, or freeze. The noise of the woods stops suddenly. Silence. You can hear your heartbeat ringing in your ears. Silence. You stand up slowly and place your back against the tree and that’s when you seem them. Two flashes of amber in the dark. Fight, fawn, or freeze.

Your breath catches in your chest. He’s terrifying. Perked pointy ears sprouting from his head, muscles swollen and hulking, eyes flashing in the full moon light. He’s not Chan. You’re not even sure he’s Christopher. You're not sure what he is. Your caught breath is forced into a shrill scream as a sudden force nails your back in place. “Caught you little wolf.” Chan’s hands grip your shoulders, pushing them  You bare your teeth at him and growl. “Fine Chan, if you want to play wolves, I’ll play wolves.” you think. And then you latch your arms around his elbow and drop your weight to escape his caging. 

The last time you played wolves it was an equal match. Chan had lost his baby fat but not yet built the muscle has now. You’d had time to adjust to your changed body but lost the androgyny of your younger self. It started as many wolves games did, playful threatening to kiss the other person. Harmless, neither of you actually intended on kissing the other, just saying things to get under the skin of the other person until they snapped. The game ended with the two of you out of breath, grass ground into your jeans and bodies in a tangled exhausted knot. You’d known the game had changed but you weren’t sure how.

Chan caught your escape move in a backhug, pinning your arms at your sides. It’s stronger than a hug, almost suffocating. Legs kicking and thrashing you try to free yourself. Teeth biting into the juncture between your neck and shoulder, you moan and go limp. Pain and then pleasure sweeps over your body in a second. Both you and Chan sink to your knees, still connected by his bite, onto the forest floor. One thick arm shifts upwards, hand palming your breast and kneading. The other shifts downwards to your waistband, fingers deftly slipping beneath. It's difficult to even think of fighting as your body relinquishes its weight into his chest with a sigh.

“If you’re giving up, little wolf, I get to claim you,” he sounds happy yet it comes out menacing, hands still working in tandem. Your head lolls back to his shoulder in sharp contrast to your body tensing and pulsing and squirming. Something in the bite, you tell yourself, you convince yourself, something in the bite. You must be bleeding out from the bite. The forest blurs. The bite was so- 

“You smell, so good my little wolf,” he mutters as he rubs his face against your collarbone. “Now that we are out here, now that you smell like you…” he trails off into a growl. “Now that you smell like my mate.”

“Mate. His little pretty wolf,” you think dumbly, Eyes slide back in your skull as waves of pheromones roll off of Chan and crash into you. You jolt back into your mind. No. Not mate. Not his mate. Whatever he means by mate. 

He licks the unmawled side of your neck, taking the flesh between his teeth and leaving a small imprint. Mate. You say the word over and over in your head at varying tempos, enthralled as he marks up and down your shoulder and neck. The repetition of the word nearly hypnotizes you. Chan’s hand works its way under and up your shirt and bra, thumb passing over your pebbled nipple. The insistent press of his hardened cock reminding you suddenly of the reality of the situation.  “Chan, we’re too old to play wolves anymore,” you murmur in his ear.

“I was never playing wolves.” He nearly roars as he shoves you over face into the dirt, a total shift from mear millisecond before. The fabric of your shirt bunched tight in his fist, pressing into the small of your back and forcing you into an exaggerated arch you are all but pinned beneath him. 

Tears prick the corners of your eyes. He’s not Chan, he’s not your Channie. He’s not the kind boy who’d venture bravely into the drugstore when it was nearing that time of the month. He’s not even the gentle man who insisted on obeying curfew. He’s an animal.  You feel his fingers dig into your lower back around your pants waistband. With a swift yank he pulls both your pants and panties down to your knees as though it were nothing. Two rough fingers rub up and down your slit, teasing your entrance. Despite your tears you are embarrassingly horny. Desperately horny. Your pussy is practically dripping on him.

“No more fight ok?” He dips into you slowly. “No more fight or it will hurt.”

You nod. Just his fingers fill you well. Your body betrays you as it fucks back at every thrust of his digits into your cunt. Lewd squelching sounds fill the air, taunting him. If he wasn’t obsessed before he was now. Obsessed with your glistening folds, wet and pretty just for him. Releasing your shirt he wraps the same arm around your waist, hoisting you into his lap. From this angle he adjusts his arm to better pound into you using each part of his magnificent arms.

“My mate, my little wolf,” he’s whispering again, two fingers deep in your slick pussy. “Feel better?” He plunges into you, over and over. “Feel better to be a good little mate?”

Pulse elevated and blood rushing from your brain to your cunt it’s too much to think. He’s right. It is easier. Chan senses your orgasm coming before you do. Heartbeat accelerating, breathing shallow and quick, blood pressure dipping. He can feel all of it. Immediately as you peak he slows down, riding you through it, digits stroking your inner walls slowly and persistently as they clench and pulse around him, dripping down onto his hand. Entire body relaxed and draped over his lap, you’re on a far away planet. You want to kiss him. You want him to hold you. He doesn’t. You moan as he slides his fingers from you, licking them clean with small accented pops.

He grunts. Another animal instinct.

Both palms pressing into your ass cheeks he spreads you, night air cool to your overheated body. Face disappearing you feel a wet wriggling intrusion at your exposed holes. Tongue licking messy fat stripes up your slit to your ass Chan eats as though your cunt was his favorite flavor of ice cream, greedily sucking and slurping. Fucking his tongue into your little hole he makes your legs shake and knees wobble in protest of the overstimulation. You want to cum again, christ you want to but it hurts. It’s too soon. Abdomen burning and tensing as his lips wrap around your clit, you need it and want it but it just hurts so much.

Fat shameful tears roll down your cheeks, the pain feels good. A dark part of you needs him. You need him to claim you. Another orgasm squeezes out of you, sobbing, walls clenching around nothing. He laughs, a short puff of air coming in contact with your oversensitive nub, making you squirm. “Breed?” He affectionately pats your pussy. As though he was planning on giving you a choice. “Please,” you whimper softly. Even to your ears you sound so desperate it makes you want to hide, curled in a tiny ball. 

Dropped into the dirt of the forest you hear him unzip and pull his pants down before grabbing your waist and lifting you, manhandling you, up and against the tree. Standing back to shuck your pants fully off you can finally appreciate him. Every inch of his body is tense, muscles fully activated. Fat cock head glistening with precum, his shaft is equally frighteningly thick, only more noticeable by comparison as it prods your stomach.  

“Will it fit,” you ask breathlessly as he hitches one of your legs over his hip, squishing you together, dick rubbing between your pelvises. “Hastto,” he mumbles into your collarbone. “Yermymate.”

He’s positively pussy drunk as he slides his dick up and down your folds, coating himself in you before aligning with your entrance. Teasing your swollen lips his tip barely pushes past the ring of pelvic floor muscles, it’s so tight It burns. The slide downwards is slow and stead as gravity works with his strained rocking to spear you on him. Your eyes squeeze shut and you brace your arms over his shoulders, pressing up and away from the source of pain. 

Chan’s heart hurts hearing your small whines. He wants to be kind, the human part of him deep down wants him to be gentle and slow and have properly trained you, prepared you for this eventuality. Calm. The wolf needs to be calm if he wants this, if he wants you like Chan wants you. The wolf wants to grab your waist and pull you down onto him. That part of him knows the pain is temporary, necessary even. But it waits by the wish of the man who shares this body.

“Hurt?” Chan nuzzles the tear stains on your cheek. His nails grip the bark of the tree.  “A lot!” the words bubble up into a yelp, your standing leg shaking, foot on its tiptoes. He withdraws and you go limp, panting. “Ground,” simple and gruff, but you do it.

Hands and knees in the grass and leaves and dirt you feel him crawl between your waiting thighs. He plunges forward with a grunt to the same depth as before. You groan and falter forward onto your elbows. Fabric of his shirt pulled up between his lips he watches his hips gently rock the two of you back and forth, each small thrust pushing him slowly further into your tight warm cunt. Pussy lips tightly stretched around him the blood from his body rushes down, engorging his already rock hard erection. The worst is yet to come for you, the human in him knows this to be the case, but the wolf is ecstatic.

Writhing and whining you know his cock isn’t even half in you and it’s splitting you open. You’d had a few partners but none with as impressive of girth as his. His palm rubbing your sacrum to calm you he inched forward, “good mate. Taking me so well. I know my little wolf I know,” his chest swells with pride as he watches your pussy straining to accommodate him. “Good mate, only little more.”

The stretch is painful but addictive, dosing out little jolts of pleasure as you rock back onto him. Something deep within you, a small part that evolution forgot to remove, knows that as painful as it is, the sooner he can be fully seated in you the sooner the pain can be soothed and overwritten. Chan leans over and kisses between your shoulder blades. A small gesture of comfort. Still somehow inhuman. It’s only when he is this close that you hear his small yips and grumbly growls under his breath. You want him to stay there. You want to hear him. You want him close. Arm shaking and stretched behind you, you try to grab onto whatever you can of him. Taut muscles push back at your fingers, his thigh. A mistake. A huge mistake.

The wolf seizes him. 

He howls.

In one swift motion he wraps his arms under your shoulders and pulls you back onto him. You gasp as the wind is knocked out of you. It burns. You’re so full. You can’t get any more full. His cock fills any space left inside of you. Your walls spasm around him trying to adjust to the intrusion. If he hadn’t held you your face would certainly be resting in the mud again. Legs fighting and scrambling, too weak to be of any use, you scream. Barely giving you time to adjust he pulls you off and slams you back down again. Slow, steady and bruising. Noises get knocked out of you, noises you’ve never heard yourself make. Sensory input on overload your mind fuzzes, giving yourself over. Chan pulls you up like a ragdoll, head lolling back onto his shoulder, still kneeling in the dirt.

“Good. Mate.” he punctuates his thrusts. “Pretty. Mate.” He puts his hand below your belly button, cradling you. A groan rumbles in his throat feeling the bulging imprint of the head of his cock forcing your stomach to distend. “Gonna look so good and round. Perfect for pups. My pups. My mate.” “Full. Channie please. Too full.”  “You can take it.” He is stupidly earnest in his proclamation. His fiercess has drained slightly, transformed into excitement and bliss. Hips slowing back into a gentle rocking of their own accord he nuzzles and licks the bruised mark on your shoulder. Lost to the feeling he barely notices the half moon indents that litter his skin. Your jaw unhinged and tongue inviting he presses two fingers against your tongue, wetting them with your spit before taking them to circle your throbbing clit. A man focused and dedicated he quickly works you up, legs shaking and chest heaving. “Tha’s’it. Greedy pussy- suckin’ me in. “M-m-m-more-” you shudder. 

Having properly turned your legs into useless appendages you’re silently glad Chan seems happy enough to handle you like a human fleshlight. Vision blurred, ears filled with the rushing of your heartbeat, with every strangled gasp you try to gain hold of your senses, lost to the luxury of submission. Bodily fluids trickle down and mix into the earth mixing and mudding up your skin. Your walls clench around him, trying their best to force the cum from him but coming up with nothing. He keeps going, harder although it seems impossible. Suddenly you’re glad for the cover of the forest, your screams and grunts echoing into the tree cover. You could never, not even with the thickest soundproofing, be this primal anywhere near human societies. Not without the cops being called or an angry note from a neighbor.

Between the raucous moans your body warns you of a new presence, rubbing at your entrance. Looking between your legs in horror you see a red swelling at the base of his dick attempting to squish itself into your abused hole. “What is that?” You scream as he pumps. “Channie. Chan. Chris? CHRISTOPHER?” Your voice grows shrill with panic as the section of swollen cock pushes more and more insistently, catching on your pelvic floor. “Mate,” he snarls. “Gonna mate. Got to mate. Knot you so deep. Won’t run. Can’t.” Hocking a glob of spit at the base of his cock onto the knot he wastes no time as you babble incoherently. Teeth sinking back into the previous bite the pain pacifices you, leaving you limp in his arms as he jams the knot past the tight ring of muscle and bone. Pressure blocking your ears, your vocal chords are too tense to make a sound as your mouth hangs in a silent scream, both you and Chan flattening into the brush.You tip at the edge of consciousness, bright white pain searing in your gut. The slow drag of his knot past your gspot muddles the agony with ecstasy, body releasing around him almost as if to better lubricate and ease it in. A sick sense of pride blooms in your chest. Distended with his seed, it’s over. It’s fucking over. As he tenderly licks the wound at your shoulder you sigh. The ground is warm, the ground is where you’ll sleep. Chan is still hunched over you, panting, wolfish ears flattening back down. Cock still pulsing into your walls, knot snug to your cervix. His kisses litter the shell of your ear, your neck, your shoulders. Small apologetic pecks as he rolls you to your side. 

“I’m - I didn’t mean to tell you this way,” overwhelming guilt settles in Chan’s brain, replacing the wolf that curls to rest at the back of his mind, happily swaddled. “I didn’t. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t- it didn’t- fuck.”

“I’m cold.”

“I can’t-we can’t move too much but-” Chan wrapped himself over you, guarding you from the air. He’s warm and heavy and sticky and he smells earthy but somehow all of this is comforting. This is Chan. “How long like this?” You mumble sleepily. “Maybe 30, or 40 minutes? I’m…” he drifts off again. Stomach expanding and contracting you can feel his heavy sigh. “Words can’t describe. I can’t- I’m so sorry. I wanted to tell you about me, about my family, about my pack. It feels stupid now. I’m sure you can guess. I tried to use the wolf for good but sometimes. I shouldn’t have agreed-” “Chan shut up.”

“Right.”

In silence you kiss his skin where you can reach. Draped over you as he is. Words are not for tonight. Not for the half wolf breathing into your hair. Not until you are long cleaned up and toweled off. Not until you are out of the woods. No more games. No more pretend. Just you and him.

[wolfjackle-creates]

I'll Carry Your Heart with Me (Until I find You Again): Part 1

I'll be posting parts 1 and 2 right now. The rest should be up later tonight, but I'm gonna be tied up the next five or six hours.

As you can see, we have a title for this fic! (I may drop the parentheses. Been going back and forth on that.)

Summary: Danny and Jason meet shortly after Jason becomes a ghost in the zone and become good friends. This segment will cover their first two meetings.

Word Count: 2k words

----------

Jason sat on the island that appeared around him when he landed in this strange place and stared into the swirling green void. It should have been unsettling, but it felt peaceful. If he closed his eyes, it felt like his dad would be right behind him and Alfred was going to call them in for dinner any minute.

But he was surrounded by silence and all alone.

He screamed just to make a noise and turned away from the void. Behind him a punching bag had appeared. Good. With another yell he went to town on it, practicing all the punches and kicks he’d learned at Batman’s side. Gloves formed over his hands, making him realize his clothes had morphed into his Robin costume.

It just made his punches that much harder.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been going at the bag when he realized some of the yells he was hearing weren’t his own.

“And fuck Chaucer!”

Chaucer? What could that be about? But the ridiculousness of it was enough to pull him from his anger. Robin faded as Jason, literary nerd, took his place. No one dissed Chaucer in his hearing. Where was the yelling coming from?

He flew up and looked around before shaking his head. He wasn’t alive anymore and his sight wasn’t his best sense here. Closing his eyes, he sent out his awareness. This close to his island, he could tell whenever anyone was nearby.

And there they were! Close, but not uncomfortably so which was why he hadn’t noticed sooner. Following the feeling, it didn’t take long to find a boy with a backpack on shouting and throwing what looked like green fire at pieces of paper.

“Oi!” he called. “Who’re you to diss Chaucer near my lair?”

“Well maybe if he would just make fucking sense, I wouldn’t have to diss him!” The boy’s hands still glowed green, and Jason fell into a defensive position.

“He does make sense! Not his fault if you’re too dense to know it.” Jason cautiously moved closer, keeping a close eye on the boy’s posture to prepare for an attack. People in this world loved to fight, but while the kid remained wary, he didn’t move to attack. As soon as Jason was close enough, he grabbed one of the papers out of the air.

It felt weird. Both more and less solid that normal paper. Where had this come from? He took his eyes off the boy to skim the paper. It was a page from an exam? Completely covered in red ink. Well-deserved red ink, too.

“Are these your answers?” Jason couldn’t help but look up with a raised eyebrow. “You really don’t understand Chaucer, do you?”

“It’s not my fault I don’t have time to study!” complained the boy. He drew up his knees and covered his face with his no-longer-glowing hands. “I’m so tired and it doesn’t make sense and Lancer doesn’t care.”

“Tired? But we’re dead. We don’t need to sleep. I didn’t even know there was a school for ghosts. Where is it? Is it any good?”

The boy pulled his hands away and looked at him with furrowed brows. “You, you don’t know who I am?”

Jason bristled and stood a little taller. “Should I?” he asked. Maybe he should venture out from his lair more. He just felt so uncomfortable anytime he left that he hadn’t bothered. What if someone came and tried to take it from him and he wasn’t there to protect it?

“No! It’s just… Everyone I’ve met has already learned about me from somewhere.” A ring of light surrounded his waist and passed over his body, leaving a living human in his place. Instinctively, Jason raised his hands again and flared his core in warning, but the boy raised his hands and sent out no-harm, peace pulses. “I’m Danny. The halfa. Half-dead, half-alive. Half-ghost, half-human.”

“How…?” Jason didn’t even know how to finish his sentence and let it trail unfinished. Though, he had seen people come back to life when he was Robin. So, maybe it did make sense.

Danny shrugged. “My parents are scientists studying ghosts. They built a portal to the zone and because I was stupid, it turned on while I was inside. Thousands of volts of electricity and ectoplasm killed and revived me at the same time.”

“That’s why the paper feels weird…” Jason grabbed one of them again and ran his fingers along it. “It’s from Earth.”

“Yep. My latest failed English test. I just don’t have the time to read the books. And when I do, I don’t see the same things Mr. Lancer swears are there! Or I don’t understand them.” Danny sighed and rubbed his face again. “I hate it. I was a straight A student before I died.”

Jason looked between the paper and the boy. “Why has it been so much harder since you died?”

“So many other ghosts are trying to get through the portal to spend time on Earth. And when they do, they hurt people or cause property damage or try and hunt me for sport. I have to stop them. Even if it’s the middle of the night or during class.”

“Oh, you’re a superhero. I was a hero, too, before I died.” He let his Robin uniform replace the civilian clothes and grinned at Danny. “I’m Jason. I’d say nice to meet you, but I can’t like anyone who disses Chaucer.”

“Why do you like him so much?”

“Do you have the book with you?” asked Jason, nodding his head at Danny’s backpack.

Danny shrugged it off and pulled out a book. “Yeah, why?”

“C’mon. I’ll show you.” He turned and headed back to his lair, gesturing for Danny to follow him. On his island was a building, the outside rather plain, like any run down apartment building in Gotham. But the door led directly to Alfred’s kitchen in the manor. He held it open and waved Danny through.

The boy, still in human form, looked around curiously. “You know, no one’s ever let me come to their island before. Or enter their door.”

Jason shrugged. “Well, I need to prove you wrong about Chaucer and no reason we can’t be comfortable as we do. And if I change your mind, then we can be friends!”

“And if you don’t change my mind?”

“I take you outside and we fight it out like proper ghosts.” Jason grinned. “It’ll be fun.”

Danny laughed. “All right, do your best.”

“So, the page I saw was full of questions on the Wife of Bath and her prologue and tale, so we’ll start there. To really understand her, you have to know what women dealt with in the fourteenth century…”

-----

Jason tried not to worry when Danny didn’t come back right away despite promising to return for more English tutoring. Jason also planned to help him figure out how to balance a civilian and hero life. He looked over the lesson plans for both English and martial arts training that he’d made for the hundredth time.

He was going to start with how to safely fall. Just as Dick had taught him back when Bruce first brought him home. Was Dick happy that he had Bruce to himself again now that Jason was gone? Shaking his head to dispel the thoughts, he looked around for something to distract himself. Bread. He could make bread. Alfred taught him how and kneading was excellent stress relief.

He’d just finished kneading and set the dough in a covered bowl to proof when he felt the unmistakable shiver that meant someone was coming close to his haunt. His Robin uniform replaced jeans and a t-shirt as he flew out the kitchen towards the intruder.

Only to laugh and relax when he saw Danny.

“So, the halfa returns! I was starting to think you didn’t like me.” Jason said it with a grin to prove it was a joke, even as something in his core relaxed.

“Sorry, life’s been hectic. Do you know Skulker? He got through the portal again and it took me three days to get him contained. And as soon as I did, Technus was out. And then my parents built a new defense system for the house that I had to dismantle before it could kill me. Again.”

“Woah, woah, wait. What was that last one?”

Danny paused. “Did I not tell you about my parents?”

“Not really. Just that they study ghosts.”

“Hunt, more like. They build ghost weapons to destroy ghosts. It’s why I haven’t told them about me. They’d accept me, I’m sure of it. But… then they talk about how they’d like to rip a ghost molecule-by-molecule and I can’t get the words out.”

Jason let out a low whistle. “And I thought I won the lottery for terrible birth parents. But at least I had Bruce and Alfred. You should contact the Justice League, get help. I can tell you how.”

But Danny just waved a hand in the air. “A year and a half ago, I would’ve jumped at the offer. But I’ve got it under control now. And I don’t want anyone with powers in Amity. What if they get overshadowed? Then I’d be fighting someone with both meta abilities and ghost abilities.”

“Overshadowed?” Jason wasn’t sure he’d heard the term before.

“You know, when you take over a human’s body and control it.”

Jason blinked. “We can do that?”

“You… didn’t know? How long have you been a ghost?”

Jason tried to consider. It was impossible to tell time in the Realms. The area off his island was always the same swirling green with no sun or moon in sight. And he wasn’t sure how long it had taken to gain consciousness after dying. He didn’t think it was immediate. “I’m… not sure. I died December 1st XX. What’s the date on Earth now?”

“So recently? I’ve never met such a young ghost before. Its only been a few weeks. Today’s the twentieth.”

That wasn’t possible. Jason shook his head. “No, that can’t be. I know I’ve been here longer than that. I know how long it takes me to read a book and how many I’ve read.”

“Time in the zone can be a bit wonky.” Danny clasped Jason’s arm. The gesture made him flinch, though he knew it was supposed to be comforting. Danny’s arms fell to his side again. “Sorry.”

Needing to change the subject, Jason asked, “So overshadowing, huh? What else can ghosts do?”

The grin Danny gave him convinced him he had the right idea. “Oh, you have no idea. How about instead of whatever you were going to show me, I teach you to fight like a ghost?”

Jason got an overwhelming feeling of fun-excitement-mischief that weren’t his own and his eyes widened. “Can I sense your emotions? Is that another ghost thing?”

Danny laughed and it was filled with so much enjoyment that Jason couldn’t even be offended. “Dude, you really don’t know anything. We can project emotions to other ghosts. It’s easy. Think something at me.”

Jason bit his lip as he considered what to do. His eyes lit up and he tapped Danny on the nose as he thought hard game-tag-play-fun before flying away as fast as he could.

Danny shouted after him, “You are so not getting away from me!”

As expected, Danny used the game to show him all the cool things ghosts could do. He could shoot energy beams now! Just like Kori! Or, well he would be just like her once he got a bit better at controlling them.

After who knows how long, they ended up lying on their backs on the grass, exhausted from the exertion. Jason wasn’t even sure who was It anymore.

It had been the most fun he'd had in longer than he cared to remember.

----------

Next

Have all the fluff. I love them so much.

Not much of a tag list yet since this is so new, but I can add more on if you'd like.

@britcision, @echoednonny

[crimeronan]

hey what is wwaitsoatl?

oh! it's what we are is the sum of a thousand lies, my most popular toh fic by FAR and the thing most toh people here started following me for. back before i got sucked down the princess luz hyperfixation rabbit hole. it's a fic that takes more work to write than any of my others because it has an incredibly involved drafting & editing process. bc i am a perfectionist.

the premise is a canon divergent timeline wherein belos suspects that hunter lied to him at the end of hunting palismen. and completely wrecks hunter's shit forever. and infects him with curse goop in the process. and darius (who, Very Importantly, does not yet have a friendly rapport with hunter) trips over the kid's half-dead body.

and freaks.

and kidnaps hunter n takes him to the owl house. bc that's the one surefire place of refuge on the isles.

there are a bunch of emotional threads, hence why it's novel-length and not even finished yet despite being about just four characters chilling in a house together.

mainly it's about:

hunter unraveling his cognitive dissonance and cult brainwashing in an AU where he doesn't have all of hollow mind's answers; his feelings are Incredibly complicated and messy & he gets incredibly mean and snarly about it

darius grappling with the fact that his own grief and resentment blinded him to a kid who Very Much Needed Him, darius dealing with the fact that actually he never DID grieve his mentor or his mentor's dead family

darius and hunter developing a rapport in a timeline where hunter very much has Not broken out of all the cop shit that darius disdains So Much. so darius is so fucking exasperated and tired all the time

eda trying desperately to help hunter learn to live with a curse / chronic pain / chronic illness, while having very little faith in herself to begin with

luz feeling Horrifically guilty about hunter's curse and injuries, bc she thinks she should have clocked the abuse and brought him home with her or otherwise stopped it

hunter developing an almost immediate and pathological emotional attachment to luz because of her kindness, which complicates all of his complicated feelings WAAAAAY MORE

eda, darius, AND luz all desperately trying to get hunter to admit that he's been abused and that what happened wasn't his fault. you would not believe how fucking long it takes.

i'm actually really, really, Really proud of it -- it's rare for one of a writer's best works to be their most popular, but this genuinely is one of mine. if not my best work, period. there's a lot of nuance and messiness and emotional complexity and grief and arguing that i'm SO happy with.

also, despite the subject matter, it's often extremely lighthearted. some of the funniest dialogue i've ever written is strewn throughout all these serious emotional threads.

i'd apologize for how long this response is but this story is a heart project and has 67,000 published words on ao3 so far. (the chapter i'm writing rn will likely be another ~8,000 words, then there are a couple more chapters to come.) so there's a lot to say!!

it's my most popular ao3 fic for any fandom, ever, in the 12 years i've been on the site. the response has been WILD. if you sort by kudos, it's the 31st most favorited owl house fic Of All Time, the 7th most popular fic involving darius, and the 5TH most popular hunter & luz relationship fic. again, of all time. which is. insane.

people have been very kind and patient with me having been too sick to work on it for a while. there was a seven-month break between chapters 8 and 9, and if i finish chapter ten soon then there'll have been a nine-month break between chapters 9 and 10. so i don't know how many people are actually going to come back to read it, a lot of ppl have moved on from the fandom and such. but i'm extremely extremely extremely grateful to everyone who's given it a look!

[sanityshorror]

I know Killian is protective of children, but is he the only member of the Hellcrew who is? (I'm sorry if this has been answered at some point, I'm new here. All I know is that Julius hates kids, Seamus doesn't care, Lucien... *gestures vaguely*, most of the group hates Lucien, and Seraphina won't kill anyone younger than 18)

Killian is protective of young kids yeah but he's kinda an ass to teenagers lol. Not like in a way where he's going to intentionally harm them but he'll go back and forth bickering, and if a teenager tries him he will knock them on their ass and tell them they learned the hard way. 😭 Just because Killian is protective of young children and never targets anyone under 18, that isn't to say Killian is good with kids. He has no idea what the hell he's doing and not even close to father material.

Shockingly...Cian is really the only one in Hellcrew that is actually really good with children and was also a wonderful father at that. He had a... Very much less than ideal upbringing. Traumatic childhood in Ireland, then his adolescence was spent being raised by Killian so... It manifested for Cian in a way where he became very dead set on being the father to his children that he wished could have raised him from birth. I'm not saying he actually ever was this perfect father, not by a long shot and like every single parent, he has his faults and fuck ups. But ultimately he was a good father, and he really enjoyed every second of raising his kids. Cian had all his children when he was a human, causing them to all be mortal, so once he became immortal it was difficult for him to come to terms with watching them all grow old and die - meanwhile he's 31 and never aging another day. There are a few reasons why Cian is extremely unlikely to ever have children again and why it's unrealistic - including Dev having no interest in being a father. But yeah, Cian is the only one I can safely say that if you leave a baby or child alone with, the biggest risk you run is him deciding "this is my kid now." 😭

Neither Sullivan nor Octavian hate kids but...

Sullivan is kinda grossed out and annoyed by babies and kids (example: "ewwww, it's pooping!!!" "Ewwww, why are it's hands all sticky and grimey?!!?!" "Ugh, WHY WON'T IT SHUT UP???!!!"). They had younger siblings, all of which were quite a bit younger than they were. Sullivan was jealous of their siblings taking away all of their mother's attention from them (Sullivan and their mother were extremely close) and did not enjoy being made to help (Sullivan was 13 and 15 years old when their two younger siblings were born).

Octavian raised his 3 siblings and honestly it took everything out of him. Not to mention he's still very immature mentally and not at all responsible, and he's extremely impulsive with horrid judgement. He's also not particularly good with kids and is a horrific influence without intending to be. Octavian is much more of a 'cool uncle' type of person lol. I can see Octavian having the random impulse to adopt a kid but thankfully Sullivan has more than enough brain cells to stop Octavian from following through with his 3am plan formed purely by mania and cocaine. 😭

Everyone else is just an absolute big fat N O P E.

[allthatmay]

how u charactirize the relationship between garp & ace? i personally think theyre quite complicated cause they love each other to the end of the world but also ace needs the touch of someone who is gentle enough to not break the fragile inside of his shell, which is something garp is just NOT dealing with. its a vicious circle where ace believes its his own fault for being so difficult while garp feels frustrated as he watches his grandson dig deeper into the hole.

this has been a bit of a ramble ... my apologies.

No, please, I love rambles! Rambling together is literally one of my top communication methods!

Right, so, I love Garp. He's such a shithead, but that's exactly what he's supposed to be. I mean, in the grand scheme of things, he's the reformist who can't stomach admitting that the entire system is flawed. Up close, he's a 'tough love, pull yourself up by your bootstraps, this is the way the world works' kind of guy, but he has to be like that precisely because he's a reformist. If he weren't like that—if he ever elected to wake up and smell the government-sanctioned genocide—his entire world would collapse, and he would have to face all the monumental, misguided fuck-ups he's made. If he's not a good man who has always tried his best for the sake of justice (however cruel that justice may be), then he's just a coward whose inaction (and sometimes direct action) has actively hurt his own family, and he can't face that.

Garp's relationships with Luffy and Ace reflect his thinking so clearly, but especially with Ace. Ace is a symbol of everything that goes against the system Garp is upholding, but he's also a victim of that system; it's more convenient for Garp to sequester him away and tell himself everything will be fine than it is to admit that Ace needs more. In my eyes, Garp absolutely loves Ace—in fact, I think his handling of Ace is so poor because of how much he loves him; Garp and Roger were friends, and Ace is his legacy.

Like you say, it's absolutely a viscous cycle between them. Garp, having all these complicated feelings, tries to prepare Ace for the people who will undoubtedly have similar feelings. Ace, a young boy who already feels like he doesn't fit in the world (no thanks to his unconventional upbringing), spirals every time Garp refuses to step up for him. I think a part of Garp hopes he can scare Ace into joining the Marines but, of course, he does the exact opposite.

As for Ace, he definitely loves Garp, and that's why I think Garp really did a number on him. Of course, Ace has Dadan, but she isn't a great parental figure. (Don't get me wrong, I love her and I know she loves Ace, but she's more like that cool, older babysitter that doesn't give it a shit what the kids do, as long as they're not dead.) Garp is the one who's supposed to be looking after Ace, and Ace knows that. He sees the lack of effort and care, and the way Garp can't really look at him. I bet Garp's infrequent comings and goings were harder for Ace to bear than simply being left alone.

This isn't even acknowledging that Garp's treatment of Ace isn't just neglectful, but absolutely callous. Telling a young boy that "only time will tell if he deserves to live" isn't just fatalistic, it's fatal. Ace takes this message to mean, "No actions I can take will have a bearing on the worth of my life," so he's robbed of his hope, of his desire to live; he thinks everything is pre-determined by the people around him, even his identity.

(Yet Ace goes about his life with utter patience and kindness anyway because he knows what it's like to go without them and he's desperate for love. God fucking damn it, Garp. You broke the boy.)

Anyway, I could go on, but I've said enough. Geez, now I'm the one apologising for rambling so much! Sorry! ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

PS. I know I said in another ask that my favourite characters were Ace, Luffy, Shanks, Mihawk, and Robin, but... I think Garp is up there, actually. Then again, so are Jinbe and Law and Kuma, so, really, I'm just full of shit.

[idontknowmyownmind]

Just randomly remember threads I read on Twitter long time ago, so my memories are vague at best

It's a combination of more than two threads

The idea is, twin krs and cale used to be so close but since the arrival of violan and basen, they become distant

Different from cale who choose to be the 'bad', roksu actually try to be close with his new family members

Cale and roksu share bed, but since then cale told him that he doesn't want to again

Roksu comply because he can't really reject cale even though it's make him sad

Cale can only watch from afar how his twin play with basen with their parents watching

Making a perfect picture of family without him

He miss his twin dearly but he know that it's his own fault and consequence of his choice

Cale went to sleep, ignoring the aches of his heart

The next morning, hans found cale laying in the middle of blood soaked bed with dagger still stabbed in his heart

The dagger has arm symbol but no one know that beside the molans

Let's say that ws mistake cale for roksu, someone in the 'oracle' who is said will end him

Hans immediately check whether cale still alive while shouting for someone to come

A maid stood frozen for too long hans has to slap her and tell her to get the count

She frantically run toward the dinning room and inform everyone

She only manage to says, "young master cale.. blood.." before roksu bolt toward his twin room

His eyes shaking and his breath ragged but he keep running

When he arrived, he feel like the world stop and his world started to crumble

Hans, despite crying, try to get rid of the bloody sheet while calling cale

Roksu stumble toward his twin, calling him deperately

But it's too late

Cale is gone

Roksu, drown in guilt and sorrow, refuse to burried his twin

Treat him as if he still alive

Keep him locked in a room far from everyone, deep inside the mansion

He keep cale's body 'healthy' with magic

He is trully spiralling into insanity, obssessing over his twin body and refusing to believe that he is dead

He will dress cale up, doing his hair, cuddle with him, and tell him stories or his daily life

He forbid anyone to enter the chamber he keep cale

The only one allowed to enter beside him is only hans and the molans, he even forbid his family

His irrational mind blame them, blame his father who neglect them, blame violan and basen for coming here, but mostly blame himself for leaving his twin alone

He also become obssesses with arm, wanting to razzed them to the ground, leaving no one acquainted with them alive

The events still happen like lcf but with darker and more insane and crueler roksu

He show no mercy toward his enemies

His people both respect and fear him

Once, the kids accidently enter cale's chamber and that's the first time roksu look at them with wild and harsh eyes and spoke to them coldly

He ignore them for a week, locking himself inside with his twin

And that's when his people found out about the event from the past through the molans

Rosalyne once try to talk roksu out of his madness but almost got killed in his rage if not for choi han stopping roksu

It wasn't something that could be touched anymore because it was already rooted in roksu's heart, mind and soul

From then on, no one ever bring it up again

Hmmm.. some ideas how I want to continue this

First,

Roksu find a way to wake cale up

Make him more of an empty vessel, a soulless puppet than anything

But roksu doesn't care, at least cale is awake and moving

Roksu stick close to him

Hugging him on his laps while he caressing his hair lovingly

Sleeping on cale's lap while he comb his hair gently with his fingers

Cale face eerily blank, his eyes like those of glass, he never talk and only react to roksu

Second

A cale from another worldline, where he still very much alive, accidently got transported into this fuck up worldline

He doesn't know that he is in a completely different world and think he still inside his world

Walk back to henituse teritory, ignoring the weird and shocked gaze from thw citizen because he think it's must be because he is a trash anyway

When he arrived, he weird out with how everyone acting and he kinda feels scared seeing his twin gaze him intently with those dark eyes

When Eruhaben want to tell him that he is in different world, after they 'interrogated' him, roksu immediately take cale with him

With his glibe tongue, he convinced cale that everyone just being weird and he doesn't need to worried about anything

Send a silent warning to everyone that no one will not tell this cale the truth or else

A week passed by and it's the first time (after a long time for the henituse and staffs) they see roksu to look actually geniunely happy

It's a twisted situation but they can't do anything it might trigger roksu

He never leave cale's side, when cale complaint he manipulate his way and guilt trip cale to let him

Then roksu from cale original worldline also sent there after he threatening GoD

GoD warning him about this world other him, roksu doesn't think much thinking that they're not that different

Oh boy, he is so surprised when he witness it with his eyes

His possessive side (he always possessive over his people, especially his twin) can't acccept it

[Or for more darker situation, this cale's roksu is also equally obssesses and possessive toward him]

[And for darker result, this cale is killed by roksu because he can't accept that there is him who still get to have his twin alive while he can't. If he can't have his twin beside him, then no other him should]

Third

Roksu transported to tboah world when cale just started his trash endeavor

Manipulate his way to be accepted into the family through cale

He is the image of a perfect, loving, and caring brother toward cale

Everyone like him

But the henituse feels something off with him, but they just brush it off because as fast as it come, it's gone when roksu smile at them

The molans know something is not right with their young master's twin brother from another world

With the way he stick close to cale, subtly monitor him and 'move' him as he want

But they can't do much more than keep watching and make sure that their your master is safe

Roksu slowly isolate cale from anyone, make him believe that no one truly there for him but him

He orchestrated that cale will getting beat up by choi han, but not to severe, and manipulate the molans to leave with choi han

He then twisted the story and sealed cale fate with him

The GoD actually bothering roksu to get back to his world but he refuse

GoD even use his real twin as a bait but he still refuse, he know that the molans and hans from his world will take care of his cale, they know better than neglect him

Maybe he can keep both cales

Always thinking about some reaction verse

Earth 1, st, lcf, and this alter tboah react

Of course the first three world confuse and shocked at first but not think much

The cales and roksoos can't get rid of wrongness from roksu but just brush it off

Alter tboah getting unsummoned and the other three react to roksu...

Alternate

Roksu let cale get burried

But he started to hallucinate that cale still alive and here

He doesn't tell anyone because he doesn't want to share

It's worsen as time goes by

....what if the hallucination is not actually hallucination

[samgirl98]

Mending a Family 4/?

Prev | Next

TW: Mention of Suicidal thoughts

Short little hurt/ comfort as Jason's and Danny's family circle grows by three

Jason and Roy watched as Lian and Danny played with Raven.

It was a warm summer day, so Jason made sweet tea to cool them down. It had been three days since Roy had found Jason, and he couldn’t help but want to hang out with the kid. It helped that they both had a child that could play with each other.

Besides, Danny needed to interact with people his age.

“So, what’s with the red hair?”

“Had to make sure the bats had a hard time finding me, so I dyed my hair.”

“Okay, but why red? It doesn’t suit you.”

Jason rolled his eyes, “You think I care what does or doesn’t look good on me? Besides, I bought the first box I got my hands on.”

“I think you should’ve gone light brown or blond,” Roy said with a hint of laughter in his voice.

“I love how you went for the full ginger look and gave yourself green contact lenses.”

“They aren’t contact lenses.”

“What,” Roy asked, confused.

“They aren’t contact lenses. They’re a side effect of coming back from the dead.”

An awkward silence settled between them. They watched as Raven levitated both children, but Raven was eying both men on the porch. Danny was staring at Roy with a piercing gaze while Lian was oblivious.

“Sorry,” Roy said after a while.

“It’s okay. You didn’t know.”

“Still, I was trying to lighten things up and made shit worse, huh?”

Jason sighed and put down the glass of iced tea. He turned toward Roy.

“You don’t have to make things ‘less awkward.’ You’re here, giving me a chance even after all the shit I’ve pulled. You haven’t run to the Bats and told them where I am and that I have a kid now. Trust me; not many would do that.”

“I would never do that, Jay. Your death almost destroyed me. I was reckless, I was drinking, and I wanted to kill myself via Killer Croc. He sponsored me, y’know, after he figured out my game plan. Besides, I know how it feels like to fear someone will come in and take your kid because you’re a fuck up.”

The laughter of the two children echoed in the forests as both men watched them. Both men felt a lightness as their children played.

“Dick was rarely there when I was younger. I wish I had the brother the other little birds got,” Jason said suddenly. “I have this jealousy eating me up inside, and instead of fighting it so I could have my family again, I fucked up. I’ll never be allowed in their circle again.”

Roy said nothing. He knew Jason had to take this off his chest.

“I was so angry that Bruce had not only replaced me but hadn’t learned his lesson and put another kid in those damned colors. I don’t know if the pit was an excuse I used to do the horrible things or if I was always capable of everything I did, but I regret it.”

Roy saw tears on Jason’s cheeks but didn’t comment.

“Now, Danny will be raised without aunts and uncles, without a grandfather, without cousins. And it’s all my fault.”

Roy put his hand on Jason’s shoulder.

“I don’t know what Dick or the rest of the bats are thinking, but I consider you my little brother, Jason. Lian will be Danny’s cousin, and in the same way, you will be Lian’s uncle, I will be Danny’s. That is, if you are okay with it,” Roy finished, a bit hesitant.

“Yeah,” Raven came up to them as the two children played rock, paper, scissors, “and I will be the cool aunt.”

Jason gave the two Titans a watery smile and hugged them both. Soon both children ran up to their small family and made a dogpile.

Jason had lost a family, but he was rebuilding a new one.

For those that wanted this to be slash or romantic, I'm sorry all of this will be wholly platonic. Not because I don't like slash but because I want to concentrate on the found family aspect, and also I kind of don't have faith in myself in being able to write DC or Danny Phantom Slash yet. Next up, Jazz finally finds Danny.

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