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moxfirefly · 3 years

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I have to thank @southernblossoms for this one, she got evil!Leo in my brain and he hasn’t left ever since.

TW: Violence, Gore, Blood, NSFW content below

Rated Explicit (18+ years)

“She said I'm looking like a bad man, smooth criminal

She said my spirit doesn't move like it did before

She said that I don't look like me no more, no more

I said I'm just tired”

Leonardo always knew there was an inch inside of him that was darkness.

If left alone and unchecked, it would spread. Fester like some disease and he feared that someday he’d allow it to course through his body so freely.

And let it win.

It seemed today would be that unfortunate day. A night like any other, just more bloodshed than necessary. But hey, who said they should go and kill his father? Torture him to such an extent and string up his body for his brothers and him to find.

In that very moment that inch had grown in his soul to a degree that it blinded him. All he knew was to destroy, to hurt and erase those who had done this. He felt so cold, hands cupping his fathers motionless bloodied feet, the gentle tapping of blood and the cries of his brothers echoing in his ears.

So when Leo stood, bloodied (not bathed in his own), holding the head of the monster responsible, how could he regain peace? This had only brought a momentary second of reprieve and it was so fleeting. He looked into Shredder’s lifeless eyes, numbness spreading but a need that had started out as an inch. A need to kill everyone who had been part of this, directly or indirectly.

They all deserved so much worse.

They all deserved death.

Slow and torturous.

He had disappeared after that night. His brothers knew that this was the end of their leader, of their beloved brother who wanted to believe that good in this world could prevail.

For them they never imagined that Leo would just let the darkness take hold of him, nestle him with such a loving embrace. For him to embrace it right back felt justified, for his brothers it painted the gory picture of things to come.

They never expected to meet him in the opposition. To view him as foe and not family. Leonardo had quickly taken hold of the scum of the earth. He had molded the darkness to serve him.

Raphael thought Shredder was their worst enemy.

He never expected to have Leo claim that spot in a matter of months.

The Foot had fallen under his ruling, and he wasted no time in setting examples, and the bloody path those examples left behind never seized to churn the brothers stomachs.

There was no means of bringing him back, and perhaps it’s for the better.

Because whatever has eaten away inside of Leonardo cannot simply be flushed out of his body, nor ripped from his very soul. The body counts too high by now as he strays further and further away from what he was taught.

From what his father taught him...

_______________

You run with the unsavories. An eat or be eaten mentality that has caused you to survive years and years of gang wars and mutant freaks. Not like you’d throw about that last bit, much less when you’re standing single file, close to pissing yourself because he’s there.

And Christ he’s a sight to behold.

A rumor, a legend, a monster.

You tell him you’ve got valuable info, you know where to follow the trail that’ll lead to success. Even when your partner tries to push his chin up in front of Leonardo, you’re already wincing at what his demise will be shaped in.

Leo really loves cutting heads off.

A strong emphasis on loves.

You swallow, eyes flying anywhere but the rapidly growing puddle of blood that approaches your feet. Even then, your eyes stray towards the newest leader of the Foot, Leo punctures his katana into the head, a crude skewer as he lifts it and examines the severed body part as if answers lie in the gush of blood that falls. Those dark blue eyes move on you, you swallow.

He walks over to you, blade in hand, blood tap tapping onto the ground “Your information” Leo’s voice is weightless, bored almost. You motion towards your pocket, the crumpled up note with a poorly drawn map the key to your salvation. Leo reaches his hand in and you’re still, stiff and frightened by the intrusive touch and his proximity.

He pulls the note out and examines, the ghastly expression of horror on the decapitated head so close you can smell the coppery scent. “Can you get more of this? The coordinantes?” You crane your neck to look at him, his stature imposing. “Yeah, I’m your girl for that shit, swear on it” He flicks the blade and the sound of the head rolling makes your stomach flip flop along with it.

You feel the tip of a bloodied katana on your chin.

“Don’t make me cut off such a pretty head, hm?” You want to nod but the blade digs and Leo’s mouth twitches in something akin to a smirk. The small cut to your chin stings, but you wonder why other parts of you vibrate.

The danger, the adrenaline, Leonardo.

_____________

Your next meeting doesn’t quell your nervousness. Leonardo is an impressive sight as always and it’s imposible to ignore that maybe you won’t make it out alive every time you both meet. Unless proven useful, which you take to heart. You bring all sorts of information, names, rumors, possible gangs wanting to take him on, the police. Any word you heard in regards to him.

“It’s possible they might try to meet you half way, catch you off guard” The warehouse is chilly, that fall weather starting to hit but Leo’s unfazed, the black tails of his mask move with the gust of winds. “Stupid of them to assume that” The second floor of the warehouse seems to be his own, leaving the rest of the crew bellow. He sits on the windowsill, cloth running up his katana, it had been bloody when you were brought in.

“I’m just repeating what I heard, I’m sure you’re more than adept to take them on” You stick your hands in the pockets of your jacket, you’d been frisked not like you were stupid enough to bring a weapon to this.

But then again, the more he polished that sword, the more you wished you had something.

“What else have you heard? Any word on Karai?” The woman in question had appeared to have disappeared into thin air after Shredder’s death and Leo taking command of the Foot soldiers. Wether she planned to reclaim what was hers or if she had simply quit was beyond you and anybody else. “Nothing on her, she might’ve skipped town or the country” You offered, eyes following the sword as Leo placed it on a nearby table.

“She strike you as the type? A coward?” He walked over towards you, his expression so eerily unreadable.

Yet, your eyes wandered over him. Over muscle and scales. Overs scars and bruises. That illogical part of your brain making you wonder and fantasize, because fear could be exciting.

There was something exciting about Leonardo.

“Well?” He was in front of you, looking down at you. It hits you how minuscule you must look to him.

“Probably plotting? You did murder her dad” You find his eyes, you swallow.

“Well he murdered mine. Eye for an eye...” He spoke gently almost.

“Makes the whole world go blind” You finished for him, and maybe that was stepping on a line but you noticed the corner of his mouth twitch up. For a brief second you catch his eyes scan yours, move across your face and settle at your lips.

Passed your neck, towards your breasts.

He turns around and grabs his sword.

“One week, find more info on her, your pay is downstairs” You’re dismissed and before you process anything a Foot soldier is ushering you downstairs and shoving an envelope in your hands.

That night you dream about what your lips might feel like against reptilian scales.

—————————

Karai’s whereabouts are practically unheard off. If there was a trail it had run cold months back and judging from the word of mouth being passed around there wasn’t anything sustainable. You dig up anything and everybody. Every dirt bag with an agenda, ex Foot soldiers, opposing gangs, the mob and just about anybody you have in your radar.

It yields nothing.

You can’t return to Leo with nothing.

Rubbing a hand across your tired face, you make your way through the back alleys of the city. Your one week was coming up and all you had were weak possibilities and baseless assumptions. In your line of business enough information to create doubt can go a long way, but this was conspiracy levels bad.

So you thought and you thought quick.

Pulling out your phone you called him first. Perhaps a dumb move but at the same time you figured it showed that you were trying. You asked if the two of you could meet, the line briefly went quiet before your text tone startled you. He hung up and you were met with the address of a building in Brooklyn and to go up to the roof.

To say you were scared was to put it lightly.

You were shitting yourself.

The roof of the building had a green house which seemed unused but it looked like it was being kept up with the vegetation still green and alive. Your hand made for the door knob but something you could only name as a sixth sense made you freeze.

Leo was there, the shift in the atmosphere was impossible to deny. Your turned and blinked.

Wherever he had been, it must’ve been worse. There was blood on him, a fresh gash by his arm and the steady drip drip of blood hitting the concrete. “Jesus are you...?” You knew he was ok, but whomever had been on the receiving end of this had it by far much worse.

“Inside, go inside” He motioned for the green house and you did. Your eyes scanned around hoping to find something to help with. There was a nest of sorts in a corner, several blankets and cushions, a table and a chair amidst the plants. You found what you were looking for near the bonsais, a shelf with a box of first aid. Leo went towards a counter with a basin and a jar of water, he went about cleaning the gash on his arm.

You approached him with the box of first aid, blue eyes were cautious as you took out antiseptic and gauze. Leo had turned to face you, giving you more room to work on his arm as you bandaged it. “You alright?” Your voice held hesitation, Leo’s questioning gaze turned to amusement. “I’m fine, what I want to know is why you wanted to meet” You finished bandaging him and took a step back.

Pick your words wisely, you thought with a slight shutter.

“Listen I’ve spoken with any and everyone who might have any clue but Karai is off the radar”Swallowing a lump in your throat you shrugged off your jacket, worry manifesting in heat. “I know this isn’t what you wanted and I’m really fucking good at my job but this bitch is either underground or who knows! Dead for all I know!” The exasperation and worry was clear as day, he either took this the right way or the wrong way.

Wrong way being you end up pushed off this very building, at best ironically enough.

Leo swallowed the information, clearly bouncing it around his head. The dry specks of blood scattered across his green flesh. An odd silence fell amongst you both and even when he rose in all his imposing glory you kept your eyes focused on him. Getting a read on that cold calculated gaze of his was hard enough.

Your throat feels painfully dry once he has you backed up against the wall. Something about dying alone with not even an audience to witness it didn’t sit too right with you.

But then again, Leo’s large hand gripped your neck, nothing too tight but enough to alert you to its presence. Those blue eyes looked haunted but just beneath that laid something you couldn’t just place your finger on. The tips of his fingers lightly caressed you, one of them fascinated with your quickened pulse. You can’t blink, unsure what may happen and when he dips down your adrenaline makes you flinch.

Leo halts his movement, his blood feels like it’s pumping loudly enough for you to hear. Wide eyed you lean up instead and ghost your lips against his, Leo sighs through his nostrils and it stays that way. A pull but not enough of a push because there’s still fear in your blood and a hesitation that you can’t put a name to from Leonardo.

Your phone going off startles you, nearly making you jump out of your skin and to a fraction of your dismay Leo takes a step away. One of your contacts name flashed on the screen which meant there could still be some good news. Your turned away to speak, pulling a marker from your pocket you write down some information on your forearm. It’s a quick conversation and once done you turn to see Leo putting together his gear again.

You bit your lip, whatever was about to happen would just have to take a back seat. ‘Fucking coward’ you can’t help but think about yourself.

“One of my guys says he might have it on good authority that Karai is still here” You watch him turn his head to listen, even if he’s got his back/shell to you. “Well?” He pushes while adjusting his swords.

“He says she might’ve just met up with...with one of your brothers” Tense doesn’t even begin to explain what his body did, the mear mention of his family was a sore subject and you had been warned to not even attempt to open that can of worms. Swallowing and feeling your throat stick from how dry it felt you see him pull out a key and toss it to you. “Send me that address, you’ll get your money at the warehouse” You barely manage to catch the key to the greenhouse, but still you raise a brow at the offering.

“Come back here when you’re ready” Is all he says about it, confusion is painted on your face but when he moved to leave he takes a moment to hold your chin. “Don’t make me regret this” He says and before you can attempt to ask he’s gone.

You stay there, twenty minutes or so in nothing but your thoughts and his words swimming around your mind.

Feeling heat between your legs and a lick of frustration consuming you.

_____________

Two weeks you contemplate the key in your pocket.

Two weeks you let your thumb hover over his number but never press down.

For two weeks you find your pillow between your legs, trying to reach the sensation he managed with just his body close to yours.

But nothing.

It’s not enough.

New York is covered in rain as you make your way through the sea of people. Regardless of the many umbrellas you still get soaked and by the time you’re up on that roof, hand digging out the key to the green house you’re drenched.

Inside you shake off the excess and remove your jacket. The cold hits you and you can’t help but feel silly that you’re here, maybe this is his way of taking you out, you’re not needed anymore by now you assume.

You turn on the few lanterns that are scattered through the room. Kicking off your boots you rub your arms and shiver, flesh breaking out into goosebumps as the door creaks open once more.

Leo’s equally drenched when he steps through, the black tails of his mask sticking to him. The two of you just stare at one another, steady drips of water and the rain outside picking up more strengh.

Carefully you watch him begin take apart his gear, leaving his katanas by the door. He’s trying to keep your apprehension at low levels, his steps slow and soft. You let your arms fall to your sides and as your heart tries to hammer out of your chest you don’t flinch this time, even as his hands go for the hem of your long sleeve. You take a deep breath as his eyes wander across your now exposed flesh. The fascination goes straight to your core, feeling yourself warm up as his hands rest on your stomach.

With trembling hands you unbutton your jeans and step out of them and the inhale Leo takes as he closes his eyes makes you reach for him. He holds you against him and sighs, large frame shuddering at the feel of your skin against his reptilian one. He buries his snout against your neck, breathing harder as his hands run all over your back and rear. Leo grips and kneads the flesh and a groan escapes against your ear that makes your wrap your arms around his neck. He feels the softness of your breasts against his chest, he’d be a liar if he said he hadn’t been dreaming about them for months now.

You can’t wrap your head around it but he feels just as you fantasized about him. The roughness of his flesh, the edges of his shell and god his teeth nip at your neck with a growl. Wiggling out of his hold you start to undo whatever else needs to be taken off and Leo can’t help but smirk at your frenzied movements. He allows you to undress him, he’s gutted when your hands land on his waist as you start to kneel before him.

“No, no, kiss me first” He cups your face and presses his mouth against yours and that’s it, you’re done for, you’re hooked and can’t go back now. His kiss is possessive, forceful and it drowns every thought in your brain.

You pressed against one of the tables with the many Bonsais when Leo’a tongue slithers into your awaiting mouth. He sits you down on the table and nudges your legs apart to fit himself in between them, you crane your neck up losing yourself in his kiss. He can taste rain water, feels the sweat and rain mingle on your skin. God he wants to run his tongue all over you, eat you whole if he could.

It feels like forever when he pulls away, reluctance in his body. Blue eyes search into your e/c eyes, he wants to see something maybe your fear so he denies himself falling into this rabbit hole. Your hands press against his plastron and gently you run your nails down the hard plates, you shake your head fascinated by the texture. He’s rough but strong, a marvel of a species.

With some difficulty you managed to push your underwear off and spread yourself again for his viewing pleasure. “I want you,” You nodded, eyes falling to the hard length between his legs. Leo wraps a large hand around it and pumps slowly, body shivering at the sensation. “God I fucking want you so bad” You feel him come back to you, mouth on yours in yet another harsh kiss.

The tip of his cock nudges against your wet heat and he bites your lip at the sensation. Leo pushes into you so frustratingly slow, even as his girth stretches you to a point you’ve never been before. You want him inside of you now, and Leo couldn’t agree more. He bottoms out inside of you with a lengthy groan, head thrown back in ecstasy. “You feel... so fucking good” He growls out through gritted teeth, hips picking up speed as you wantonly take him in. You press your lips to his chest and moan with each slow but pronounced thrust of his hips.

His hand finds itself at the back of your head, grabbing fistfuls of your hair to keep your gaze on his. The slight tug burns so good and you can’t help but keep your pleasure filled gaze on his own. Lips parted you let him rock into you steadily until his thrust start to slam into you. The sensation spreads all over your body, little shocks of pleasure rocking your body.

“Mine, you’re going to be mine and only mine” He voices lowly, a threat laced in his passion. You’re too far gone to speak, nodding aimlessly at his every word, moans falling from your lips. “Nobody will own you like I do, nobody will touch you, Y/N? You understand? I’m making you mine” He pressed his forehead to yours, lost in this feeling.

“Fuck yes, yours, I’m gonna be all yours” You lick his lips and when he reaches a hand between both your bodies your mind goes blank. A vicious shudder overtakes you as you muffle a scream against his jaw. He fills you up so good and so warm with a strange vibration that sounds like an endless growl. Each rope he pumps into you making his eyes roll back. You’re shattered against, limp and raw throat from the scream that leaves your mouth.

He watches your come down, hand against your cheek, thumb running across your lips. When he pulls out just enough to watch his essence cascade out of your pretty little hole, he pumps himself back into you. His eyes say it all, from here on out whatever your life was up to this point is over and done with. Leo nuzzles you still lazily pumping himself in you, blissful to the little tremors your cunt produces around his member making him harden once again. Picking you up, bodies still joined, he makes his way to the nest of blankets on the floor.

You hold onto him, all you can do is hold onto him.

____________

It’s rather odd to be in this position. With an entire year that’s passed it never seems to feel normal, not that you’re complaining though.

Being in a position of power by proxy has its fucking fun rewards.

For example nobody in this city will ever contemplate taking you out. Unless they want a very pissed off Foot Leader to set fire to the city and maybe even the world. From opposite points to now standing at his side. No one is to address you as below them, or touch you or let alone breath the same air you do.

You can still hear the bones that were cracked when one particularly unruly Foot soldier made snide comment about you. Each crack of the mans arm being slowly twisted until his arm broke still rang in your ears to this day. Leo hadn’t flinched, hadn’t even scowled even as the twist turned to pulling the limb off.

He did in fact fuck you hard against the glass windows of the hotel suite he had you both in. The copper scent lingering on his scales, but enraptured with the heat enveloping his cock.

With the city at war everyone had began to run amok to do their own barbaric things. Each part of the city divided between gangs, mobs, mutants, police and civilians. You were out on active Foot duties, you were still free to do as you pleased but with protection and Leo demanded your whereabouts on the hour due to possibilities of abduction.

He knew you were a weakness.

But did he give a shit? Of course not. Let them try, he hasn’t needed an excuse for his tyrannical acts thus far, but if harm did ever befall you, you only wished you could witness what his methods would be to exact his revenge.

And he was so familiar with revenge after all.

You admire yourself in the full length mirror, examining the body that training under Leo has provided you. The mutant terrapin in question comes up from behind you and wraps his strong sculpted arms around your waist. You can’t help but smirk as he rest his chin a top your head. “We’re heading out in half an hour” He mumbles against your hair, enjoying the scent. You watch through the mirror as his hands rub up and cup your breast, with a sigh you rest against his strong build. “What’s on the agenda tonight? Purple dragons?” You feel him shake his head, fingers dipping inside the cups of your bra. “Mob,” Is his sole reply.

You bite your lip, gripping his wrists. “We’ll be late” You try to muffle a moan as he tweaks a nipple, he grinds against your backside. “I’m killing them regardless, and I much rather have the scent of your cunt on my hands while I listen to their boring excuses for parley” Your knees buckled when you felt his hand slither inside your underwear, finger already parting your lips and humming as he feels how wet you already are.

You feel his other hand wrap around your neck, keeping you upright and your gaze on the mirror as his finger dips into your welcoming heat.

He engulfs your every thought, every sensation; and what’s the fate of the world when you’ve got him? He chose you just as much as you chose him. You’ve never considered yourself good, scumbag street rat who just happened to make a living amongst the other scumbags. But this? With Leonardo and the trail of bloodied heads he’s left behind, it’s hard not to be excited to see gasoline be poured on the city. He trails his lips to the shell of your ear and you can’t help but grin.

“Mine” He says.

Burn everything.

#tmnt bayverse #tmnt leonardo #tmnt leo #tmnt leo x reader #tmnt leonardo x reader #tmnt Leonardo x fem reader #leonardo #Leo #leonardo x reader #leo x reader #leonardo tmnt #leo tmnt #ns*w #oneshot #evil!Leo #dark!Leo

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15-dogs · 3 years

Text

hey lover |s.r.|

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader

summary: spencer wants to ask you on a date but his fear of rejection causes him to write you a letter. however, he’s made the miniscule and idiotic mistake of forgetting to sign it. (fluff, mutual pining, and miscommunication!!)

warnings: very light swearing, description of murders/crime scenes (criminal minds level gore/description), food mention

guide: (Y/N) = your name, (Y/L/N) = your last name, (Y/N/N) = your nickname, italics = letter

word count: 3.2K

a/n: asjkdfhkj this is my first spencer fic i hope it turned out ok!!

***

It seemed like a good idea at first. Derek’s ideas always seem good at first. Spencer wasn’t sure why he trusted things would work out without error. Yet there he was, letter in hand and eyes wide at the stupid, miniscule mistake he made while you awaited his answer.

***

You had just begun working at the BAU no more than 3 months ago as the new communications liaison, replacing JJ while she was absent on maternity leave. You were quickly integrated into the carefully woven quilt that was the BAU and, in turn, you had built some very close relationships with your coworkers.

However, there was one person who you had grown extraordinarily fond of: Spencer Reid. You didn’t want to admit how smitten you were with the doctor, seeing as you were only working at the BAU for so long, but it was an indisputable fact you had fallen for him.

Unbeknownst to you, Spencer felt the exact same way. Your courageous and selfless demeanor struck him as something he hadn’t seen in anyone in quite some time. Not to mention how incredibly beautiful you were. Spencer knew it was impossible for anyone to be perfect but, when you made him feel the way he did, he began to question his thinking.

Spencer was quite terrible at hiding his feelings, finding himself staring at you a second too long when you walked to your office in the morning or bringing you extra breakfast and coffee because the store just happened to have an extra muffin they wanted to get rid of. It was so obvious yet you couldn’t pick it up for the life of you and Spencer really thought he was flirting to the fullest extent of his ability.

One morning you were running late. You had yet to arrive but you called Hotch to let him know you’d be at the office in no more than 30 minutes because the train was down for the time being. You also had texted Spencer, asking him if he wanted something at the small coffee shop around the corner while you waited. So as Spencer gave you his order with one hand, he downed the coffees he had made for you and himself in the other.

“Whoa, kid,” Morgan chuckled, prying the cup from his hand, “slow down. Your toothpick-body can’t take all that caffeine.”

Spencer swatted at Derek in an attempt to get the cup back only to see him lift it to his lips. “Oh, I’m sorry,” Morgan started with mock innocence, “was this for a certain communications liaison that a certain doctor has a crush on?”

Spencer rolled his eyes but felt the back of his neck heat up. “I don’t have a crush on her.” He made his way back to his desk, ignoring Morgan’s eyes boring into him.

“Oh, really? That’s a shame,” he could practically hear the teasing grin in Morgan’s words, “because she likes you.”

Spencer went rigid. He spun slowly on his heel until he saw Morgan’s smirking face, feeling his stomach drop again. He couldn’t believe he fell for that. Spencer retreated to his desk with Derek chasing after him.

“Kid, kid, listen! I know you like her! I was just-”

“Be quiet!” hissed Spencer, his cheeks now coated in a healthy flush.

However, Morgan wasn’t quiet enough. Emily perked up from her desk, rolling her chair over to join the conversation. “What are we talking about?”

Spencer tensed his hands and shook his head, turning to face his work again when Morgan explained, “How pretty boy’s got it bad for (Y/L/N) and won’t do a damn thing about it.”

“What?!” Spencer whipped around, his jaw slack from panic. Morgan and Emily were cackling to themselves at his shock, not even bothering to silence themselves.

“Reid,” Emily began, clutching her stomach from laughter, “it’s okay, I know you like her-”

“What?!”

Spencer’s increasing panic only furthered the pair to laugh even harder. Was he that easy to read? Did everyone know how he felt towards you? Dread began to set into his stomach at the thought of you knowing. His overthinking mind started to wander, assuming you knew how he felt and had led him on to get free breakfast every morning. He quickly scolded himself for thinking that— he’d been hurt too many times before, making that line of thinking second nature. But you weren’t someone who wanted to see people hurt; you were too kind, too caring to do that to anyone.

“Why don’t you just ask her out?” Emily asked. “She obviously likes you, too.”

Spencer’s eyes lit up for a second at the thought of you feeling the same but he caught himself. A moment too late, however. Emily and Morgan teased him, batting their lashes and making kissy faces at him, leading to Spencer throwing his head in hands to hide from their stares.

The two were no later interrupted as Hotch called Emily up to his office to go over a report she had put in, leaving Spencer and Morgan alone. Derek nudged Spencer’s leg, Spencer frowning at him as he met his eyes.

“Listen, kid, Prentiss was right. Why don’t you ask her out?”

If what Derek and Emily had said was true, why couldn’t he? He imagined himself walking up to you and asking you on a date, his heart fluttering at the thought. His fantasy soon turned sour as you snorted at his question, shaking your head vigorously and pushing him out of your office.

“I don’t think I could look her in the eyes if she rejects me.” Spencer’s voice was no more than a whisper as he announced his realization.

Morgan laid a hand on his shoulder, the other reaching around Spencer’s desk to hand him a piece of paper and a pen. “Then we’re going to do this the old fashioned way. Women love it when they get love letters, so write her one.” Spencer’s eyes bulged at Morgan’s words. “Love might be a bit strong, I get it, but you get the sentiment, right? Write her a letter about why you like her, ask her out at the end of the letter, and then slip it under her door.”

Spencer nodded slowly before shooing Morgan away, already hunched over the first draft of the letter. He worked it over and over again, feeling like each copy wasn’t good enough for you until he saw his phone buzz. It was a text from you. You were heading up. Spencer panicked, folding his latest draft and slipping it under the door to your office before settling back at his desk.

You waddled in from the elevators, attempting to balance a carry-out tray of coffees and a bag of croissants in one hand and your work bag in the other. Spencer jumped up from his seat, relieving you of the items belonging to him in an instant.

“Thank you so much, Spence. I was seconds away from dropping my breakfast.” You shouldered him gently in place of a grateful gesture. He nodded, ducking his head in hopes you hadn’t noticed the blush creeping up his cheeks.

Before Spencer could say anything, your phone rang. Sending him an apologetic smile, you managed to slip it out of your pocket and place it on your shoulder, shrugging it up to your ear as you answered. “(Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

Spencer watched you walk off towards your office, taking a short sip from the coffee he definitely didn’t need. You stepped in and flicked the lights on with your elbow before tossing your bag onto your desk, freeing a hand to hold your cell phone. You took another step in before stumbling, your shoes caught on a loose paper by your door.

It was go time.

Spencer hurried back to his desk and pretended he wasn’t looking at you, even though it was extremely obvious he was. You set your breakfast on your desk and bent over to pick up the note, skimming it as you spoke. Your head snapped up and you turned to face the window that exposed the bullpen, Spencer ducking his head down and innocently reading the newspaper on his desk. He chanced a look up only to see you frown and hurriedly shut the blinds.

Spencer thought he was going to be sick. He paled and ran his hands over his face before digging the heel of his palms into his temples, massaging them roughly. You looked upset— disgusted. Why did he think you’d ever like him?

Before he could indulge in his own pity party, you stormed out of your office with a large file in hand. You raised it in the air to gather the attention of the team as you announced, “We have a case!”

The team scurried in after you, everyone finding their places in the conference room as you clicked on your presentation. The pictures of two young couples appeared on the screen as you passed the files around.

“Four victims from Atlantic City have been found dead in their homes.” You clicked to the crime scene photos, wincing at the sight. “The husbands’ C.O.D. being a slice through the carotid and the wives’ a shot through the head execution style. The husbands have also had their...hands removed.”

Hotch looked up from the file, brows furrowed. “This all happened in the span of 3 days so we need to be vigilant. He could be planning his next attack right now. Wheels up in 20.”

***

On the plane ride to New Jersey, the team had finished being briefed by Garcia’s intel quicker than usual and were left to ponder their own thoughts. You sat off by yourself at a table in the back of the jet, opening your bag to sneak out the letter left at your office earlier. You scanned the words and frowned again before being hit with a genius idea.

You stood from your seat and settled next to Spencer on the couch. Oddly, he went rigid at your presence, sitting up straight and avoiding eye contact. You shook it off and continued on with your plan.

“Spence, hey, can I ask you something?” you whispered.

Spencer’s mouth went dry. He knew what you were going to ask about. What else could you be asking about? “S-sure.”

“You’re the guy who’s good at identifying handwriting, right? Like matching it and stuff?”

His eyes flickered up, mouth opening and closing a few times before he settled on a nod. His mind swarmed with questions but none of them came out. He decided it might be best if he were silent, anyway.

“Great. Then can you help me out with” —you pulled the letter from your bag and handed it to Spencer— “this? I think I might have a secret admirer or something. Whoever it was either wanted to stay anonymous on purpose or forgot to sign their name. Either way, could you help me out?”

And that’s when Spencer started to blame Morgan for his terrible idea. Well, it wasn’t exactly his fault but Spencer couldn’t take the blame for something so embarrassing. There his letter was, his handwriting, his words, his admission, and he forgot to sign his name.

Spencer debated the logistics of admitting to his error; he wouldn’t have you pining over a mystery man, but then again he would be asking you out in real time. The whole point of the letter writing was to not see your face and if he told you he wrote it you could reject him straight to his face. He couldn’t deal with the thought of that. So Spencer, fear consuming him, shoved the letter back in your hands with a nonchalant shrug.

“Sorry, (Y/N/N), I don’t recognize the handwriting.”

“Oh,” you muttered, standing up. “That’s okay. Thanks for looking.”

And as you returned to your seat on the other end of the plane, a pit formed in your stomach. You were no profiler but you hoped you could have read Spencer better, seeing if he let on any signs the letter was his, that he liked you. But at that moment you had to push it aside. There was work to be done.

***

After a few days in the case, the team had a breakthrough. They had discovered all the women had been drugged and used a bargaining chip to lead the men back to their homes before getting killed. The unsub had been targeting wealthy couples at casinos and the only way the team could catch him is if he was drawn out of hiding. The whole explanation was a long winded way of Hotch telling you you needed to go undercover as Spencer’s wife.

You begged him to let Emily take your place but Hotch assured she would be better as a lone guest to cover your perimeter. Frowning, you explained you didn’t have any undercover experience but Hotch assured you you’d be fine, that the unsub would fall easily for your charade because of your close identification with the victim pool.

So there you were, in your hotel room sitting in a dress you didn’t care for with a wire far too uncomfortable running up the length of your sleeve. Your body thrummed with nerves so, in an attempt to calm down, you reached for the letter and reread it, practically having it memorized by now.

(Y/N),

I don’t normally do these sorts of things but you deserve these sorts of things— nice things. You deserve the best things. You deserve the things that make you happy, that make you smile, that make you laugh. You deserve all of that and more.

I’ve only known you for some time but I can safely say I’ve completely fallen for you. To be entirely honest, I don’t know how everyone here hasn’t as well. You have this gorgeous smile that makes everyone light up around you. Not to mention your laugh; it’s harmonic and encapsulating, like good music you never want to turn off.

I like you. A lot. And I know you’re too good for me but I can’t help but try. I get scared because people might see right through us— through me— and you’ll realize it, too, that you’re too good for me.

But now isn’t the time to worry about the future (even though I may have a tendency to do so). I’m sorry for not being the best at words. And I’m sorry for not being able to say this to your face but I like you, (Y/N), and I want to go on a date with you.

You were sure you had the confidence to spur forward with the night.

You left your room, ready to knock on Spencer’s door when you heard hushed whispers coming from inside. From the sound of it, Spencer was trying to opt out of the night while Hotch was trying to convince him to stay.

“You’re the only one on this team that can play some convincing poker, Reid-”

“That’s not the point!” Spencer huffed. “It’s...it’s (Y/N). People might see right through us— through me— and they’ll realize she’s too good for me. They won’t buy it. Not when she looks like herself and I look like, well, me.”

Something about his words hung around in your head. It was disquieting. His words weren’t true, of course. He was everything you could’ve wanted and the sheer fact he didn’t see himself that way broke your heart. But it wasn’t just that, there was something else. Something hidden in his words triggering a memory in you.

You were pulled from your thoughts as Spencer and Hotch walked out of Spencer’s room, giving you curt smiles before leaving towards the undercover van outside.

***

Fortunately, the night went as planned. The unsub was apprehended and you managed to stay cool undercover. Mostly cool. Your head was up in the air for a bit as you tried to recall what exactly Spencer had said that reminded you of something. Spencer had to focus you back in a few times but didn’t think anything of your lack of focus. Or, at least, he didn’t say it.

The jet couldn’t leave until the next morning so the team was stuck overnight at the trashy little motel the bureau had paid for. You tossed and turned in your bed, unease settling in your stomach. You decided it might be best for you to read the letter again, seeing as how it brought you such comfort earlier. But the second you scanned the words, the realization hit you squarely in the face.

Disregarding the late hour and the fact you were in pajamas, you ran out of your room and up to Spencer’s knocking on the door with haste. Spencer also seemed to be awake, answering just as quickly as you knocked.

“(Y/N)?” His voice was gravelly and low, like he had been in and out of sleep. You bit back a grin at the adorable pajamas he wore: plaid flannel bottoms and a t-shirt reading “I LOVE LAS VEGAS!” in bright gold lettering. Spencer tracked your eyes roving over his body before clearing his throat to get your attention again. “What’re you doing up at 3:00-”

“I know you wrote the letter.”

You didn’t mean to blurt it out but you just...did. Spencer coughed awkwardly and avoided your stare, shaking his head.

“I don’t...I don’t know what you’re…”

“Spence,” you began, taking his hand in yours, “I overheard you and Hotch talking earlier, about how people would see right through us. It’s the same thing in the letter— nearly identical.”

Spencer, positive he was completely red in the face, muttered, “Must’ve been a coincidence.”

“But it wasn’t, because I know you, Spencer.” You sucked in a sharp breath, your heart pounding in your chest. “Because I like you, Spencer.”

Spencer cocked his head, a smile tugging at his lips like he didn’t want to believe what you said. “You...you like me?”

You took a step towards the doctor, locking your hands around the back of his neck with a chuckle. “Yeah, Spencer, I like you.”

Spencer reached a careful hand up, brushing your hair out of your eyes and running his knuckles down your cheek with an adoring smile before connecting your lips. The kiss was soft and unsure but worth exploring. As you began to deepen it, you heard a door click open from behind you.

“Nice pajamas, you two,” Rossi teased. Spencer glared at him over your shoulder for disrupting what was the most perfect kiss he ever had. Rossi chuckled, holding his hands up in defense. “I saw nothing!”

Rossi slipped back into his room, laughing to himself about the interruption. You tucked your head against Spencer’s chest, feeling him place a soft kiss against the top of your head while his arms looped around your back, pulling you impossibly tighter towards him.

“You know,” he began, his chest rumbling against your ear in the most comforting way, “I’m beginning to think I should be writing you more letters.”

“A few more couldn’t hurt.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid oneshot #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds oneshot #criminal minds imagine #aaron hotchner #david rossi #derek morgan #emily prentiss #cm fanfic #cm oneshot

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obeymeluv · 4 years

Text

(Pact) Marks the Spot - [Beelzebub x Fem!Reader]

It’s 1 AM. Have some Beelzebub smut.

Now I’m getting all kinds of pact mark ideas. May put out some pact mark headcanons.

Unedited because it’s 1 AM.

Despite the thousands of years demons had been alive, pact marks were exceedingly rare. Mostly because humans had lost the ability to summon. Most people who managed to summon demons did it by sheer luck or for nefarious reasons. Sometimes it took multiple attempts to pull a demon; half the time demons took pity on the humans and showed up for the hell of it (and a snack). At the end of the day, demons had to choose to make a pact and that was rare in itself.

Giving your real name had inconceivable power in a world like the Devildom, where non-humans roamed. Making a pact had the same weight and bore the same vulnerability.

And yet you had several.

Mammon’s pact mark was on the side of your arm where bicep meets shoulder, Levi’s was on the back of the opposite shoulder (even his pact mark wanted to stay away from Mammon!) and Beel’s was adjacent to your belly button, basically on your hip.

It was rare for a human to have one pact mark, let alone three. You were slowly learning things about pact marks. Things that hadn’t happened in so long they were basically speculation in the Devildom. Demons could “pull” on the pact marks just like humans could, and each brother had a different sensation. When Mammon secretly vied for your company, it felt like a hummingbird beat against your shoulder, a little kid pulling hesitantly on your sleeve. Levi rarely “pulled” on his pact mark, but when he did it was a long push with gentle pressure, like fingertips on your skin. Beelzebub never consciously pulled on your pact mark and you swore you only got his muscle pains.

Satan was absolutely bewildered by the concept. Shouldn’t you be able to feel something else with Beel? Surely you’d at least be a little hungry, right? It sparked many conversations between the brothers and Diavolo. Did Beel not have this ability for some reason? Was it because he was sixth-strongest? Could you only feel things with Mammon and Levi because they were second- and third-strongest, respectively?

Beel was basically already linked with Belphegor…did that hinder his ability to “pull” with you? Satan, for all his infinite knowledge and even greater amount of books, could not answer this. There were ancient scrolls in Diavolo’s castle that were too frail to unroll. No one wanted to test it, honestly, and appreciated them as the relics they were. They had been translated and written up several times over the centuries, but the books were either missing pages or just gone completely.

Humans who’d summoned demons in the past liked to ask for Devildom “souvenirs” and textbooks were a favorite. So many had been traded for favors from summoners or witches. Diavolo vividly recalled a brazen attendant spiriting one away now and then; he was convicted and executed for selling them to traders. Most of them were never recovered.

Beelzebub could come when summoned and that’s what mattered. They chose not to look into it any farther than that. What would it matter? There was nothing written on it anymore. There were quiet whispers that maybe you couldn’t feel Beel “pull” because you weren’t as close to him as Levi and Mammon. As in: you could pull from him per the ‘master’ clause of the pact, but he chose not to pull on you.

That hurt you, honestly, because he was an absolute sweetheart. Out of all of them, you could definitely SEE the ex-angel in him and how he acted. How he treated people. You thought you got along well! You liked to go on walks, try new food, and sometimes he used you as resistance weight when he practiced!

If that wasn’t being close, what was?!

You’d been thinking about it a lot, so used to Mammon’s ghosting squeeze throughout the day. It was like his way of checking on you without saying it aloud (because he could never be honest). Sometimes you could feel Levi’s frustration, your shoulder prickling like a knot forming on the muscle. But Beel? You didn’t feel anything in particular when you brushed your fingers over the mark, shirt held up in front of a mirror as if that would give you a sign.

When you touched the pact mark for the other brothers, there’d be a push back. Almost like a question. Yes, do you need something? It was crazy how the sensations could put words in your brain. Almost like they were translated for you, a human, to comprehend. That human-demon translation was possible; Satan had found that much.

So the brothers were basically telepathic. To an extent.

You’d pout in front of the mirror and wish to feel something. You’d stand there for ages, wondering if you were pushing any buttons in Beel’s brain. Triggering a want to send you a sign. When nothing happened, you’d let your shirt drop down and go about your day.

Your wish was finally answered one morning when a low, throbbing warmth seemed to radiate from the mark. You didn’t get your hopes up. It was probably a muscle cramp, some kind of post-stretch that had Beel feeling tender. A sharp pain bolted through you as you changed into your RAD uniform, the force of it enough to make you lean into the wall for support. It definitely felt like a muscle cramp, like someone who’d done a lot of ab work bent too low the next day.

It scared you to think this was only a fraction of what he felt. The pact mark was supposed to filter down emotions and sensations to levels that humans could tolerate, but only when the demon focused. If the demon was taken by surprise or felt something stronger than they anticipated, that would reflect in their pact mate.

Whatever he was feeling had your stomach in a flutter. The throbbing had dulled but a twisting sensation had taken its place. You felt something building, building, building in your stomach. A warmth overtook you, first nice and relaxing, then searing, and you wondered if Beelzebub had put on some kind of muscle cream. Half-dressed, you ran to the twins’ room to see what he was doing.

It was a brief run, and the rush of air seemed to cool your stomach. You thanked your lucky stars that Belphegor was nowhere to be found as you burst into the room. The throbbing sensation returned with a vengeance, the heat swelling in you as you drew upon the bathroom. One of the brothers was showering in there.

You started for the bathroom, whimpering when the throbbing grew strong enough to make your thighs shake. Clutching the doorway, you pressed your thighs together. A light-headed feeling overcame you and you swear you saw glimpses of white. Glimpses of Beel with an unnaturally long tongue snatching the shower curtain back and watching you with an intensity that made your heart stutter.

That flash of light must’ve only been seconds but you awoke to droplets of water raining down on you. Beelzebub towered over you, naked and freshly showered and radiating a warmth almost identical to what you felt in the pact mark. He slammed the door shut with a shove that snapped you to your senses.

You felt like you were recovering from a shockwave. Ripped from a dream.

“Fuck,” you heard Beel hiss. A grumbling, guttural sound rolled in his throat as he propped you up, hands scooting you back against the door, pushing your legs flat, pulling you up by the shoulders so you sat a little straighter, and propping your chin up against a few of his fingers so you could look at him.

His horns were out.

“Why are you mad at me?” you slurred, sounding offended.

“I’m not.” He gnashed his teeth in frustration and it was the first time you’d seen them up close. He and Satan had the sharpest teeth in the family. That was something of a bragging right between the two, enhanced by their sins, but they looked even sharper now. “I’m just…” Beel struggled with his words, his brow furrowed in thoughtfulness and agitation, “feeling a lot of things right now.” his chest heaved as the words finally came out.

Those big hands flexed in emphasis, in frustration that he couldn’t make you understand.

“Like?” the fog was starting to clear from your brain.

“Like how I choose not to connect with you because I care about you. I don’t want you to feel the endless hunger I feel, the absolute power it has over me.” Beel was starting to find his center, to calm down. “Like how upset I felt when my brothers even suggested I can’t pull on your pact mark because I feel nothing for you.” His horns flared again, cracking audibly as the spiraled around his wet hair. They seemed to harden and curl with conviction.

Kind of like a bull getting ready to charge and gore someone.

“Then what the hell was that?” you make a point to look at his face, to crane your neck up so he doesn’t think you’re following the lines of his chest or looking between his legs.

His eyes softened as he looked at you. They glittered against the bathroom light and wet floor. Beel’s lips lifted in a sweet smile hemmed with fangs. A blush lit his cheeks, starting at his cheekbones and spreading, when he broke your gaze. “I pulled on your pact mark.” Beel’s eyes shot to yours with a suddenness that made you flinch and hit your head against the wall.

You felt frozen in place. His eyes were hard and dark, like a real violet crystal. “Wh-what was I supposed to feel?” your voice was so small you wondered if he heard it. You had an idea of what it was, but you wanted to hear him say it. To have him admit it.

“How much I love you.” Beel said slowly, his face completely turned away from you. He couldn’t bring himself to look at you if you felt anything less. There was something else he could say, but he was afraid it’d be too much considering this ‘confession’ happened because urges got the best of him. Because he let his feelings sit for too long instead of being honest with you.

“Was it supposed to feel like an orgasm?”

WHY DID IT COME OUT OF YOUR MOUTH?! IT WAS TRUE, BUT WHY?! Here Beel was with his beautiful soul and his shy confession and you just STEAM ROLLED OVER IT!

The heat flared in your stomach again, swift and hot and somehow worse despite the fact you were sitting on a cold bathroom floor. Beel’s fingers reached for one of your ankles and he stopped himself. Burning eyes stared into you, and it was the first time you saw the muscles in his throat and jaw strain to hold his tongue. It slithered between his teeth, serpentine and seeking. “I love you that way, too.” Beel mumbled shyly, looking down.

Looking away, as if he was ashamed to say so.

You felt yourself melt against the floor, hoping the cold would soothe your burning body and calm your beating heart. Beel fell down around you, propping himself up on a forearm carefully placed by your head. “It’s a different kind of hungry,” he whispered with a hint of anguish and terror, forehead against his fist, “and I am not made to bear it. This isn’t supposed to be my sin.”

Beel wanted to cry. He was afraid his feelings were too strong for you, a human.

It finally hit you. This beefy cinnamon roll loved you and lusted over you. He was so overwhelmed with the sheer love he had for you—more than one kind—that it finally broke through his pact mark filter. When you realized that it made you feel even more special. It meant he’d been thinking of you, focusing for your benefit, this whole time.

“I can share that burden,” you whispered quietly, bumping his chin with your forehead. He pushed himself up onto his hands and knees lightning fast, slipping a little on the floor. Your hands shot out to hold his shoulders in case he fell (not that it would do anything).

“You mean it?” Beel’s eyes were wide and searching. “You feel what I feel?” he asked, cupping your face in one hand, fingers reaching around the back of your head to cradle it.

“Yeah.” You blushed, pressing your cheek into his hand as you looked away. That big purr rolled in his chest, the one he was happy to give when you hugged him. The pact mark gave off a subdued warmth that surrounded you and comforted you. It felt like he was hugging you to him. It translated to Look at me, and you saw his violet eyes blazing, tongue slithering out in its ravenous glory.

It was one of the first times you’d really seen his “demon” qualities shining through. It was fascinating in a shameful way; you couldn’t look away. Didn’t want to. I’m about to feast, you could feel the cold floor on your bare skin now, and you wondered how many pieces your clothes were in.

He was starting to salivate a little and your heart leapt in your throat as those sharp teeth winked at you. Beel pressed himself flat against you, peppering your naked stomach with sloppy, hungry kisses. A small part of you—an irrational, stupid part—thought he’d start burrowing through until he hit muscle and organ. Instead he traced with his lips and tongue, strong hands coming up to grab at whatever he could reach. Beelzebub kissed his pact mark and you swore he conspired with it, your walls clenching around nothing and desperately wanting something.

“So beautiful,” Beel’s groping turned to massaging and kneading. Wet kisses slipped down towards your sex and he hummed against you. Hummed in restraint and desire. In contentedness that he could have this moment. His fingers found you first, teasing your clit and running the length of your slit before delving inside. You both cursed, probably at the same time.

You braced one foot on his chest as he propped your hips up with his free hand. Your back arched, head bumping into the wall. Beel’s fingers kept a steady, surprisingly tame pace. A total contrast to the eager head you could feel prodding at your back as he rolled his hips. His fingers dragged along your walls, curling in ways that made your body clench.

Everything was hot and you didn’t know if it was the closeness of him or the pact mark. Was he sharing his feelings with you or just exploiting your deliciously sensitive human nerves? It didn’t take long for you to orgasm. You looked at him through his lashes, mewling as he gingerly folded your knees to your chest and opened you up. It was stretching muscles and kindling feelings that had barely started to die.

“You look pretty like this,” Beel rasped in a voice cut with fangs. He kissed your ankle a few times, moving towards the bend of your knee as he stared down at you with a mix of love and pure hunger. Humans were delectable all their own, but the tang of your orgasm was something he’d rip people apart for. The desire to taste you overtook him, his tongue snaking out of his mouth as he buried himself between your thighs.

You gave a wanton moan that damn near made him orgasm. As an angel, he never understood how demons could torment humans so. Now? Now he perfectly understood the almost obsessed drive to coax all of these pretty noises out of them. How such a thing was worth the damnation, the rumors, and the reputation.

He was kissing you and suckling you and you saw the white come back into your vision again. You thought your heart was going to give out! You bobbed in and out of consciousness with each throb of pleasure, your body trying desperately to clench around the muscle. Beelzebub indulged in your orgasm like the last bite of an exquisite meal, daring to flick your swollen clit with the tip of his tongue as he drew it back into his mouth. The Avatar of Gluttony licked the corner of his lip, as he often did when he was satisfied with a meal (a small quirk you’d picked up on).

His lips were puffy and shiny, much like yours. He let you catch your breath, resting one leg on his shoulder. “This is why I didn’t want to tell you how I felt,” Beel muttered as he rubbed the leg on his shoulder comfortingly. He put your other leg on his shoulder, squeezing your calves now. “I knew I would always be hungry. I would always want you. I didn’t want you to feel like meat….like an object.”

“But I liked how that felt.” You smiled at him.

“I’m trying to be serious,” Beel huffed, sliding your legs down to his hips as he moved between your legs to meet your gaze. His lips ghosted over your chest and latched onto your neck. “I could eat you all day long,” he said more to himself, the words muffled by his lips. Beelzebub started to rut against you. At some point he must’ve orgasmed because his cock was slick, sliding across your sex and rubbing on your stomach.

His teeth pinched your neck and you gasped. Beel’s cock twitched.

“You have control, and I know you love me. Sex is just a bonus.” you wrapped your arms around his neck. Beel’s kisses turned almost kittenish as he basked in the feel of you hugging him, cradling him so gently. His heart swelled with love as he nuzzled against your skin. He felt your legs winding around him as you tried to angle yourself for his cock to find. He reached between your bodies to stroke himself.

“If I don’t,” he managed between grunts of ecstasy and frustration, “I’ll get you pregnant.”

Was that a warning or a promise? He certainly had the stamina for it.

Was there scientific evidence of demon sperm being especially potent for humans? Beel finished on your stomach before your thoughts could wander too far. He felt the desire ebb for the first time in what felt like ages and leaned back to take in how angelic you looked on the floor with your messy hair and tender body just starting to blossom with the colors of his affection. It seemed impossible, but that sight was more satisfying than fulfilling a craving. He laughed to himself—poor little dazed human. A cute little dazed human, though—as he cleaned you off with the towel he’d set aside for his shower.

Beel swaddled you in a new towel, wrapped one around his waist, and stood to collect you. He set you on his bed and shrugged into some clothes. The sight was just as nice as the sex, if not better. He handed you a shirt, his eyes shining like an excited puppy as he waited for you to put it on. You slipped it on and he purred long and deep, sliding into bed with you. The sixth-born scooped you into his strong arms, pressing your stomach against his face and bringing you up towards the headboard.

“I love you,” he kissed your stomach. Kissed his pact mark.

“I love you,” you petted and played with his drying hair. The post-sex lull sauntered in and your thoughts began to slow. The last coherent one you remembered was how were we not interrupted?

“I told Asmodeus I was going to confess to you and Lucifer overheard. He was a little concerned things would ‘evolve into impropriety’ so I made a bet with him. If he and my brothers could pin me to the floor, he could supervise the confession. If I won, I could do it my way.”

You stopped petting his hair, now wide awake. “You beat all of your brothers?!”

“Of course!” he laughed into your stomach. “Well...sort of. Levi didn’t try, Asmodeus sat out as a protest, and Satan and Belphie just watched. Mammon was going to take bets but Lucifer said if he helped, he’d pay off some of his credit card debt.”

“So you beat up Lucifer and Mammon?”

“Not totally,” Beelzebub shimmied up the bed until you were nose-to-nose, wrapping his arms around you. “I threw Mammon out of the house a few times; he finally decided to watch through the window. Lucifer fought the hardest.”

“When are they coming back?”

As if to answer you, his D.D.D started going off. Beelzebub reluctantly untangled himself to grab it. You could hear him opening and closing chats. “Soon,” he replied as he set it down. “It took them a while to agree on furniture.” He tucked himself into you again.

“Furniture?!”

“Well…we broke a few things.” He admitted bashfully. “A lot of things.”

Now you were tempted to go down and see what the first floor looked like. Beelzebub felt your leg stretch over him, your body trying to push off the bed. There was a gentle insistence in your stomach, like a little weight pressing you to the bed. A sweeping feeling of comfy and cuddle me that sapped your willpower. Beelzebub was pulling on your pact mark.

#Beelzebub x reader #Obey me!#Obey me! x reader #Beel x Reader

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mellointheory · 3 years

Text

inhaling smoke, i just awoke pt. 2

Red is curled up on his couch, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders and a rapidly cooling styrofoam cup of instant noodles clasped between his hands. He ate about half of it before he got distracted by the tv, and the rest served better as a heat source, honestly. It was criminal how cold his apartment was; he was wearing his earmuffs inside, for God’s sake.

There’s a knock on the door and he looks up, setting the cup of cold, soggy noodles on the coffee table. He gets up, still swathed in his blanket, and shuffles across the floor to open the front door. Antfrost is standing there, wearing the same thick green coat from earlier that day, with a long shape that looks suspiciously like a firearm strapped to his back underneath it.

“Are you ready?” He asks.

“I’m always ready.” Red pulls his blanket off and balls it up, chucking it back over at the couch. He picks up his baseball bat, giving it a quick once over to check the coat of red and white paint, then slots it into the straps on his back. His bag is sitting next to the door, the velvet pockets lining the inside carefully packed with the pots that he’d chosen. The sedatives Antfrost had requested, swirl pale yellow in their black cushioning. He’s brought some additional ones just in case; shimmering harsh pinks and purples and blues in the shadows of his bag. Antfrost peers inside his bag and nods in approval.

“How far away is it?” Red asks, stepping outside and closing the door behind him. Antfrost leans against the door while Red locks it, his face peering out of the depths of his green hood. His eyes do glow a little, soft blue light that Red would probably have to get very, very close to have reach him. He adds that to the bucket list.

“It’s close enough to walk; we should have time. And I don’t want to get there until after the doors close.” Antfrost turns and starts walking. His tail is tucked away again, safe from the cold that bites at Red’s hands and face when he follows.

“Can I call you Ant?” He asks. “Antfrost is kinda long, you know.”

Ant shrugs. “I guess I don’t mind.”

“Fantastic. Okay, and what’s your plan then?” Red shoves his hands into his pockets as they reach the street. It’s snowing again. Flakes land in his hair and on his shoulders and melt when they touch his skin.

“They close the doors after everyone’s finished betting.” Red can tell from the bitterness and focus in Ant’s voice that this wasn’t a spontaneous thing; he’s been planning this for a long time. “It’s a warehouse that they took over and repurposed. There’s still catwalks on the ceiling and ways to get in from above. I can drop the gas you made and knock them all out and steal the chimeras.”

“That seems like a solid plan.” Red agrees. “What were you planning before you got me to make this for you, though?”

Ant taps his waist. “I was gonna try to get them with the tranq darts I have, but this will be a lot more effective.”

Red shudders at the thought. “You know tranq darts aren’t immediate, right? They take time to work into your bloodstream.”

Ant is silent. Red quickens his pace to catch up--he has longer legs than him, but the cat hybrid moves with more speed and lightness than he does--and looks the man in the eyes. Ant is only about half a head shorter than him, but the hybrid has his shoulders hunched and is looking down so Red has to lean over a bit.

“You knew that, didn’t you?” He repeats.

Antfrost squints up one eye gingerly. “Maybe….?”

“Jesus, you’re lucky you found me.” Red straightens up and continues walking.

“Well, I’m not sure about that yet,” Antfrost mumbles. Red chuckles.

He can tell when they’re getting close to the chimera fights, because he can hear the cheering. Antfrost pushes his hood back as they approach, his head craned up to scan the side of the warehouse. His ears twitch, little flakes of snow falling on the soft fur and standing out against the dark brown in the harsh lights of the warehouse.

“There’s a ladder over there.” Ant points up, bounding lightly over to the rungs. As he runs his tail untucks from wherever it was hidden away, furling out behind him. It swishes in Red’s face when he mounts the ladder after the hybrid, almost brushing his skin. He wrinkles his nose, eyes crossing when he tries to focus on it.

The snow on top of the warehouse is undisturbed except for Ant’s footprints in it. Red follows the hybrid across the roof to the mouth of a heating vent that arcs from the concrete. The metal tube channels sound and warm air up from the warehouse inside; one of them welcome and the other not. He can hear cheering, and snarling. Ant’s ears flatten back against his skull at the sound and his tail begins whipping around like an angry snake. There’s a quiet growl that Red half thinks is coming from the hybrid’s throat.

“What now?” Red asks, partially to distract Ant from whatever rage is welling up inside his little catboy heart.

“Inside.” Ant ducks over and clambers inside the mouth of the vent. Red glances down inside before he follows. It’s a short drop that Ant somehow managed to make silently, then the thing levels out. He adjusts the bag slung over his back and eases himself down inside as slowly as possible. Nevertheless there’s a quiet clang as his boots hit the metal, and Antfrost hisses a quick shush at him. Red drops to his hands and knees and starts crawling down the vent after the hybrid.

“There’ve been far nicer reasons for me to get on my knees for someone,” he whispers. His voice echoes a little against the metal walls. It’s dark in the vent, and he can only barely see the movement of Ant’s tail in front of him. It’s a pity, just a couple more degrees of visibility and he’d see something much more pleasant to look at.

“This is a little bit more important than sucking dick,” Antfrost’s voice wafts back at him.

“Agree to disagree.” Red says. The noise of the cheering below them is now too loud for him to hear what Ant says in reply.

Antfrost’s back drops down from Red’s view and he sees the vent has opened up. When he looks out he finds a catwalk spanning the ceiling of the warehouse, with Antfrost already crouched on top of it. Below them is a throng of the cheering, shouting audience surrounding a ring in the center of the floor made out of concrete barriers. Two chimeras are fighting in the ring, a blur of blood and fur and scales. Red has a strong stomach for gore, but that doesn’t mean he finds it at all pleasant to see what the things are doing to each other.

He lands on the catwalk next to Antfrost. The hybrid jumps, then shakes himself.

“Give me the sedative,” Ant whispers, holding out his hand. His eyes are focused on the ring below.

Red reaches into his bag and pulls out one of the glass bottles; luminous pale yellow liquid swirling behind the glass. He reaches to put it in Ant’s palm, then pauses.

“What’s your tolerance level?” He asks.

“What?”

“Chemical tolerance. You’re a hybrid--it’s definitely been documented for you.” Hybrids are treated like second class citizens; shuffled around to keep more survivable areas of the city habitable for normal humans. Most hybrids have their chemical tolerance marked down somewhere so the government knows what areas they can dump them in without having them immediately die. Red has unusually high tolerance for a human, which is part of why he chose this line of work.

“I don’t know, seven?” Ant whispers back.

“It’s on a scale of one to a hundred, idiot.” Red reaches into his bag and fumbles around for a mask. There’s a screech from the creatures below.

“Red, they’re dying.” Ant says, trying to snatch the bottle out of Red’s hand. Red relents and shoves it into the hybrid’s palm. He pulls out the other two bottles he’s prepared, waiting as Ant arches back his arm to throw.

It’s a work of art, his aim. The first bottle lands directly in the thick of the audience and shatters, the liquid inside turning to gas the second air touches it. It balloons outward, clogging the air with thick yellow mist. Antfrost grabs the second bottle and hurls it so it breaks directly in front of the double doors that serve as the exit. The people down below are panicking; it’s like stepping on an anthill.

Red is good at his craft. A few seconds, and they’re already collapsing. Antfrost throws the last bottle; ensuring the entire warehouse floor is coated with heavy yellow fog. There are hybrids and cyborgs, here and there, who are only momentarily confused by the attack from above, whose systems are too resilient to the gas and are now gathering their bearings. One of them looks up and sees them.

Antfrost tackles Red to the catwalk. It shakes when they hit the metal and he’s momentarily stunned, to stunned to even protest. He still hasn’t gained his breath back when one of the cyborgs on the floor opens fire, bullets punching into the railing and barely missing them. Ant leaps off Red, whipping a crossbow out from under his coat. He aims down below, pulling the trigger. Red is still on his back trying to reinflate his lungs, and he can’t see if Ant managed to hit any of his targets.

A bullet strikes uncomfortably close to his head and he rolls upright, charging across the catwalk with one hand shoved into his bag. He fumbles for a bottle, then stumbles as something severs one of the wires from which the catwalk is hung. There’s the screech of metal and they plummet.

The good news: most of the onlookers collapsed near the edges of the room, not in the center where they fall, and the only casualties are two of the four hostiles still on their feet. The bad news: there are still two people trying to kill them.

Red Red struggles to his feet, yanking his baseball bat out from the straps on his back. Antfrost glances over at him, just for a moment, then leaps backwards as the cyborg swings a fist at him.

Red doesn’t have time to spare concern for Ant, because there’s a hybrid with claws and fangs and a nasty grin on her face charging at him. She has three arrows bristling from her shoulder, and she’s unsteady on her feet. He sidesteps, grips his bat firmly in both hands, and slams it into her shin. She collapses, lashing out at him with a clawed hand. He hops backwards on one foot to avoid her, stomps the tip of the bat to the ground to stabilize himself. She lurches forward, dragging herself with her good side, and sinks her claws into his calf. Red’s first reaction is, he must admit, a dumb one. He tears himself away and is rewarded with claws ripping through the muscle of his leg. Fucking Christ it hurts.

He falls just out of the reach of the hybrid. She has too much tranquilizer in her bloodstream to get up again and she’s already going under. Red tries to reach for his black bag only to realize he dropped it when the catwalk fell.

Catwalk.

Cat.

Antfrost.

He snaps his head up to see Ant dangling from the grip of the cyborg. The hybrid snarls, his hands wound around the arm at his throat. His claws are fully extended and scrabbling against the black metal.

Red screams the first thing he can think of as loud as possible.

“HEY, CUM SLUT.”

The cyborg whips his head towards Red, glowing yellow eyes narrowing. His grip loosens in his momentary distraction, and Ant thrashes forward, sinking his teeth into the man’s shoulder, where metal meets flesh. Red wonders what he has to do to get the catboy to bite him like that.

The cyborg hisses a swear and slams Antfrost to the concrete. Red panics and grabs the fallen baseball bat on the ground next to him. He hurls it towards the fallen hybrid.

A brown-furred hand snaps up and snatches the bat out of the air. Ant rolls backwards, dodging a punch from the cyborg, and leaps to his feet. He bends his knees, grips the bat, and swings.

Red painted that bat months ago in red-and-white stripes out of paint he mixed himself. It was combined with a little chemical mixture that turned acidic when it moved at a fast enough velocity. Red had never been able to swing it fast enough to get those decorative stripes to transform into something that could burn through whatever it hit in milliseconds

.Antfrost, on the other hand, can.

The bat sheers straight through both of the cyborgs legs, eating through the metal like it was butter. The cyborg hits the ground, his legs severed at the knee.

Ant gives an incredulous look at the bat in his hand, then lowers it and bounds over to Red.

“Are you okay? What happened?”

“Claws.” Red says brightly, trying to ignore the warmth seeping from his leg and the burn of the gashes through his muscle. He likes pain sometimes, in certain circumstances, but these are not the type of circumstances he tends to enjoy.

“Do you have a painkiller in your bag?” Antfrost drops to his knees next to Red.

He screws up his face. “Something like that.”

Ant turns and leaps over a few inert bodies, grabbing Red’s bag from the wreckage of the fallen catwalk and bring it over. He puts it down and latches his hands under Red’s arms, pulling him into a sitting position.

Red unzips the bag and pulls out a small vial that shimmers a tantalizing blue.

“You know, they say never get high off your own supply,” he says wryly as he uncaps it, “but this is an exception.”

It tastes like melon milk and fizzes a little as it goes down. Damn, he really is a good producer. The lady who ran the pharmacy he worked at couldn’t make one of these taste good for the life of her.

The pain in his leg fades and he relaxes. Antfrost has climbed into the ring and is picking up the two sedated chimeras, carrying them carefully to the empty cages next to the ring and laying them down inside. He takes the cages outside through a small door labeled Exit, and through a rising haze of uncanny calmness, Red wonders if he’s just leaving. He would be concerned about it, but even with his high tolerance the drink he took is getting to him. He doesn’t feel high or buzzed, just calm.

Ant runs back inside, empty handed this time, and comes over to Red. He bends down to look him in the eyes.

“Are you—were your eyes always that…shiny?” Ant asks.

“Yeah, it’s from exposure.” Red replies. He stares back into Antfrost’s eyes: large blue wells, with his pupils widened in the low light.

“All the chimeras are loaded into a truck out back. Can I carry you?”

“You can pick me up any day, Ant.” Red tells him.

The hybrid slides his arms under Res’s back and legs and heaves him up, walking carefully to the door. His arms are warm and his fur is soft where it brushes against Red’s skin.

Antfrost helps him climb into the passenger’s seat, then runs around the front of the truck to sit behind the wheel. He starts it with the keys still in the ignition and spins the wheel, pulling out from behind the warehouse.

Their section of the city is already near the outskirts, and the drive probably doesn’t take long. Probably. Red’s thoughts wander as Ant drives, thinking about animals and chimeras and acid paint. He snaps back to reality when they’ve officially left the city. It’s easy to tell, because outside is a wasteland of hills and trash.

Ant pulls over on the side of the road and stops the truck.

“Can you walk?”

Red glances down at his leg thoughtfully. The effect of his mixture is wearing off, and it stings slightly, but he nods anyway.

They unload the cages one at a time, driving a little way in between each one. The chimeras run as soon as Ant opens the cages, smart enough to head for the hills.

The last one they unload is the larger of the two that were in the ring when they broke in. It’s still sedated, so Ant leaves the door wide open and then sits on the ramp of the truck to wait for it to wake up.

Red climbs up beside him, shivering a little at the cold night air. “What about the other one?”

Antfrost casts a glance back into the truck. “It’s not doing so good. Too hurt to let out.”

Red looks at the cage with the aforementioned creature. It’s some kind of cat creature with horns and spikes on its back, its shoulder torn open in the fight. It sleeps fitfully.

“Are you sure they’ll survive out here?” He asks.

Ant rests his chin in his hands, hunching his shoulders. “I mean, I did.”

“You lived out here?”

Ant nods. “I’m not actually from Hypixel City. I lived out here until some people came promising opportunities and riches. It was bullshit. I was barely any different from them.” He nods at the still sleeping chimeras in their cages.

“They made you fight?”Ant nods. “For a while. Then Bad came and got me out.”

Red stares at Ant’s ears and the velvet-soft fur on them, the pads on the palms of his hands, the twitch of his nose. He sneezes, rubbing at his whiskers with one hand. Red wonders about the kind of madman who looks at the catboy sitting next to him and forces him to fight in a pit for entertainment.

“I’m cold.” Antfrost says suddenly. Red deliberates for a second, then scoots over and wraps a hand around the hybrid’s shoulders.

“What about you?” Ant asks, staring at the open cage on the ground and the sleeping chimera inside.

“What about my past? Well, nowhere near as bad as you.” Red laughs at the thought of comparing their childhoods. “I have unusually high tolerance for a human, so i started working for a pharmacist. Maybe I accidentally mixed something wrong and blew up the area.”

Ant gives him a sideways look. “Maybe?”

“Maybe.”

The hybrid chuckles, letting his head rest on Red’s shoulder. “Thanks for doing this, Red.”

“For you? Anything.” The words are bold, but he’s not in the mood to hold back his thoughts at the moment.

Ant doesn’t reply, but there’s an unmistakable rumble in his chest that Red immediately identifies as a purr. They sit there for a long time, under the moon in a wasteland, waiting for a creature to wake up and leave its cage.

They talk, about colors and toxins and friendships and names. They sit there until the chimera wakes up slowly, stretching its limbs, and scrambles out of its cage as fast as possible.

And in a toxic wasteland under a yellow moon, sitting on a stolen truck, Red kisses the love of his life for the first time.

Three years later and he wakes up to the chill of a winter morning.

Antfrost is lying next to him, curled around him to soak up as much heat as possible. Red moves to get up, but his boyfriend mumbles something in protest and somehow wiggles even closer to him. Red relents and lies back down, wrapping his arms around the hybrid.

And, finally, his hands aren’t cold.

#velvetiscake #antfrost #ppcrew cyberpunk #mello writes #long post

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draconic-ichor · 3 years

Text

In the Steel Steeds Heart

Chapter 15: The Hunt

Warnings: strong language, sexual themes, alcohol, mild domestic abuse, blood/gore, violence, body horror, death, weapons/guns

Summary: The Hunt is coming. Heisenberg turns to other vices to try to calm his nerves, causing more harm than good. While Juniper hears an ancient, primal song rise with the moon.

Feedback appreciated. 18+

This will be a heavy one folks

Two days till the hunt…

Heisenberg rose early, as he always did, pausing to look over Juniper’s form in the bed beside him. She was cuddled into the pillows on her belly, the blankets bungled up around the swell of her hip. Her pale skin almost glowing in the dewy morning light.

His pale eyes scanned over the dark blotches and bite marks that littered her skin: varying shades of purples painted across her in all the declarations of his claim. She never complained about the marks, or even the scar his teeth left in her collarbone.

But in comparison to the grizzly scar that decorated the upper half of her spine they probably paled in comparison. His focus fell on it. It was forever angry and hot, it seemed to shift a bit when her emotions got the better of her. He would sometimes catch her feeling it’s uppermost edge, green eyes downcast.

He gave a ragged sigh, all the worry and fear shifting around like bees in his belly. Miranda was planning something, and it involved Juniper. He couldn’t help the nagging thought that it was his fault, that his fondness of her made her into a target.

Frowning, he pulled the blankets up over her more completely. A shadow of a smile ghosted her lips as the warmth enveloped her.

Juniper woke, stretching out her sore muscles. She felt light, the day before seemingly going much better then she’d expected.

She went about the beginning of her day like normal, doing light cleaning and making the bed. It was when she reached the kitchen that things seemed off.

In the corner of the kitchen counter, where the bottles of liquor usually sat, was a glaringly empty space. Tapping her boot for a second Juniper looked around to truly find it missing. Worry worked its way into her now. She quickly finished up, dressing in workshop appropriate garb before heading for the elevator.

As soon as the elevator had descended one level the heavy throngs of the radio could be heard. It hissed and blared around the metal walls, almost drowning out the loud crashes father bellow. Juniper’s heart sank…these all the telltale signs of a more foul one of Heisenberg’s moods.

Heisenberg knocked back the bottle, the room humming and swirling with bits of metal.

Taking a ragged breath once the bottle left his lips he looked at the dented wall before him. Raising his free hand a metal pipe started it’s onslaught once more. The loud clatter of metal being thrown against metal entered the choir of chaos.

The radio and Sturm losing his goddamn mind below him adding to it. All the noise was almost enough to drown out his thoughts, the affront of his senses almost calming.

Suddenly the music stopped. Heisenberg spun around, finally hearing Strum in all his glory. The creature reved angrily beneath the floor.

Heisenberg stomped on the grate swearing, “Shut the fuck up!”

“He gets it from you,” came a cool voice.

Heisenberg straightened, seeing Juniper standing in the doorway. The swirling metal all fell, causing every piece to clatter loudly.

“What’s going on Karl?” Juniper asked, arms folded.

He looked a mess: face flushed, a slight sway in every movement, every muscle tight, and bleeding from several minor cuts.

Heisenberg gave her a feral smile, setting the bottle down. Juniper cocked her eyebrow at him.

“Liked all the fancy shit?” He pointed at her, “Had so much fun prancing around the castle, hm?”

“Does that matter?” She asked almost dumbfounded, “I thought dinner went pretty well.”

He frowned, looking down, his hat sent a dark shadow over most of his face. “Think it went pretty fucking well?” He turned away, leaning heavily back onto the table.

“What’s gotten you so worked up?” She asked, stepping closer.

“Think I can’t measure up to the supersized bitch!?” His muscles were tight, “I can’t give you all the nice shit she can! I can’t give you what you need!”

“Karl!” Juniper shouted.

“Shut up!” He rounded on her, eyes wild, “You would have been better staying there. You would have been safe!”

“Safe?!” Anger rose in her tone, “With her daughter’s drinking from me like a tap?!”

He took large steps toward her, the smell of alcohol hitting her like a wall. “You would have been safe. Safer then here with me.”

“Why are you saying this?” Juniper’s brows knotted together.

Heisenberg’s lips became a violent smile as he moved almost nervously, “Don’t you get it?”

When she didn’t respond he whipped around and threw a piece of scrap into the nearest wall.

“She’s going to use you!” His voice got quieter, “Maybe to punish me…I don’t fucking know.”

“Dimitrescu??” Juniper asked, deep confusion in her tone.

Giving a tight little chuckle he answered, “No.”

“Miranda?” She tried again.

As soon as the name left her lips Heisenberg rounded on her. His hand went to her throat, just tight enough to hold her and be a firm warning.

Her green eyes shifted from fear and shock as she tightened under his grasp.

His face came dangerously close to hers, “Don’t say her name. I don’t want to hear it.”

She tried to nod but he tightened his grip. She gasped, hands finding his wrists.

His pale eyes shifted over her face, emotions rippling through them.

“You’re fucked because of me.” His jaw went a bit slack. He saw confusion mix with the fear in her eyes, lips parting.

“I….I-I love..y-you.” She whimpered out in gasps. She saw his face shift before his hand tightened.

Black spots appeared in her vision as she clawed at his wrist.

“Why do you have to care so damn much?” He bared his teeth, “Why do you have to be so fucking important to me.” His voice almost sounded hurt.

His mind finally cleared of the red mist when he felt her grip on his wrist start to go slack. He quickly released her.

Juniper crumpled to the ground, grabbing her throat and sucking in needed air.

Heisenberg turned away, shame burning in him.

Juniper’s eyes pricked with tears as she looked up at him.

He put distance between them.

Heisenberg fell into a chair, rubbing his face into his hands.

“…I’m sorry.” He choked.

Silence stretched between them uncomfortably. Juniper rubbed her sore throat, shrinking a bit.

Looking up at the wall he started to speak again, “She wants you to join the hunt…wants to test you.”

Before she could asked he heavily sighed, “I don’t fucking know why…”

Juniper’s eyes narrowed, “So throwing a fit and choking me is going to help?!” She spat from the floor.

He didn’t answer. Huffing she stood, brushing grim from her skirt.

Walking towards the door, wanting distance she turned back to speak, “Karl…I’m not going to be completely safe as long as I’m in the village…no one is.” Her voice was tight, “And you need to stop blaming yourself for Miranda’s mistakes…your anger makes enough of your own.”

She left him alone with his thoughts once more.

It was late into the night before he entered the apartment. Darkness greeted him, he could just make out Juniper’s shape in the bed.

No food was left out for him and she hadn’t waited up at all. He didn’t blame her, their earlier interaction still leaving her understandingly raw.

She heard him enter, and the sound of his belts and charms being placed onto the table, his clothes to soon follow. The bed groaned as it accepted his weight. He moved softly and slowly in an attempt to not wake her. She felt him freeze when his eyes met with the reflective glow of her own.

“…Buttercup?”

“Don’t start.”

“I-I’m…sorry.”

She shifted, rolling onto her other side. He snaked under the blankets, moving up to press against her. She was rigid.

He nuzzled into her neck apologetically.

“I know you’re mad…but-“ he started, her voice cutting him off.

“Oh because you tried to choke me out for just trying to talk to you?” She hissed, “I’m so sorry my Lord.” She put emphasis on the word ‘Lord’.

He winced at her words.

“I didn’t mean it.” He tried to soothe. He softly wrapped a hand around her, finding her arms tightly crossed over her chest.

“I’ll just let you cut yourself up with scrap and wreak the whole factory next time.” She snorted, “Lesson learned.”

He wilted, burying his face into her. He knew he fucked up badly, but didn’t know how to fix it.

He pulled her closer, wrapping both arms around her. “I’m sorry.” He whispered again into her skin. She relaxed a bit, softening in his arms.

His cockiness got the better of him, a hand sliding down her stomach.

“Let me make it up to you?” He ventured, hand drifting lower.

“Not on your life.” Juniper hissed, grabbing his hand and pulling it back.

He smiled a bit, “That’s fair.”

“Mmm.” She hummed tightly.

One day till the hunt…

Heisenberg woke up early, as he always did. But the need to rise and get to work didn’t itch at him. The want to sooth the sting of the previous day at the forefront of his mind.

Juniper slept soundly, cuddling deeper into his side in her unconsciousness. Remorse clung deeply to his core. The shadow of bruising ghosted her neck. Grimacing, Heisenberg pulled her closer.

He stayed with her until she woke naturally, blinking up at him with sleep heavy eyes.

“Not in the shop today?” She yawned.

“Not today.” He murmured back.

She made a sound, falling back against him. They laid in silence for a long moment, Heisenberg thinking she’d fallen back asleep until she spoke again, “Want to talk about yesterday?”

He shifted.

Juniper looked up at him. She’d known he was dangerous from the beginning, probably the most dangerous thing in the whole area after Miranda. But their playfulness and affections dulled her apprehension of his volatile nature.

In truth he did very little in the way of hurting her. But the warning that he could, the power behind his hand, was enough to grant her pause.

He watched her eyes shifting over his face in thought. He brought a hand up to cup her face, heart sinking slightly as she flinched.

“I…I really am sorry about…about all that.” He admitted, “Though that probably means fuck all…”

Her lips were a thin line in thought. She couldn’t bring herself to hate him, even though his actions would cause her to be more wary when certain moods arose.

They were all monsters hidden in human flesh.

She closed her eyes, leaning into his hand. “Try to work on your anger…please?” Her voice came softly.

He gave a tight nod.

Taking a deep breath she changed the subject, “So the Hunt is tomorrow night?”

“Mhm”

“And Miranda wants me to go?”

“…yea.”

“So what do you do?”

He rubbed his face for a moment, “Gather the Lycans, get them all riled up and loud.” He swallowed, “It gives the villagers a bit of forewarning, less casualties.”

“They don’t know when the Hunt is coming?” Juniper asked worriedly.

“They know when it’s close.” He nodded, “Then when the moon is high I lead them to the edge and let em’ loose. Watch from a distance and call them back before sunrise.”

“So it’s mostly waiting?”

“Kind of.”

“Alright.”

He turned to look at her fully, “I want you to stay by my side, just wait it out ok?”

Juniper gave a nod, hearing the seriousness in his tone.

“Tomorrow I’ll have to leave to make some preparations, but I’ll come back for you by dusk. By no mean you leave this fucking factory.” His jaw was tight.

“I won’t.” She affirmed, “Should I do anything?”

“Get plenty of rest and food in you.” He shrugged, “But the cold will keep you awake.”

They spent the day together. Heisenberg made breakfast for them, Juniper insisting they eat on the couch.

They sat and ate, laughing about this and that. Juniper told Heisenberg about her most recent book she’s found around the factory and was now reading.

He listened intently, never telling her he’d read every book within the factory’s walls at least a dozen times himself. He was just content to see her happy, as he lazy ate his toast and sausage.

His heart longed for more days like this, when they could just be two normal people.

The rest of the day went about the same. Heisenberg even set up the shoddy little television so they would watch some old films.

She knew that, in part, the day was his attempt to apologize; and even though she was very grateful for the time spent together without work, shadows of what happened could never be erased with any amount of apology.

She lay her head on his chest, the soft hum of an old black and white western played from the tv. Heisenberg’s fingers traced little circles over her arm and side, teetering between soothing and tickling.

She closed her eyes contently. She could hear him rustle around, pulling out a cigar and cutting the end. After a small click and the burning pops of it filled the air his hand returned to her, continuing its travels.

She began to drift, the sound of his heartbeat mixed the familiar scent of smoke enveloping her.

By the time Juniper awoke she was in the bed, covers tucked in around her. She heard the clinking of Heisenberg’s belts.

Blinking open her eyes she sat up groggily. Rubbing her eyes to clear her vision she saw Heisenberg dressing in all his usual attire.

“What are you doing?” She murmured, voice thick with sleep.

Heisenberg made a small sound of surprise, turning towards her, “Didn’t mean to wake you Doll.”

He took heavy steps towards her, closing the distance between them, “I have to go get some shit together for tonight.”

Before she could ask he shook his head, “You stay here and rest, it’ll be a long, fucking night.”

He bent over and kissed her forehead, beard scratchy against her skin.

“Stay safe.” She cooed, settling back into the warm blankets.

He made a rumble, happy to see her going back to sleep. As quietly as his stature could allow he picked up his hammer and was off.

Night of the Hunt…

He stood at the gates, the cold wind ripping his coat open. Lycans swarmed the forest and rocks, snapping and barking.

Heisenberg’s eyes scanned the countryside, the village was quiet, the smell of incense and goats blood rising in the wind. They knew a hunt was coming, trying to appease Miranda’s wrath.

The stupid bastards…

Juniper looked flushed and jumpy beside him. He touched her shoulder, “You alright?”

She looked up at him, green eyes dilated. She gave a tiny nod, shivering from more than the cold.

The moon covered the snowy land in an eerie silver light, the cold allowing sounds to slice through the night.

Heisenberg strode up to the gate, lifting his hammer.

“Time the rile them up, baby!” He shouted. Heisenberg began to bang the hammer off the fence, hard enough to cause a clattering sound but not enough to bend the metal of the bars.

The Lycans started to bark and howl, running up and down the fence line.

Heisenberg raised his head, bellowing out a howl into the night. The creatures joined in. Juniper felt the round rumble as Urias stomped into view.

“Roar for me!” Heisenberg hollered at the thirteen-foot Lycan. Urias looked at him almost curiously before raising his own hammer, mimicking Heisenberg. He bellowed out into the night, the sound deep and guttural.

Juniper stepped closer, her heart hammering in her chest. It wasn’t fear, some other primal emotion pumped through her veins.

“Howl for them Baby!” Heisenberg lifted his hammer over his head. Juniper breathed out heavily, eyes widening. She threw her head back, cupping her hands around her mouth, and howled up at the moon.

Heisenberg opened the gate, marching through. Juniper kept close to his heels, breaths coming out in hot huffs.

The Lycans bunched around them, howling and snapping at each other. Urias stomped up beside them, peering down at Heisenberg with cloudy eyes.

Man and creature raised their hammers towards the moon.

“Go!” Heisenberg bellowed.

Urius barked out deeply to the mass, before jumping off into the darkness, much too agile for something of his size.

The Lycans began to move, rushing forward. The moonlight seemed to sing, the air cracking with energy. Juniper felt it all. The song of the night pulsing through her. Her muscles itched and ached, thoughts warped for a single need. She pulled away from Heisenberg, feet seeming to move on their own.

Heisenberg took a heavy step after her, opening his mouth to bark a warning. The words died in his throat. He felt golden claws snake around his neck like icicles.

His stomach clenched, muscles going rigid.

“Let her go.” Mother Miranda whispered in his ear, “Let see how she fares on the Hunt, sweet boy.”

Her voice was colder than the night, steely and sharp. Worry clutched his heart but Heisenberg could only give the shallowest of nods.

Miranda withdrew her hands, stepping to the side to look over the scene.

Heisenberg stood uncomfortably still beside her, his eyes desperately scanning the forest for Juniper. She was lost to his sight…

Juniper ran between two varcolacs, she could feel the heat radiating off their sides. She was fast, faster then she’d ever remembered.

She was keeping pace with the creatures. A feeling rose in her chest, the desire to be even faster, to dig her toes into the frozen earth.

She halted enough to kick off her boots, feeling hot she threw her coat away with them.

She sped to catch up with them afterwards. Her legs elongated as she fell on all fours. In the new form she could easily match them, their milky eyes fixated on her as her body shifted to one that resembled theirs.

Her multiple green eyes glinted as she huffed out. She wanted to run and bite, to kill.

She snapped at one of the varcolacs, it jumped back a bit, shrinking from her jaws. She was slightly bigger than them, her teeth like daggers.

Reaching the hilltop over the village they paused. Her eyes caught many more shapes of Lycans in the dark trees.

She raised head, jaws cracking open to release an eerie howl. The others joined in, filling the night with a choir of terror.

They descended like a mass of rats into the village, dark shapes filtering between the buildings.

She could smell the fear, seeping through the cracks in the walls. Her wet nose twitched, drool forming at the corners of her mouth as she sensed the villages hiding in their homes. They were like mice hiding away within their holes.

Her teeth begged to sink into flesh, her mind a cloudy mess save for the most primal of desires.

The pungent stench of blood met her, with the death cry of a man far off. She surged forward, large claws digging into the frozen earth as she followed the trail of distress.

Her senses were bombarded with the melody of chaos. The sounds of terror and death rose up above the chilling winds, the scent of blood and fear almost suffocating.

She panted out heavily, every nerve screaming for more: to run, to bite, to eat, to kill.

Juniper found the source of her previous query. Lycans were shuffled over the form of a man, limp and bleeding in the snow.

She made a warbling cry of warning, the smaller predators moving away. She descended on the body, her teeth ripping flesh and breaking bones. She tasted blood, like iron on her tongue.

A sound, almost unnoticeable, sliced through the night: A small metallic click.

She looked up, pearlescent teeth shimmering in the low light.

She stared down the barrel of a gun. A villager held up a pistol with a shaking hand, reeking of terror.

She curled her lips, blood dripping heavily from her jaws, a monstrous growl escaping them.

Her muscles bunched, self preservation vacant from her in this current state.

The coil snapped, she leapt forward. The ear splitting bang of the gun sounded the second her feet left the snow.

#resident evil village #karl heisenberg #heisenberg x oc #re8 oc #heisenberg #in the steel steeds heart #resident evil #heisenberg smut

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writteninsunshine · 3 years

Text

Heaven’s A Lie - Lucas Baker/Ethan Winters - NSFW

Title: Heaven’s A lie

Author: Reno

Fandom: Resident Evil 7: Biohazard

Setting: Baker Family Estate

Pairing: Lucas Baker/Ethan Winters

Characters: Lucas Baker, Ethan Winters, Mia Winters, Zoe Baker, Jack Baker

Genre: Hurt/Comfort/Romance

Rating: M

Chapters: 1/1

Word Count: 1376

Type Of Work: One-Shot, Part of the For All These Times series, Whump Fic Bingo fill #1

Status: Complete

Warnings: Gay, Slash, Yaoi, MLM, Non-Con Kissing, Gore, Blood, Vomit, Sick Fic, Comfort From Whumper, Whump Fic Bingo, Trauma, Traumatic Experiences, Canon-Typical Violence, Mostly Canon Compliant

Disclaimer: I don’t own anything.

Summary: The last thing that Ethan needed was Lucas’s comfort, but that didn’t mean he was going to deny him. He didn’t have it in him to fight right now.

AN: Hey guys, it’s me again! Just thought I ought to say, if you want vague updates and to talk to me more, I have a writing Tumblr, too! Twitter is Sunshinecackle, and Tumblr is Writteninsunshine! I also have a writing Discord that is currently pretty dead. xD If you want it, please contact me on Twitter!

So, I was looking for a good whump fic bingo I could use for Ethan, since that man can take a beating like no one else. I didn’t find one I liked, so I made one myself. Requests are open for it, and only three slots are taken out of twenty-five, so please give it a look? People on FFN can PM me for the link or search HimboHungry on Twitter. It’s under my pinned! Warning, it’s a NSFW twitter.

Here we go: https://twitter.com/HimboHungry/status/1391276875415269379

With that, here goes nothing!

Resident Evil Fic Masterlist

Ethan Whump Bingo Fic Masterlist

Heaven’s A Lie

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

There was no fighting it, now. Fatigue crept into every fiber of his being, and his eyes could barely stay focused and open. Pain wracked his body, and there was a distinct collection of saliva in his mouth, leaving him nearly drooling as he gasped for air like a man drowning, lost at sea.

0Heaving shoulders and a lurch in his stomach had Ethan crumpling to the grass, hands and knees bracing him against the dewy turf. The humidity of the swamp around them didn’t help the sweat dripping from his face, broken pants bursting from his nose. Soon, he wouldn’t be able to breathe out of that. With a painful heave, he gagged, coughed impossibly hard, and spilled the contents of his stomach all over the ground in front of him. It splashed against his arms, staining the sleeves of his shirt and hitting his face; he would have grimaced if he wasn’t otherwise occupied. Nothing but acid left him, as he hadn’t eaten in God knew how long. Dehydration was going to set in soon and only make the pounding in his head that much worse. Blood pumped loud and harsh in his ears, his vision swam and he felt another dry heave coming on.

For a moment, he begged any God listening to end this torture, but his ardent pleading fell on deaf ears. Nothing reached out to save him, and death was still lightyears away. How could he still be kicking after all of this? Every injury, every removal of his limbs. Jack had seen to it that he wouldn’t die, he thought, and that was the most shocking education he’d ever had.

Eyes watery and nose dripping over his lips after six more emissions, he staggered back to his feet. Swaying for a few seconds, he scrubbed at his face, smearing the tears and mucus up his cheeks, trying to regain control over himself. He had to get to the barn that Lucas was hiding away in, he had to save Mia, himself, and Zoe. That was his main focus, the only driving force to keep him going right now. A one-track mind helped in this situation, and he stumbled forward, the light peeking out from under the door a beacon showing him where to go next. Would this kill him? Maybe. The heaviness in his arms wasn’t helped by the gun in his hand, his arms nearly limp as he fought against the weakness in his knees.

Not paying attention to where he was going, lumbering ever forward, a sudden shout left him and he plummeted to the ground hard. No time to catch himself, the biting pain in his leg too much for him to handle on such short notice, his face hit the mud hard enough to bruise his cheek. With the wind knocked from his lungs, he lay there in agony for a long moment, eyes screwed shut as he tried to catch his breath.

Once he could wrap his mind around filling his lungs again, his eyelids lifted and fell sluggishly as he pushed himself up off the ground halfway, hips still glued down. Turning to look at his right leg, Ethan winced at the sight of barbed wire looped around his ankle, a thin, short leash of it tied to a stake in the ground. It looked like the kind screwed down, meant to keep a dog in the yard. That was him, now, wasn’t it? A dog trapped in a yard that wasn’t his, kept by someone intent on keeping him. Tears leaked down his face again, his nose a snot faucet, the fire in his face unable to compare to the tight grip ripping into his flesh.

Footsteps alerted him to a presence, and he grabbed the shotgun not far from his hands. They quivered as he looked up, expecting a molded to be coming for him in his hour of darkness. Forcing himself to sit up on his hip, he leveled the gun on Lucas, surprised to see the other man out of his control room.

“Aw, look at you, Ethan…” Lucas chuckled, his grin splitting his face nearly in half, “Caught like a coyote in a trap.”

Ethan was hyper-aware of Lucas’ southern drawl, ‘cai-yote’ leaving his lips, and he clicked another bullet into the gun in his hands.

“Now, now, no need for that,” Sauntering over, Lucas pried the shotgun from Ethan’s hands with more ease than the injured man wanted to admit to, and he watched as Lucas set it aside. Apparently, he had more sense than to simply throw it, and Ethan recognized that all too well. Self-preservation, at best, but at least Ethan wasn’t going to get shot.

“Fuck off.” Ethan managed, his voice wavering, cracking as Lucas kneeled down to take Ethan’s chin in his filthy hands.

“You ain’t in any position to tell me what to do, now, are ya, Ethan?” Lucas shook his head with a happy chortle, leaning in quickly enough that Ethan was stunned, stuck in place.

Dry, cracked lips met his in a violent kiss, and he tasted blood, snot, salt, and bile as Lucas’ tongue strong-armed its way into his mouth. A disgusted grunt left him as Lucas plundered his mouth, taking from him what he wanted and leaving no room to struggle against his advances. Ethan was exhausted, in too much pain to fight him as Lucas tugged him forward by his armpits, straining the limited reach of the barbed wire lacerating his skin. Another cry of pain left him when Lucas bit into his lip hard enough to split his plump, chapped flesh, leaving a trail of blood down his chin.

“There you go, Ethan… Look so good like this.” Lucas was nearly purring in excitement, blood thrumming through his system, “Want to make you mine.” His whispers against Ethan’s lips almost left him bereft, but he was sure he was past that point, now.

“Wh-wh-what do you want, Lucas?” His tone wasn’t as rough, wasn’t as spiteful as he’d wanted, but Ethan had to take whatever he could get at this point. Spitting at him, Ethan glared as hard as he could with= his wet eyes and watery, almost stern frown.

“Don’t go playing hard to get, now, Ethan. It’s unbecomin’. You’re dependent on me to get you outta this, ain’tcha? You oughta be nicer to me.” Lucas’s smarmy smile almost made Ethan sick again, he felt his stomach railing against his insides, bile rising in his throat.

Another rough kiss met his mouth, his blood mingling with Lucas’s saliva, staining both of their teeth pink. Suddenly, Ethan shoved at him, unsure when he cared not to give him his ire. God knew Lucas deserved it. Turning just enough to feel safe in this moment of weakness, a few dry heaves soon produced more stomach acid to slap on the ground, splattering more against his chest and arms.

“Can’t handle yourself no more?” Lucas asked, absently rubbing Ethan’s back as he spilled his stomach contents again, eyes red and puffy from tears and throat hoarse. Quivering, he leaned into Lucas’s touch, hating himself for wanting the comfort he provided. Elbows buckling, he did his best to fall to the side that his vomit wasn’t on, shocked to find Lucas scooting forward and sitting down cross legged.

Yanking Ethan into his lap, he held him close, wiping at his face and sweaty forehead.

“Pushin’ you too far, baby boy?” Lucas asked softly, his voice almost tender and eyes soft as he took in the sheer amount of pain in his face. Ethan nodded vaguely, eyelashes fluttering against his bruised cheekbones. Lucas was right. If he’d stayed away, he wouldn’t be suffering like this. On the other hand, Mia would have been, and he couldn’t find it in himself to give up on her. Eyes sunken in, he looked like he might pass out, and Lucas took pity on him. Reaching for the shotgun, he held it up above Ethan’s oblivious head, his eyes closed to the world, before slamming it down against his temple as hard as he could.

The world swam for a moment, Ethan’s vision hot and white for just a second before everything went dark.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

AN: Welp, I feel like this vaguely covers another part of the whump bingo, but I’m not going to count it because the theme is still being caught in a snare. At any rate, I hope you guys enjoyed the ouchies. I had fun writing this! It’s partially a vent piece, as a lot has been happening lately and it’s driving me crazy not getting it out.

Prompt: Caught In A Snare

#Resident Evil 7 Fanfic #Resident Evil 7 Fanfiction #Luthan #Lucas Baker #Ethan Winters #Non Con Kissing #Noncon Kissing #Gore #Injury

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willadisastercry · 3 years

Text

The part where they try not to freak out: ‘When the Dust Clears’ pt. 2

tw: minor mentions on gore. this is very tame and not graphic at all, mostly just Lance hurt/comfort and Pidge being a smart ass.

The onset of another quake spurs the three trapped paladins into action. Well...? Really only Pidge. But without much from the barren ruins to go off of, she’s finding it difficult to macgyver her way out of this one. The water level is rising and the longer Lance goes without medical care, the more anxious Shiro is getting. Everyone’s resolves are dwindling with the threat of another quake that can occur at any moment hanging over their heads. How the hell are they going to get out of this alive? Good question.

This update was kinda short but stay tuned for the wrap up of this fic. It gets very harrowing and I’m not nearly done hurting Lance ;)))

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4

Shiro took his arm off Lance once the only thing still shaking was him.

The quake came on so fast that there wasn’t time to do much in the way of preparation, not that there was much to do anyway. But Lance was the only one missing a helmet so Shiro settled for gruffly pulling his injured teammate down next to him, shoving his head in the crook of his arm, and covering the top of it with his very human hand in an effort to protect him from any falling debris.

But the rumbling stopped before it moved anything significant. And when he finally shifted to inspect the damage, the pebble sized bits that he’d saved them from fell off easily.

Lance let out a few timid coughs against the dust that was stirred up, not having the energy to roll onto his back and shield his nose from the irritating particulates with how horribly his head was hurting. But the act of coughing and what it angered hurt his scrambled brain worse than the actual head injury.

“I don’t know if that’s the last of it, but I think it’s dying down now,” Pidge noted as she began pulling herself up from where she’d scrambled for cover.

“How do we know if that’s the last of the big quakes and these are just aftershocks?” Shiro asked, his face pinched with worry he wasn’t even bothering to hid anymore.

“We don’t. But I think we have bigger issues for the time being....” her gaze was glued on the bit of water dribbling from underneath a stone in front of her.

“Mmmmh—ugh,” Lance groaned. Words were hard to summon. His mouth was so dry he thought he might asphyxiate on his own ragged breathing if he didn’t clear his throat several times before trying again.

“D’it stop for you guys?” he inquired sluggishly, his voice hoarse and trembling.

“Yes...” Shiro noted slowly, his mind working over too many things at once to compute what that statement might have meant for a moment.

“Did it not for you?”

“Nope,” Lance strained through a shudder, his body shaking like he was cold despite the regulation of his paladin armor. His heavily battered paladin armor.

“Everything’s spinning now actually... the tilt-a-whirl kind...”

Lance’s eyes hadn’t stayed open long even after the dust had cleared. His hands weren’t working right to brush the gunk out and he’d be dizzy either way so he didn’t fuss about it.

“Do you want to try sitting up, maybe that’ll help?”

But they had gotten so heavy. And now that Shiro was looking at him he noticed he could hardly even blink without effort.

“Nah, s’okay... gonna sleep for a bit—“

A rough hand on his shoulder had Lance jerking abruptly, fear twisting his stomach in knots similar to the one throbbing on the side of his head at the thought that another quake had started before Shiro cut through his panic with a serious ‘hey’.

His leader voice was back.

“I was phrasing it as a question out of sympathy. You’re still not allowed to sleep and it’s not a choice, it’s an order.”

“Such a... buzz kill sometimes... know that, right?”

“Yep, wouldn’t have it any other way if it meant you actually listen to me when I give suggestions.”

“This is not... a suggestion... s’bullying...”

“Come on,” Shiro huffed in exasperation as he worked his arm out from under Lance who grumbled at the loss when that meant his aching head was now completely horizontal.

He wasn’t even sure he was still on solid ground with how aggressively dizzy he became after that, the rock floor beneath him shifting like it was melting and he was falling. Except he was well aware that he wasn’t.

“Up you go... thanks Pidge.”

The vertigo only worsened when a strong hand was pushing at his back while another tinier one tugged at his limp arm, their combined effort guiding his pliant body into a sitting position.

“I can handle Lance while you survey the area for anything that might be useful, the water’s rising fast so we don’t have a lot of time.”

Shiro’s hand remained firm on his shoulder when it was apparent he still didn’t have the ability to keep himself even semi upright without assistance.

“Useful how?”

“I don’t know, maybe something that you can shove under the rock to prop it up and use as a lever... something strong...”

There’s a groan of rubble crashing in the distance, displaced from the pressure of the tons of water pouring on top of it.

“Why don’t you get going, yeah?”

Shiro suggested when he saw how Pidge blanched and Lance winced at the sound, the minute vibrations that reached them jarring his brain once more.

“We’ll be right here when you get back,” he reminded with a tight smile.

“You’re seriously not nearly as hilarious as you perceive yourself to be.”

“I know.”

The landscape wasn’t littered with much in the way of useful materials. Mostly giant slabs of uneven stone from the pavilion that made traversing the debris field really annoying with only one hand for balance, especially when additionally trudging through rising water that made everything slippery.

“This is pointless,” she grumbled.

There was nothing useful. Aside from bits of rock that she could maybe jam on either side of Shiro’s arm to alleviate enough pressure for him to slide out once the water rose enough, but there wasn’t any point in lugging those back with her when there was plenty where the boys were.

A particularly slick stone had her heart rate elevating when she narrowly avoided taking a header. It only served to enervate her further.

“Pointless and treacherous...”

But as Pidge made her way closer towards the ruins from the building that got swallowed down with them, the crushed squabble of rubble started to pique her interest. There were actual items squished under large swathes of sediment instead of just more sediment.

The blue light of her suit glinted off of any bits of metal she passed by, though for a while it was mostly rebarb rods and plumbing pipes sticking up between rocks. But the more she spotted the more they got Pidge’s mind working.

It would need to be something smaller. Something that was already bent and not sharp. Something she could free with a few tugs.

She scanned the rubble with a renewed passion once she knew what she was looking for, the water lapping against her ankles as she made her way around the destroyed landscape an unpleasant reminder of what was at stake if she didn’t hurry.

The same couldn’t be said for Shiro and Lance who were sitting on a ticking time bomb. Well? More like in.

“Hey Sh’ro...” Lance whispered, his voice timid.

The wait for Pidge grew bleaker as the time droned on. Not that Lance could even really gauge how much had passed or focus on their impending deaths for long. The several inches of water beneath them was a good marker though.

“Yeah, bud? What’s up?”

They hadn’t done much talking. Lance had made it clear that even Shiro’s hushed voice made his head spin and so he only spoke when checking in every now and then.

“I didn’t...”

He watched carefully as Lance looked down at the water in his lap and shuddered. His breath catches in his throat before he can get his question out and Shiro’s blood goes cold despite the temperature regulators in his suit being in perfect order.

“What’s that?”

He takes as deep a breath as he can manage and averts his gaze.

“Know m’out of it... but I didn’t, right?”

Shiro begins to run through every field medicine fact he knows regarding brain injuries before he follows Lance’s eyes back down to the water lapping against his crossed legs and the several splinters in the lower half of his armor.

He stowed that away for later. That the dents ripped into Lance’s suit meant it was comprised. It meant that so was Pidge’s and so was his and their helmets wouldn’t do them any good because water was bound to get in anyway.

Just like water was getting into Lance’s now...

“Oh, shit you mean—no Lance, no you didn’t. That wasn’t you, it’s just some water from the pipes that broke.”

The sigh he let’s out is a jagged one but he seems to visibly relax at the confirmation.

“Kay... s’good. Was worried for a sec...”

Shiro has to close his eyes and breathe deeply for a second to keep from laughing. Or crying. He’s not sure which but either one would have been hysterical and he was certain that he didn’t want to indulge in that.

The literal only thing he could do was keep Lance calm and he was not about to comprise it by losing his.

Lance hums idly and it eases Shiro’s frayed nerves. He has to be righted briefly when he relaxes his arms and it sends him lurching to the side, but once he remembers himself and locks his elbows again Shiro offers him a terse smile of encouragement.

“Don’t have’t do that, y’know...” Lance grumbles in response.

“Do what? Keep you awake or keep you from splitting your chin open? Because you already know what my answer to both of those questions will be.”

Lance steels himself to turn his head and face Shiro. His eyes are bleary and unfocused when he does. It takes an extra minute for him to process what he’d just heard and another to put together his response.

Shiro’s frown somehow deepens at the realization that he’s getting worse and wonders if he’s already forgotten what they were talking about, maybe even the question he wanted to ask.

“I’m happy to remind you though,” Shiro decides on following up with, his tone gentle as he forces his wrinkled forehead to soften.

Lance hums again but this time it’s contemplative and his brows knit together in concentration.

“Pretend you’re not scared,” he drawls slowly, taking his time enunciating each word but still sounding slightly drunk anyway.

Shiro catches himself before he smiles, before he lies to Lance again.

Lance who is concussed and losing blood from several gashes on his face and head that are more likely to scar to longer he goes without a pod, but coherent enough to know that Shiro is bullshitting him and subtlety tell him to screw off.

“Alright,” he says instead. And this time Shiro allows himself to laugh.

The half of Lance’s face covered in cuts is undoubtedly numb and swelling from the bruises sure to be forming beneath all the blood, but he tries to smile anyway.

Shiro mucks his hair with a light hand far away from any patches of red and they fall into a comfortable silence as they listen for Pidge. It’s what feels like a mini eternity and another three inches closer to drowning before they finally hear her approaching.

“Pigeooooon,” Lance calls out.

“Present,” she mumbles exasperatedly.

Her hair is matted to her forehead with sweat and there’s a skinny pipe tucked under her trembling arm. Shiro would’ve told her to rest for a minute if she wasn’t already clutching a jut of upturned stone for dear life.

“What is that for? You’d need something a bit wider for a wedge...”

“Maybe I wasn’t shooting for a wedge.”

“Pidge this is serious.”

“I’m well aware, you don’t have to remind me—he’s going down.”

“Shit Lance,” Shiro gruffs as he yanks him up from where he was seconds away from falling face first into water.

“Sorry. M’awake.”

“Sure you are,” Pidge agrees sardonically as she kneels beside him and grabs his chin to look him over. His pupils are still dilated and his wounds are still dribbling spurts of bright red but the flow isn’t as heavy as before. At least blood loss won’t get him first.

“Hey, Pidge...”

“Hi, lover boy.”

The nickname elicits what can only be guessed was a sorry attempt at an eye roll but he gets distracted in demonstrating his contempt by what Pidge is presenting Shiro with.

“Mmh was’the tube for?”

“Ever seen the wonky mask that scuba divers use? Well, Shiro’s going to take an unprecedented dive today and this is the best substitute I could find.”

“Hold up—“

“Nope, you don’t get a say, I nearly busted my ass pulling this lose. Tube goes in your mouth. Pinch your nose so you don’t accidentally waterlog your lungs. And pray that the others find us before you have to do any of that.”

Shiro is silent for a long moment but Pidge doesn’t care. She’s too busy catching her breath and willing the fire in her arm to ease to give her stubborn superior any room for protest.

“I should’ve sent Lance.”

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wayward-mikaelson · 3 years

Text

When You’re Gone

Word Count: 4319

About: Reversed situation of How To Save A Life. What would happen if it were you reeling from Steve Roger’s death

Characters: Reader, Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanov, Bucky Barnes, Wanda Maximoff, Tony Stark, Bruce Banner, Clint Barton

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings/Trigger Warnings: Language, Character Death, Blood and Inury, Blood and Gore, Depressed Reader, Time Jump, Surprise Ending

A/N: This popped into my head while listening to Avril Lavinge’s When You’re Gone. I knew that I knew I needed to get this down because I needed to know how the reader would react when the love of her life died in the explosion. Would she wallow or would she try to get back to somewhat a normal life?

Song: When You’re Gone By Avril Lavigne

*This work contains content for the 18 and up crowd.

**Please DO NOT copy and paste my work anywhere WITHOUT my permission and WITHOUT giving me credit. I work too hard on my work and would hate to have it stolen. You obviously can share the link.

***This work is also posted on Instagram (excerpt), WattPad, and Archive Of Our Own. Go show it some love over there too please.

****Go follow my other accounts. Links can be found in the pinned post on my profile.

*****Currently NOT taking any requests.

Forever Tags: @hobby27 @donnaintx @myinconnelly1 @elansaidaris @magssteenkamp @440mxs-wife

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“I’ll be fine Babe,” You stared into Steve’s worried eyes as you turned away. But you turned back, “Don’t forget, we have those dinner reservations tonight.” You added and saw a slight smile and shine in Steve’s eyes. Enough for you to turn around and head on up to do a walk around.

You had been excited for this dinner Steve had planned. He had waltzed right into the room four days ago and had told you that he made those reservations. He didn’t tell you where, just when. He had done this a few times before so you loved the mystery behind it. You thought it was romantic. That’s probably why you were attracted to Steve that very first day.

You took the stairs two at a time, while lost in your thoughts. The agent behind you, despite the muscle and looking like a body builder, had a hard time keeping up with you. You opened the door to the eight floor and began to look around. Making sure that everything was good and nothing suspicious were hidden away.

“Hey, do you think you can slow down some?” the agent asked, clearly out of breath.

“If you can’t keep up, then you need to find a new fucking line of work,” you shot at him. You half excepted to hear Steve tell you to watch your language but, you didn’t. He was probably too occupied with the mission to say anything.

“Yes ma’am,” the agent replied back.

Something made you stop dead in your tracks. You stood in the middle of the room when you felt your body grow cold. The pit that was in your stomach early that morning returned. It tightened around in your stomach more, making you feel sick.

Something was wrong.

Something was going to happen.

***

You stopped chopping the carrots. You set the knife you held aside and rested your head in your hands. You rubbed your face as you recalled the events of that nightmare day. You didn’t want to think about it but, the memories would hit you hard and randomly throughout the day.

Over time, you had gotten better at pushing them aside to try and finish the task you had at hand. So that’s what you tried to do. You took a deep breath and looked up from your hands. You saw Wanda, your best friend in the entire world standing there. The look on her face reflected what you were feeling deep down. She knew how you were truly feeling. You couldn’t hide it from her.

Wanda walked over to you and pulled you into her arms. “I’m sorry,” she said softly, brushing her hand down your long hair. “It’ll get easier over time.”

“I don’t think it ever will,” you whispered. “I feel so empty and cold all the time.” It was true. You felt like you had this huge hole in your chest that you couldn’t seem to fill. You were always so cold that no matter what you did, you could never get warm.

“I know, I know,” Wanda cooed into your ear. “Think of a happy memory you had with him. That helped me when I lost my brother.”

You closed your eyes and remembered when you first kissed Steve. It was one of your favorite memories that you held close to your heart.

Tony called a late briefing, and it took everything in you to not tell him to go fuck himself. Your body had been killing you and all you wanted to do was relax in a nice warm bath or just pass out on your bed. But you saw Steve rolls his eyes and walk into the conference room. You weren’t alone.

The whole meeting, you saw from the corner of your eyes that Steve looked at you. You either kept your eyes on your notepad or on the speaker. Tony talked about stuff that you clearly couldn’t understand because science wasn’t your strong suit in school. Bruce would cut in and correct him or add onto something. You hoped that the meeting would end soon. For Tony’s or Bruce’s sake.

Finally when the meeting came to a close, you got up and walked out to the court yard. You wanted to stretch your legs and breath in the night air before calling it a night. You heard the doors open and the familiar sound of Steve’s shoe hit the pavement. You smiled to yourself like a giddy little school girl.

“Do you mind if I sit next to you?” He had asked. So gentlemen like.

“Yeah,” you felt your cheeks flush and you know that Steve would be able to see it in the bright moonlight. But you didn’t care.

The two of you talked for a few more hours about whatever came to mind. You listened to Steve tell some embarrassing tales about Bucky and you promised that you wouldn’t tell anyone else. You laughed so hard, that you had to think back to when someone this handsome had made you laugh that hard.

It had been awhile.

“Let me walk you back to your room,” Steve stood up with you and offered his arm.

You stared at him, your thoughts running with scenario after scenario. Steve stared back and you could only wish what was going through his head. Then Steve turned slightly and had your face in his hands. He pulled your face gently to his and pressed his lips to yours. You sighed and wrapped your arms around his neck.

In that moment, you knew your heart found epic, true love.

***

Finally, finishing the fifth and final floor you still couldn’t shake that deep pit in your stomach. You only had a few more floors until you were out of the building and the agent with you was much more annoying than anything else in the world.

“How’s it looking up there?” Steve’s voice rang in your ear. You smiled and let out a breath of air.

Steve was okay.

Steve was alive.

But the pit in your stomach remained.

“We’re all clear up here,” you said into your wrist. You wanted to add that the agent with you was a pain in the ass but this mission was almost done. So you didn’t even bother. “We’re just passing through the fourth floor.” You stopped and smirked. “Shouldn’t be too much longer, Captain.” You could already picture Steve’s face starting to turn a deep shade of red. You knew what calling him Captain did to him. You didn’t even care that the rest of the team could have heard you.

Everyone knew that Captain America was fucking you for that last few years.

“Move faster Agent Y/L/N,” the way Steve had said your name, sent shivers down your spine. You felt the familiar ache in between your legs. Steve knew how to play this game well.

“Could you guys not?” the agent behind you said. “We’re working here. Save it for the bedroom.”

You turned to see him raising an eyebrow. You wanted to smack it off his face so fucking bad that you had your fists clenched. You could have done this walk through by yourself but you knew protocol. You had to have a partner go up with you. You closed the distance between you and the agent and stared up into this dark eyes. You saw fear flicker in them. Good, you thought. He knew who had the bigger set of balls in this room.

“You’re lucky I’m in somewhat of a good mood. Otherwise, I would kick your ass right here.” You grabbed the collar of his shirt and yanked his face down to your level. “The team wouldn’t even care. Better yet, Fury wouldn’t give a flying fuck.”

You let go of the agent and turned on your heels. This mission was almost over. You’d be back at the compound cuddling up with Steve before going out to dinner. You didn’t have time to deal with the agent whose minutes were numbered. You reached for the door leading to the stairwell when you were suddenly thrown back with a loud explosion surrounding you. Your body hit a table and your fell to the ground.

“Y/N?!” You heard the panic in Steve’s voice. You couldn’t find your voice because you hurt just about everywhere. “Y/N, sweetheart? Can you hear me? Are you okay?” Steve’s voice shook with panic in your ear. It was a matter of time before he went in after you. Which he would be stupid to do.

You got onto all fours and looked up and saw the agent had been been killed on impact. Fuck, you thought. He had been annoying but you never wanted him dead. Maybe bruised and battered up. Never dead. The pain in your arms caused you to collapse. You rolled over, finally able to find your voice.

“Steve…” you groaned before loosing consciousness.

***

Your eyes opened and you were still sitting in the shower with your legs drawn up to your chest. The water had grown cold and your fingertips were shriveled up prunes. You stood up and turned the water off and wrapped up in a towel.

Stepping out of the shower, you noticed in the mirror how red and puffy your eyes had been. After two months you still bawled your eyes out. Crying and the pain you felt, even though you hated the feeling, it was the only reminder that Steve Rogers had been real. His love for you, you didn’t ever want to forget that feeling.

You thought about all the times you and Steve made love. He took his time with you. He made sure to always kiss every part of your body. He made sure to let his hands linger in all the right places just to toy with you and make you squirm under him. You would claw at his back when he hit all the right spots while inside of you. Your lips would mold slowly together while coming down from the high of both your orgasms. Just long enough before being pulled into his arms before drifting off to sleep.

You closed your eyes and a few tears rolled down your face. God, you missed that feeling. You wondered if you would ever be that close to someone again. You hardly doubted it. A love like that, that was always a once in a life time kind of thing.

***

You woke with the sound of metal groaning and pieces of the the room falling around you. You heard the faint voices of people shouting but you couldn’t make out who they were. There was a ringing in your ears and shook your head to make it stop.

You attempted to get up but you realized something was pinning you down. You sat up a bit and saw a slab of ceiling pinning your lower half. That slab should have crushed your legs but you noticed a wooden table sticking under it. You let your head fall back on the ground. You were stuck and alone.

“The fuck I’m not,” you heard a familiar voice yell. “I’m not leaving your ass in here.” It was Bucky. You weren’t alone. If Bucky was here, then Steve had to be too. Opening your mouth, you tried to say something but nothing came out.

More debris fell. “Buck,” Steve’s voice rang out clear and it was closer than you imagined. “I’m not going to-“ Then he stopped. You wondered what made him stop talking. “Bucky!” There was a hint of joy in his voice. “Get over here. I found her.”

Within minutes the heaviness was lifted off you. The look of relief flooded Steve’s face as he knelt down and brushed the loose hair from your face. The biggest smile spread across this face as he gathered you into his arms. You couldn’t help but give a pained smile as well, everything felt right now that Steve had you in his arms.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Steve planted a soft kiss to your head. “I got you now.”

Then everything in that moment changed.

As Steve carefully made his way back towards the stairwell, the floor gave out underneath the two of you. Bucky, who was quick to think grabbed the two of you. His metal hand gripped you tight while his other hand gripped his best friend.

Both the weight of you and Steve held Bucky down where he was. There was no possible way Bucky could swing the two of you up. Not without one of you slipping from his grip and losing one of you. You and Steve watched as Bucky tried hard to calculate in this super human brain how to save the two of you. Then part of your hand slipped from Bucky’s metal hand.

Steve’s eyes met with yours. “Bucky, you take care of her.”

“No!” you and Bucky shouted. You were happy to have your voice back again. “Steve,” you continued. “Please don’t do this.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” Steve’s eyes started to fill with tears. “I love you.” Steve reached his free hand up and pried Bucky’s hand off his arm. You began to plead and cry for Steve to stop but, you started to slip more from Bucky’s metal hand. Then before your hand could fully fall out of Bucky’s, his flesh hand was already on yours. As Bucky pulled you up, you knew it was too late.

Steve was gone.

***

Your eyes flew up and you sat upright in your bed. Sweat covered your body as if you had been back in that burning, collapsing building. You wiped the sweat from your head and looked at the empty space next to you. The space that had once been Steve’s and it still slightly smelled like him. It was still strong after two months.

The time on Steve’s digital clock read two in the morning. The normal time you’d been waking up since coming back from the hospital. You kicked your legs out of the beg and walked out of the room. You wore pajama bottoms and one of Steve’s shirts.

Entering the kitchen, you saw Bucky sitting at the small island. Bucky, you take care of her, rang through your ears again. And Bucky had. He stayed with you the whole time your were in the hospital. You checked on your countless times that first month. He somehow always knew when you’d be up from a nightmare. That, or Bucky’s and yours nightmares were synced together.

You pulled up a chair next to Bucky as he slid a cup of tea your way. And you guys just sat there while you sipped on your hot tea.

“If there was a way to save him, I would have,” Bucky said softly. Never once had Bucky talked about that day with you. Normally, the two of you would sit in silence for thirty minutes before going back to bed. Tonight was different.

“I know, Buck,” you turned to him and place your hand on his shoulder. “I would have done the same if I were him.” It was true. You would have ripped your hand from Bucky if it meant that Steve would live.

Bucky patted your hand as he met your gaze. You saw how sad he was and you knew he missed Steve probably as much as you did. “You know, I found an engagement ring in his night stand,” You took another sip of your tea. “I think that’s what dinner was supposed to be that night.”

“Y/N,” Bucky leaned back in his chair. He had this look on his face and you knew he didn’t know. “I’m so sorry. If I had known, I would have made sure Steve stayed.”

“But would he have stayed behind?” You asked laughing lightly. You both knew Steve inside and out. Bucky gave a light laugh as well.

“You’re right.”

You thought back to night before that mission. You and Steve had been arguing about you going. If only you knew what your knew now, you would have stayed behind. But you didn’t. You couldn’t understand why Steve kept telling you to stay behind. He didn’t have a good reason and the only to make him shut up about it was to wear that red dress he loves so much on you.

You ignored Steve most of the night at Tony’s party. You talked and drank with your friends and for the hell of it, you let some random dude hit on you while Natasha and Clint took bets on your reaction. Natasha obviously won. You, having had too much to drink, told the poor dude you already had a boyfriend and it was Captain Fucking America.

After that you went and looked for Steve. Once your found him, you pulled him off to a private single bathroom. In no time Steve had your dress unzipped and pooling at your feet. Leaving you only in your lace bra and not so matching underwear. His lips already on your neck as he picked you up and placed you on the counter top.

Within in minutes, Steve had you in a moaning mess as he thrusted himself in and out of you at a hard and fast pace. Your nails were starting to dig into his lower back as you felt your stomach tightening up with the strong orgasm that was coming. Soon, you were crying out in pleasure while Steve filled you up.

He helped you back into your dress and helped get your hair back into place. He peppered a few kisses on your neck, sending a shiver down your back.

“I love you,” he told you before the two of you returned to the party.

The next morning, the same argument resumed about you not going on that mission. At that time you had that pit in your stomach. You told leave to just leave it alone and marched yourself not the that helicopter. You ignored him until he caught your arm before entering that building.

***

You woke up in the hospital. Everything was hazy and blurry but soon you focused on two figures by your side. As soon as your vision started to come back to you, there sat both Natasha and Bucky. They were still in their gear. Bucky’s face had cuts and bruises on it. Just his look alone brought everything back. It felt like getting hit by a semi.

Steve was gone.

You could feel it deep down.

Y/N?” Your eyes flickered towards Natasha’s face. It looked like she was holding it all in. Steve was her best friend. She was the one who brought you into the team. She was the one to introduce you and Steve. She watched the both of you fall in love. You did’t know it at the time but Natasha was there when Steve bought the ring.

“We found him,” her eyes fell to the floor. You knew it wasn’t good.

Bucky leaned forward and took your hand, but you pulled it back. You weren’t sure about how you felt towards him. Not yet anyways. “The entire fourth floor fell on him after the final explosion. He didn’t make it.”

The world around you froze. You slowly turned away from Natasha and Bucky. You stared at the blank wall and let the silent tears fall down your face. You covered your mouth to keep the sob from slipping from your lips. But it failed. The sob echoed around the room. You hugged yourself as you let yourself cry.

“I’ll go find a doctor,” Natasha said softly before leaving the room.

You felt Bucky’s hand on your arm and this time you didn’t pull back at his touch. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. You could tell by the shakiness in his voice, Bucky was close to tears as well.

You lost the love of your life.

Bucky lost his best friend.

***

You stared at the head stone that read ROGERS in big bold letters. One part of your brain was still trying to convince you that all of this was just a silly nightmare. That you’d be waking up soon to Steve’s strong and warm arms pulling you in close. But you knew better. Even though you wanted this to be just a dream and to have the man you loved back in your life.

“Oh, Steve,” you whispered tracing the letters of his name. “I miss you like crazy. Bucky's been real good too. We’re keeping each other in some sort of check. We’ll be fine.”

Light footsteps stop next you and from the corner of your eye, you see Bucky sit next to you. The two of you did this once a week. You’d get out of compound and just sit at Steve’s grave for a few hours. Either talking and telling stories or just enjoying the silence and weather.

“With everything going on,” You said taking thew water bottle Bucky offered you. “I didn’t catch it. Why everything has been hitting me harder and why my emotions are through the roof. I should have caught this.”

“What’s that?” Bucky asked.

“I took three pregnancy tests,” You looked at Bucky. “They all read positive.”

Bucky choked back on his water. “What? How far along?”

“About two months, I think.” You down at your hands. “The night before the mission, Steve and I snuck away from Tony’s party.”

Bucky stared at you, the ground and turned to look at Steve’s headstone. “Steve’s final wish was for me to take care of you.” He rested his metal hand on my leg. “And that’s what I’m going to do. You and Steve’s kid aren’t going to be alone at all.”

And Bucky did just that.

***Eight Years Later***

You sat on the porch watch a little blonde hair blue eyed boy play in the yard. He had on a small Captain America costume on, wielding a small shield. The two things gifted to him on his seventh birthday by your old team members. They loved your son dearly, especially Natasha who had all the good stories about Steve to tell him.

Your son was aware of who his birth father was. He was also aware of the sacrifice he made. His eyes would always light up when he heard stories of his father. His little smile was the same as Steve’s. It made you happy. That’s when you realized that Wanda had been right all those years ago. The pain had somewhat gone away. It lingered here and there sometimes when you thought about Steve and how you did this life without him knowing his son. A son who was exactly like him. The love that Steve gave to you never left. It reflected back through your son.

“Still going at it, I see,” Bucky sat next to you and handed you a glass of water.

Just like Bucky promised, you and your son weren’t alone at all. He was there for every appointment. He was there for the odd midnight cravings. He was there when you went into labor and stayed by your side for two days until it ended with an emergency C-section that had almost ended your life. He was even there for all the sleepless nights helping out with nightly feedings and soiled diapers. When you quit the Avengers, so did he.

Bucky was always there.

You didn’t know how it happened but falling for Bucky wasn’t apart of the plan at all. It was slow and unexpected. It scared the hell out of both you. But the two of you slowly went with it. Soon it wasn’t just small, gentle kisses on the cheek or lips brushing on your neck. It slowly turned into long nights of making love and learning to love someone again.

Now years later, you and Bucky had been married for five years. You guys lived on the outskirts of town in a two story house with a nice white picket fence. It had been perfect for you guys.

“He’s fallen like five times with that thing, but he always gets back up,” you rested your head on Bucky’s shoulder and he placed a kiss on it.

“Very much like Steve,” Bucky chuckled. “You know, if he takes after Steve, he will be more than a handful when he’s older. How are you feeling today, Doll?” Bucky’s metal hand rested on your bulging belly. You were about seven months pregnant.

“This one seems to be kicking my ass,” you shifted around on the porch bench. “They always seem to be in my ribs, trying to push outward.”

Bucky leaned down. “Take it easy there kiddo.” His blue eyes lookED up at you and it made your heart flutter.

“Dad?” A small voice brought both you and Bucky up right. Those bright blue eyes looked at the two of you. Breathing deeply after having probably ran as fast as he could. Despite knowing who is birth father was, he always called Bucky dad.

“What’s up sport?” Bucky turned his entire attention to the little boy in front of you guys.

“Are you going to tell me the real story of how you got that metal arm?”

“Like I said last week, when you’re older,” Bucky leaned forward with a smirk. “But I’ll tell you it was a secret organization. Now, go get washed up, dinner is almost ready.”

You saw your sons eyes light up and mouth fall open. “What secret organization?” He asked in wonder.

“Steve,” the two of you said the boys names at the same time.

“Okay, okay,” he backed up and ran inside.

You and Bucky exchanged a look. “He’s going to find out the truth one day,” You said slowly getting off the bench. Bucky helped steady you.

“Just like his dad.”

The End

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gigglewaterart99 · 3 years

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Ruby Vs. Kuma

As said in my bio I’m working on a graphic novel, so in addition to being an artist, I write too. I’m not the best but I try. Which is actually why I’m posting this short excerpt from my story. Idk if this is the best way to get feedback or critique but it can’t hurt to try.

I know y’all don’t know much about my story, so here’s the general tl;dr : four high school superheroes (with elemental themed powers) become friends, fight villains, go on adventures, explore their abilities, and have some chaotic fun.

This particular excerpt features Ruby, who has earth powers, and she gets into some trouble. POV shifts twice, from Nightmare to Ruby, and then back to Nightmare at the end, in case anyone is confused. It’s also a bit ?spoilery? but I figure y’all don’t know enough context for it to even matter so eh, here we go.

words: 2411

CW: blood, gore, injury (graphic descriptions)

“Hurry up Heath!”

“Quit worryin’, I’m coming!”

Nightmare lets the door slam behind her as soon as the second Heath brother is through. They made it out of the bank with seconds to spare, and minutes before any law enforcement arrive. Nightmare smiled under her mask, this was too easy.

She spoke too soon.

A flash of blue and orange drops from the sky and lands heavily in the middle of the alley way. The Heath brothers are too stunned to react before two columns of earth rise at blinding speed and knock both brothers into opposite sides of the alley. They slump to the ground out cold, their bags of cash rolling out of their lax grips.

“A bank heist on such a fine Friday evening? What a great start to my weekend!” The little hero exclaims avidly, her chest puffed out and her arms spread wide, a toothy grin the only thing visible on her masked face.

Kuma, who had been ahead of the brothers, turns around at the commotion, “Little brat! I’ve seen you around the city but never up close, until now. I’ve been looking forward to destroying you!”

“Destroy?! Whoa there, I just took out two of your buddies in two seconds flat. No offense but I don’t think you and your…” She turns to look at Nightmare, who was starting to advance, “uh, shadow mask friend are going to be much of a problem. Unless of course you were Flairs.”

“You’ve miscalculated,” Nightmare advances full sprint, “We are.” She vanishes in a flash of black mid-leap and reappears with a dagger extended at the hero, who barely manages to lift a gauntlet in time for the dagger to bounce harmlessly off. Nightmare had to give it to the little hero, she had some sharp reflexes. But she was going to have to be quicker than that to catch her--”GAHK!” Nightmare tumbles out of her shadow jump with the hero in tow, who had grabbed onto her tail with a painful grip.

“Oh, did that huwt your wittle tale?” The hero ducks as Nightmare spins around with the dagger slashing dangerously close. “Woah! Someone needs a chill pill! Here, big guy, why don’t you give your friend a talk!” Pain flashes up Nightmare’s spine as the hero yanks her tail and launches her at Kuma, who had been advancing slowly. But Kuma, the damn brute, does nothing to break Nightmare’s fall and instead swats her to the side.

“Not friends I take it? Acquaintances maybe?” Ruby watches as the masked Flair slumps to the ground.

“I am here for the money, but I am going to enjoy ripping you apart.” Kuma lets out a roar, a roar? As his clothes begin to rip and his form rapidly grows and darkens as if a shadow had suddenly overtaken him. Ruby takes a step back, nervously eyeing his hands as they sprout enormous claws and...fur? Her eyes flick back up to his face, which was no longer bearded and angry, or human for that matter, but was covered in thick black fur and elongated into the long, thick snout of a bear, with a matching set of sharp white fangs.

Ruby was glad her visor was heavily tinted because she could feel her eyes stretch wide in a mixture of astonishment and fear, as the man reared back to his full height, which had gone from something like 6 feet to a dizzying 8 feet. He was, without a doubt, a big black bear. But not a full bear. The proportions weren't quite right, almost like a human wearing an extremely realistic and frightening bear costume.

Ruby had read about Flairs like these. They were called Zoo Flairs*. They had the ability to rearrange their whole physical structure which meant that they could take on the physical prowess of the animal they copied, and could even amplify said abilities. But such power came at a cost; most can only shift into one type of animal.

And this one had to be a big friggin’ bear. Ruby’s muscles tighten as the man-bear lets out a roar and charges. She crouches and leaps over the mass of black. But her flight is cut short as a giant paw wraps its claws around her leg. How the hell did he turn so fast? A body with that much mass shouldn’t be able to--”OOF”.

Ruby’s thought is cut short as she’s slammed into the ground. Before she can even force air back into her lungs, she feels herself lifted into the air again. A moment later she crashes into a wall. Somehow she lands on her feet and her legs, albeit shaky, hold her up. She looks up to see the bear--uh--man-bear charging again. She throws a left hook, sending a chunk of brick wall straight at his ugly snout. Bullseye.

She jumps to the side as the man-bear collides blindly with the wall right where she had been standing, but not before a stray claw can slice through her exposed shoulder. She winces and takes a moment to breathe and glance back at the other goons. The blonde dudes were still out cold but the masked Flair was moving again. Not good. She had to put this man-bear down, quick! Or at least hold out until some backup arrived.

Ruby winces. Vincent was still recovering from a recent fight and in no condition to come to her aid. Laurel was grounded for the weekend and Sam had swim practice today. She’d forgotten she wasn’t going to have backup today and had promised herself only some light patrolling. Nonetheless she felt her stomach drop as she realized the situation was quickly going south.

She whips her head back to the man-bear as he frees his head from the wall with a grunt. He turns to Ruby while giving his big head a shake to free any lingering chunks of brick, although a light dusting of red still clung to his fur.

“What’s the matter, tubby? Too temperamental to fit in with the circus and too ugly for the zoo?”

“GRAAHH!” He charges at her, who advances as well. Before he can take a swing, Ruby drops and slides feet first between his legs, simultaneously digging a heel into the pavement to spin herself around to face his back as she comes out the other side. Using her momentum, she rolls backward, planting her hands on either side of her head and coiling her legs into her body. Satisfied with her hold on a chunk of earth between her and the beast, she releases. Her legs extend up towards the bear, a large chunk of asphalt following the line of her feet and colliding explosively with the man-bear’s face, who had twisted his upper body around to follow her movement.

As debris rains down, Ruby continues her momentum and flips onto her feet, a fist ready for a close body shot. Before she can even brace herself, the man-bear’s paw slams against her chest, smashing her back into the ground and pinning her with a crushing weight. Her head flies back into the pavement with a thud and she silently thanks her brother for the extra thick padding in her helmet.

The man-bear shakes his head and glares down at Ruby, a growl rising from deep inside his chest. Ruby curses under her breath; she’s made a mistake. She let her fear cloud her judgement; she’d let her pride turn into recklessness; she should have known that the asphalt was too crumbly to provide any serious damage, and that getting so close to an enemy with such intense strength and speed was foolish.

She could hear her sister already yelling at her; her eyes pointed with disappointment. “What the hell was that?!” The older girl walked toward Ruby, her head raised high and her movement graceful and powerful. She stands over Ruby, staring down at her with frustrated but tired eyes, “You know you have the upper hand when it comes to battling in such small quarters,” She gestures to the rusted steel walls surrounding them, lined with old pipes and grated catwalks that extended indefinitely into the shadows, “Not to mention we’re on ground level, literally your area of expertise.” She squats down next to Ruby, who’s covered in dirt and grime, and bruises. “So why do you keep making these mistakes?” Ruby looks away, the shame too strong to answer. Her sister sighs, “You’re strong Ruby. And smart, crazy smart, but you let it get to your head, and that’s what's going to get you in trouble, understand?” Ruby nods. Her sister extends a hand, “C’mon, I know you’ve still got a little fight left in ya’.”

The crushing weight on her chest brings Ruby back to reality. She wants to yell out but it’s getting harder to breathe. She tries pounding against the beast’s forearm, but her strength is beginning to weaken as well.

“That’s not going to work, little bug.” The man-bear lets out a rumbling chuckle, or was it a growl? He peels his lips back to expose his big white fangs dripping with drool, “I’m going to--”

Without thinking Ruby slams her elbow into the ground and raises it in a weak punch, sending dirt and grime into the beast’s mouth.

He spits and lets out a deafening roar, “I’M GOING TO TEAR OFF YOUR STUPID ARM!” He wraps his claws around Ruby’s right arm with a painful grip, and pulls. She screams.

There’s not much air left in her lungs but the pain is too much. “STOP!” She kicks her legs out in an empty attempt to connect with something, anything. “NO, PLEASE STOP! YOU -- *GASP*” A loud pop at her shoulder sends pain rolling through her body. Her hand has gone numb.

The beast lets out another grumbling chuckle and continues to pull, slowly. Ruby can feel the tendons and muscles in her shoulder weakening and ripping. She couldn’t think straight anymore, panic flooding her brain. She began pounding with her left hand at the hairy arm pinning her. Her fist hit so hard that it recoiled back hard enough to hit the ground and her brain cleared just enough for her to realize that the shock of the impact allowed her to get a feeling for the composition of the ground just beneath her hand. It was solid and surrounding something even harder: a stray piece of rebar. She had an idea. It was crazy, but considering her right arm was about to get ripped off, crazy was all she had.

She pushed her fist against the ground and willed the earth to slide up into her hand, carrying with it the piece of rebar. Without hesitation she plunged the rebar reinforced shaft of earth deep into the beast’s forearm. He let out a roar but Ruby almost didn’t hear it amongst all of the adrenaline inducing white noise in her head. She could just see the tip of the rebar poking out the other side of his arm. She gave another push and her hand slipped into the wound.

The man-bear still hadn’t released her arm, so she wasn’t going to release his. Using the last bit of her strength she grabbed onto what felt like a stiff bundle of muscles, and squeezed. They popped; blood gushed out of the wound. He roared again and finally let go of her arm. He lifted his wounded arm as well but Ruby had latched onto another group of muscles. The beast growled and shook his arm, throwing Ruby off like she was nothing but a pesky bug.

She landed with a thud, the little air she managed to get back into her lungs knocked out again. She lay for a moment gasping, trying to focus her eyes as pain ran through her body. Despite everything, she was just happy she didn’t lose an arm. But the relief didn’t last long as she heard the man-beast walking back towards her. She managed to raise her head just enough to watch him approach, grasping his bleeding forearm. The rebar was gone which meant he pulled it out.

He stops beside her and glares down with a hmph. She’s reminded again of her sister, which is odd because her sister never tried to kill her, unlike this beast who fully intended to. Ruby is too weak to scramble out of the way as he reaches down and collects both of her arms into his one good hand and lifts her into the air.

Ruby can’t remember if she screamed or not, only that she was fighting to stay conscious from the flood of pain. He lifts her to eye level and she manages to focus her eyes as he lets out a rumbling growl, “I’m going to kill you.” She believed him.

He pulls back his arm, despite being injured and not 100% functioning, Ruby had no doubt those 4 inch long claws could slice into her like butter.

“Kuma STOP!” He pauses and turns to look past Ruby. She can’t turn her head but she recognizes the female voice, it’s the masked shadow Flair. “We don’t have time for this!” He frowns and pulls back his lips into a sinister sneer. But the masked Flair continues, “Listen! The cops are almost here and you’re making too much noise! We have to leave now!”

The man-beast, Kuma as the other Flair had called him, pauses and turns his head, his ears pricking up at the faint sound of sirens. Darkness was closing in on the edges of her mind but Ruby could hear the sirens too, and she realizes that although this fight felt like it was lasting an eternity, in reality it had only been a couple minutes, if even that.

Kuma lets out a low, dangerous growl as he turns back to Nightmare, “Fine.” With one swift move he launches the barely conscious hero into the far corner of the alley, where she collides with and disappears behind a large pile of trash bags.

Nightmare turns to Kuma with a frown, “C’mon, grab those two, I’ll get the bags.” She slings them over her shoulders as Kuma heaves the Heath brothers under each arm. Nightmare steps forward and wraps her tail around the arm of the younger brother, “Ok, hold on.” And with a puff of black smoke, they’re gone.

#my writing #i am: hero #Ruby Sandz #Nightmare #Kuma

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wehavethoughts · 3 years

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Zack Snyder's Justice League Review!

Zack Snyder's Justice League dir. Zack Snyder (2021) Warner Bros. Pictures, DC Films, Atlas Entertainment and The Stone Quarry Science Fiction, Action, Superhero Movie

Rating: 3.5 Waves

Summary: Tormented by visions of a dark future, Bruce Wayne aka The Batman attempts to gather a team of superheroes to defend the planet. When alien tyrant Steppenwolf arrives on Earth seeking a long forgotten technology, this group of heroes must do everything in their power to keep him from locating all three Mother Boxes and destroying the world.

Content warnings: Violence, Death, Body Horror, Gore

This review DOES NOT contain spoilers for Zack Snyder's Justice League

A bit of background for those of you thinking “Didn’t Justice League come out years ago?” You are exactly right! Justice League was released in theaters in 2017 and is the fifth movie in the DCEU (DC Extended Universe). The same company that produced Justice League then funded Zack Snyder's Justice League (2021) which is a different version of the story that was released in 2017. Zack Snyder was actually the original director of Justice League (2017), but he stepped away from the project during post production and the film was handed over to director Joss Whedon. Whedon’s creative decisions led to rewrites, heavy editing and a notorious reshoot that required removal of Henry Cavill’s mustache via CGI. Therefore, Justice League as it premiered in theaters in 2017 was Joss Whedon’s vision of the story. As some of you might remember, Justice League (2017) was considered a “flop” as it lost the studio ~$60 million overall and was received by fans with mixed to negative reviews (6.2/10 IMDB, 40% Rotten Tomatoes). But since Zack Snyder had left so late in the project, there were rumors that his version of the film had been nearly finished and there was hope that the movie Snyder filmed was actually better than what Whedon had created. Fans took to social media to demand that Warner Bros release the “Snyder Cut'' of Justice League and in a move I personally find baffling, Warner Bros actually gave Zack Snyder another $70 million to finish his version. Zack Snyder's Justice League (2021) which was released on HBO Max is the final product.

While understanding the context of how this movie came about is neat and honestly pretty hilarious, I never got around to see Justice League (2017) so I cannot give any commentary on whether this new film is any better. For those who are curious, my fiancée who has seen both says that the movies are extremely similar in plot, but there are significant changes to characterization and pacing. This review will solely be on the merits and shortfalls of Zack Snyder's Justice League (2021) in a spoiler free context since the movie was released just over a week ago (if you want to talk spoilers DM me I have So Many Thoughts).

Honestly, I was surprised how much I enjoyed this movie. My expectations were quite low considering what I heard about the original 2017 version and the fact that I’m more of a Marvel fan. The most surprising thing for me was that I sat through the entire 4 hr and 2 min runtime (for reference the runtime for Justice League (2017) is 2 hrs). Aside from Lord of the Rings (Return of the King runtime 4 hr 11min), I usually don’t indulge in movies that require me to block off an entire day, but I was curious and I love bandwagons.

The highlight of this movie are the characters. Each of our main characters had a deep, solid backstory that drew me in and made me invested in what was happening in this world. One thing lacking in a lot of ensemble superhero movies is balanced screen time between the main cast, but Zack Snyder's Justice League (2021) uses its time wisely to give each character depth and critical purpose in the narrative. Even the villain had compelling motivation as to why he is on earth doing dastardly deeds, and while I wasn’t rooting for him, I respected his motivations. I also appreciated that the writers of this movie made the characters intelligent. Sure, some decisions were driven more by emotion than logic, but the way defenses are set up and how our heroes use their unique powers left me incredibly impressed.

The characters’ interactions with each other was also very enjoyable. Snyder took the time to include scenes centered around the team chilling with each other in ways that were refreshingly low stakes and mundane. The story was interspersed with scenes like Wonder Woman and Alfred making tea, Aquaman and Wonder Woman musing over cultural differences, and Cyborg and Flash digging up a body where you could really see the characters grow from strangers to teammates to friends. These scenes also peppered in some light humor that kept the movie from becoming too dark without distracting from the tone.

Since Zack Snyder's Justice League (2021) is technically an action movie and it is rated R, I feel like I should touch on the action sequences. Overall, the action was incredibly fun to watch! It was made for the big screen so watching the epic battles for the first time on my TV at home was a bit underwhelming, but the well choreographed, high stakes fights were still visually pleasing. For a rated R movie there was not as much gore as there could have been, which I appreciated and the level of violence was pretty much what I expected from a comic book movie.

The action scenes also do a fantastic job with power escalation. By that I mean the action illustrates the limits of one character’s power clearly in relation to other characters’ powers. This way you are aware of exactly how impressive the characters and their powers are on their own and so when someone or something stronger shows up we have context for how big of a threat we are dealing with. The clean way the story shows us everyone’s respective powers and their limits makes it so the stakes feel more tangible and it's not just unfathomably strong characters beating the shit out of each other with the winner decided by chance.

There are a few reasons the movie didn’t get a full five waves from me. First was that the Amazon’s outfits were very clearly made by horny men based on how much skin they were showing. I, a bisexual, personally love to see superheroes in less then full coverage, but when the Amazon warriors have their entire stomachs and cleavage out of their armor for no reason it exhausts me. What happened to the tasteful and stylish armor from Wonder Woman (2017)? This feels like a step in the wrong direction.

The next concern I have that has kept me from recommending this movie to people is the overall pacing and length. While there were some great uses of the extended run time like the action sequences and team bonding I mention above, there were so many scenes that were way too slow for me to stay engaged. I found myself editing the movie in my head, like did we really need 2 full minutes of Bruce Wayne and his horse climbing a dreary mountain? I don’t think so. This was a narrative where I needed to pay attention lest I miss critical pieces of the story, but the random scenes that dragged on too long had me going to get snacks and checking my phone throughout. If I could rate the movie by halves the first half would get 2.5 Waves because of how it dragged and the second half would get closer to 4.5 Waves since the story really picks up and fun things start to happen.

The final part of this movie that kept it from getting a higher rating was how closely it was tied to Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice. In fact, the first scene of Zack Snyder's Justice League is the final scene of Batman v Superman. There were many plot critical tie-ins to previous movies that left me feeling confused until I googled my questions during the slow scenes. If you have never seen Batman v Superman or Man of Steel then you will miss a lot of this movie, which I thought was unfair because other DCEU movies came out before the first iteration of Justice League like Wonder Woman and Suicide Squad and while events in those movies are mentioned in passing they are not nearly as important as the Batman and Superman-centric films. If the DCEU is going to pick favorites, the least it can do is pick movies I actually like (Wonder Woman (2017) remains my favorite DCEU movie to date). In general, superhero movies seem to be trending toward sagas and I prefer movies that you can just watch and enjoy without needing to see a bunch of other movies first.

Overall, I did very much enjoy this movie, but based on the run time alone it is not going to be for everyone. Measuring movie success during the pandemic is trickier than looking at box office numbers and labeling it a success or a flop, but it does appear that Zack Snyder's Justice League (2021) is doing well as far as critical reception and viewership. I hope that this success will allow the DCEU to explore all of the fun nooks and crannies of the universe Snyder pulled together. In fact, half of the epilogue of this movie felt like set up for future movies. I hope they come to fruition because there were some pretty compelling teasers at the end that I would love to see played out on the big screen.

As I mentioned before, I’ve never seen the original cut of Justice League, but Snyder’s version left me fulfilled and satisfied with the narrative, so I am happy to have seen this newest cut first. This is a movie for people who love DC, love superhero movies or are just really invested in the hype.

~TideMod

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siancore · 4 years

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A/N: This is a collab between @thematsaidwelcome79 and I. It details Rick's return to ASZ after six years of everyone thinking he was dead

Part 1: Prologue by Siancore

Words: 1,986

Warnings: Typical Zombie Apocalypse Violence; Blood; and Gore.

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The cool water slid down Rick’s throat. It hurt a little, as he swallowed too much at once; the reprieve felt almost foreign. He could not remember the last time he had been given something to drink. His captors liked to remind him that being an ingrate in their community did not go unpunished. It was not that Rick was ungrateful for the help, because he truly was. They had saved his life when he was on the brink of death. They had lifted him to safety, and, as they so bluntly put it, wasted valuable resources on him; resources that could have gone to someone else. Someone who would have appreciated the help. Someone who would have wanted to stay and work off the debt that they owed. But Rick Grimes did not want to stay. He wanted to go home to Michonne and Judith; he needed to go home to his family. He was not an ingrate, but rather, a man who wanted to be with his wife and daughter.

That was almost six years ago. Six heartbreaking, lonely years. It crushed his heart just to acknowledge how long it had been. Not a single day passed where he did not miss his girls. Not a single day passed where he had not longed for them; where he wished he had done things differently. Where he wished he would have spent more time with them, and less time at the bridge. Where he hoped and prayed that they were safe. They had to be. He knew Michonne would do everything in her power to make sure they were.

Judith. His precious child whom he swore to always protect. Whom he had hoped to be there with, every step of the way. His daughter who did not deserve this world she was thrust into. He missed her little smile. He missed the way that she felt in his embrace; how she looked at him with such adoration that it caused his heart to swell with pride, and hurt at the same time because all he ever wanted to do was live for her.

Michonne. His heart ached for her, knowing that she most likely thought he had died. She had lost so much, too much. It saddened him deeply that he was putting her through the grief of losing yet another person she loved. He missed the way she felt wrapped in his arms. How her kisses breathed new life into him again and yet again. How she was smart and strong and wanted the best for their little family.

Thoughts of them are what kept Rick going on those harsh days and those long and lonely nights. When he had first arrived, he was unconscious. He spent months in a coma, he was told. They had kept him alive and cared for him. When he had woken, he was disoriented and remembered nothing of what led to him being there.

As time passed, he grew strong, regained his memories, and healed; he recalled seeing all of the people he had cared for. The ones who were long gone, and the ones who were still living. And then that explosion. The destruction of the bridge, and the sacrifice of his life, to save everyone else. When he was feeling particularly low, he would curse himself for giving so much. But then he would regain composure and realize he had done the right thing. He had saved them.

Yet it was not lost on Rick that the cost to himself was great. Though his family was safe, they were without him, and he was without them. That is what fuelled him and his urge to leave the community. When he was well enough to work, they asked him to. Jadis asked him to. Her being allowed to stay, it seemed, was riding on Rick’s cooperation and willingness to toil and sweat as a form of recompense.

He reminded her that he had a family back in Alexandria; this meant very little to her. He knew she was a selfish person, but this was another level of malice. He reminded himself that she should meet a swift end if ever he was afforded to opportunity to do so. With each failed attempt at escape; with each subsequent beating and imprisonment, Rick grew more determined to free himself of the walls of this prison dressed up as civilization. But he needed to be smart. They had locked him away for long enough, now he would convince them he was ready to join the workforce.

Presently, he found himself being given food and water. He would play the grateful prisoner for a time, even agree to work their fields, until it was time for him to make his move. Jadis stood at the other side of the small cell and watched him. He chewed the food slowly, so he did not choke, and hoped it would be enough to give his some physical strength.

“You don’t have to spend the rest of your life in here,” she said. He said nothing. It was the same message she delivered each and every time she visited. “There’s work to be done; debts to be paid, if you’re ready to do what’s needed without trying to get away, they will have you. They will let you out of this shithole.”

Rick washed his food down with the water she brought with her. He then looked up and met her eyes. Determination rose in his aching stomach until it seeped through his tired bones and flowed through his veins. He cleared his throat and said, barely above a whisper, “I’m ready.”

…..

The sun was bright and it burned his eyes. Being locked away in the dark cell did not help to maintain his eyesight. It took a moment to adjust to being outdoors in that daylight again. A guard stayed with Rick while he went to wash up. The dirt and grime fell from his weary body and the cold water rejuvenated him. As he found his bearings, he remembered that the prison cells were near the agricultural fields, and the sprawling community was off in the distance.

Rick slicked his long curls back, and ran his hand over his thick, mostly-white beard. He would not waste time visiting a barber, for half of the day was already gone. Instead, he chose to begin to work the fields. If he did that for a week or so, maybe the powers that be would be more lax with the security detail; maybe they would be fooled into thinking he was ready to repay them for their so-called hospitality and kindness.

…..

With each day that passed, Rick grew stronger. With each day, he was able to take note of the routines of the guards, and identify if there were any structural weaknesses in the walls: There were none, but off in one of the corners, the barrier was low. What he understood of this community was that it was part of a larger network. No one told him where he was in the world; no one told how far he was from home. It was something of a security measure against those whom the community had acquired.

It was the end of another workday, a few weeks into his duties, and Rick was packing away the farming implements and chemicals he was using. The guards’ watchful eyes were never far away, so there was no way he could take one of the tools back to the cells with him. As he brushed his curls from his brow, he had an idea. It just might work, too, he mused, if he could get word to the other prisoners and gain their support. Upon approaching one of the guards, he put forth his request.

“Do you think I’d be able to see the barber tonight?” asked Rick as he ran his hand through his mess of curls. “Didn’t realize how much of a bitch it was to let my hair get so long.”

The guard eyed him, and then nodded his head before saying, “Yeah. Don’t see why not. I’ll send him around after meal time.”

“Thanks,” said Rick as he ambled toward the mess hall to have dinner and spread a few whispers of dissent.

…..

The thing about the prison block in the community was that it was only guarded by two people at any time: One on the inside, and the other at the outer door. It was their own hubris about the fortitude of their infrastructure that accounted for this somewhat relaxed approach. Rick was going to use it to his advantage.

He waited in his cell for the barber to come; upon their arrival, Rick played the willing punter in need of a cut and shave. He backed away from the cell door when the sentry unlocked it, and took up a seat on the stool the barber brought in.

“Yell if you need anything,” said the guard as he closed the door and left the two men inside the cell. Rick noticed it was not locked. They would be foolish to lock someone in there with a prisoner. There was no way they would even entertain letting a prisoner go with a hostage. Luckily, Rick had no intentions of taking a hostage.

“What’d you need?” asked the barber as he sharpened his straight razor on the leather strap attached to his bag.

“Get rid of the beard,” said Rick. “But leave the curls, my wife loves them. She’ll want to run her fingers through them when I break free from this place and find her.”

“Eh?” asked the barber.

As quickly as he grew confused, Rick was on him and had freed the razor from his grasp. He used it to slice it across the barber’s neck. His limp body fell to the dusty floor as the people in the cells next to Rick started yelling and banging on their cages. The guards were back there in no time, one before the other. Rick rammed the freshly sharpened blade into the first guard’s stomach, before disembowelling him. He moved to the next guard and kicked him in the shin, effectively breaking his leg just below the knee. He cried out in pain and dropped to the floor before Rick took the razor from the other guard’s still-writhing corpse, and slit his throat. He searched their bodies for the keys and took one lot for himself, and gave the others to the other prisoners.

Havoc ensued as everyone ran from the block to make their escape. They used chemicals on hand to fuel the fires; they set the cellblock and the crops alight. Some dashed for the fences and ran for the walls. Others wanted retribution for their captivity and were intent on doing as much damage as they could. It took some time before alarms were sounded and the police force came. Rick hid over near one of the tool sheds and watched the chaos unfurl. While the authorities were busy with chasing down escapees and extinguishing fires, Rick crept away to the quiet corner of the yard and scaled the fence in the place where it was lowest.

By the time the fires were put out and the prisoners were either captured or killed, Rick was running furiously through the abandoned streets of the outlying surrounds. He ran until his legs felt like they would give way. He ran until his lungs hurt. He ran until he could no longer smell the smoke from the fires. He ran until his body was so heavy that it collapsed to the soft dirt on the side of a sealed road. He willed himself to stand and figure out where he was. In the moonlight, he was able to see a sign that read: Welcome to Ohio. So much to discover…

#richonne #richonne fanfiction #rick grimes #michonne #michonne grimes

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elizabethsharmon · 4 years

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Now that s5 has ended what do you think about it? I remember seeing you be quite vocal about the season and then you just stopped and I was just wondering what your general opinion is. Did the fandom scare you away? :(

hey there! I kind of stopped being so loud about the show here cause at some point I just gave up about s5 and don’t worry, it would take a lot for fandom to scare me away and i’ll be back with my usual bullshit in 2 weeks with s6 clip by clip reactions ✌️ anyway, i was going through my archive while writing this to remind myself of what happened in each clip and what were mine and fandom’s reactions to it and somehow when I started writing this, it turned out I can’t stop and it got quite long so I'mputting it under read more:

So first of all may I just say that the trailer/firstclip was one of my favourite clips of all times. It was just SO GOOD and to meit was like a dream come true cause I was talking about dropping a clip andstarting a season on New Year since July AND THEY DID IT AND IT WAS E P I C,such a power move, I love it. Honestly everything worked there, the music wasamazing, it was so wonderful to see both squads partying together, it wasperfect, 11/10.

Then the season started and I absolutely loved thefirst two episodes, we really started to get into Arthur's head, to get to knowhim and his family, find out how insecure he is and how well he's hidingeverything from others, and Arthur and Alexia clips!!!! They worked so welltogether and were so cute and supportive, I said it back then that if they ruinthem I will never forgive them for that because what was the point of makingthem a couple in the first place?? I still don't understand that, I don't thinkI ever will... Fast forward to the first Wednesday of the season aka underwatermale gaze aka the moment I knew we're in for a ride and it won't be a goodone... When the clip started I was over the moon, I'm a swimming hoe myself andI loved that they used the pool for actual swimming, the cinematography wasbeautiful and I loved that they found a way to incorporate Lisa into the story.That was until Arthur dived and saw Noee... and sadly, this was the firstmoment I emotionally yeeted out from the season. Don't even get me started howwrong it was - 1. using the pool which is a sacred place in the show’smythology; 2. using piano music; 3. peak male gaze, objectifying Noee, andArthur staring at her even though HE HAD A GIRLFRIEND; they were setting it upas a love triangle from the beginning and after those 10+ weeks I still havethe same question about it as I had back then: why. It was also the first timefandom started to be hostile and the shipping war began, some people werecoming to my and my friends' inboxes, sending us anons to stop thinking theworse about Arthur, that love triangle will definitely not happen and thatDavid explained on his insta that they used the setting of pool in another waythan it was used in og s3... Well, jokes on you cause we were right. Anyway thatWednesday clip was to me the first red flag of the season, the first momentwhen some people started attacking others, when the fandom police started formingand suddenly you couldn't say anything because someone would jump on you andsend hate.

But I decided to let it slide, hoping that they reallywouldn't go there (spoiler alert: they did) and then we got Friday clips withelu housewarming (i'm still emo!!!) and Arthur losing his hearing permanently.It was absolutely heartbreaking to find out he lost hearing in his left ear 2years ago, it was a real game changer back then and suddenly everything changed- why he was looking at Alexia so intently, why he didn't cover his left ear atnye party, etc. I absolutely LOVED the way they handled the topic at thebeginning with Jerome explaining everything to Arthur and to us and I LOVED thepositive discourse it started within the fandom with deaf/hoh people teachingothers and explaining things without getting mad at silly questions - tbh to meit was one of the best parts of the first half of the season and I'm reallygrateful for it ❤️

Sunday clips with gang were one of my favourite in theseason, I think Arthur took us all by surprise when he went to elu's flat totell the guys that he can't hear and they were chaotic and supporting andamazing and wow, I really don't understand what the fuck happened and wherethey disappeared in the second half of the season. I loved that they hinted aturbex king Eliott and I kinda feel like that might come back in s6....... butanyway. The 7 amclips were absolutely one of the highlights of the season. They helped to buildsome sort of routine and Robin absolutely nailed them, I could feel howpowerless and more frustrated he was feeling AND I also felt betrayed that wedidn't get one on Thursday and Friday. Even though after the first pool clip Iwas dreading every single next clip there, I really liked that they were showingus that Arthur goes there every Wednesday, it really helped to get inside hishead and to understand him more and I kinda wish they hadn't stopped thatbecause it would be a really power move to keep showing that. Alexia in episode2 was just WOW, i can't believe there were people who were saying she andArthur don't have chemistry or that he should break up with her because she'snot supportive - well, she proved you all wrong. Too bad Arthur was too dumband self-absorbed to appreciate that.

BASILE/ARTHUR FRIENDSHIP. All their clips were solovely and heartwarming, I loved how different Basile was in Arthur's pov toBasile we knew at the beginning of s3; when he didn't want to leave Arthuruntil he said back that he loves him :'))) wholesome. I kinda wish we got tosee more of those two, they're definitely hanging out just the two of them andthat's what was lacking for me, those 3 or so clips of just the two of thembeing wholesome buddies were great but they were not enough.

The party clip on Thursday of ep2 was great, I lovedhow they're giving us little insights of deaf/hoh community and showing usArthur getting drawn to it. I wish that it wasn't overshadowed by love triangleand we got more of it, but I'll be back to it later...

Now, episode 3 and 4 were strong in the term of clipsbut those two weeks were incredibly boring when you were watching it in realtime. The breaks were too long, there were three clipless days each episodewith hardly any social media update and at times it made me forget about theshow completely. The bar clip in ep3 was great until they started sayingproblematic shit and tbh I was really starting to stress over Eliott then -first we got a hint that housewarming party was canceled because he wasn't feelingwell, now over a week later he's not feeling well again and Lucas' "he'smy boyfriend and i love him" was very cute and I loved it but it alsostarted to lead to misery porn and this dread didn't leave me until the end ofthe season and I'm still worried that it will play a part in s6 and it won't behandled well (disclaimer: this is not about the fact that they're talking aboutEliott's MI, it's about how Lucas started to act like a martyr and the way theystarted to show him acting almost like Lucille).

Episode 3 was also the time when I think it becameobvious that Arthur's short outburst of communication was gone and we'll haveto deal with next few weeks of miscommunication, sulking and hiding. Beginningof ep4 was another moment for me when I wanted to escape from this seasonbecause of the fandom police - they created as hostile atmosphere for the fanswatching in real time as druck stans did during s3, when you couldn't commentanything or say anything without other people jumping on you, calling you outand hating you, that for a moment again I was ready to give up on the show. Ireally wish I had done it.

As much as I liked stupid gang content in thecafeteria the whole clip was kinda odd and the 1,5 days break between the clipand laser tag was too much. I feel like the pacing in episode 4 really didn'twork in their favour and the clips could've been placed in another order sothat the breaks weren't so long. The laser tag was such a strong clip withbeautiful cinematography and colouring and it showed us Arthur's problems withsensory overload and again - I wish we could find out more about it because inthe end the clip was too short and cut abruptly only for Arthur to go to Noeeto see her dance in a scene that was pure male gaze, where the camera lingeredon her flat, bare stomach, a few times showing close up of her boobs. And yes.I am aware sing language is a bodily language. But the thing is that itcould've been shown differently, without so many objectifying shots, with Noeewearing different clothes, without Arthur staring at her with his jaw dropped.Arthur who - may i remind you - had a girlfriend at that time. I can watchgore, I can watch open surgeries, I can watch blood, and fight, and beating,and all that without the blink of the eye. i could barely watch the clip ofNoee dancing. I've never felt so sick after watching something in my life, Ihad to go offline for a few hours cause I was feeling so unwell. This was sucha fucked up scene to film in such a way, to objectify her, to use male gaze, touse piano music, slow motion, man looking at her in a predatory way, and thisscene was so wrong on so many levels itself but when you add to it the factthat Alexia NEVER got scenes like that and all her dancing scenes showed her basicallyas a quirky friend having fun at parties. And that's disgusting.

But let's move on to episode 5. I loved all the scenesin the asso, I loved that they showed Arthur actually going to LSF classes, Iloved how he confronted his father about it later. Though episode 5 was alsothe start of the boy squad becoming brainless idiots, lying to his friend,plotting behind his back, going to a concert without him. Episode of beautifulcinematography and skating scene that I watched trying not to think about thefact that Arthur is basically having a date with another girl while hisgirlfriend is studying for her bac, of an oblivious guy not wanting to stop itbefore it's too late and everyone's hearts will be broken.... I loved that hesnapped at the guys in the detention clip. I liked the following clip withAlexia, when they made her talk about her insecurities, showed us how strongshe is but also how fragile she is at the same time. But that Sunday of episode6 was the moment I ultimately realized I don't care any more about this season.It was already ruined for me. Alexia opening up, Alexia asking Arthur aboutNoee and him saying the worst ableist shit ever, Arthur breaking Noee'sheart... Those three clips made me realize that for me it's too late, thedamage is done, and I won't be able to enjoy this season for real. Alexia wasbound to get her heart broken, I was pitying Noee because it wasn't her fault aguy she had a crush on kept on leading her for weeks, and Arthur... I dislikedhim more and more and I just wanted it to be over.

I loved all clips with Laura and Melchior, the playfuldynamic in their interactions with Arthur was one of the best things of theseason and I can't stop but think that we could've had the same thing but withArthur, Noee, and Camille. Meanwhile Noee was reduced to manic pixie dreamgirl, a homewrecker, a plot device, and Camille was there only to translate(and later to be Mika's boyfriend). I really liked the clip with Noee andArthur reading her letter about cochlear implant, it was very informative andit was the kind of content I really wanted to see in this season. The onlything I hated about it - which was a recurring theme in clips with Noee... - isthat Arthur kept forgetting about Alexia and this was so unfair to her.

Now. The Valentine's Day. I loved the sourd datingclip, again, it was something that I wanted to see in the season and it was avery strong clip. But then the rest of the episode... I really wish it didn'texist. Jumping to the pool in clothes???? Arthur sharing his deepest trauma andNoee kissing him??? NOEE AND ARTHUR SHIPPERS JUMPING ON PEOPLE SAYING THAT SHEDID IT TO COMFORT HIM???? Sorry guys, I don't know about you but when myfriends are sharing something traumatizing to me I hug them or hold their hand,I don't kiss them with tongue. Also using a flashback??? It doesn’t go wellwith the show’s format, why was it even used???

Episode 8 was... Episode 8 was wild. And weird. Andstrange. And I don't really know what was the point of it. But despiteeverything crackfic farm au was at least entertaining and it was kind ofsomething we needed then after weeks of will they/won't they and hating Arthur.Whipped elu was everything, the fifi saga was hilarious and I rewatched itaround 50 times and it still makes me laugh - Maxence nailed it but ?? what wasthe point? they killed Eliott's bunny so that he would become vegetarian? Theywanted to traumatize him and cause him to have an episode that was cut in theend? (I really wouldn't be surprised, there are 2 clips missing from firstepisodes each, and probably more in the others). I really don't know what wasthe point. The 6h15 or sth clip was funny but if Lucas and Arthur hugging itout cause sorry bro / it's okay bro / bro / bro is what they're considering aproper apology then I'm sorry but it isn't. What's more, the pacing of thisepisode was incredibly off and the clips didn't add up and there wasn't anynatural flow to it - they should've madetwo clips on Sunday - with Arthur getting to the van and them arriving to thecountryside, two clips on Monday with 6 am and then Daphne and Basile, Fifitrilogy on Tuesday and then right after midnight on Wednesday Arthur and Alexiain the barn. Now, the cheating excusing convo... I was absolutelydisgusted by the boy squad and the fact that YANN who was cheated on in s1advised Arthur to not say anything... wow. Also I really don't like what Eliottsaid there, I understood it in that moment that he was mainly talking from aphilosophical pov that humans are never satisfied in general, but he was sayingthat during the cheating convo, right after he said that he cheated on his gfto get with his bf, he said it while Lucas was right there, knowing that he hasdeeply rooted abandonment issues and this is what made the situation worse. Ithink I'll talk more about the fandom reaction and team's comments later causethere will be a lot to unpack there so yeah, I'll leave it for now.

Because now let's move on to February 21, aka theFriday that changed everything. Can I just say that I have never seen a worseclip ever in my life? That wasn't skam. That was soap opera. And not even agood one. I can't even comprehend how they wrote THIS and thought it was good.I despise the choice of making Noee speak out loud with every fiber of mybeing. First they objectified her, reduced her to the plot device and 1/3 ofthe love triangle, and now they stripped her of her integrity for a guy who wasconstantly leading her on, who has a girlfiend. They made her so desperate tomake him stay with her that she lost a part of himself for him. And for who??For a guy who didn't give a fuck about her? Who constantly played with herfeelings? Who mocked her and her language and her culture and didn't do so onlywhen it was convenient for him? Honestly fuck him, fuck Arthur. And then A CARCRASHED INTO HIM LIKE ????????????? Someone please explain to me what was thepoint of that cause the only one I see was to provide a fandom with a greatfree entertainment.

Now, episodes 9 and 10 were overall much stronger thanthe past few weeks but it was already to late to salvage the season. We gotanother cheating apologists scene which was - again - absolutely disgusting,especially coming from Lucas - who gave Arthur the same advice he gave to Emma- and Yann - who was cheated on and knew from his own experience that stufflike that always come out in the end. It's like all their character developmentfrom previous seasons went down the drain. Arthur on the other hand seemed tohave a character regression with each passing week. I'm still appalled by whatLucas said - that Alex is their friend but Arthur is part of the gang. It wasdisgusting. And it was out of the character. And it was the worst possiblething that could've been said.

Coline's song was so beautiful and I was so happy thatArthur finally realized what he's lost, though I feel like all those intensestaring between Arthur and Noee was unnecessary again, it's like they couldn'tjust give us a break for one clip from them, it's like she was constantlystealing Alexia's moments, whether she was on screen at the time or not.

The clip with elu was sweet and gave us greatwholesome content, but it only confirmed that Lucas' abandonment issues woke upfrom their nap and I'm already dreading what they're planning to do with thatin s6, especially that according to the latest news Lucas is not very presentin the next season... The polyamory talk... It was odd. It felt force. Thebuildup to it wasn't done very well and what' more it was built on cheating.And that's doesn't bode well. It's also quite ridiculous how it took 1 minuteconversation with Lucas or even one sentence from him tbh for Arthur to go"oh yeah I'm poly. I think." and tell Noee that he loves her eventhough he spent the last couple of weeks denying that and pushing her away. IHATE that yet again they made her be so desperate and cry when he was tellingher this. That's not Noee they gave us in the first half of the season. Ireally liked the clip of Laura and Melchior and Arthur giving the presentationto the students but Arthur's grandiose speech to students and then to girls wasso strange, there wasn't any buildup to it, or more likely Arthur that we werehaving on screen from the end of ep 4 till the end of ep9 was gone and the oldArthur finally showed up. But nevertheless it was strange and not very fittingto the way how the story progressed.

NOW the last two clips - first was a little bit shortand I can't say I was a huge fan (though Eliott's kermit-like dance waseverything jdskjdkjjd) but the second clip was absolutely beautiful, we finallysaw Daphne talk, I'm still not sure what to think about Noee/Arthur (not reallya fan of how the story was resolved... or how it wasn't resolved), AND THEMURAL! LUCAS CRYING BECAUSE HE'S PROUD OF HIS BOYFRIEND! ELIOTT ONCE A YEARMAKING A MURAL OUT OF PURE LOVE! EVERYONE CRYING! ELIOTT NOT PAINTING HIMSELFBECAUSE HE DOESN'T CONSIDER HIMSELF PART OF THE SQUAD (although he is, I don'tknow why they don't understand it) and... Lola. But I guess I'll be back to itlater.

So now, I can't say I'm a fan of the season. I enjoyedsome of the clips, but overall it was a mess, love triangle and fandom and crewbehaviour ruined the season for me. I was absolutely disgusted but howprivileged fans acted on tumblr and on twitter. And yes. There are privilegedfans, fans who were shutting others up because they "don't want us to getour hopes up when we don't know what might happen", fans who were sayingthat "you don't know anything haha i can promise you don't know shit hahano i don't know anything and no i'm not jealous haha you just don't know buthaha tell me this oh how stupid you are", fans who were acting like afandom police all the freaking time, yelling at everyone to "wait and see!you don't know what will happen!". Well. We didn't. Because contrary to 5%of the "little ones-fans", the rest 95% is not privileged enough toget a special treatment, to be invited on set for filming, to know the detailsof the plot before the season airs, to know the bigger picture. It's not fair.If you really know everything then great, I'm happy for you, but let the otherswatch the show how they like, let them react to it clip by clip. Because mostof us don't know the bigger picture and don't know what will happen and how theissues will be resolved. And you are aware that the format of the show itselfencourages viewers to react to the events of the story as they resolve onscreen and through transmedia content, right? That's the essence of skam.Taking that away from the regular fans because you've been let in to some innercircle and know it all is absolutely disgusting. Don't interact with the fandomif you can't stand seeing people not agreeing with the writing choices,questioning what they watch and theorizing about what will happen. If you're soabove it, then just stick with the people like you, with those 5% or so ofknow-it-all and "enjoy" the show with them. Don't ruin the fun forothers. You're not better than anyone else. Don't act like it. Don't be ahypocrite. Don't act publicly as a fandom police, criticize everyone who sharesspoilers and call them out and write hateful posts, if you're doing the sameprivately, if you can't shut up when someone sends you a dm or a message offanon and suddenly you spill everything. Don't be fake. If you know stuff, thengreat, I don't know admit it and say that you want say anything or don't sayanything but then don't spread the spoilers and don't write cryptic comments inthe tags. It's not helping anyone and it's definitely not doing anything good.And to people on twitter currently posting what I guess they assume are vaguetweets about cast’s personal lives? Fuck you. You’re so loud, you know? Maybeyou think you’re talking in a special code only you and your friends can guessbut it’s so obvious and so disgusting, you really have no shame. Grow up andget a life.

Another thing that ruined the season for me was theway the crew was acting on twitter and instagram and I’m so so so disappointed by their behaviour,especially that I’ve always considered them as one of the most open-mindedteams who respect their fans and their opinions. Turns out they do that butonly when the reactions to the clips are positive. I mean, I kind of get it,obviously everyone wants to hear the praise, but you cannot ignore thenegative comments and fans’ concerns, especially that there were plenty of themthis season. And during social media age when it takes one click to see theliked posts or comments, it becomes obvious that the crew was only interacting (evenin such a passive way like liking comments or tweets) with fanswho were praising the show. All the negative comments and questions werebrushed off, saying that “the season will reveal its own truth” and that iffans will have any questions they will be answered after. Well, franklyspeaking, me and my friends have a list of questions that we’d love to get ananswer for:

- why was love triangle necessary?- why did they make Alexia and Arthur a couple in the first place if theywanted him to go after Noee?- why did Noee say she doesn't like talking out loud cause sign language is howshe communicates only to yell at Arthur to stop him from leaving, losing herintegrity for a guy who doesn't care about her?- car????????????????????????- cheating convos - why are they excusing it like that- treatment of Alexia & why did they include numerous comments about Alexia'sbody?- THE MALE GAZE - why did the camera focus so much on Noee's body, why was sheobjectified and why was she presented as a stark contrast to Alexia?- fifi?- p*trick and why the abuse was introduced so late in the plot and overshadowedimmediately by cheating and then followed by crackfic farm au?- why didn't we see any Arthur centered clips where he shows he likes art?- why did Arthur and space have no relevance in the season???- why are Lucas and Yann saying shit every time they open their mouths and whydid they forgot about everything that happened in s1?- the whole convo with the boy squad on valentine's day and how shitty theirreaction was - why?- why we didn't see any actual squad interactions on holidays and no realapologies?- why does the life of the characters always has to revolve around romanticrelationships?- why can't men and women be friends unless the man is gay?- what was the point of all the ship wars and skamlaserie photo withArthur/Alexia and Arthur/Noee *especially* after all the comments on twitterand on Instagram when fans were fighting already and it only made thingsescalate? Why not stop it, why pit fans against each other, why let it escalatelike that?- why draw parallels between elu and Arthur/Noee?- Why was Noee reduced to love interest and Camille to translator 90% of thetime and why don't give them similar dynamics with Arthur as Melchior and Laurahave?- how can Arthur see underwater?- Catherine - was she just a queerbait?- tuturo comment from the forum and Arthur's 'relationship' with 34 yo - whywasn’t it mentioned ever again?- how could noee not know arthur has a girlfriend since she was following himon instagram and he had photos with alexia there?- what happened with basile's birthday since they never celebrated them??- in samedi 11:04 (5x10) eliott says "i've got some croissants, do youwant me to heat them up?" which implies that he's already bought them andbrought them back to the flat BUT he's putting his jacket on as if he was aboutto leave and then he leaves and slams the door so what's the truth?

The crew completely invalidated the feelings andconcerns of the fans and what added fuel to the flame for me was thatskamlaserie post with Arthur/Noee/Alexia and caption that they can’t choosecause they love them both and… Honestly, who the hell works there. There’s beendrama for the whole week on twitter and under David’s posts on insta andinstead of finally end it, idk block the comments or just make a statement ORWHATEVER, they posted THAT on the official show’s account?? Why haven’t they stopped it? Why did they keep on pitting fans against each other up to the point that one twitter user started getting DEATH THREATS only because they translated some video??? Absolutely disgusting.@skamlaserie and @fr team: hate to break it to you but there's nothing wrong with being single andthere's plenty of teenagers who aren't in relationships in high school andthat's okay... maybe that's how Arthur should've started the season instead ofbecoming a cheater and leading on two girls at the same time just for the sakeof having unnecessary relationship drama which literally only created somepointless ship wars and put half of the fandom off watching the show... just saying.

Then, another things that rubbed me the wrong way werethe whole “canceling” discourse (that never really happened and I still standby what I said in the comments to this post so I’ll just direct you to it) and imposingthe one “right” interpretation on the fans - I specifically have the cheatingconvo from episode 8 in mind now. We all have a right to our owninterpretations of every scene, here many people saw it as Eliott’s commenthaving an effect on Lucas and his abandonment issues and started commenting onthat on twitter and David had to rush to explain that he hadn’t meant Lucas,that Eliott won’t cheat and that they won’t break up and will stay together.Well, the thing is that there’s such a concept as “the death of the author”which I suppose you can already guess from its name says that the author, theirbeliefs, backstory, opinions, etc. shouldn’t be taken into account wheninterpreting the text because writing (or in this case - a show) and creatorare separate entities and shouldn’t be correlated. First of all, thismetaphorical extinguishing of fire seemed pointless and like a mockery, seeinghow two episodes later it turned out people were right and Lucas really tookEliott’s comment personally and his insecurities and abandonment issues wereshowing up again; secondly, after that there were many comments from the crewabout how Elu will stay forever and never break up and maybe it’s just me but Ithink that was obvious, right? So why would they keep repeating that? Unless…something will happen in s6 that will make us doubt that and it’s a preemptive damagecontrol 🙃

So to sum up this monstrosity that I have no idea ifit even makes any sense BUT ANYWAY: I liked some of the things in s5 but overall Ireally really didn’t like it, some people in the fandom were incrediblyannoying and turned out to be fake and complete hypocrites, and the crew’s behaviour on socialmedia leaves a lot to be desired and I can only hope they will acknowledge anycriticism of s6 and won’t blatantly ignore fans’ criticism again. So that’d beit. If you read it till the end then you’re stronger than Sabrina giffingArthur getting hit by a car and I respect you for that cause even I haven’t reread it, have a nice quarantineand stay safe!

#skam france #skamfr #anon #answered #maggie talks

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movieswithmac · 3 years

Text

Hi everyone!!

It’s time to talk a look at my top 5 favourite horror movies. There isn’t many horrors that i like simply because the level of scare tactics these days are not what they used to be, nevertheless, I do have 5 that are as equally thrilling to watch as they are scary💀

1. The Descent

This is one that will make you seriously re-think a cave expedition career!!

Starting out with a pretty gruesome scene, there is no holding back when it comes to the blood shed. With a very diverse group of actresses, the talent is staggering and makes for a great girl power feel.. but that quickly changes.

As we dive into the movie with the girls going on a caving expedition to cheer up their friend Sarah(Shauna Macdonald), it’s clear there is a great tension between a few of the girls and nothing sorts out arguments like being stuck 100’s of feet underground with very little soace to move.

It’s not long before the girls are faced with more than just personal problems between friends. What would you do in that situation? You can’t turn back and the only way out is to continue forwards, fight!!! Fight your way out, through the darkness and the monsters that live within. Could you trust your friends and survive the unknown?

The Descent is split into 2 parts. The Descent Part 1(2005) and The Descent Part 2(2009).

If you have a strong stomach and love a horror night, this is the movie for you!

2. The Shining

Nothing beats a classic movie but what tops that? a classic horror movie. I’m taking you back to the 80’s when we never knew the extent of how scary things can be.

Starring the amazing Jack Nicholson as Jack Torrance, a man with a family who takes on a seemingly easy job as a caretaker during the winter season at The Overlook Hotel.

In complete isolation at a hotel with a violent past, how long before you start to lose you mind? Especially with a son that has a gift, the gift of seeing horrific things, more horrific things than young Danny should see at 5 years old.

As eerie as The Shining is, there’s something about it that makes you want to know more, eyes glued to the screen..what’s going to happen next? As Jack starts to lose his mind and his drinking problems begin to haunt him, it’s not long before things take a dark and bloody turn.

The demons of The Overlook Hotel don’t stay quiet for long and before you know it, you’re gripping onto the edge of your seat!

The Shining was released in 1980, a much loved horror movie that was and still is considered a masterpiece. The talk of a follow up was in the air for many years and finally, in 2019, we were graced with Doctor Sleep starring Ewan Mcgregor as Danny. Now an adult living with the gift of shine, we see what difficulties he faces due to his past and what difficulties lie ahead.

3. Hush

This appeared on netflix in the last few years. It’s the most intense film possibly ever, due to the viewers getting to understand a very small fraction of what it is like to be deaf and hunted in your own home for reasons unknown. Would it make it any scarier if you couldn’t hear your attacker? How about if you didn’t even know he was there?

Starring Kate Siegal as Maddie, a deaf writer that lives in a remote house in the middle of the woods.

There is very little in the way of a script but it’s leveled out with the fact that every single moment is completely gripping. Most of the movie is spent silent and this adds to the intensity. It truly is a terrifying movie when in the right atmosphere, that is, in complete darkness, all you can hear is the movie. It leaves you suspicious about the sounds around your house!

Definitely one to watch!

4. Scream

Everyone loves a gorefest horror movie, especially when they have an element of cheesiness to them. Scream is the perfect combo of comedy and horror, the complete opposite from Hush.

Scream is the ultimate slasher movie with an all star cast from Courtney Cox to David Arquette, Neve Campbell, Drew Barrymore and Matthew Lillard. Fun fact, Cox and Arquette were married just 3 years after the release of Scream in 1996, they must have bonded over their love of slasher movies.

If you’re up for a laugh, enjoy blood, crave gore and love a classic horror, this is rhe film for you!!

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rrrawrf-writes · 4 years

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🕸 for any character!

hello hello hello here this is, fifty thousand years late! thank u for ur patience ♡♡♡

from this game!

tw: blood, gore, whump/torture, animal death, human death, swearing

—

Sometimes, Commander Tibur Dayehmon of the Cordellan Royal Guard thought about killing his king.

Not seriously, of course. But on long, cold nights like this, when Dayehmon had to leave the warmth of his wife behind in the middle of the night and race halfway across the country to track down his charge, he seriously considered strangling the king. Shoving him off a cliff. Letting him drown in the river Finns.

It would be easy. No one would suspect the king’s lifelong friend and bodyguard to poison his morning tea.

Too bad Dayehmon had morals.

He was wistfully reminiscing about his wife and the day they were supposed to have in the king’s mountain retreat, when his horse fell, and he fell with it.

The animal let out a high-pitched scream as they tumbled down into a pit that shouldn’t have been there, dug deep into the road. Dayehmon was too securely seated in the saddle; instead of being thrown, he hit the ground with the horse, its weight hitting his leg, and leaving an audible crunch that had Dayehmon crying out in pain.

The horse was louder. It must have snapped one of its own legs in the fall, because it screamed and thrashed, unable to get back to its feet. Dayehmon cursed and yelled, as every heave and twist of its body further crushed his own bones into dust.

He swallowed his own pain - or tried to - and leaned forward as best as he could. His shoulder hurt, too, and his neck, but if the horse kept on like this, it would probably kill him. He ran his free hand along its neck, trying to soothe it, wishing he was in a position to put the poor damn thing out of its misery.

It finally stopped thrashing, at least, but Dayehmon was still trapped; every few moments, the horse let out a cry of pain. He felt much the same way. He fell back against the ground, soft from being recently dug, and sighed.

A bandit’s trap, mostly likely, and he hadn’t noticed anything in the dark. The pit was a good ten feet deep, and wide enough to hold the horse and Dayehmon both. After a long moment, Dayehmon pushed against the horse’s withers, trying to get himself free.

The pain blinded him. He couldn’t stop a sob from clawing out of his throat, as the shattered bones in his trapped leg ground against each other.

He definitely wasn’t going anywhere.

One of his swords was trapped under him, the hilt digging painfully into his side. Dayehmon wriggled around to move it to somewhere more comfortable. He craned his neck, trying to see all the things his pack had thrown loose when they fell, and found a handful of the beacon sticks scattered across the ground.

Just out of reach.

Someone above gave a soft call. “We caught someone!”

Someone. Dayehmon groaned and dropped his head against the dirt again. He slipped his knife into his palm as a head stuck out over the edge of the pit.

“Damn. Worked like you said it would, Orev.”

“Told ya. Did this during the war.”

Eolan accents. Dayehmon clenched his jaw as two more people joined the first, then closed his eyes. The horse, startled, let out a shrill whinny and writhed. Dayehmon bit his tongue until it bled, doing everything he could to stay still, act like he couldn’t feel the horse’s tense, powerful muscles grind against his leg. Whatever was left of it, anyway.

“Musta died during the fall,” someone muttered. There was the sound of shifting dirt and footsteps; the Eolans, sliding down into the pit.

“I dunno, coulda swore I saw him breathing earlier.”

“It’s dark as hell out here, I’m surprised you even saw him. Never seen a Padrunni on a horse.”

“I don’t think he looks Padrunni, look at his hair.”

There was another sharp, scraping sound, and Dayehmon could see light flaring despite his closed eyes. Someone hissed, and said, “Look at his badge.”

Dayehmon slit his eyes open the barest amount. One of the Eolans crouched in front of him, and pushed at his shoulder, trying to see the badge in question. “Well, shit. He’s part of the witchking’s guard.”

Snake-like, Dayehmon’s hand snapped out and wrapped around the Eolan’s shirt, yanking him close. He swept his knife up to the man’s neck, and the bandit froze, eyes wide, as the other two swore and reached for their own weapons.

The movement and noise startled the horse again, and it heaved its body, braying hoarsely and lashing out with its hooves. Dayehmon sucked in a pained breath as the horse’s weight lifted, and then fell back onto his leg; his hands spasmed from the pain, and the bandit he’d caught jerked back and away from him.

“Damn it, kill that thing!” one of them snapped at the others. Dayehmon went for a knife in his other sleeve, but before he could do anything, the Eolan punched him in the jaw.

He blacked out, momentarily; there was an ear-piercing squeal from the horse, but then, finally, it had stopped moving. When Dayehmon managed to blink the stars from his eyes, he saw one of the bandits wrench a spear out of the horse.

“Part of the witchking’s guard, huh?” sneered the spearman. His voice belonged to the one someone else had called Orev, and he poked Dayehmon’s ribs with his spear, the barbed head of it covered in the horse’s blood and gore. “Bring that light over.”

Dayehmon shut his eyes as the pain in his jaw sharpened from the light now right in his face. His head pounded, but it wasn’t as heavy as the sick knot in his stomach.

Orev crouched down next to Dayehmon, fearlessly within his reach. “Badge from the royal guard, and those ugly scars down that mug of yours,” he remarked, drawing his own fingers down his cheek in mimicry of the three stark white lines that marked the side of Dayehmon’s face. “I’ve seen you. Followin’ after the cursed witchking, lickin’ every one of his footsteps.”

Dayehmon narrowed his eyes at Orev. “Funny,” he bit out, doing everything he could to keep his voice level and calm. “I don’t remember you.”

That was the wrong thing to say. Orev’s lip curled, and he stood up, before driving the butt of his spear into Dayehmon’s side. Dayehmon bit down on a curse as he felt something snap.

“You wouldn’t,” Orev snarled, and hit him again. “There weren’t enough people left alive in that village for any of you to take note.”

He jerked his chin towards the other two. “Get that damn horse off him. We’re gonna have some fun tonight.”

Dayehmon clenched his jaw. He glanced again towards the beacon sticks, and as the other two highwaymen discussed how to move the horse, he shifted slightly, trying to move close enough to reach the beacon sticks - and, like he’d expected, he drew Orev’s attention.

The spear came down on Dayehmon’s hand, the metal tip slicing straight through and pinning it to the ground. He couldn’t help the cry of pain this time.

“The hell are those s’posed to be?” Orev demanded, holding his light over to get a better look at the beacon sticks. Dayehmon clenched his jaw and didn’t answer, just breathing through the pain. He let out a sharp hiss as the other bandits finally started to drag at the horse, its weight sliding along his ruined leg one last time.

If he didn’t die from infection from the damn spear, he’d never be able to use that leg again.

“Nothing,” Dayehmon said hoarsely. Orev squinted at him suspiciously, then scoffed, and brought his heel down on the scattered beacon sticks, breaking three or four at once.

Dayehmon smiled.

“More of your witchery?” Orev sneered. He didn’t notice how the shattered pieces of the beacon sticks clung to his boot; even if Dayehmon died, they’d be able to track Orev down. “But you aren’t a witch, are you?”

“You really shouldn’t be complaining about magecraft when you’re on our side of the border,” Dayehmon pointed out.

Orev yanked the spear out of Dayehmon’s hand. Dayehmon whined like a beaten dog, pulling his arm to his chest on instinct. Orev kicked him.

“This is our land,” he snarled. “You bastards stole it from us. You have no rights here.”

Dayehmon tried to push himself up, pain squeezing tears from the corners of his eyes. “We won it -”

“You witches burned every village from here all the way down the Roar,” Orev hissed. He reached down, one strong hand wrapping around Dayehmon’s shirt, and pulled him a bit closer. A burn scar cascaded across the side of Orev’s neck, disappearing underneath his shirt collar. “You’ll pay for your crimes. All of them.“

He shoved Dayehmon against the side of the pit and straightened up. Panting for breath, Dayehmon watched the three bandits warily, trying to decide if it was worth it to try and stab one of them. His leg was crushed and his hand was ruined and he was pretty sure he had a broken rib, so it wasn’t like he was getting out of here any time soon.

He may as well make them miserable.

“Damn, this is water-steel.” One of the other bandits picked up Dayehmon’s second sword; he’d had it strapped to the horse instead of his back, and the woman gave a whistle as she drew the blade a couple inches out of the sheath. Dayehmon’s good hand twitched.

“They’re cursed,” he said blandly, and the Eolan woman jumped and dropped it.

Orev scoffed. “Don’t listen to him,” he snapped at her, and kicked Dayehmon’s crushed leg. Dayehmon closed his eyes against a burst of stars. “You can’t curse swords.”

“You can, actually.” Dayehmon cradled his bleeding, ruined hand to his chest. Orev scoffed again and reached down, grabbing the hilt of Dayehmon’s sword that still hung at his hip - though very awkwardly, now.

As he pulled the blade free, Dayehmon slipped his second knife from his sleeve and stabbed him in the chest. Or at least he tried to - armor hidden by the man’s shirt and the shadows of the night shunted the blade to the side, and it slipped deep into Orev’s shoulder, instead.

The bandit howled from pain and jumped back, pulling the knife from Dayehmon’s hand before he had a chance to yank it out and try again. Swearing, Orev clamped his hand around the short blade; blood welled up between his fingers, and in retaliation, Orev slammed his spear into Dayehmon’s shoulder.

He must have blacked out again, because the next thing Dayehmon felt was the awful, tearing pain as Orev pulled the barbed spearhead free from his body. “You piece of shit,” Orev seethed. He dragged the bloody spearhead across Dayehmon’s chest. “You’ll pay for that. Give you some new scars to even your ugly mug out, yeah?”

Dayehmon flinched as the spear tapped against his scarred cheek; the lines went down his neck and under his collar, too, and Orev asked, “Wonder how far down those go?”

“Only my wife knows that,” Dayehmon quipped, breathless and unable to see straight - unable to think straight from the pain.

Orev snorted, and then he spat, a glob of saliva landing on Dayehmon’s shirt.

“Let’s get him out of here and off the road,” Orev ordered the other two bandits. “Grab his things. Maybe this witch-worshipping filth has something else worth keeping.”

Dayehmon watched one of the bandits scramble awkwardly out of the pit, the soft, loose dirt giving them some trouble. The woman gathered everything together, stuffing it back haphazardly into Dayehmon’s pack. She crumpled the few remaining beacon sticks as she did, and Dayehmon wondered where the hell Mafvin was - would he even be close enough to sense the broken sticks?

He dropped his head back against the wall of the pit. The pain was overwhelming, but he tried to press his bloody hand to his bloody shoulder, a weak attempt at staunching the flow. None of it hurt worse than his crushed leg, spikes of pain radiating from his knee; it had taken the brunt of the damage from the horse’s fall.

He didn’t notice the rope until Orev fastened it around his neck. Dayehmon’s eyes snapped open, and the bandit grinned down at him. “I was worried you were gone,” he said, and pressed his foot down on Dayehmon’s shattered knee. Gasping, Dayehmon couldn’t help but writhe from the added pain. “Stay awake, bastard.”

Orev stepped back, taking the pressure off of Dayehmon’s leg, and called up to the other two bandits, now both out of the pit, “Haul him out.”

The rope tightened around Dayehmon’s throat. He sucked in a breath; ignoring the screaming from his shoulder, he reached up with his unharmed hand, trying to fit a finger in between the rope and his neck as they dragged him upwards. Struggling weakly, Dayehmon gasped for breath, his vision going white. He tried to get his good leg underneath him, to take some of the pressure off his windpipe, but that only lasted long enough for him to get a quick breath of air, before the pulling took over again.

It felt like an eternity before Dayehmon was on his back again, on level ground and staring up at the stars through tears-blurred eyes. He pulled feebly at the taut rope around his neck, but one of the bandits he couldn’t see kept the pressure just tight enough to make every breath a struggle.

He could see the female bandit out of the corner of his eye, pacing over to the pit to reach down; Orev scrambled up a moment later.

“Still awake?” Orev ground the butt of his spear into Dayehmon’s shoulder, prompting a whimper from the guard. Orev grinned. “Good. We still got a ways to go, and I ain’t wasting the time to put you on a horse. Better keep breathing.”

He looked away from Dayehmon and opened his mouth to call to the others. Whatever words were going to come out instead turned into a strangled shriek as thorny vines burst from the middle of the road, snaking up Orev’s legs. The other bandits shouted in alarm, and the rope around Dayehmon’s neck slackened as they dropped it, the holder running to Orev instead. They didn’t get very far - another set of lashing vines grabbed them and pulled them to the ground.

Dayehmon dropped his head to the ground, an awful, hysterical laugh clawing its way out of his throat. He could feel, more than hear, the vibrating of hooves, galloping along the road, and he dropped his head to one side to see the white socks of his king’s horse skid to a stop.

“Tibur!” More plants curled around Dayehmon now - but they were free of spikes and thorns, far gentler with him than they were with the three bandits. Petal-soft vines wrapped gently around his bleeding shoulder, but living plants could do little to staunch blood flow, even when guided by the magic of Dayehmon’s king. A soft groan escaped him as he felt his head and shoulders gently lifted, Mafvin cradling Dayehmon in his lap.

“Tibur, I’m sorry,” Mafvin said, his green eyes wide and frantic as he pressed his hand to the plants covering Dayehmon’s bleeding shoulder. More wrapped around his hand, thinner and flowering, the petals pressing against the wounds. “I’m sorry, I - I didn’t meant to be gone for long - You should have stayed -”

Dayehmon forced a tired smile. It was difficult to focus on the king’s face; he closed his eyes for a moment, and shivered when he felt the rope wrapped around his neck slither away. “Wherever you go, your majesty,” Dayehmon panted, “I follow.”

“I know.” Mafvin dropped his head, bowing until his forehead pressed against Dayehmon’s. Something wet fell against the bodyguard’s scarred cheek. “I know. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t - I shouldn’t have run off -”

“It’s all right.” Dayehmon forced a grin, the expression pulled crooked by his scars. “Think this is the fastest I’ve found you again in years.”

A cracked laugh clawed its way out of Mafvin’s throat. He pressed his lips to the corner of Dayehmon’s mouth; Dayehmon tried to lift a hand, but the pain was too much, and he dropped it again with a wince. All the thoughts he had, all the anger and annoyance at Mafvin running off again, had long disappeared. He was just glad the king was here now.

The king looked up at a choked-off curse, and his face hardened as he remembered the bandits, all caught up in spiked vines. Orev struggled with a knife, trying to slice through the plants that held him captive, a couple of feet off the ground.

“You gods-fucking, murderous, monster,” the Eolan spat at Mafvin. “What are you gonna do to us?”

Mafvin’s voice was perfectly cold - but the vines around Orev loosened, just a fraction, just enough to give the bandit hope. “I promised I would take no more lives after the Desolation.”

“Promises mean nothin’, with a cowardly witch like you,” Orev sneered. Mafvin’s face became stone.

“You’re right,” he said softly. Dayehmon watched the king raise his hand, and then closed it into a fist. He closed his eyes, sighing with a motion that cracked his ribs even more.

A sickening crunch of bones, and a cry of pain that was cut short into a gurgle, as the vines wrapped themselves tighter and tighter around the three bandits. Dayehmon had killed his fair share of people, and seen even more die, in horrible ways - but he turned his face into Mafvin’s shirt, grasping the cloth weakly with one hand until the screams and cries fell silent.

King Mafvin was not physically strong enough to pick Dayehmon up, but he did anyway, lifting the guard with supernatural ease. As gentle as he was, Dayehmon still let out a hiss of pain.

“I’m sorry, Commander,” Mafvin whispered, as a wind rose around them, and along with it, the vertigo that came every time Mafvin magically transported them somewhere. With his injuries, Dayehmon didn’t think he could stand it; he moaned in pain and clutched even tighter at Mafvin. The king could do anything he wanted with his magic - anything, except heal.

“Never again, Tibur. I promise. Never again.”

#tw blood #tw gore #tw torture #tw animal death #tw death #tw swearing #iwrite #violetvineyard #bannerworld #asks #answers #panticwritten #sorry this took so long!!!!

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freddy-hughes · 4 years

Text

Mother Knows Best~

“I told you those Reid’s were no good, Freddy. See, I just told you! But did you listen to your dear mother? No, of course you didn’t! I could have told you this was going to happen.”

“Mom...please…”

“What did you expect Freddy? Honestly! I should have known that little strumpet would go and do this to you. Leading you on this wild goose chase, leaving you alone in the forest, only to jump into bed with the first Mainlander to look her way? Hah! I told you, Freddy. I told you.”

“Mom...please...stop.”

It had only been a few meager weeks since Freddy woke from his trials and tribulations, and despite his every intention to not see his mother for prolonged periods of time, circumstances just were not within his favor. He didn’t have a home to go to. He had nowhere to be. His body was not in any condition to try, and survive in the forest. He had no coin for a room at the inn. As such, his mother had insisted he stay with her until he was healthy.

“Stop what? Telling you the truth? You loved that little Jezebel with all your heart. Worked your fingers to the bone living in that hovel she called a home, and how does she repay you? By abandoning you to the Gods know what! You call that love? Hah! I’ve seen cows love better than that.”

Freddy’s mother, Bridgette, was standing at the sink, cleaning the dishes from the meal they had just finished. Freddy himself sat at the table, watching her, fingers flexing as he felt frustration, annoyance, and anger bubble into his chest. “It’s not like that, mom.” He managed, but his voice sounded much more defeated than he intended. “I abandoned her.”

“How could you say that, Freddy-Bear? You could never abandon anyone. No you were -taken- against your will. You had no choice in that. She, on the other hand, had every choice in her matter. Not even a year passes, and she’s already throwing her skirts up for another. Hah! I knew they were no good for you, Freddy-Bear. I just knew it!”

“I told you, mom. It isn’t like that. You cannot blame her. I was gone for three years.” A beat to let it sing in. “Three years, mom. Nothing can survive that much time.” Freddy tried his best to keep his voice civil, but anger was rising up his throat like bile the more vitriol his mother spit about Lydia, and her family. “So stop it. Please.”

Bridgette didn’t even bother to turn around, and face her son. She just kept dutifully washing dishes. “It isn’t my fault, Freddy, that she threw you out on your ear in your time of need. Look at you! You’re skin and bones, and did she even have the decency to see you? Give you your things? No. I had to go get them, and they were left in a pile outside her house! That isn’t love, Freddy. That is someone who didn’t care about you in the slightest.”

“I know that isn’t true mom.” Freddy said hotly, fingers shaking against the table.

“Oh? Then how do I have that atrocious cup she made you?” Bridgette retorted easily.

Freddy looked at the ceramic mug in his hands. Lydia had made it for him after his growth spurt, as all their regular mugs looked comically small in his large hands. While it had a few defects, and sat off kilter, she had made it with. It was her first attempt at pottery, and Freddy had cherished it dearly. Engraved on the bottom was a small bee, and an even smaller heart. Freddy held the cup in his palms, looking down at it with a bittersweet smile. “In the end, I was the one who didn’t see her. I called you before I even let Grams -- “

“Do not call her that in my house. Dierdre is not your grandmother.”

“She was more a grandmother to me than your mother ever was! Do not speak about her that way to me.”

Bridgette stopped washing the plate in her hands. Slowly, she set it down in the soapy water of the sink, and then grabbed a towel to dry her hands with. She turned around to level her son in a look Freddy knew all too well: disappointed anger. He cowed beneath the weight of it, ducking his head low, and avoided her gaze.

“They abandoned you Freddy. That is the truth. For nearly ten years you loved Lydia, moved in with her, promised to marry her, and how does she repay you? Hmm? Does she wait for you, like the devoted woman she claimed to be? Or did she leave you for the first piece of meat to look her up and down?”

“I said stop.” Freddy whispered, hot tears stinging his eyes as the flames on his tongue lapped at the backs of his teeth. “Do not talk that way about her to me.”

“I will talk about whoever I wish, however I wish in my own home, and I will take no lip from my own son in the process.”

Bridgette’s voice was stern, harsh, but her eyes were the most stinging. She looked at her own son with a mixture of pity, disappointment, anger, and surprise. Deep in Freddy’s heart, he knew his mother wished he felt the same way she did, and was upset he didn’t. She just couldn’t understand that none of this was anyone’s fault but his own. In her eyes, her son was perfect, it was the periphery that damaged him. She had never liked the Reid’s, but couldn’t bring it into herself to sequester Freddy away from them, especially when as children, Lydia used to sneak him out of his bedroom window to play.

“I will talk no more of this,” Freddy insists, trying to get away from the subject at hand. However, he knew his mother, and knew she would not let this go so simply. She finally had her reason to truly hate the Reid’s, and she would hold onto that with an ironclad grip, long after Freddy had let it go. “Let what has died, rest in peace, mom. Let it be. It is done.”

“I am not done talking about it! Not until you hear my words, and know they’re true, Freddy-Bear. She -left- you. She didn’t -love- you. She -used- you. You were -nothing- to her, or that family. Why can you not see that? For God's sake, Freddy, she already has that man staying at her own home! In the bed you used to sleep in! How can you not be angry about that? Especially when that little conniving whore didn’t eve -- “

Freddy slapped his hands on the table with as much force as he could muster. The vibration shook up his forearms, rattled his elbows, and even jarred his head. His legs pushed him upwards, their strength found in rage, only to quickly wilt beneath him the moment they felt his weight. He wavered, but held onto the table for support. “I SAID STOP IT!” He snarled, slapped his palm against the table one more time, and then pointed a skeletal finger towards his mother accusingly. “If I so much as hear another WHISPER of your vitriol, I will leave, and not return. Do you understand me, mom? The next time Lydia’s name passes your lips, it will be a compliment.”

Brdigette stood shocked at the sink. She stared at her son in disbelief, for in this moment he looked exactly like his father. Red faced, furious, shaking, and sputtering. It was nearly uncanny. A long silence filtered between them, punctuated only by Freddy’s ragged breathing, which culminated into a wet, hacking cough that sent him back into his seat. He groaned, hand pressed to his stomach, while hot blood dribbled down his neck. He needed to change the dressing on his wounds, and decided that would be his escape.

Without a word, Freddy stood, and limped his way towards the small bathroom on the lowest floor. He didn’t close the door behind him as he sat upon the toilet seat to begin the arduous process of cleaning his wounds. The Spiders bite on his neck never healed, and neither did the gore wound from the Boar. They were constant reminders of the hell he endured, and would likely be that way until the Forest called him home. No matter what he did, or how many times he tried to suture the wounds closed, they would reopen again. Freddy peeled the linens from around his neck, tossing them in a bucket nearly piled high with puss, and blood stained bandages from times before. He got up to inspect the wounds in the dirty old mirror, but they still looked as fresh as the moment the Spider’s fangs bit into him.

With a sigh, Freddy began to stuff the wounds with gauze, and then wrap the bandages. However, his arms were too weak to be held up that long. They shook, wavered, and his shoulders burned from the effort, until they fell uselessly against the sink. Freddy looked down at them, betrayed, and frustrated. Slowly, his eyes cast themselves up to his reflection, and the man staring back at him was still just as foreign as the first time he saw him: ragged beard, a bird's nest of debris. Hair long, and ragged down his back. Features so gaunt he looked skeletal. He didn’t look like he remembered. Or perhaps he had always looked like this. Sometimes, it’s hard to recall.

Tears stung at the corners of his eyes as he stared at himself in the mirror. His mother’s words had cut him deeply, but not in the way she had intended. She had wanted to stoke a righteous fury in him, to make him resent Lydia, and her family as much as she did. Instead, she merely crushed his already beleaguered psyche beneath the weight of her implications. Dierdre had not sugar coated anything when she sat him down in her home once he’d rested. She had told him of the wicker construct, how it tortured Lydia, how it masqueraded as him, wearing his face, and body like a costume. She had even told him how Lydia had made her peace with losing him. She had let him go, because that was easier than constantly having hope that would be crushed time, and time again whenever that thing came around. In her peace, she had found someone new. Freddy couldn’t bring it in himself to blame her. He couldn’t even be angry with her. She did what she had to for her heart, and her sanity.

It still hurt.

It hurt in ways he couldn’t quite put into words. It hurt not because it was a betrayal, or he felt abandoned, but because the love he felt for her wasn’t strong enough to withstand these trials. He had loved, and fought, and yearned to return, but in the end, it wasn’t enough. In so many ways, Freddy had never been enough for anyone. He wasn’t enough for his father, his mother, his teacher, and now to know he wasn’t enough for Lydia? It broke him in ways he didn’t think he could endure. He was too broken now for any semblance of the life he had left that day. His body too weak, and fragile, his mind too fractured, and these wounds too real to deny. He couldn’t see her when Dierdre told him everything. He couldn’t face her. He couldn’t face the fact that in the end?

He wasn’t enough, and now, he never could be.

Freddy felt a hand on his shoulder, and he recoiled away from it, knowing it was his mother. She didn’t say anything, instead just picked up the bandages, and slowly wrapped them around his neck, and shoulder. Silence weighed heavy between them, punctuated only by the small wheezes, hiccups, and gasps that rattled Freddy’s lungs. “Sit down,” His mother instructed, voice as gentle as she could make it, and gestured to the toilet lid. Freddy sat, obedient.

His mother got to work undoing the bandages around his stomach, and peeled the gauze from the wound with a look of concern, but acceptance. She knew this ritual too well to let it bother her anymore, but there was still that maternal instinct in her to protect her only child. “I was thinking,” She began, cleaning the jagged edges of the puncture with a damp cloth. “I came into a bit of money recently, and the Elsons’ farm has been abandoned for some time...perhaps we could spruce it up. Get you somewhere of your own. Your own little sanctuary away from that vile --”

Freddy tensed, looking down at his mother with a look that dared her to continue. He had warned her. If she so much as uttered another foul thing, he would leave. They stared at one another for a moment, let it hang in the air, and then fall flat. “Somewhere you can finally call your own.” She finished, and stood to find the fresh gauze beneath the sink.

“I don’t think I could live on the Elsons’ farm.” Freddy admitted. “It would be too sad.”

“So? Make happy memories there then. It’s just sitting there anyway, and it’s an eyesore to the whole town. The Mayor wants to get rid of it, or even have it torn down. Why not let it be yours? I am an upstanding citizen after all, and am well liked by the populace, so I am just sure he will give me a good deal on it.” The haughty, vain, and triumphant lilt to Bridgette’s voice made Freddy’s stomach churn. He couldn’t imagine what his mother had been up to in order to become such an ‘upstanding citizen.’

“If you want mom.” He relented, figuring she had already decided upon it, regardless of his answer. “Where did you get the money?”

“Oh good! Then I’ll talk to the Mayor tomorrow. Once we have the deed, we can spruce it up. Decorate it. Oh we can just throw out all that old nonsense, and start fresh!” She was absolutely giddy with the idea. At his second question, she waved her hand. “Don’t you worry about that, Freddy-Bear. Momma is gonna provide for you, no matter what.”

“Yeah. A new start. Sure.” Freddy offered, half heartedly contributing to the conversation as his mother packed the wound with gauze rough enough to make him wince.

“Then it’s settled! I’ll talk to Gibbs tomorrow, and we can let the past die as you said.” She nodded, and grabbed a fresh roll of bandages. She wrapped them around his midsection, a look of deep contemplation settling on her features. “Oh I have just so many ideas, Freddy-Bear! We can finally make something worth you, a Hughes, staying in! No more shack in the wilderness for my boy. Oh no, oh no.”

“It was everything we needed, mom. You know that.” Freddy said with a sigh, truly exhausted by his mother's constant badgering.

“It was everything SHE needed. You were just a house guest. Need I remind you, Freddy, that a -stranger- is sleeping in your bed?”

Freddy sighed loudly, setting his head in his hands as he aggressively rubbed at his face. “Enough...mom.” He whispered, emotion choking his words. “Just...please...enough…I can’t take it anymore, mom. I can’t. I’m not strong enough, anymore. So please just...stop.”

Finally, his mother relented. She reached up, and gently cupped Freddy’s cheeks. She wiped away the tears from his eyes, and smiled up at him, though it did not reach her cold gaze. “Okay Freddy. One day, you’ll see I was right, and it will be when you realize you’ll be even stronger without her.”

She stood, and left him alone in the bathroom, where Freddy sat, and bitterly wept.

( @drustvar-dragonfly for mentions )

#Freddy Hughes #Mother Knows Best #my writing #his mom's the worst okay #Bridgette Hughes

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