#“It’s to see the blood on them or dirt or whatever” I know. I’m saying something else here

[carouselcometh]

I like that butchers wear white. They’re like brides

[laundrybiscuits]

The officer leans close, jabbing a finger into Steve’s chest. “You’re damn lucky it ain’t ten years ago or one state over,” he growls. “You could be looking at a felony charge, serving 15 to life. We didn’t stand for this kind of thing in Hawkins when I joined the force.”

Steve just folds his arms and gives the officer a bored look. “Okay,” he says. “Good talk. Can I see my boyfriend now?”

The officer sneers, but he steps aside to let Steve through. They’ve got Eddie cuffed to the hospital bed with another gun-toting guard in the corner. 

“Jesus christ,” snaps Steve. “He’s not gonna escape, he can’t even walk right now. Why don’t you clear out and give us a little privacy, huh?”

“Sorry,” says the guard, not sounding all that sorry. “It’s for his own protection.”

Fuck. He’s gonna have to hope Eddie can follow his lead. All that practice pretending to be a wizard or whatever has to be good for something, right?

He perches on the side of Eddie’s bed and takes his hand. He can do this. “Hey, gorgeous. How’re you feeling?” 

“Uh,” says Eddie, eyebrows doing something hilarious. “Steve?”

“It’s okay,” says Steve. He rubs his thumb over Eddie’s knuckles. This is the most they’ve ever touched, he thinks—the most that was just skin, no layers of denim or leather in between. Not even a layer of blood and dirt. 

He swallows and keeps going, willing Eddie to develop freaky mind-reading powers all of a sudden. “I know you didn’t want to tell anyone about us, but I had to, baby. I’m sorry. I had to tell them you were, y’know, with me when…when Jason killed Chrissy.”

“You didn’t have to tell them about us,” says Eddie slowly. He’s giving Steve kind of an intense look. “Honey-pie. I’m sure there’s gotta be another way. One without as many consequences for you that you might not have thought all the way through.”

“There really isn’t,” Steve says. Thank god Eddie’s so quick on the uptake. Sure, he’s being a stubborn dick about it, but at least it doesn’t seem like he’s going to let anything slip. 

“Fucking hell,” sighs Eddie. “Don’t suppose we can put that pesky little cat back in the bag. Okay. Darling angel, light of my life, corndog of my soul, who else knows?”

Corndog of my soul, Steve mouths to himself. “Just the cops. And Robin and Nancy, obviously. And—oh, remember Hopper?”

“Do I remember Hopper, he asks. Oh, pudding-pop. The late Chief Hopper and I spent so, so much quality time together over the years; he was practically a father figure to me. And just as with my actual dear old dad, his departure was cause for great rejoicing in Casa Munson.”

“Sorry to break the bad news, then. Hop’s alive, and he—uh, he knows everything.” Steve tries to communicate the scope of everything by kind of tilting his head back and forth. “He’s been…helping.”

“Huh. No shit,” says Eddie. Steve can’t tell whether or not he’s getting it. To be fair, there’s a lot to get. “Okay, gallant knight errant of mine, any news on whether or not I’m getting sprung from this charmingly appointed dungeon?”

“We’re…Hopper’s working on it. That’s why I’m. Y’know. Here. To tell you that they know about us.” 

“Cool, right, understood.” Eddie closes his eyes, leaning back on his pillow. It’s so strange to see him in nothing but a hospital gown against white sheets. He looks like a wrung-out dishtowel. 

There’s a commotion from outside, raised voices saying something like you let him what and haven’t even interrogated the Munson kid yet and not a legal status you fuckin—

“Time’s up, sweetheart,” says Eddie, mouth quirking up into the ghost of a smile. “Anything else you wanna say before they decide to upgrade my security?”

“Uh,” says Steve. He’d mostly been focusing on getting the basics of Eddie’s alibi across in a convincing way, and he can’t remember if there were any other details Eddie should know. 

He hears the door slam open behind him, and panics. “Love you, bye,” he says, and ducks in to brush a quick kiss across Eddie’s chapped lips. The last thing he sees as he’s hauled bodily out of the room by a pissed-off detective is Eddie with his eyes gone enormous and shocked, lifting his uncuffed hand to his mouth, looking and looking at Steve like something is always going to be different from now on, forever.

(ETA: small continuation here!)

[jockwrites]

LUST - p.b

warnings: smut, (over 20 asks for smut.) cursing, drinking, straight people

part: 3 (last part)

a/n: this prob bad and i didn’t proof read so lmk ok bye im gonna go ahead and post this

two months. that’s how long it’s been since the last time you’ve spoken to paige.

since she left that night, you can’t say it’s been better, but you’re definitely learning how to prioritize yourself.

the way she hurt you did enough damage, and the guilt she left within you made your blood boil.

but you can’t deny you miss her, because you do.

besides that, you’ve seemed to find yourself within the time period between the breakup.

you dyed your hair blonde, got the belly piercing you’ve been wanting, & you’ve started to get your nails & hair done more often.

to you, life has been great.

but the only thing that’s missing is your girl.

the girl who made you feel special, loved, prioritized.

but you have to accept the fact that she’s gone, and you’ve been coping with it.

besides all of that, tonight you’re going to a “night out” event at a local bar. sounds risky, but you need it after everything you’ve been through these last few months.

as you shower, washing out the dirt that’s been accumulating in your hair, you hear an incoming call from your best friend.

you open the shower door, water dripping from your arms as you go to answer it.

“i’m in the shower lilly what do you want.” you speak, annoyed.

“who the hell pissed in your cereal,” she asks, giggling, “but anyway what’re you wearing honey bun”

“well if you would’ve let me shower and actually figure out what i wanna wear then i could’ve given you a proper answer.”

“chill outtt jeez but ok. also paige is going”

“and how do you know this creep?”

“welll.. it was kinda on my for you page..?”

“why is she on your for you page to begin with?”

“ok not the point. but supposedly she’s going because of her brand deal with madison reed to celebrate something.. like i actually have no idea but look your best and make the bitch jealous ok byeee enjoy your shower,” she rambled.

after she hangs up, you immediately turn off the shower & get out to dry off.

you have to look perfect tonight.

you dry yourself, looking in the mirror as you wonder how you’ll pull this off. you know damn well you wanna see her.

you walk out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around you as you go to check your closet for outfits.

you grab your phone, calling your best friend to find opinions on what to wear.

“heyyyy girl are you in a good mood now?” she grinned over the phone.

“ok so not funny, also can you help me with what im gonna wear?”

“of course i’m literally like a fashion designer.”

“ok so, maybe not that but whatever helps you sleep at night!” you giggled.

“ok anyway, try on the outfits bitch i wanna see them.” she squealed.

“okok, give me a second.”

you proceed to look through your closet, finding a orange, short dress.

“is this cute?” you ask your friend, showing it to your friend over the phone.

“omg yes!! try it on now.”

you let out a laugh, taking your towel off to try on the dress.

you step into it, pulling it up as you fondle with the straps.

“okay, how do i look?” you smiled.

“so. fucking. good.” she complimented.

“okay don’t make my ego high, but wanna see the other dress?” you giggle.

“yes!! please.”

“okay girl okay” you replied.

you find another dress, purple, short, tight, & lacy.

again, you mimic your actions earlier and show it to your friend over the phone.

“ok, how’s this?”

“GORGEOUS. try it on. now.”

“okay creep.” you insulted.

you try on the dress, not really liking it. but of course, you let your friend put her 2 cents in on it.

“i don’t really like it but what do you-”

“yes. wear that. NOW. wear. it.” she nagged.

“holy shit, okay. but are you sure it looks good?”

“i said wear the damn dress!”

────────────────────────

you sit down to do your makeup, going for a sleek, not too much look.

“i know you wanna see paige tonight.” says your friend over the phone.

you grab your concealer out of your makeup bag, rolling your eyes at her idiotic but true statement.

“and if i did? who would it hurt?” you asked groggily as you pat the concealer on your under-eye.

“well, not saying it’d hurt me, but might hurt you. but what do i know, you know?” she says sarcastically.

“okay lilly.” you sass, adding your final touches to your makeup with powder and mascara.

“should i wear pearls or diamonds?”

“diamonds.”

“gold or silver?”

“silver duh.”

“kk thanks pookie, im gonna go though, text me when you’re ready! bye honey.” you hang up.

after you hang up the phone, you grab your curling iron to add extras touches to your hair. you wanna look perfect tonight.

after you’re all finished getting ready, you grab your keys and head out.

you get in your car and get a notification from your phone.

“Paige💕 just added a new post to their story!”

ironic.

it’s a picture of her and brittany, her fashion designer or whatever.

you roll your eyes, turning on your car. as you pull out, you get ready for whatever’s in store tonight.

────────────────────────

you pull into the parking lot of the bar, noticing a familiar car. it’s her car.

you walk in and the first thing you notice is your best friend, lilly.

she runs over to you, giddy and grinning.

“oh my gosh you made it finally! i was like so bored and also i seen paige and she looked at me weird like bitch-” she rambled, under the influence.

“lilly, calm down. where is she?” you ask, grinning.

“she’s over there i think, she was talking to some girl. it wasn’t her cousin,” she air quoted, “some other girl. i don’t know her though.. but how are you pookie,” she giggled.

“some other girl,” you ask, genuinely confused.

“girl enough about her! can we grab some drinks please??” she pouts.

“i guess lillian,” you laugh.

“yay!” she cheered as she grabbed you by your arm to get drinks.

you walk with her to the bar, asking the bartender for a dirty shirley. paige’s favorite.

she technically put you on, they’re so good.

“thank you,” you gesture to the bartender after receiving your drink.

“so you gonna talk to paige?” lilly asks, slurring every word.

“i won’t talk to her unless she talks to me,” you roll your eyes.

“well, speak of the devil she’s walking over here!” she bursts.

you turn your head, seeing paige walking over.

“ok im going to find a boyfriend or something ill leave you two to whatever this is bye!” she squealed.

as your friend leaves, paige approaches.

“hey.. how you been? you look.. hella different,” paige tells you, looking you up and down.

“is that a compliment?” you roll your eyes.

“yeah, you look good as fuck.” she licks her lips, her eyes locked on your figure in your dress.

“why are you over here again?” you sassed.

“i just wanted to know wassup with you. i miss you man, i know i fucked up.” she looked down, ashamed.

“so why’d you do it?” you ask, sipping your drink.

“listen, it was a mistake. ion know if you’d be able to forgive me but im dead serious, i- i didn’t mean it. i was speaking out of anger.” she stuttered.

she seems so genuine, there’s no way you won’t be able to forgive her.

“we all make mistakes. i just don’t understand why you’d do me like that, seriously. after everything? really?” you asked, perplexed.

“i know, i know. but im for real, you the only girl i want. do you know how many times i’ve thought about you today? yesterday? last week? i can’t get you off my mind.” she expressed.

“i met a girl about a week ago,” you admitted, “nothing like you. they’ll never be like you paige, no matter who i meet.” you let out a breathy laugh, knowing there’s 100% truth to your words.

paige grabs you up from your seat, pulling you by your waist to her chest.

“everything’s okay, im here now. and if it’s okay with you, i wanna be here tomorrow to. i wanna be here everyday, with you and only you.” she promised.

you wanna kiss her, but with the fame she has itll be on tiktok in 30 minutes.

shes thinking exactly what you’re thinking, and with the thoughts you two are sharing, she pulls you toward the bathroom.

just like when you two first met.

when she pulls you into the bathroom, she locks the door behind you two.

you bite back a moan as she pushes you against the wall, sucking on the soft spot of your neck.

“i missed this. fuck, i missed you.” she spoke hungrily against your neck, her voice raspy.

“fuck, paige i missed you too. so much,” you breathed, needy for her touch.

“you want me to fuck you in this bathroom?” she huffed as she pulled up the hem of your dress.

“fuck. of course i do,” you gasped. the sudden gesture catching you off guard.

“mm, i know you do.” she groans as she sinks to her knees, pulling down your panties.

she looks up at you before placing her tongue flat against your clit.

no warning, just getting straight into it.

you throw your head back into the wall, the ecstasy of her tongue arousing you.

“oh fuck paige, just like that, shit,” you whimpered loudly, raking through her hair as she works her magic below you.

your hips buck against her face, her tongue swirling around your clit. you’re starting to get dizzy from all the overstimulation.

she sucks on your clit, lapping her tongue in your folds.

her tongue flicks against your clitoris, making your breath hitch.

she grabs your calves, holding your legs in place while she eats you out driving you senseless.

“stay still,” she whispered against your pussy, the vibration driving you insane.

she dips her tongue inside you, gripping your thighs desperately.

“fuck, paige i’m trying-” she slides her tongue up your pussy, leaving a line of spit as she inserts two fingers inside you, cutting you off.

“holy shit, i’m gonna cum,” you grunted.

“do it, right here,” she rasped out, sucking on your clit eagerly.

she speeds up the motion of her fingers inside you, curling them as she hits the exact spot to make you cum.

she continues to lap at your pussy, sucking on your clit constantly.

“shit baby, you taste so good,” she moans against you.

as you clench against her fingers, she removes them.

she continues to pleasure you with her tongue, making up for the loss of her fingers.

“paige, fuck! i’m gonna cum,” you cried out, your knees going limp.

you finally reach your climax, your body coated in a thin sheen of sweat. the time slows down for you, your pulse beating faster and faster as your vision goes static.

paige looks dead in your eyes, pulling herself back up.

“i don’t wanna lose you again, i love you,” she whispers against your neck, pushing your hair behind your left ear.

“paige,” you breathe, your chest heaving. “i don’t wanna lose you again either. i love you,” you profess.

“good,” she kisses you, cupping your cheeks as you taste yourself in her mouth.

after the intense sex and encounter, you try to freshen yourself up by fixing your dress & hair.

“stop, you look perfect,” she calmed you.

���we can go back out now? how long have we been in here?” you giggle.

“it’s alright baby, i got it.”

as you two walk out, you realized the party kinda died down.

paige looks down at you, smirk apparent on her face.

“you tryna go home so i can show you something?” she grins.

“that’s a crazy question, duh.”

a/n: i finally finished this holy crap. anyway hope you guys enjoyed i can’t write long smut so this is all you get until i learn how to properly write it 😞 ok bye thanks for waiting bc my asks are horrid and you guys rushed me to finish this :-| also not proof read i don’t feel like it ahahah…………

[mourningsbane]

Okay this blog and the story has been circulating slowly in my head for days now and I feel like tossing out a theory because I never theorize but here I am

So. Tanglefern’s greatest mistake. I believe that he may have poisoned Honeyspring in some way. If not a direct poisoning, he was at the very least aware of and partially involved in Honeyspring’s rapid death. But I also think he was not aware she was pregnant. I do not know if the kits were not quite right because they were too early in development, some kind of curse stuff, or because of the poison/illness. Either way, it seems Tanglefern wished them no ill will due to the intense despair he felt when the crude surgery (is it surgery if on a corpse?) failed. Another note; I’m not fully sure Tanglefern meant for/wanted them to die. ‘There’s nothing more I can do for you’. And it seems very heavily implied that Rootstar ordered the c-section, which is where the ‘no respect for the dead!’ Line comes in from Bearface. Along with this, I’m like 99% sure Honeyspring and Flaildrizzle were in a romantic relationship and were planning to raise those kits together. Honeyspring looked so soft in her dream, maybe they were trying to look less spooky as to not scare Flaildrizzle?

I do not believe Honeyspring is ‘evil’. She is scared and oh so alone, and is lashing out because of it. She just wants help, as I believe that is what the messed up mouse is huffing at Tanglefern, and potentially Sweetkit too. Tanglefern even wonders why StarClan won’t take them, implying that in life she never did anything evil enough to warrant going to kitty cat hell. At least, not that Tanglefern would know. And, seeing how their mere presence is warping the prey, I think she could have killed Sweetkit if she wanted, but they didn’t.

A very out-there theory is that Honeyspring may have been kept from StarClan because of the rage fuelling the end of her life (towards Tanglefern?). In my opinion, she seems aware that her death wasn’t natural. Their first headshot reference says ‘I will never forgive you’ which I believe is specifically aimed at whoever orchestrated or at least played a part in her death. Her second reference says kind with a question mark in brackets, which means they were at the very least kind in life. Not being able to communicate with anyone, those who see her being terrified, not being allowed into StarClan, they must all tear at their mind and likely their overall stability. I honestly don’t think she’s as malicious as we seem to be getting led to believe.

This may also be me grasping at straws but with the ‘there’s something underneath the ground’ and the description of her disease-reeking blood seeping into the dirt floor I wonder if that’s something. Definitely not I’m reaching but meh it’s fun.

Finally, I’m not fully sure that, whatever Tanglefern’s involvement was, he intended for them to die. ‘Distantly, some raw part of him, carbed open like the body before him, realized it was all for nothing’ now while it’s likely this is just in reference to the c-section, I feel this could also be the fact Honeyspring died and may not have been meant to. There was some kind of plan, I’m just not sure what it was’

Basically a summary I believe Tanglefern had an influence in Honeyspring’s sudden demise but was not aware of the kits, Bearface was NOT happy about the c-section, Flaildrizzle and Honeyspring were a couple and going to raise those kits, Honeyspring wasn’t evil in life but is now losing stability due to being so isolated, and Tanglefern may not have intended Honeyspring to die. I may be super off I am not good at theories and it is very late. But hey. All in good fun.

Anyways giving Honeyspring a big hug I love them and she is spinning around in my brain like a rotisserie chicken 24/7

also omg sorry this got so long i got lowkey rambly here but my brain is going whir because oh my god this is so cool-

Worry not, I do not mind receiving long post! I, too, tend to get rambly when talking about things, so I certainly don't blame you. Plus, I love reading theories! It gives me insight into what people think, and I don't want any lore elements to feel like they came out of nowhere! <3

As for your theories, you are very close! Tanglefern gave Honeyspring Mourningsbane instead of Clottingroot when treating the injury on her hind leg.

Honeyspring and Flaildrizzle were mates, and you're right that Honeyspring tried to look "softer". The time is soon, and Honeyspring didn't want to startle her. Honeyspring is weak and intangible at the moment, but not for long. And you're on the right track with her "disease-reeking blood seeping into the dirt floor"; her rotting body taints the very soil.

I agree that Honeyspring is not a villain in the stereotypical sense! She was very well-liked in life, and had a lot going for her! I would say that she's both a victim and a perpetrator.

[g1rld1ary]

you never disappointed me - part three

part one part two part three part four

➻ synopsis: luke castellan x aphrodite!reader ; after beckendorf does some research with silena, luke finally knows how to ask you out (10 things I about you AU)

➻ word count: 2642

➻ warnings: ooc/kind of loser!luke, ooc silena, she/her pronouns used for reader, sexual innuendos, alcohol, smoking

➻ so i immediately got hit with a ton of uni work lols (so mean for first week??) so this took a little longer than expected sorries!!

TAGLIST: @myxticmoon @wicca-void @leeknows-wife @thekittyxo-blog @number-onekidqueen @instabull @slaybestieslay946 @sflame15-blog @yourfavmiki @ivory-sage

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

While you were being tormented by the two boys Camp Half-Blood (or maybe your mom?) kept sending your way, Charles was following Silena around like a lost puppy, noting down whatever she could find about you in your limited personal space in the Aphrodite cabin. After several minutes of nothing promising, he was starting to feel hopeless.

“She’s not a…” Beckendorf trailed off, looking for more delicate phrasing.

“Girl in Red fan? No. I found a picture of Heath Ledger under her bunk once so I’m pretty sure she’s not harbouring any queer feelings.”

“So that’s the kind of guy she likes? Pretty guys?”

“I don’t know,” Silena said impetuously, “All I’ve ever heard her say is that she’d die before dating a guy that smokes.” Beckendorf cringed. That was an issue. Silena continued mindlessly, digging through your drawers and belongings. She pulled out your reading list, planner and a sticky note of things you were going to do when you left after summer. Finally, Silena let out a devious giggle as she dug through your top drawer. She didn’t let Beckendorf wonder for long, as she pulled out a pretty pair of lacy black underwear.

It wasn’t the most scandalous piece of lingerie sitting in that cabin — not by far, but Beckendorf still blushed like the teenage boy he was, almost too afraid to look at the scrap of fabric.

“And, uh, what does that tell us?” He asked, eyes anywhere but the cloth.

“She wants to have sex someday, that’s what,” She said it as if it were obvious, and Beckendorf wished a hole would open up and swallow him down. He really didn’t want to be talking about your sexual desire right now.

“She might just like the colour?” He mumbled, hand running over his hair in an effort to ground him.

“You don’t buy black lingerie unless you want someone to see it.” Beckendorf felt kind of guilty, he figured he probably wasn’t who you had in mind when buying black lingerie, and it was starting to feel like a serious invasion of privacy. That was only heightened when Silena pointedly avoided telling him which area was hers, saying it was ‘private’. He rationalised his actions by praying to the Gods the plan would work and everyone would get a happy ever after.

Still, Percy and Beckendorf took this research to Luke in his semi-secret spot behind the training arena, where he could drink and smoke without being worried about being caught by the younger kids or Chiron. He didn’t look exactly happy to see them, but Beckendorf thought he might just be warming up to them.

“So, what’ve you got for me?” He asked, taking a swig of his beer.

“Insights into a very complicated girl,” Percy said, dislike of you obvious.

“Just one question,” Beckendorf asked “Should you be drinking if you don’t have a liver?” One of his new brothers had told him the rumour that Luke had sold his liver on the black market during his quest for a pack of cigarettes and a ticket back to camp.

“She hates smokers!” Percy interrupted, hopefully before Luke could process what Beckendorf had said, and very successfully redirected his focus as Beckendorf grabbed the lit cigarette out of his hand, snuffing it out on the dirt.

“So I’m a… non-smoker now?” Luke spat the words, sounding almost disgusted with himself.

“Just for now,” Beckendorf assured him. “And one more problem — Silena said that she likes ‘pretty guys’.” A tense silence fell upon them and Charles wished that sometimes he would think before he spoke. Luke’s gaze on him was heavy and intimidating, and if Percy wasn’t there with him Beckendorf probably would have cowered and escaped.

“Are you telling me I’m not a pretty guy?” Luke asked, and if he had to say, Beckendorf thought his attitude right now definitely wasn’t helping his case. He and Percy shared a quick look before reassuring Luke that he absolutely was a pretty guy, they just had limited experience in deciding those labels. Satisfied, Luke glanced at the list Beckendorf handed him of all of your interests and engagements. He frowned, and both the younger boys exchanged uneasy eye contact.

“So what, I’m supposed to buy her noodles and books and sit around listening to some shitty girl power band?” He asked, dread and boredom evident in his eyes.

“Have you ever been to Club Skunk? Her favourite band is playing there tomorrow night,” Beckendorf provided, disheartened by the quick shake of Luke’s head.

“I cannot be seen at Club Skunk.”

“But she’s gonna be there! She’s got tickets!” He protested, and Percy put a subtle hand on his arm.

“Dude, everyone you know is here. No one’s gonna see you at Club Skunk and think you’re less of a man or whatever. I’ll tell everyone you’re off in the woods smoking weed or something.” Luke looked at them for a long moment, seemingly considering the offer. Finally he agreed, and Beckendorf thought it may have just been to get them to go away, but he was happy enough.

Luke, having gotten over the humiliation it would be to go to Club Skunk, was more than interested at the new piece of information he’d just learned. He thought he was the only one who snuck out of camp, and he wondered how often you did it. Reasonably frequently, he guessed, since you were going to all the trouble to see a band that probably played around the state constantly. You just kept on surprising him, and though it was all a bit of an effort on his part, he had started to enjoy getting to know the parts of you that you kept hidden behind the icy exterior.

You, on the other hand, were getting really weirded out. You might’ve just been paranoid, but you were sure that the new Hephaestus kid who was friends with Percy kept staring at you. Even Percy glanced at you more than once during dinner, something you didn’t think had ever happened before — and you were not looking for attention from the camp’s golden boy, no matter how many times he’d probably saved your life by extension of his quests. Those two, coupled with Luke, whose attentions had inexplicably been focused on you for the last week, made you feel a bit like an animal on display; violently uncomfortable. As you left the meal you shot Beckendorf a nasty glare, somewhat satisfied when he jumped and averted his eyes. You shook your head in a physical attempt to clear the burdens of your thoughts. Soon you wouldn’t have to worry about any of the campers or the stupidity that flowed around the grounds.

About twenty minutes after the campfire started and the rest of the camp were safely together, you began the trek up to the Hamptons — the closest city with a venue. You waited anxiously for the bus to pick you up outside the camp lines, looking over your shoulder to ensure no one had caught you. If your adventures got around camp then Silena would absolutely tell your father as payback for being the reason she can’t date, and that was a whole new set of issues you really didn’t care to deal with. Luke, standing in the shadows watching, felt almost bad for spying on you. Almost.

You could feel your shoulders relax as you got further and further away from camp, the judgement and expectations of people you didn’t even like far behind you for the night. You’d been looking forward to this show since you got tickets with your friends during the school term, and you were determined to make it worth the pain of summer. And it really, really was. Your whole friend group had made it, making it a long awaited reunion, and the band was one you’d been following for years. You danced with all your energy, gleefully shouting lyrics and laughing loudly when you got them terribly wrong.

Luke watched this from his seat at the bar, entranced in your private bubble amongst the chaos. You were smiling — a rare sight at all at camp — but this was one he didn’t think he’d ever seen in all his years of knowing you. It wasn’t filled with pride like the ones you tried to conceal when you got a new record on the climbing wall or you finally beat Clarisse in a training match, nor was it the satisfied smirk you had when you put an egotistical camper in their place or beat up jerks like Ethan. Your smile was alight with joy; relaxed and wholehearted happiness that spread through the room and seemed infectious to anyone who passed you.

It was at that moment that Luke truly understood how you were a daughter of Aphrodite. The way the lights reflected off your hair and your eyes, the easy way you moved your body to the music, everything about you suddenly seemed perfect, and he wondered how he’d never noticed it before. Your appearance hadn’t changed drastically; your hair was loose instead of the practical up-do needed for camp, you wore a tight fitted crop top instead of the camp shirt and you might’ve had some glitter smeared around your eyes. All inconspicuous, ordinary things, yet you seemed like a brand new person. Luke decided he liked this version of you, and if this whole plan failed, at least he’d gotten a glimpse into your real world and behind the facade you hid with at camp.

He was ripped from his thoughts when he saw you make a drinking gesture to your friend, heading towards him unwittingly. He turned in his seat hurriedly, trying to act cool and unaware. You spotted him almost immediately, persona switching up as disgust crept back under your skin.

“If you’re going to ask me out again, could you just get it over with now so I can get back to enjoying my night?” You sighed, grabbing the water bottles from the bartender.

“Would you mind? You’re kind of ruining this for me.” Luke gestured around, hoping his acting chops were as good as he needed. You ignored it either way.

“You’re not surrounded by your usual cloud of smoke,” You noted, curiosity getting the better of you.

“I quit. Apparently they’re bad for you.” You raised an eyebrow, almost too surprised to come up with a quip.

“You did?” You hated how genuine it sounded and turned to go, sensing him get up to follow you.

“You know, I was watching you out there before,” He yelled over the music, “I’ve never seen you look so sexy.” In possibly the worst timing in history, the song ended and the entire club was treated to Luke’s compliment. You both flushed red, and you were unable to contain a small giggle — wildly uncharacteristic for you. Luke, to his credit, only had a mildly sheepish grin on his face, and continued to follow you across the dance floor. “Come to the Apollo party with me.” You couldn’t believe him! Here you were, miles from camp and he was still asking you out. Though, you couldn’t deny that he wasn’t quite as infuriating as you originally thought.

“You never give up, do you?” You gave a good natured sigh, ducking under someone’s arm to get to your friends.

“Was that a yes?”

“No.”

“Was it a no?”

“No!” You let out another laugh which floated over the crowd and straight to Luke. He couldn’t contain his own grin.

“I’ll pick you up at 9:30!” He yelled back. You gave no indication of having heard him apart from a momentary glance, and he couldn’t tell if the smile was directed at him or just a byproduct of your situation. He took it either way.

Having gone to the effort of sneaking away from camp, Luke decided to stay for the remainder of the concert and grudgingly decided the band wasn’t that bad. Not his style, sure, but he could kind of see why you liked them. Besides, these drinks were easier to get than the contraband ones he had to smuggle into camp.

Tired from a night on your feet dancing and feeling your pleasant buzz slipping away, you were less than charmed seeing Luke waiting for your bus. It made sense, obviously you were going the same place, but you didn’t want him to ruin your great night by pestering you about a date.

“What are you doing here?” You asked bluntly, eagerly sitting on the misshapen little bench.

“Getting home?” He trailed off, unsure of what you were looking for. “Besides, we’re a long way from camp and it’s late. Didn’t feel right leaving you here alone.” You hated that you thought it was sweet.

“Do you not think I can take care of myself?” You picked a fight instead, unwilling to be genuine with him. Luke wasn’t stupid enough to fall for it.

“I have complete faith in you,” He laughed, “I’m making sure you don’t kill whoever bothers you.” You let out a snort of a laugh accidentally. You tried to recover,

“It’ll be you if you’re not careful.” Somehow Luke didn’t believe you.

Surprisingly, the trip was almost pleasant. Luke had already gotten what he wanted from the night and the next phase of his plan was shaping up, so he knew bringing up your impending date would only sour your mood. Instead, when he plonked himself down in the seat next to you on the bus, you talked about mundane, silly things. He asked about the friends you were with and let you talk about your life in New York, waving you off when you started to feel guilty since he was at camp all year.

“There’s this really cool record store, we go there all the time. They have this huge bulletin board on one wall where these tiny little bands put up posters for random gigs with, like, fifty people there — it’s so sick, like the 90s I guess. Maybe —” You cut yourself off but Luke knew where you were going. Maybe I could show you. You would deny it if he brought it up, but he couldn’t contain his smile either way.

You were surprised that you had so much to talk about, briefly wondering why you’d never been friends with him before, but the conversation continued all the way to the camp border, where you both knew the risk of sneaking back in meant your night together was over. Once you got into camp there’d be people all around; campers should be in bed but counsellors often patrolled for a while, and many of the non-demigod folks around camp could be up and about well into the early hours of the morning.

“So, um, I’ll see you around?” His sudden shyness was unexpectedly charming, and you found yourself giving Luke a smile — a real one that made his heart flutter embarrassingly.

“Bye, Luke.” You held eye contact for a fraction longer than necessary before disappearing into the shadows. Luke watched you go, not quite starstruck but close to it. A rustle of the trees behind him spurred him into action, but the image of you on the dance floor played on repeat behind his eyes as he lay in his bunk.

[lovedrruunk]

‘General Venture dating headcanons!

Authors note; literally wrote all of this during my genocide and holocaust studies class.… I’m going to hell…Also guys idk whether to use “y/n” or not like I can’t help but cringe… is it corny or no gah idk ALSO AUGHHH IM SUCH A LIAR im literally so behind on all my assignments!!!! And I still have requests to do whatever whatever enjoy!!!

They’re very secure as a person (and they trust you lots!) so I don’t think they’d get easily jealous but when they are they're sneaky with it, they’d be the type to like sabotage lolol

“Do you think I have a chance?”

“Oh with (____) ? Yea sure but just so y’know they were only recently discharged from the psyche ward…”

“Oh…”

“Yea… doctors said they’d never be the same ..… poor thing…..

( ＾◡＾)”

They’re actually just the sweetest most understanding s/o ever like genuinely let them know all your of worries, share all your burdens, they happily will!!

Will DIE if they ever made you upset. Like would start genuinely tweaking and going crazy. Will buy every gift and write so many letters apologizing for whatever they’d done until you’re happy again

Even worse if they make you mad like omg ESPECIALLY IF UR GIVING THEM THE SILENT TREATMENT

do be expecting them outside your window with a boombox on their head playing some old romantic Spanish saop opera song

They seem like the type who can’t cook for shit (I’m projecting here) BUT they will try just for you! They’ll attempt to cook your favorite foods… please lie to them!!

Absolutely loves to spoil / do things for you but if you do the same they freak out, lots of ‘You shouldn’t have!’s and ‘Shuckssss teehehehe’

Of COURSEEE gifts you lots of pretty rocks!!! Constantly. Your house might have a random rock in every corner but hey what can you do? what’s that? Refuse to take it? Yea if you want them to die!!!! You might as well have just ripped their heart out! just say you hate them and never wanna see them ever again!!!

Speaking of… lots of dramatics. However they’re smart enough to know when to stop so it’s not to the point of being annoying or anything! They can’t help but be playful, it’s in their blood

Not only are they a terrible cook but they're a terrible driver as well, there's definitely a hidden drawer filled with all their tickets... somebody get them off the damn road!

Treats the drill like a pet lol, y'know those jokes about pitbulls named princess? That's for sure what's going on here. Yea it's a dangerously massive drill meant to effortlessly barrow through solid ground but it's also their little meowmeow so?? Their admiral turbo meowington? If you suggest they wash it from all the dirt and grime they'll pout and say something stupid like; "but but flufflestiltskin hates the bath"

That's all I can think of right now but I'm sure there's more cooking in the back of my head!! Hope you like it, this was rlly fun lolol (IM SO IN LOVE WITH THEM SOMEONE SEDATE ME.)

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Saved And Fucked By The Moth Man.

Pairing: Mothman x F. Reader (Cryptozoology).

Word Count: 3.6k.

TW: Death/Gore, Rough Sex, Oral Sex, Inhuman Anatomy, Generalized Monster-Fucking, Car Crashes, Reader's Pretty Questionable In This One, and Blood.

Based On The Results of This Poll.

You thought it could’ve been a bird, at first.

A raven, or a crow – you weren’t entirely sure. Something big and black that flew so quickly, you hadn’t been able to make out anything more specific than a dark blur and the vague impression of feathers before it was gone, vanishing into the shadows of the forest before you could realize that you'd reflexively swerved to avoid it, before you could do anything to stop yourself from crashing into the base of an oak so tall and so opposing, it wouldn’t so much as shake under the force of the collision. By the time you stumbled out of your wrecked car, the windshield shattered and the engine utterly decimated, whatever threw you off-course had been gone, and you’d been left alone on a country backroad in the middle of nowhere - bruised, sore, and miles away from the nearest city. Really, the only way your night could get worse was if—

Thunder cracked somewhere in the distance, quaking through the otherwise silent forest. You glanced up, searching for the sky through the dense canopy of overlapping branches and finding it overcast. It’d rain, pretty soon, and you’d be left lost, injured, and drenched.

Well, at least now, it really couldn’t get any worse.

You fished your phone out of your pocket and pressed your back against the most in-tact side of your car, checking if you had reception for the millionth time. Of course, you didn’t, and of course, your battery was in the single digits – too low to justify using your flashlight and risking leaving yourself alone in the dark with a dead phone and no way to call for help if you did, somehow, manage to make it to the border of civilization.

You considered crawling into what was left of the backseat of your car, turning off your phone, and hoping someone else drove down this godforsaken road in the morning, but before you could let exhaustion dampen your better judgement, you heard something in the woods rustle, the sounds of displaced leaves and cracking twigs standing out against the stillness of the woods. Somewhat hesitantly, you turned towards the disturbance, half-expecting to see wolves or coyote or, as unlikely as it was, the same over-sized bird that’d gotten you into this, but instead, much to your relief, you found a group of three men – hunters, judging by the riffles slung over their backs, the dirt caked into their shoes. None of them were wearing visibility gear, and you couldn't say it seemed like a great idea to go skulking through the forest in the middle of the night, but you were already out of your comfort zone. You couldn’t be sure what people walking around in the woods at night were supposed to look like, and at that point, you didn’t really care.

You grinned, moving to call out to them, but the oldest of the group was already addressing you, already stepping out of the forest and onto the road. “What do you think you’re doing out here, darlin’?”

Your expression faltered, but you kept your spirits up. It was fine. This was fine. You could deal with a little backwoods chauvinism until you got to a mechanic. “Got into an accident,” you said, nodding towards where your car where it bent around the oak’s trunk. “No service, either. I guess I wouldn’t be able to bother one of you kind people to call a tow truck, would I?”

There was a long, silent pause. The two younger men exchanged a glance. Again, the oldest spoke to you. “This is private property, y’know. Not a lot of folks come through this patch of woods.”

“Sorry, I didn’t know. I… I’m just in town for the convention.” One of the younger men slid his rifle off of his shoulder, taking it in both hands. The other followed in-suit. “It’s a beautiful area. If I had to get stranded, I’m glad it was here.”

“So, no relatives nearby? Nobody who’d notice if you didn’t get home in the mornin’?”

You pressed yourself against the dented metal, your smile now strained. “You know what?” You asked, forcing out an airy chuckle. “I think I’ll just walk for it. How far could the next town be, right?”

He held up a hand, signaling to the rest of his group. You heard something click, caught boots scraping against rough pavement, and watched a broad grin form across the older man’s features. “Looks like there’s gonna be a hunt tonight after all, boys.”

Your first reflex was, somewhat counterintuitively, to laugh. The sound was jarring, too loud and too stilted, cutting your lips and catching in your throat like pieces of broken glass.

Your second, triggered when one of the younger men moved to step toward you, was to run for your life.

Without thought, without hesitation, you broke into a dead-sprint. There was a holler behind you, a round of hollow clicks and earth-shaking thuds, and then, they were chasing you.

You couldn’t be sure how far you made it. It felt like you ran for seconds, or days, or years. It felt like you traveled miles, or feet, or just a few steps. Everything looked like the same repetitive blur of trees taller than your eyes could follow and roots that jutted from the earth like pikes. Their footsteps remained constant, never growing closer or farther away, always lingering somewhere just behind you, always just barely breathing down your neck. Fuck this. Fuck your car. Fuck this entire goddamn town and their stupid convention. If you made it out of this alive, you’d spend the rest of your life as far from this state as you could get. Coming here had been a stupid idea to begin with, a spontaneous trip planned at the last minute and based on a half-baked desire to see something that probably didn’t even exist. You just thought you might’ve been able to see—

Your foot caught on a half-buried stone, and you were sent crashing into the earth, your shoulder taking the brunt of the fall. You were left on the ground, cursing under your breath and holding your aching arm as you scrambled to get back on your feet, to keep moving before your would-be murderers caught up with you. You weren’t fast enough, though – you couldn’t be, not when they’d always been on your heels, not when you’d already given them an opportunity to put their quarry out of its misery. You’d barely started to push yourself up when they emerged from the tangle of trees, guns cocked and hunting knives drawn. You shrunk into yourself, threw your arms over your face in a last-ditch effort to protect yourself, despite knowing that a bullet would tear through your skin like paper, despite being able to picture your body lying lifeless on the forest floor, bleeding out in the dirt like a wild animal. The last thing you saw was the oldest man, raising his riffle and aiming towards your chest before you shut your eyes.

You heard a shot, sudden and deafening, but the impact never came.

You felt something whip past you. There was a scream, wordless and torn and cut short with a ragged screech and a wet, visceral sound – like flesh being carved open, like teeth tearing into raw meat. It was all you could do to curl into yourself, sinking into your self-made shelter as the forest descended into the sounds of carnage, only falling silent when there was nothing left to cut down. Even then, it took you long, agonizing seconds to open your eyes, to take in the gore splattered across the grass and dirt, the guns that’d been bent and twisted into shapes they weren’t meant to hold. A disembodied leg laid to your side, the torso it’d been ripped from impaled on a branch nearly twenty feet off of the ground. Clumps of torn muscle and split entrails shined reddish-silver in the limited moonlight, but you could only focus on the gore for so long.

Only a few yards away, a man stood in front of you. Only, it wasn’t a man, not really, not when you looked beyond its – his? hers? theirs? – vaguely humanoid form. Its long legs and lanky arms were coated in a thin layer of grey, shaggy fur that grew shorter and finer over its defined chest. You could make out curved talons extending from its massive hands, a pair of ringed antennae curled back along its scalp, a pair of tattered wings folded against its back. Its head might’ve been the strangest part of its anatomy; low and stooped, too round to resemble anything human and too featureless inspire anything but an uncanny sense that you weren’t supposed to be here. From a distance, the only thing you could really make out was its eyes. They were gigantic, nearly spherical – orbs of pure crimson that seemed to glow in the dim light.

Before you could stop yourself, your attention drifted downward, to the space between its legs. It took you an embarrassingly long moment to recognize what you were looking at – the shaft absent of all veins or definition beyond a perfect spiral ridge that coiled from the base to the flushed, lilac-shaded head. The tip was tapered, ending in a sharp slant and budding with something white and thick. The entire thing looked almost painfully erect, inflating it to a size that, even when compared to the rest of its massive body, sparked a raw, preservationist kind of terror inside of you. Fear took root in the pit of your stomach, sprouting up and into the hollow of your chest, making it difficult to breathe, to resist the urge to curl back into yourself and never come out.

Second to only your fear, just as pervasive and twice as instinctual, was your arousal.

It would’ve been impossible to read its nonexistent expression, but as it shifted its weight, turning to face you, you could’ve sworn the creature was looking at you with as much interest as you held for it. Its scarlet eyes were wide and unfaltering, its gaze only growing more intense as it took a step in your direction, then another, approaching you in slow, tense increments. Despite its stiffness, it didn’t seem awkward or nervous, let alone afraid of you. If anything, it seemed like it was trying not to scare you, even if you couldn’t say there was much weight behind the gesture when you were sitting among the viscera of its last three victims. Still, you held your ground, not daring to so much as blink until it was standing in front of you.

From a distance, it’d been inhumanly tall. Now that it was close enough to touch, it seemed downright monstrous.

With jerky, unpracticed movements, it reached down, towards you. You waited for a beat, then another, and when it failed to pull away or bury its talons in your chest, you hesitantly placed your hand in its palm, a knot forming in the back of your throat as its claws folded and everything up to your wrist was completely encompassed. With a sharp tug, it pulled you to your feet and held steady you when your legs, still shaking, proved too weak to hold your weight. You let out a fleeting, nervous laugh, and in response, it chittered – the sound high-pitched and tittering. It was cute, in the way seeing a lion play with a ball of yarn would’ve been cute. You were still eminently aware that the creature in front of you could end your life, but still.

“Hey,” you managed, eventually, unable to think of anything else to say. You didn’t even know if it could understand you, but you weren’t sure what else to do. “Did you… did you save me?”

Another round of chittering, a slight glimmer in its otherwise blank stare. You smiled. “Thank you, I— I’m not from around here, and I didn’t know I’d have to look out for people like that.” You bowed your head, attempting to let your eyes fall to the ground, but rather, your eyes found its cock again, pressed against its abdomen and leaking. The adrenaline that’d coursed through your veins a few minutes ago was already starting to fade, making room for something else, something closer to an anxious sort of zeal. Something that made you want to do something less than advisable.

Slowly, doing what little you could to stop your hands from shaking, you reached out, your fingertips barely brushing against its soft cheek. It nuzzled into your touch, earning a small smile, a trickle of a laugh. “Poor thing,” you mumbled, almost comforted by the fact that it couldn’t respond, couldn’t mock your poor-excuse for a seductively saccharine tone. “Do you need help with that?”

You saw its talon’s twitch, its wings flutter almost imperceptibly against its back. You weren’t aware that you were moving, not until your back was pressed against the rough bark of the nearest oak, until you felt the clawed hand that it’d wrapped around your waist drop to your hip, then your thigh. The tips of its curved talons scraped against your skin as it ran its claws from your waist to your knee, cutting through the delicate fabric of your shorts and panties and discarding the material without a second thought. The open air was cold against your exposed skin, but something quickly replaced it – a gentle, oppressive warmth that seemed to sap the chill from your skin. Your legs were thrown over its shoulders, held in place by its massive hands as it buried its face between your thighs. You barely had time to straighten your back, to brace yourself before—

Oh.

Oh.

It was more tongue-like than you’d expected.

Not to say that it was a tongue – you weren’t really sure what you should call it. Long, split at the tip, just rough enough to earn a breathy gasp, a new wave of heat rushing from your core to your head, obscuring your few remaining rational thoughts with a shimmering haze. Its tongue (tendril? proboscis?) ran over the length of your exposed slit, leaving a trail of thick, viscous saliva dripping down the inside of your thighs before jerking its head upward and finding your clit, the tip of its tongue circling the sensitive bundle of nerves as soon as it recognized the airy sounds now falling steadily from your lips for the unabashed moans they were. It was almost experimental, the way it bent and curled its tongue, clearly working towards a quickly approaching goal but constantly looking for a way to get there that much faster, to make your legs twitch that much harder, to force the coil writhing violently in the pit of your stomach wind up that much tighter.

It was all you could do to arch your back against the oak’s trunk and clench your eyes shut, your hands falling to the softened ridge between its curved antennae. Only half-consciously, your attention dominated by the feeling of its coarse tongue swirling over your clit, you raked your fingers through its cropped fur, doing what you could to show the creature your appreciation, your gratitude. You tried to be gentle, but the curling tips of its tongue slipped into your tight entrance and the world burnt white, your body jerking forward and your nails biting into its scalp. There was a deep, guttural sound from somewhere deep in its chest, and its hands rose to your hips, claws scrapping lightly against your skin as its tongue fucked into you. It was thin, but long and so flexible – twisting and coiling against the sensitive walls of your cunt, never repeating the same blissful pattern of thrusts and thrashes more than once. You found yourself grinding into its mouth, seeking out whatever friction you could with the clumsy movements of your hips. The pressure, the weight, the sensation – it was more than you could handle. You could already feel it, a certain tightness in your chest, a tension in your core that—

Without warning, without satisfaction, it pulled away from you, leaving you empty and quickly coming down from a high that you never quite reached. You let out a long whine, more desperate than disappointed, and as if to apologize, the creature nuzzled against the inside of your thigh, chirping softly. Thankfully, your reprieve was a short one. With its hands still on your hips, your body still held aloft by its inhuman strength, you were dragged away from the oak and into its chest as it stood to its full height. Your chest was slotted against the creature’s, the pointed head of its cock pressed flush to your dripping cunt. Its wings fanned out, its hips rolling against yours, and a sharp, aching moan was drawn from your lips as it thrust into you, finally filling you to the brim.

For a long moment, it was all you could do to bury your face in its chest and try to put together a coherent thought. Only half of its length was inside of you, and yet, you could practically feel it pressing into your core, rubbing against the walls of your cunt, the cork-screw ridge that ran from the tip to the base threatening to split you open. It didn’t, though, and even if it had, you couldn’t be sure you would’ve cared. Before the creature could even begin to move, to fuck into you from below, you were grinding against it, mindlessly and desperately trying to chase that fullness, that peak. It didn’t take long for the creature to answer your fervor. There was a raised notch just above the base of its cock, a notch that caught on your clit as it beat into you with heavy, rough strokes. A talon was dragged down the back of your top, tearing the fabric away and allowing its tongue to lave over your chest. All of its gentleness, all of its restraint was thrown aside as its claws dug into your hips, cutting through skin and tinting your pleasure with an intensity that wouldn’t have been possible without a drop of pain.

A scream, wild and euphoric, was torn from your throat, and you wrapped your legs around its waist, dragging your own nails over its back as you fought to keep some part of yourself grounded. Even that was an effort made in vain. You heard its wings shift, felt the air rush against your skin, and suddenly, you were breaking through the canopy – speared on the creature’s cock mid-air, being fucked against the backdrop of the dark, velveteen sky.  The shock, the adrenaline, the thrill was enough to leave you clenching around the creature’s cock, your vision burning white as you came undone. You might’ve been able to come down, to melt back into its thrusts and its affection, if something hadn’t clicked in its chest, if its wings hadn’t started to move a little faster, if something hadn’t happened and the creature hadn’t started to emit a sort of reverberating droll – the sort throbbing vibration that only seemed to make the friction against your clit, the feeling of it stretching you open more perfect. You couldn’t be sure how long you stayed in that hazy, half-conscious state – limp and moaning in the arms of a monster, always either spilling over your high or riding out the aftershocks. It only came to a climax – a real climax – when the creature stiffened against you, its cock twitching violently inside of your cunt. It pulled you as close as it possibly could and, with one last wave of pulsing reverberation, released something thick inside of you – viscous and warm and translucent. Like sap. Like nectar.

Light-headed and blissed-out, you buried your face in its chest as it began to descend, the sound of your giddy laughter muffled by its fur. This time, when it pulled away from you with an apologetic chirp, you didn’t complain, only pressing one more lingering kiss into the curve of its shoulder and letting it draw back. Your legs were too weak to hold your weight, so you braced yourself against the nearest oak as the creature disappeared into the dark of the forest, returning a few moments later with a bundle of bloody fabric in its arms. A shirt – a little torn but mostly in one piece, taken from one of the hunters’ corpses, clearly meant to replace your own ruined clothes. You smiled as you slipped it over your head. It was a size too big, and it was sure to raise a few questions, but it would do until you could find help. Whatever ‘help’ meant, at that point.

When you were finished, the creature took you up again; wrapping an arm around your waist and catching you under your knees, pulling you against its broad chest. This time, as it soared over the forest, you were able to admire view, the star-lit sky and sprawling woodland before it landed where the forest had started to thin and give way to the outskirts of a small town. Slowly, carefully, it lowered you to the ground, keeping you upright when your unsteady balance wavered. You laughed and, for longer than a moment, you held its unblinking gaze, Eventually, your hands fell into its claws, your smile turning bitter-sweet and sentimental. “Will I ever see you again?”

There was a slight chittering, a gentle squeeze to your hand. You felt its tongue against your cheek and let your eyes fall shut. By the time you could bring yourself to open them again, Mothman – because it was Mothman, you could only deny it for so long – was gone, barely a silhouette in the distance. You heard the crack of thunder, and watched it fly away as the sky broke open and rain spilled out.

The next day, you would learn that a bridge about twenty miles outside of the city the creature left you in had collapsed the night before, killing hundreds.

[driflew]

im talking abt witch au in a server so im posting another scene from it. this time Ren fuckign dies.

Martyn hears the fuss before he sees it. He’s looking for Ren—the dog ran off, but the sun has broken through the trees, so Martyn figures it’s not the dog he’s looking for anymore. Ren’s probably sitting naked in the forest somewhere, and as treatable as it would be, Martyn plans to find him before he catches a cold. 

“Don’t let him up—you saw how big his claws were,” says a voice Martyn only sort of recognizes, though what he says is… 

“I’m not stupid. I’m not taking any risks with this thing—I’m not catching whatever he’s got,” another voice, even less familiar. 

“I’m not going to hurt you,” this voice, Martyn cannot mistake—Ren. 

Martyn steps a bit closer. He’s just outside the edge of the clearing, ducking behind a tree. Not immediately obvious to anyone in the center, though Martyn can see Ren from his hiding place. He’s surrounded by a few men—Martyn doesn’t know their names, but he knows them to be some of Ren’s neighbors. Most of them steer clear of Ren, but one has his boot on the back of Ren’s neck. 

Ren’s hands are muddy. There’s dirt under his nails and across his stomach. Hair falls around his face, and blood stains his teeth and chin. He looks like an animal, and Martyn’s heart hurts looking at him. 

“Must be full from whatever you already ate, you piece of shit,” the first voice says, and Martyn hears Ren make a choked noise of pain—the man must be increasing the pressure. “Whose blood is that?!” 

“No one’s!” Ren’s wheezing, just a bit, “I caught a deer, that’s all.” 

“A deer never satisfies a thing like you.” 

Ren is caught and there’s no doubt about it, and that means there’s nothing left Martyn can do for him. His cloak is dark, and though the rising sun means it won’t help him hide as well, it’s still effective. If Martyn slips away now, he’ll… he can… 

“My cousin had a wolfman in his town. He said it didn’t stop hunting until it had found a man big enough to chew on until the sun rose again.” 

“I didn’t! I wouldn’t,” Ren insists, “You know me, I’ve lived here since I was born. I wouldn’t. You know that!” 

Martyn tugs his hood on, biting the inside of his mouth. He needs to leave, but leaving Ren is…

“Oh, sure,” scoffs someone else, “And I knew you were human, too. But you’ve turned, and you can't trust a wolf.” 

Ren actually whimpers, a sound Martyn has only ever heard him make as the dog. It hurts to hear, but it has Martyn taking an uncertain step to the side, unsure if he wants to run away. 

He threw Ren to the wolves the first time Ren came to him in order to protect himself—he could have cured Ren, but he didn’t, wanting to keep from the magic he’d have to use for a cure being discovered and reported. 

Ren wouldn’t have reported him. He knows that now. If he’d cured Ren, this wouldn’t be happening. 

…But it is. Ren is doomed, and what can Martyn even do? He’s not a hero. He’s barely—

“Hey!” someone calls. Martyn’s head snaps up, and he locks eyes with the owner of the voice. “There’s someone else there! Who are you?!” 

Martyn takes a step back, but the nearest man grabs him by the arm, yanking him into the light. Ren twists his head under the boot on his neck, and his face pales as Martyn is dragged into the light. 

“Christ, do you mind?! Jeez!” Martyn says, shaking the man’s hand off. He brushes his sleeve, annoyed—he’s doing his absolute best to play the part of a random passerby, “What on earth is going on here? I came out to collect some medicinal herbs, and you’ve got some guy under your… is that Ren?” 

“Used to be. Wolf’s curse has him now. Who knows how long ago he turned,” someone says, “Dunno if you’ve ever really met Ren, Doctor.” 

“You’re collecting herbs, you said?” another says, “Why don’t you have any in your basket?” 

Martyn looks down and bites back a swear. All he brought was food, water, and a cloak and some loose pants for Ren—obvious ties, and a clear contradiction to his alibi. 

“Yeah, just woke up and came out for them, though I haven’t found any,” Martyn says, “Easiest to look for by sunlight.” 

“You know, Doctor, I heard something weird about you,” says the one with a shoe on Ren’s neck. Ren lets out a choked noise, another pound of pressure on his spine. “I heard you were seen with the wolf a few months ago.” 

“What? Like, Ren?” Martyn asks, playing innocent, “Sure, Ren comes to my stand, but I thought he was sick…?” 

“Not at your stand. In the night,” the man says, “I heard you’re fraternizing with rabid animals. You’re a witch.” 

Martyn laughs, a touch nervous, “A witch? No. I’m a great doctor and all, but I’m not magic.” 

“You were commanding the wolf-thing, making it obey you. Only a witch could do that,” the man insists, “Joseph’s wife saw you. She looked out the window at the awful beast and saw it knock your hood down before it submitted to your command.” 

“That’s— your friend’s wife must have mistaken me for someone else,” Martyn says. 

“My wife knows what she saw!” says a man who must be Joseph, not that Martyn cares to turn around and check which one that is. 

“You’ve been spending time with him even when he’s not in the form of a monster,” someone says, and Martyn sweats. He should have kicked Ren out, he should have decided not to check on Ren that night, he should have— 

“Martyn’s helping me with the other symptoms,” Ren’s voice cuts through Martyn’s spiraling. Martyn’s head snaps down to watch as Ren attempts to look up at his captors. “I didn’t tell him about my— my curse. He didn’t know. I didn’t tell him.”

“Doesn’t make him not a witch.” 

“He’s not!” Ren insists, “He’s a friend I lied to. Nothing else.”

“The witch was commanding him,” says another man, taking a step closer to Martyn. There’s an axe in his hand, still clean. “He must be commanding Ren now. Why else would Ren defend him?” 

“He didn’t do anything!” Ren insists, “I swear. I swear, Martyn hasn’t used any magic. Please leave him alone, please.” 

Martyn looks down at Ren begging on the ground and his stomach turns with nausea. Ren isn’t prideful, exactly, but like this he seems to have no pride at all.

It shreds Martyn inside to see him like that. Even now, it’s not his own life he’s begging for—Ren wants to protect Martyn. Christ, and Martyn had been about to leave him. 

Martyn knows how it’ll make him look, but he pulls the cloak out of his basket and steps toward Ren. 

“I’m not going to do anything,” Martyn says, holding up the cloak to show the men, “But c’mon. He’s not an animal. Ren’s always been a good man. Let him have some semblance of his dignity before you kill him.” 

“Careful,” the man with a foot on Ren says, “This isn’t Ren anymore. If you’d seen the claws on him…” 

“I’ll be careful,” Martyn says, “Just let him up a second. He’s got no claws anymore.”

The man with a foot on Ren’s neck stares, then releases their hold on him. Martyn only hesitates a moment before kneeling in front of Ren, throwing the cloak over him like a blanket. 

“Sit up,” Martyn whispers, dropping his hand to Ren’s hair. He threads his fingers through for barely a moment before removing them, “Don’t die lying down in the dirt.” 

Ren does as he’s told, sitting up and pulling the cloak around his front. He doesn’t look much better—he’s still dirty, with a bloody chin and knotted hair—but at least he can claim some small piece of pride. 

The way he looks at Martyn is devastating. This close, Martyn can see the sad, guilty eyes, the defeated hang of his shoulders. Martyn may have known he was doomed when he saw him here, but it’s another thing to see defeat so obvious on the face of someone so stubborn and headstrong as Ren. 

Martyn actually gets up and takes a step back—he can’t be that close to Ren looking at him like that. 

The man who had been standing on Ren earlier drops his sword down, holding the edge below Ren’s neck. Ren doesn’t flinch—less an admirable display of courage, and more a simple acceptance of what’s to come. 

“So, Doctor, why did you have that with you?” the man asks, “You’re already wearing a cloak. You wouldn’t carry it unless you knew someone would need it.” 

Martyn looks at his basket. There’s still a pair of pants in there, making his alibi tricky. 

“I did know he’d need it,” Martyn admits, quiet. 

“I told him. I asked him to bring it. I didn’t tell him why,” Ren lies again, fingers tight on the edge of the cloak. 

“Like hell! He was with you, wasn’t he?!” the man says. 

“The wolf defending him is proof. He must be brainwashed by the witch’s magic,” another man says. 

“Monsters have to stick together. Just get rid of them both!” 

“No,” Martyn says, “Look, Ren, I appreciate you lying for me, but you don’t have to. I did know about Ren’s affliction, but we were treating it as just that—an illness. I’ve been trying to help him treat it for the past few months. I never commanded him, never spent a night with him, but we’ve tried a few medicines to lessen the effects of the moon on him and keep him in check. I knew, but not because I’m a witch. I’m a doctor, and Ren came to me as a patient looking for a cure. That’s all.”

“Why wouldn’t you just report him?!” 

“Like I said,” Martyn says, taking another step back, “Ren’s always been a good man.”

Someone grabs Martyn’s arm, stopping him from moving any further back. 

“Good enough to make yourself this damn suspicious for?” he asks, “Because the way I see it, you protected him ‘cuz you’re a witch, and he’s your bitch.”

Martyn resists the urge to cringe at the taunt, trying his best to maintain that aloof doctor facade he’s been wearing so effortlessly for years. He scoffs, folding his arms. 

“No one is good enough to make myself this suspicious over. Especially not some wolfman I just met,” Martyn says, “But could you imagine how much money I’d have made if I’d actually cured him? There’s no one else in the world who could do that. I could charge anything I wanted for it. I saw the chance and I took it, but clearly, it hasn’t paid off.”

Ren says nothing, face unreadable, and Martyn scrambles to make it clear he’s lying. 

“Hell,” Martyn adds, gesturing one arm at Ren, “I could charge Ren anything I wanted. He couldn’t not pay what I asked—at best, I would stop trying to cure him. At worst, I could report what he was to everyone. Shame it had to end this way, though.”

“I knew I shouldn’t have trusted you,” Ren whispers. There’s a venom to it Martyn has never seen from Ren before, far more convincing than Martyn expects. Ren’s head snaps up, and the pain in his eyes has a fire behind it now, “You were supposed to help me!” 

“I would’ve! But I don’t want to be a small town doctor forever,” Martyn says, “The city’s much nicer. I almost have enough to open my own practice, and a few more, er… we’ll say treatments for you would have helped a lot. Especially if any of them had actually worked.”

“Is that all you wanted from me? My money?” Ren asks. 

“I mean, sure. What’s a wolfman need with money, anyway?” Martyn asks, “Your lot never live long. Do you mind if I collect your estate after this? It’s not much anymore, but it’d be really nice to sell the rest.”

“Bastard,” Ren spits. 

“That doesn’t sound like a no,” Martyn says, and Ren bares his teeth into a snarl. Almost immediately, the sword at his neck cuts into his flesh, turning his growl into a sound of pain. 

“Stop riling him up,” the man says, “We don’t know what he’s capable of.”

“Right,” Martyn says, putting up his arms and taking another step back. If they knew Ren like he does, they’d know the answer is nothing. Ren wouldn’t hurt any of them. 

Not that Ren defends himself. He keeps glaring at Martyn, and though it hurts, it’s better than the despair. 

“We need him dead. We’ve stalled long enough already,” the man holding Martyn’s arm says. 

“Just run him through already!” says someone behind him. 

“Drown him, wolves can’t swim,” 

“Yes they can! You have to burn them.” 

“That’s witches, idiot!” 

Ren seems a bit paler as they argue. Martyn can only imagine how he feels—these are neighbors he’s known all his life, and now they’re debating his manner of death right in front of him. It’s the end of the line, and a gruesome one at that. 

“No! All of you are wrong. You have to cut its head off,” someone else yells, “Wolfmen are sturdy, they don’t die any other way.” 

“Hey, Doctor,” the man with the sword says. “Do you ever treat animals?”

“Occasionally,” Martyn says, unsure if he likes the question. 

“Have you ever put down a dog?”

“What?” Martyn asks. His callous costume slips for a moment, though he’s quick to put it back on. “Sure, once or twice. I don’t usually bother with treating dogs, though.” 

“You bothered with a wolf.” 

“A lucrative wolf. People don’t pay as much for dogs as they would themselves,” Martyn says, “Medicine doesn’t generalize that much, you know. I don’t know how to treat anything on an animal beyond stitching up a wound.”

“Sure, sure,” the man says, “But everything dies the same. Even wolfmen. Even witches.”

Martyn narrows his eyes. “I’m not a witch.”

“Prove it, then,” the man says. He pulls his sword away, offering it to Martyn. “Kill the wolfman. If he really means nothing to you, it should be easy. Otherwise, I’ll assume you’re a witch in league with him.”

“I don’t even know how to, to— what do you even want me to do?” Martyn asks. 

“You’ve chopped firewood, haven’t you?” the man asks, “It’s probably like that.”

Martyn stares at Ren a long time, but Ren isn’t looking at him. His knuckles are white, and at the hem, his hand shakes. 

If Martyn can do nothing else for Ren, he can at least make this quick. 

“If it’s like firewood,” Martyn says, “Give me an axe.”

— — —

They set Ren up on an old stump. It’s a bit too tall, and the position he takes the lean his neck against it is awkward, undignified. Most of what they do leading up to his death is—letting him keep the cloak is the only reprieve they afford him. No one lets him wipe the blood from his mouth or pull the twigs from his hair. He’s barely even let off the ground to move to his chopping block—it would be too easy to run on his own two feet, and so he’s made to crawl. 

Martyn is the final person willing to even to use Ren’s name. 

“Part your hair, Ren,” Martyn instructs, “I don’t want to miss.” 

Ren is allowed to do that, at least, pulling his hair away to clear up the skin there. Martyn tugs down the back of the cloak himself, letting his fingers linger at the base of Ren’s spine, looking at what, exactly, he’s about to do. 

His throat is pressed against old bark, putting him at an odd angle. Martyn says nothing, another of many decisions he’ll come to regret. 

“Okay,” Martyn mutters, lifting the axe, “Any last words?”

Ren closes his eyes. “I’ll see you in Hell, Doctor.” 

It should sound like an insult, but Martyn knows it isn’t. It doesn’t make it any easier. 

Martyn swings. The angle is crooked, diagonal against Ren’s bent neck. Martyn knows he’s fucked it when he hears the sound Ren makes: a choked scream, loud enough to startle the birds and as pained as it is wet. 

Martyn rips the axe out of his flesh. Blood streams down the blade and onto the cloak, but Martyn ignores it. Ren begins to sag and Martyn panics, slamming it back down. This angle is worse, and Ren cries a second time. His body shudders, patches of hair appearing on his shoulders and down his arms. There’s shouting behind Martyn, but he doesn’t process the words.  

Ren is in pain. The wolf has only ever wanted to protect him, to soothe him. He’s scared and in pain and the wolf wants to help and it’s Martyn that’s causing it. 

Martyn slams the axe down a third time. Ren makes no noise, at least, or maybe it’s drowned out by the splatter of blood, or the axe hitting bone, or bark snapping under the grip of Ren’s claws. 

Martyn’s hands and chest and legs are covered in it. He’ll probably never feel clean again. 

Rip. Raise. Swing. Rip. Raise. Swing. 

It takes a total of five blows before Martyn hits wood, Ren’s head falling away onto the dirt. 

His body slumps against the wood, leaving blood smeared all down the bark. Like a spider’s legs curling in death, the claws and fur retract as the life leaves him. He looks smaller like that, crumpled against the ground. 

He’s dead. Ren is dead, and Martyn murdered him. 

Martyn processes very little about the next few moments. He’s only seen a few bodies in his life, but this is the worst yet. Ren had been kind beyond anyone Martyn had ever met, and Martyn had killed him. If Martyn had cured him, if Martyn had sedated him, if Martyn had stepped in and saved him, if—

“—tor, Doctor!” Martyn snaps back to attention. The man with the sword is in front of him, and he actually looks concerned. 

“He’s— I’m so, you—” Martyn doesn’t know what he’s saying. Ren is dead and he wants to apologize and he wants to curse this man’s entire bloodline to ends twice as gruesome and violent. He feels small, smaller than Ren against that stump. He feels like a kid again, trying not to sob as he’s carried away from Jay’s smoldering house. His vision is blurring already, and his hands are shaking so bad that he can barely hold the axe. 

“Jesus, you look like you’re going to be sick.”

“I am,” Martyn says, honest. He hears the axe fall to the ground, though he’s not aware of letting it go. 

“Haven’t you, like, done surgery?” the man asks. 

“That— it’s, not like that,” Martyn says, “They don’t— they don't bleed that much. They’re not— they don’t feel— they don’t make noise.”

He hears someone behind him say something like ‘can’t be a witch with such a weak stomach.’ Jay had a weak stomach, too. Was no good at hurting anyone, not even if he wanted to. Not even to defend himself. 

Just like Ren. Not like Martyn. 

Martyn had always thought, if he’d only had the power he has now, he’d have leapt to Jay’s defense. He’s always told himself he’d have saved the only person who ever loved him, comforted himself with versions of the world where he and Jay escaped. 

Ren didn’t love him, but Ren had made himself the only other person who’d gotten so far as to like him. And Martyn hadn’t just let him die, no—Martyn had killed Ren himself. 

What was the point of all this power if Martyn is still a coward? How did he let it happen again? When did he lose sight of what he’d gained it all for?

What can he do with it now? 

“Take a seat, man,” the man says, and Martyn shakes his head—if he sits now, he’ll never get the nerve to move again. 

What can he do with his magic? There must be some way to fix this. Martyn is a healer, better than any other. There must be some spell for sutures or blood or bone, something that could fix this, something that could bring Ren back to h— 

…Something that could bring Ren back. 

Martyn looks up, finally meeting the man’s eyes. He’s still shaking, but he gathers what determination he can. 

“Let— let me bury him,” Martyn says. 

“What?”

“Let me,” Martyn tries again, trying to keep his voice from trembling, “Let me bury him.”

“Why the hell would you bury a wolfman?”

“So he, his body,” Martyn’s determined, but the adrenaline in his body has him scrambled. It’s hard to think, to speak, “It’ll infect the, the wolves, if— if they eat it, the local wolves, they’ll, if we just—”

The man raises a hand, cutting him off.

“So we’ll burn it,” the man says. Martyn shakes his head. 

“I need to, to be the one to,” Martyn says, and when he can’t explain himself, he tacks on the one bit of magic even humans recognize: “Please.” 

“No graveyard will take a wolfman,” the man says. 

“I’ll bury him out here,” Martyn says, “Please.”

“Why does this matter so much to you?” the man asks, “Don’t tell me you feel guilty.”

“I’ve never— I’ve never lost a patient before,” Martyn says, almost a whisper. The man’s face actually softens. He believes Martyn to be a human doctor, after all, simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. He sets a hand on Martyn’s shoulder, sympathetic. 

“I know he looked human, but that thing wasn't human anymore,” he says, “You don’t have to feel bad. It was us or him.”

Martyn doesn’t want to be us with this man. Being safe with these people isn’t worth this. It wasn’t worth Jay. Martyn has paid so steeply for this safety and belonging, and it was never worth a goddamned thing. 

“Ren’s always— always been a good man,” Martyn says, “Just— I need to do this. Let me do this. Please.”

The man sighs, squeezing Martyn’s shoulder. “If this is what you need to sleep tonight.”

It isn’t. If only it were so simple as ever sleeping again. 

“Thank you,” Martyn says anyway. 

— — —

The first thing Martyn does is close Ren’s eyes. 

He doesn’t look at them. He has no idea what Ren’s expression looks like because he doesn’t want to know. He doesn’t check, instead focusing on picking him up. 

He picks Ren’s head up first, gentle, respectful as he can be. He doesn’t take Ren by his hair or hold him by the face, instead cupping Ren’s chin in his hands. Ren’s hair cascades down his arms unobstructed, wet strands and the drenched wound coating Martyn’s sleeves in even more blood. 

Next, Martyn empties the basket. That’s careless—Martyn dumps everything on the ground without even looking. The only thing he picks back up is the pants, which he lays down on the base of the basket, just to give Ren a bit of a cushion when he rests him inside. 

Martyn sets his head down gently, leaning on his cheek. Though he tries to put Ren’s hair inside the basket, plenty of it spills out over the edges. 

Once Ren is secure, he sets the basket in the crook of his arm, and he moves to the rest of him. 

Ren’s body is still curled against the stump. The bleeding has slowed, but it hasn’t stopped entirely.

First, Martyn lays Ren’s body on his back. He covers Ren as best he can with the cloak, wrapping him carefully in the dark fabric. It’s difficult to see blood on, at least, though his stained neck is impossible to miss. Martyn has to be careful as he bends down, hooking his arms under Ren’s knees and back without tipping Ren’s head out of his basket. 

Ren is light when Martyn finally stands. Martyn’s already exhausted—staying up all night hadn’t done him any favors, nor had his awful morning—but he notices that. Ren had been a lumberjack before he… got sick. He must’ve lost the muscle at some point, though Martyn hadn’t noticed. 

Martyn rubs his thumb against Ren’s shoulder through the fabric of his cloak. His body is still warm. 

“It’s going to be okay, Ren,” he whispers, unable to care about being overheard. “I’ll take care of you. I’ll fix this. I’ll fix everything. I promise.”

He doesn’t apologize—as much as he wants to, Martyn holds his tongue. Now isn’t the time for apologies. 

Martyn will save it until Ren can hear it.

[solsta23]

One of my biggest (and I’m sure most commonly shared) fantasies is being chased through the woods, specifically for me it’s being chased by someone who kidnapped me and is making me play some sick version of hide n seek.

If I manage to hide before time runs out, they’ll let me go, but if they find me before time runs out…(CW: blood, cnc)

“Found you!”, They’d announce, a sick satisfaction in their voice as if they’d found the last egg in the Easter hunt. My heart pounded deep in my chest, blood rushing in my ears as my chest moved rapidly up and down in erratic movements, the frosty night air biting at my lungs and making my eyes water from the sharp pain, the same pain radiating from the various cuts on my legs from the thick shrubbery surrounding us.

The pain kept me awake, made me oh so painfully aware of what was about to happen- looking up helplessly at the person who had been tormenting me for a week? weeks? I couldn’t remember, it honestly felt like months.

“Aww don’t look so upset baby, it’s not like you really stood a chance against me”, They told me, the faux pity in their voice continuing to make the burn under my skin worse as my eyes watered. “No reason to get yourself so worked up”.

They didn’t mean that, not one bit.

Seeing me worked up was their favorite sight (aside from me being under them), and I swore underneath their mask I could feel them smiling- knew they were smiling at me, smiling at the way I was shaking, my lack of proper clothing not helping (tank top and shorts was all they permitted me to wear, if anything at all) and how I was physically trying to bite back tears. I would never admit it out loud, but a part of my pride felt more hurt I lost than not escaping.

“Now cmon pup lets- oh dear”.

I didn’t give them time to finish, managing to pick up whatever strength I had left and getting up on my feet to run- one final attempt to get away.

‘Maybe I could lose them in the trees, they can’t know this place that well right? Just keep running don’t stop and don’t look back I can maybe slip through and find a road- there’s a road around here right? right?? Or-’

Before I knew it I was pinned to the ground, the dirt permeating my eyes and nose as I was shoved down, small rocks threatening to break through my skin and an all too familiar heavy weight on top of me.

“Now pup, what was that supposed to be?”, My tormentor laughed, pinning one of my arms to my back and straddling my back. “Seriously you made it what? 50 feet? I commend your effort- but seriously what made you think that was smart?”.

“G-get off of me!”, I screamed, wiggling like a fish on a line as struggled beneath them. My free hand clawed at the dirt, trying to grab onto anything to free myself, ignoring the stabbing pains that spreads up my arm like wildfire, flailing and kicking my legs out to throw them off- anything to be free and all of it for nought.

They scoffed, barely even breaking a sweat to hold me down, “Pup this is cute and all- but you know you already lost right?”.

“I don’t care! Just shut up and get the hell off of me you fucking psycho!”, I shrieked, hating how I could feel the tears being to stream down my face. I was so tired and frustrated I didn’t care what I said anymore.

“I hate you! I’m not your pup or your baby you sicko!”, I cursed, feeling lightheaded. In my anger filled rant I barely noticed that they hadn’t tried to interrupt me, hadn’t tried to say anything or even make a sound. Just let me keep ranting and hanging myself with my own tongue.

“I hate you! I hate you and this stupid game, you’ve done nothing but play out your sick fantasy with me you fucking loner freak- ah!”.

Before I knew it my face meet the dirt again, a sharp pain in the back of my skull as a hand threaded through my curls and forced me face down. At that moment I realized I messed up, my body giving up on me as I felt my kidnapper sigh, their grip on my pinned arm tightening to the point I felt it would break- making me whimper. My tears stained the dirt as I felt blood trickle in my mouth, my lip split from being forcefully shoved.

A silence passed by for a brief moment, the wind picking up as I felt my heart pound, and at that moment I all but froze as a voice cut through the air.

“…You really don’t know when to shut the fuck up do you, pup?”.

There is like…more to this so I’ll post a part 2 tmrw because this was getting too long guys 😞😞 but hope you like this (I’m just a feral lesbian who needs to be hunted down)

[fantasyandshit]

The light and the dark

Type: series

Part: 3/?

Other parts here

Pairing: Azriel x Archeron sister reader

Summary: That was not expected.

Four guards open my cell yet again and unshackle me, roughly grabbing me. one stands in front of us, one behind, and one holding each arm. I struggle in the males grips, my clothes are ripped to shreds, my hair is so matted you couldn’t brush it, blood and dirt cake my skin from various cuts and bruises and I’m thin, much thinner than I was, but I’d made sure to keep whatever muscle I could. As I’m brought to the so-called ‘king’s’ room, I notice Elain and Nesta, both are a bit thinner, then again they always were and more pale but I was glad to see they had very minimal damage other than Nesta matted hair. I look around the room as I’m pulled forward and completely freeze when I see it…them.

Feyre and Azriel…with a bolt through his chest… I’m shoved to the ground and take this as my moment, twisting around and kicking one of the guards in the shins, then sweeping another’s legs from under him, grabbing the sword one dropped and stabbing it through one of the others abdomen, then. Finally, I tackle the other to the ground, the blade lodging in his skull. I stand up, my breath fast and shallow and turn, looking from Nesta and Elain to Feyre and her friends, then finally my gaze lands on Hybern, who’s slowly applauding.

“That was quite the show darling.” I almost vomit at the way the last word rolls from his mouth, the only other times he’d used it were when- god I can’t even think about it as I make my way in front of my human sisters. I know the fae can handle themselves, my only concern about them is Azriel who is uncharacteristically pale, and hold the sword in front of me, my arm latching around them. “Start with her.” Before I know what’s happening four men pick me up, snapping the wrist that holds the sword and im forced to drop it.

“Get off me!” I scream and claw with my good hand as I’m brought up the stairs and forced into the cauldron, my head pops up until it’s held under. The sensation is weird… to say the least.

It’s cold yet hot, agonizing yet peaceful, it brings sadness and joy, light and dark, life and death, before I can think anymore wise opposites I’m thrown to the floor, an unknown weight sitting on my back as I splutter, lifting my head and seeing shocked faces. What- My thought is cut off by the sound of a thump and Nesta is thrown beside me, then Elain. I notice it now, they’re different- they have pointed ears, limbs longer- They are fae. What the hell?

I slowly stand on shaky feet, stomach cramping and nearly falling to my back just before I see Hyberm raising his hand and instinctively I do just as Cassian does-I jump. I throw myself over my newly fae sisters and white hot agony flows over the unknown weight on my back and I don’t even realize I’m screaming till it’s all over and I collapse to the side.

I look over to check on my sister when I see it-them. Wings, wings attached to my body that are shredded beyond belief, blood pooling around them. Wings- no I couldn’t-I couldn’t have wings. I hear people shouting my name and a cold sensation envelopes me before it all goes dark.

I groan as I’m jostled before I’m placed in a cot, back up, wings. Wings-holy shit. Draping over the edges, i loom to my right to see Azriel and Cassian in the cots beside me and a voice-a voice I’ve fantasized about yells for me, over and over, begging me to stay awake but it’s just too hard so I close my eyes and peace washes over me finally.

————

I know it’s short but I took medicine to sleep so I can’t write more tonight. I’ll give you more tomorrow. Love y’all!

@wallacewillow0773638

@pinksmellslikelove

@sassybluebird

@gorlillaglue25

@khaleesihavilliard

[elliespillowprincess]

being ellie’s housewife. omg.

a/n: smut, breeding kink… littleee blood.

WHY YOU SHOULD NOT SUPPORT NEIL DRUCKMANN

you were just finishing up the chicken tacos you made for your wife, ellie, while you wait patiently for her to get home; wearing nothing but a small cami and a pair of short shorts. she was off doing patrols for the past week and you grew more and more needy for her as the week progressed, unable to satisfy yourself with just your hands. suddenly, you hear her key insert into the door as you plate both of your plates. “baby? i’m home! where’s my girl?” you hear the familiar voice say. you run up to her, seeing how sweaty and dirty she had gotten being away for so long, and for some reason: it turns you on, wetness pooling in your cotton panties. “ellie!!! i’ve missed you so much!!” you say, wrapping your hands around her neck. ellie immediately noticed what you were wearing, she herself had grown desperate for you this week, only having the pictures in her wallet of you to look at.

“i missed you more sweet thing, what’s that smell?” she looks up, trying to find the source of the savory smell. you blushed at her sweet words as you explain you had made them dinner. she looks around the house and notices how beautifully spotless it is. “look at you mama, having food and a clean house all ready for me.” she says, grabbing the small of your waist and pulling you in for a sultry kiss. sweat, dirt, and her cologne fills your nose as you grab her auburn hair and kiss her deeper. “did you miss me baby?” she says, pulling away and laughing. “yes els.. you don’t know how much. i’ve been so bored here all week missing you… needing you.” your final words trail off, making ellie raise her eyebrows.

“go upstairs and lay down on the bed.” her words surprised you, not expecting her to be so demanding so fast. “but els.. the food!” you pout, turning back to see the steam from your plates become thinner. she gives you a look, a look that you just know you want to listen to, as you turn on your heels running upstairs. she watches you and goes to store the food in the microwave until you two are done.

you hear the downstairs shower running for about 15 minutes, growing more impatient by the second. “els!!! where are you?” you shout from upstairs. suddenly, the water turns off. about 5 minutes goes by and you see your wife walk in, wearing a pair of clean boxers and her sports bra. you practically drool. “couldn’t get my pretty girl all dirty right?” she says, walking over to the bed. you attentively sit up, watching her every move. she crawls onto the bed, and on top of you. “els…?” you say, looking up at her with innocent eyes. her eyes had grown darker, needier. “let me take care of you baby.”, she says, immediately sucking on the soft part of her skin. the sudden contact makes you moan loudly, holding her head in place.

“my sexy fuckin’ wife, cleaning my house and having hot food ready for me.” she says between kisses. her bent knee separates your legs, making you gasp at the sudden contact against your beating cunt. ellie notices how your wetness had pooled out through your underwear and into your shorts, smirking against your skin. her kisses trail down your collar bone, until she meets your thin cami top. “wearing these tiny little tops, looking so fucking beautiful.” suddenly, she rips the entire top in half in one fell swoop. “els!! this was one of my favorite tops!!” you say, pouting at her. “don’t worry baby, i’ll buy you as many more as you want- fuck i’ll buy you a hundred more- whatever you want.” her lips latch onto your left breast, suckling as her hand plays with your right bud. “fuck!!.. fuck, els please.. more..” she laughs softly, lifting her head up to look you in the eyes. “alright sweet thing.”

“aghhhhhh!!! ellie s’too much!!!” your head is shoved into the pink comforter of your bed as ellie’s strap enters and exits you at an animalistic pace. her grip on your hips is so strong, you’re sure it’ll leave marks. “my sexy wife, fuck.. look at you.. gonna.. gonna put my babies in you… fill you up.” nothing but the sound of your wet cunt, the bed creaking , and moans fill the room. “yeah baby?… what do u-fuckkkkk.. what do u think? you’d be so pretty.. all round and plump carrying my-nghh… kids..” you feel so full of her and all you can hear, smell, feel, think: is her. the knot in your stomach is pulling tighter and tighter and you feel like you’re gonna burst. “yes..-fuck!! yes els please!!!” her sweat drips off her forehead and down on your back. “look at that pretty pussy taking all of me.. so fuckin’ wet. she’s swallowing me.” her pace speeds up, her nails drawing small droplets of blood from your blush hips. her hand reaches around and begins drawing fast circles around your puffy clit. “els!!! m’gonna cum!! fuck-“ her pace speeds up as she her own orgasm from the back of the strap rubbing on her clit furiously tips her to the edge. “fuck- baby come with- with me.. gonna fill you up baby… cmon mama give it to me-“ her words, her pace, everything tips you over the edge as the moment you’ve been waiting for all week happens. your orgasm rips through you making you see stars and screams her name as ellie’s follows right after. you both fall over exhausted.

“got another one in you baby?”

[liliesonpandora]

His Little Girl Is Not Yet a Warrior

Jake Sully x Daughter! Reader

Plot: You are Jake and Neytiri’s only daughter. You and Lo’ak disobey your parents and travel to a dangerous cave where you fall and hurt yourself. Your dad rescues and comforts you while you’re being healed. The two of you have a discussion around your safety.

Warning: blood, injury

You and Lo’ak laugh as you race each other through the thick forest. Your chest burns and your legs are starting to ache, but you refuse to quit. He might be older, but you are for sure faster and you are gunna prove it. You pick up speed and manage to pass him for a second before he inches in front of you and tags the tree marked as the finish line.

“Ha! Point for me baby sister,” Lo’ak says with pride as he jogs in place and pants from exhaustion.

“Yeah yeah whatever, I almost had you at the end there,” you reply with annoyance.

You often hung out with Lo’ak while Neteyam was out hunting and going on missions with your parents. The two of you had not yet become warriors, meaning you had to miss out on all the important missions. Despite how incredibly annoying Lo’ak was as a big brother, you had a connection with him because you both felt like you were living in Neteyam’s shadow.

Lo’ak was the middle child, often ignored unless he was causing trouble… which he usually was. And you were the youngest, always sheltered despite being better at hunting than most kids your age. But for the most part you accepted it, knowing you would prove your worth when the time came.

You bend over with your palms resting on your knees to catch your breath after the race. Just then you got the bright idea to prank Lo’ak. It would be the perfect revenge for when he scared you earlier this morning. You place your hand to your chest and start to breathe heavy, as if you are struggling to get air through your lungs.

“Y/N, you okay?” Lo’ak asks with concern, but you don’t respond.

He runs over to you to see what is wrong. He takes your hand and lifts your face to look at you. “Do you need to sit down?”

“Gotcha!” You shout in his face and push him backwards. He stumbles and falls to the ground.

“No fair, you’re playing dirty!” he yells while sitting up.

“Looks to me like you’re the only one playing in the dirt big brother,” you tease him before holding out your hand to help him up.

Lo’ak takes your hand and proceeds to yank you down onto the ground where he is.

“Another point for me… you never learn,” Lo’ak throws his head back in laughter.

You playfully slap his arm and you both laugh with each other before taking a break to figure out what to do next.

“Wanna head back?” You ask.

“Nah, it’s not even close to eclipse. If we go back now, grandmother is going to force us to do those chores we forgot about.”

“Oh yeah, you’re right. Hmmm, we could check out that cave we found that one time when we were hunting!”

“I don’t know… Dad said we werent allowed to go there without him cause the terrain seemed unsafe. He would kill me if I took you there.”

“You scared or something?”

“Im not scared, I’ve just been on thin ice with Dad lately… I’m trying not to screw up again.”

You give him an annoyed look. You couldn’t believe that out of all the times Lo’ak would want to start a clean streak, it would be now.

He rolls his eyes at you. “Of course you don’t get it, mom and dad let you off easy. Me? Not so much.”

You knew that he was right… your brothers always got into more trouble because your parents gave them more responsibility. But you weren’t giving up that easy. You put on your best pouting face and look up at Lo’ak.

“You and Neteyam got to go with dad last time and he made me stay home. You said the cave was so cool, I just want to feel included.”

Lo’ak looks like he is thinking the decision over. You slip your arms around his waist to hug him and plead. “Please big brother? I’ll love you forever.”

“You already love me forever.”

“I’ll love you forever times infinity.”

After several moments of silence and contemplation, Lo’ak agrees.

“Fine, I’ll take you. But no playing around while we’re there, okay?”

“No playing around, got it. Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

Lo’ak calls to his ikran and hops on. Then he takes your arm and helps you up as well. You sit in the front of him and he holds onto your stomach with one hand to keep you in place while holding the reigns with the other.

You were used to riding as a passenger because you had yet to pass your iknimaya. But the time would come soon, and you couldnt wait to have your own Ikran. Maybe then, you’d be treated a little more seriously. For now, you enjoy the feeling of the wind on your face as you lean into your brother’s chest and begin the journey to the cave.

You arrive at the cave opening and Lo’ak helps you down.

“Hold my hand the whole time, okay? I know the path, but I dont want you to fall.”

“Okay,” you respond and you take your brother’s hand.

Lo’ak begins to lead you deeper into the cave and you look up and around in awe at the colorful crystals surrounding you. “Its so beautiful here.”

“I know right, look at these cool structures over here,” he says while pointing to the left.

“Woah!” You exclaim. Lo’ak smiles at you, feeling happy that you are enjoying it already.

You reach a leveled platform in the cave and he releases your hand. “You can walk here on your own, but be careful. Step lightly.”

Excitedly, you leave his side and walk around to observe all the intriguing shapes and patterns on the cave walls. You stop and stare at one structure with spirals and shimmering purple stones. Pandora was your home, but there was always new things to explore… even more beautiful than the last. You turn back to glance at Lo’ak and see that he is admiring the illuminated stones on the ceiling.

After looking around a bit more, you see that there is a small pool of water to the far right of the area. A pond in this cave? So cool. You walk over to it and kneel down to get a closer look. There are tiny fishes swimming around, creating streams of bioluminescence the water. You dip your hand in and let them graze your fingers as they swim. It tickles, which causes you to giggle.

At the sound of your laugh, Lo’ak turns to see what you’re doing. “Y/N! Get away from there, it doesn’t look stable!” He yells.

“Huh?” You ask and you swiftly stand and move to turn towards him. But as you shift your weight, your foot slips, causing you to fall further down into the cave. Your body scrapes against the rough walls but you barely feel anything with the adrenaline from the fall.

“Y/N!” Lo’ak screams.

You finally stop sliding and your body hits the cave floor hard. You grunt in pain, putting a hand to your head where it hurts.

Lo’ak runs over, carefully slides down to where you are laying, and puts a hand behind you to support your head while he examines your body. His eyes travel to your legs. “Shit, this cut is bad.”

You look down and see a gash running from below your right knee to the middle of your calf. You barely felt it before, but once you see the blood, the pain begins immediately. You wince and feel the tears rising up.

Without question, Lo’ak turns on his comms and calls for your father.

“Dad!”

“Lo’ak?”

“Y/N’s hurt… it’s a huge cut on her leg.”

“Where are you?”

“We’re at the old cave. I know we shouldn’t be here, Dad. I’m sorry.”

“You should have something to wrap her cut in the pouch on your ikran saddle. Don’t move her, go get it and bring it back to her. I’m coming right now. Copy?”

“Copy.”

“Let me talk to her.”

Lo’ak connects the comms to your ear. “I’ll be right back,” he says before leaving to start climbing the cave walls.

“Dad?” You call to your father.

“Hey babygirl, I’m coming to get you. How you doing?”

“My leg is cut, there’s so much blood. And my head really hurts.”

“Lo’ak is getting something to wrap your leg and stop the bleeding. Take deep breaths, okay? I’ll be there soon.”

“Okay.”

Lo’ak comes back quickly, trying to be extra careful around the slippery, unstable edges. He jumps down to where you are, kneels in front of you, and lifts your leg onto his thigh. He wraps it carefully and tightly with some cloth. You hiss in pain as the fabric touches the wound and stings. The blood quickly stains the cloth, but it was the best he could do for now.

You turn to your brother apologetically, tears now streaming down your face. “I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have forced you to bring me here.”

“It’s okay baby sister, don’t worry about it,” he assures you as he wipes your tears and rubs your back.

“Dad is gunna be so mad that we came here. I’m so stupid.”

“He could never be mad at you. I’ll take the blame,” he says as he moves to sit behind you, pulling you into his lap and being extra careful around the more smaller cuts and scrapes on your body.

You and Lo’ak always bicker and tease each other, but you know he would do anything for you. This was a clear example of that. He is selfless when it comes to others, and you feel guilty that he is willing to do this for you.

“Thanks Lo’ak. You can have all the points, okay?”

He laughed in response. “Don’t mention it.”

“It hurts,” you cry.

He places a hand gently on your head to soothe you. “I know, Dad is gunna be here soon and then they can fix you up.”

You close your eyes and wait for your father to arrive. After about 10 minutes, you hear the screech of his ikran and the flapping of it’s wings above.

“Lo’ak! Y/N!” He shouts.

“We’re down here, dad!” Lo’ak replies.

You hear your father run across the cave floor and carefully slide down to meet you. Lo’ak moves aside so your father could get to you.

“Daddy!” you cry. Feeling the tears well up again at the sight of him.

Jake puts a hand on your cheek, “I’m here, babygirl.” He moves to your leg immediately and carefully removes the blood stained wrapping to examine the wound. Blood continues to pool out.

“Fuck,” he blurted out in shock at the sight of the gash, forgetting to censor himself around his children. “That’s gunna need stitches, baby.” He tosses the bloody bandage to the side and begins to wrap it with a new one.

You groan at this statement, anticipating more pain when you get home.

“We gotta get you up this ledge,” he says as he helps you up. He drapes your arm over his shoulder and grabs your side. You hiss from the contact of your scrapes with his body.

“I know it hurts, we’ll be home soon” he says to you before turning to your brother.

“Lo’ak, go up first so you can help her.”

“Hop on one leg baby, I got you” he says to you.

They manage to hoist you up over the cave ledge and your father starts to carry you over to his ikran.

He turns to Lo’ak in the process, “what the hell were you thinking? I told you never to come here without me or your mom, and you took Y/N with you?! What if something worse had happened?”

Lo’ak looked ashamed, but prepared to be scolded as he was so used to it. “I know, I’m sorry Dad.”

“You clearly don’t know, cause you did it anyway. I’m gunna deal with you when we get home,” he says sternly.

“It’s not his fault, Dad. I begged him to bring me here, he didn’t want to.”

Lo’ak raises his head to look over at you in surprise. His expression turned worrisome, wondering what his dad would say.

Jake looks down at you in his arms in frustration. “Alright, we’ll discuss this later.”

You squeeze your eyes shut and bury your face in your dad’s chest, wanting to cry once more. Your wounds are painful… but surprisingly not as painful as getting your brother into more trouble with your dad.

He presses his comms and calls to your mom. “Neytiri, do you read me?”

“Ma Jake, did you reach them?”

“I got em, she cut her leg badly but she’s alright.”

Your mom sighs in relief. “Thank you, great mother.”

“We’re on our way back now, meet us there when you can,” he tells her.

He secures you on his ikran as best as he can and you all take off towards home.

Your grandmother immediately gets to work once you arrive back at the village.

“Lay still my child,” she says to you.

“Grandmother, how much is this going to hurt?”

“Only a little stinging. Once this is over, I will give you something to numb the area. You will not feel the stitches after that.”

You nod to her to continue the treatment.

“Squeeze my hand when it hurts, sweetheart” Jake tells you as he moves to sit beside you. You nod and interlock your fingers with his, preparing for the worst.

“Take a deep breath,” Jake tells you as he breathes deeply, instructing you to follow. He rests his available hand on your heart, mindful of the way it is racing. You feel calmer already, grateful for his presence. “It’ll be okay, I’m right here.”

As your grandmother disinfects the wound, you feel the painful stinging and you grip your father’s hand tight while squeezing your eyes shut. He rubs your back to soothe you.

Mo’at reaches for a small bowl and passes it to Jake. “Ma Itan, rub this generously on her smaller wounds,” she instructs her son-in-law.

Jake obeys and releases your grip to begin placing the medicine gently on each of your cuts and scrapes.

“Does that hurt, baby?” He asks with concern.

You shake your head and he gives you a light smile.

Your grandmother was right, you barely felt the needle from the stitches. Your dad talked to you the whole time to distract you from it. Once it was done, he picked you up and carried you to bed.

“It’s been a long day, we’ll talk in the morning” he tells you as he leans down to kiss you on the forehead.

“I’m not tired,” you lie. You were exhausted, but you needed to speak to him now.

“Hm, I would’ve thought all that crying you did earlier would tire you out” he teased playfully.

“Stay with me, dad? Just for a little while and then I’ll sleep.”

“I’ll stay with you for as long as you want me to, my love.”

He pulls you into his lap and hugs you tight. You let your body relax into his hold. “I’m sorry, I really am. I didn’t mean to make you and mom worry.”

“I know,” he assures you as he holds your head to his chest and tucks your stray hairs behind your ear.

“Don’t punish Lo’ak, he was just trying to do something nice for me.”

“I know.”

You looked up at him in surprise. “You know?”

He laughs lightly. “You cant fool me little one, I know your brothers take the fall for you sometimes. You give em those eyes, and they can’t say no to you.”

“What eyes?”

“The ones you’re giving me right now,” he says before placing another kiss on the tip of your nose.

Your father’s affection makes you feel so much better. You smile and lower your eyes, your face feeling warm from embarrassment.

He let out a deep sigh. “What should I expect though. You are my daughter, trouble calls and you answer I suppose.”

Your smile starts to fade. “It’s not like I wanted to get into trouble.”

“Then why? Why did you convince your brother to take you to do something that I specifically said not to. I told all of you that it wasn’t safe.”

“Because you took Neteyam and Lo’ak there last time. I had to stay home, it’s not fair dad.”

“They are older than you.”

“I’m only 2 years younger than Lo’ak, but you treat me like im a baby.”

“You’re MY baby.”

“Im serious, Dad. Even now, you’re not listening to me.” You sit up and cross your arms, wanting to create some distance between you two. You continue. “Admit it, it’s not cause I’m young. It’s cause I’m a girl, you dont think I can handle it.”

It hurt Jake to hear you say this. Had he let his little girl think she was not good enough?

“That’s not true, Y/N.”

“Yes it is! But I’m a good hunter too, even if you don’t think so! And in a year, I’ll pass that test and have my ikran, and then you cant keep me trapped here.”

Tears begin to roll down your cheeks and you quickly wipe them away, not wanting to show more weakness in front of him.

Jake’s expression softened at the sight of you. He hated that he made you so upset. And he hated that you felt trapped. Had he been going overboard?

“Come here,” he says as he opens his arms for you.

You shake your head in defiance, not wanting to give into him.

“Please, baby? I’m sorry, just come here.”

You began to uncross your arms but your father closes the gap before you have the chance to. He pulls you into a hug and rubs your back. It feels nice to be back in his arms. No matter how mad you were with him, you always felt so much comfort in his embrace.

“Y/n, I know you’re capable. I know you’re a great hunter… and you’re right, maybe I did shelter you a little too much.”

Your expression turns hopeful, surprised that he agreed with you.

He continued. “But… that doesn’t give you the right to disobey me and put yourself and your siblings in danger. Can you understand that I need to protect you?”

“Yeah,” you reply while lowering your head, not wanting to face him.

He lifts your chin so that he could see your eyes. “I’m sorry that I made you think you weren’t good enough to be out there with me and your brothers. And I’m sorry that I don’t consider taking you more often.”

You look up at him as he says this and tears start to form in your eyes again. You blink and they fall down your face.

“You are enough, and you can do anything you put your mind to. Don’t let anyone make you think differently, not even me.”

You smile at him brightly, appreciative of his apology and wise words. “Thanks, Dad.”

Jake cups your face in his hands and wipes away the wet streaks with his thumbs. “There’s that smile, so beautiful. Where’d you get that from?”

“Mom, I think” you say while grinning.

He smiles at you. “Definitely from mom.” He sighs deeply and you both sit for a little while in the silence. “You’re still so little, even though I know you’re getting older. It’s scary sometimes, I just don’t wanna lose you babygirl… but I know I’ve got to let you go at some point.”

You wrap your arms around his waist and squeeze him tight. “I’m not going anywhere right now, daddy.”

Jake chuckles and squeezes you back while running his hand over your hair. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too.”

“Okay, promise me something?” he asks while he holding out his pinky.

You sit up and stare at him intently, waiting to hear the rest.

“Promise me that you wont do something dangerous like this again… and as long as it’s safe… I’ll promise to take you with me on the next mission.”

“Really?”

“Mhm. You need to know what it’s like out there.”

You gasp excitedly and hook your pinky onto his. “I promise.” You connect your thumbs together to seal the deal and he brings your hand up to his lips.

“…after your leg heals up of course.”

“Oh… right,” you reply as you slump over in disappointment.

Jake throws his head back and erupts in laughter.

“Not funny!” You yell.

“Okay okay, I’m sorry. It’ll heal in no time, sweetheart.” He pats the spot next to him. “Come on, let’s go to sleep.”

[arisewanekosuki]

You heard someone calling your name. When you turned around, you saw Kabukimono running towards you, he was wearing different clothes from his regular silky ones. Not only that but he and his clothes were very dirty. -“Kabu-chan?! What happened?!” you asked, already taking your handkerchief  to scrub the dirt from his face. -“(Y/n)! Today Nagamasa-san teached me how to use sword! From now on I’ll be able to protect you and others!” Kabukimono looked so proud of himself, his face was adorned with big smile. “I still have to train everyday and I wanted to ask…” his cheeks became slightly red. “..Would you… would you come sometimes to watch my training?��� He was avoiding eye contact with you and you couldn’t help but think how adorable he looked right now. -”Of course I will! Tomorrow, when I finish my work, I’ll came to watch you, alright?” You smiled to him, scrubbing the last dirt from his lovely face. The boy nodded, feeling very happy, he can’t really wait to impress you tomorrow. His smile grew wider and you couldn't help but think about kissing him on the cheek and you did. You kissed his right cheek and suddenly you realize what you did and took step back from him. -“I’m so sorry, Kabu-chan! I don’t know why I… Did I make you uncomfortable?” you asked, watching him as he placed his hand on cheek that you kissed. He never felt this way before but it wasn’t a bad feeling, no, he was feeling so warm inside. -“What was it?” he asked, he was surprised but at the same time he felt excitement. -“Um..that was a kiss-” -“Can you do that again?” you were shocked with his bold request but then smiled and kissed his another cheek, then forehead and then the nose. The puppet’s face blushed, it was his first time to feel being loved like that by another person.

 The 6th Harbinger was lying on the lab table. You were terrified of what The Doctor did to his fellow comrade. -“I know this is not your job but clean this mess. I lost my last assistant  and you..hm.. you don’t really have anything better to do anyway, right?” Dottore grinned. -“Lord Dottore but what should I do with-“ -“Just leave him be, his flesh and skin will regenerate itself.” With that said, the 2nd Harbinger left you with unconscious Scaramouche in the room. You do have work, there are still soldiers that you have to take care of, but you can’t refuse a Harbinger command, after all you’re just a healer. -“How cruel…” you only heard rumors of sick things the 2nd Harbinger have done to his assistants and agents but until now, you didn't truly believed the rumors. How can anyone treat living beings like this?! The first thing you did, was to take chains off from Scaramouche’s wrists, not caring about substance, that looked almost like blood on table and floor. Suddenly he grabbed your wrist, he was now looking at you. -“Do…t… to….me..” You couldn't understand what he was saying. -“Lord Balladeer, please forgive me, I just wanted to take off this from Lord’s wrists.” He let you go, you were not sure if he did that to let you take them off or because he didn't have strength left. You took the chains off, then you looked at him, his eyes were so empty. -“ Lord Balladeer, maybe at least I should-“ -“k..t…e..” he whispered. -“I’m truly sorry Lord but I couldn’t hear you.” His eyes met yours. -“Don..t… lo…ok… at…me…” You didn’t know what to do. Normal human wouldn’t be able to survive whatever the Doctor did to him. You couldn’t just leave him like this, but what can you do for him? He is in such bad state that you can see clearly the lack of heart in his chest. -“Hu..rts…e…ve..ry….thi…g….hu..s..” he mumbled. -“…” you took his hand in yours, he jolted for second from sudden touch but didn't take his hand from yours. “I will stay with you my Lord, until you recover. I’m truly sorry, that I can’t take your pain away but if there’s anything I can do for you, just tell me.” He didn't reply. You wondered if he lost consciousness again. You placed delicate kiss on his hand, the tears flowed from his eyes. For the first time he felt a bit of warmth in this cold nation.

-“Oh isn’t it Hat Guy? Hello!” you smiled to Wanderer, who grimaced after hearing you call him by that ‘name’ too. -“Why are you calling me like that?” -“Hm? You’re the one who went with that name on The Akademiya Extravaganza, aren’t you?” you tilted your head, confused why he seems to be angry for calling him that. -“It was-- … never mind. Just don’t call me that.” He said, not looking at you. You smiled coming to him closer. -“So…do you have any plans for today?” -“Hmpf, I know this is not what you really wanted to ask me. Just tell me already what you want.” -“Okay! Okay! Remember those students that dragged us to their cooking interest group? I’m going to join them again! Would you like to jo-“ -“No.” Wanderer said, turning around like he’s ready to just leave you. You caught his sleeve. -“Don't be like that! You’re really good at cooking! And it was fun to co-“ -“You didn’t cook anything, I was the one who made all the dishes.” He interrupted you again, still with his back turned toward you. -“Stop interrupting me-!” you pouted, puffing your cheeks. -“Just deal with it.” He smirked -“Why you! Please! I love your cooking! The food you made was so delicious! Please!! I want to eat it again! Please!” now you were holding onto his arm. The puppet sighed, he can’t believe that for some reason he doesn’t mind when you touch him.   -“Consider yourself lucky, that I don’t have anything better to do.” -“So you mean-“ -“Let’s just go.” He started walking. You smiled, glad that you can spend some more time with him. You ran in front of him, stopping him in his track. -“I knew it that you’re not that bad!” -“You’re naive if you think that I-“ before he could finish his sentence you kissed his cheek. Then you just smiled and ran off screaming -“I’m going to eat Hat Guy's delicious dishes again!” Wanderer was stunned, then he put his hand on his red cheek you kissed, he was feeling warm. He quickly noticed that you already left Sumeru City. -“That idiot…” he smiled and he ran after you.

--- I really want to shower the little meow meow with kisses (๑•̑з•̑๑)੭ु⁾⁾

[fortheloveofwonderland]

Rusty | Chapter 19 | S.R

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

A/N - part two of a two part chapter. Picks up where the last one left off.

Summary - As Spencer’s mental health continues to decline, you connect the dots as to what’s going on with him. But his brain can’t take much more and it finally splinters and he takes on the guises of various faces from his past.

Pairing - Spencer Reid / Fem! Reader

Category - strangers to friends to lovers | angst | smut minors DNI

Warnings - heavy drinking, oral (f receiving) faked orgasms, reckless gun use, weight loss, vomit, swearing, spanking, Dom! Spencer, penetrative, unprotected sex, dissociation, blood, self harm, blood, personality split, Spencer’s brain completely fractures.

WC - 6.7k

One Month, Three Weeks Ago

You heard the car tyres crunching up the gravel driveway through the open bedroom window. You instinctively pulled the sheets further up to your chin as though the flimsy material would protect you from whatever was about to happen. 

You couldn’t fein sleep, your cheek still throbbing from his slap and the fear pulsing wildly throughout your body. He’d no doubt drunk more, driven your car home in a state and you could only assume more violence awaited you. 

You heard the engine die followed by the car door being opened and closed. Spencer sounded like he was dragging his feet in the dirt, shuffling drunkenly towards the house.

Once the front door opened, Copper was up and out of his dog bed, on high alert. You heard it close again and then there was stumbling on the stairs and what sounded like Spencer bumping to walls. 

You held your breath in anticipation. The bedroom door flung open and Copper let out a singular bark before he realised who it was and quickly retreated back to bed, his tail between his legs. 

You watched in the dark from the bed. You didn’t think he realised you were awake as he didn’t look at you, just went about removing his clothes. 

He struggled with the sleeves of his denim shirt and wrestled it off his body to the floor. Next came his t-shirt which he seemed to have slightly less trouble with. 

It was his pants that tripped him up, quite literally. It was almost painful watching him trying to get both legs out of the fabric. If you weren’t so mad at him you might have tried to help. 

Eventually he got them off and crawled into the bed in just his underwear. It was only when he laid his head down on his pillow and saw you staring back at him in the dark that he noticed you were awake.

Even in the low light you could see that sorrow that washed over features as he registered the fear in your eyes. He raised a hand and you flinched involuntarily when he cupped your face. 

He brushed his fingers over the red mark he’d left behind on your skin. His eyes misted over as he breathed raggedly. 

“I’m s-so sorry.” He whispered, words a little slurred. His breath stank of whiskey, he hadn’t tried to hide it this time. “I’m so sorry. I d-didn’t mean to. I love you. You know I love you, right?” 

You clenched your jaw but didn’t speak, couldn’t speak. And when he suddenly crashed his lips against yours and kissed you ferociously, you didn’t stop him. 

He was mumbling and whimpering into the kiss as he rolled himself on top of you. You let him kiss you and still didn’t say a word as he lips trailed lowered. 

Even when he removed your shorts and edged his face between your legs you stayed silent. He muttered against your leg how sorry he was and how much he loved you before plunging his tongue between your folds. 

He continued whispering his regret between your legs. Usually Spencer’s tongue was a thing of magic but in his drunken state his ministrations were messy and lacklustre and after a long time of pretending to enjoy yourself, you simply faked your release and pushed him away. 

He fell back to the mattress next to you, his mouth and chin still slick with his saliva. Moments later he was snoring, leaving you to stare at the ceiling while you fought back tears. 

***

The following night he didn’t go to work again in lieu of getting drunk. Despite the fact you now knew about his drinking he still tried to hide it from you, drinking alone down at the stable most days. 

He’d purchased a shotgun at some point recently and you often heard rounds being fired off down by the creek from the house. He was a danger to himself, to everyone. He needed the kind of help you couldn’t offer him. 

But you were too scared of him to tell him that. You were also too afraid to leave. 

It was nearing eleven pm when you heard him trudging up the hill towards your homestead. You were sitting on the front porch reading with Copper curled up at your side on the swing chair, head in your lap.

He appeared over the brow of the hill, dragging the shotgun behind him. His hair was a mess and his clothes seemed to hang off of his frame. You knew he hadn’t been eating and the amount he was drinking often made him vomit. He’d lost so much in the last few weeks he was a shell of his former self.

You closed the book and braced yourself for whatever was to come. He didn’t look at you as he traipsed up the steps towards the front door. He swung it open and you thought maybe either he hadn’t seen you or was ignoring you. He took one step inside the house before he spoke without turning around. 

“Inside.” Was all he said before he continued on his way.

And like an idiot, you didn’t even question it. You nudged Copper off of your lap and the two of you got to your feet and followed him inside. It was unclear which of the two of you were more frightened by the drunk man and his shotgun.

Spencer leaned the gun against the wall next to the door which offered you a little bit of relief. He turned to look at you, his expression completely unreadable. He took a step closer to you and you held your breath, desperate not to let your fear show. 

His hand lifted from his side and found purchase on the back of your neck, gripping it a little tighter than he normally would. He used his grasp on you to lead you into the living room. It didn’t hurt, he wasn’t being overtly rough but it was firm enough that you didn’t want to question him. 

He moved you up against the wall, the same one he had thrown you at last night but this time with more care. He pressed his body flush against yours, caging you into the wall with his hips. You could feel he was hard and straining at the front of his pants. 

“I l-love you.” He slurred, eyes glazed over from the whiskey. “I love you s-so fucking much. I’m an ass. I’ve not been g-good to you and I know that. But I love you. P-please forgive me.” 

“Spencer,” you whispered, tears springing to your eyes as his fingers brushed over the bruising that had formed on your cheek from last night. 

“Do you still love me?” He spoke, this time he sounded surprisingly sober. 

You sighed, blinking back your tears. You wished you didn’t, it would be easier if you didn’t.

“Yes.” You nodded.

“Good.” And then he kissed you surprisingly delicately, holding your face like you were made of glass. But his tenderness was fleeting.

Soon his hands moved to your hips and he gripped them tightly in his hands, fingers digging into your flesh beneath your shirt. He tugged you away from the wall and led you across the room to the arm of the couch. 

When he reached it, he turned you around so your back was to him and forced your body over the arm, your face buried in a couch cushion and your ass in the air. He reached around you and unbuttoned your pants, but before he could pull them down he stilled.

“Do you…do you want this?” He asked, sounding so unsure of himself. 

And even in the face of it all, you did want it. Regardless of the way he’d treated you, in spite of the fear he’d caused you, you still wanted him.

“Y-yes.” You nodded against the cushion. “P-please?”

Spencer continued to lower your pants and underwear down to your ankles and spread your legs as wide as he could with the fabric hindering them opening too wide. You heard his own button popping, the rustling of his jeans and pants as he pushed them down his thighs. 

He freed his shaft in one hand, dangerously hard and already leaking in desperation, while his other gently stroked over one of your ass cheeks. You hummed pathetically against the cushion at his soft touch.

His hand suddenly left your ass but seconds later it returned in slap so hard the skin on skin contact echoed around the room. You yelped at the impact but you couldn’t deny it was dizzying. 

He spanked you a second time, the sting of his first slap tingling your flesh. He did it a third time and on the fourth time he simultaneously plunged inside of you while his hand scored against your sore cheek. 

You let out a sound half way between a scream and moan at the dual sensation, Spencer bottoming out inside of you right away but not staying there long. He moved his hands to your hips and gripped them with bruising force as he started pounding into you aggressively. 

You hadn’t been quite limbered up enough for the sudden intrusion and Spencer was so big and thick that he felt like he was splitting you in two. But the pain was delirious, the friction of him inside of you, stretching your walls in a way you’d never experienced before was heady. 

Your ass cheek stung and it added to the pleasure. His balls slapped harshly against you with each thrust. From this angle he was able to reach deeper caverns inside of you, chambers you didn’t even realise existed. 

His blunt head slammed repeatedly against your cervix and with each merciless pound your walls clenched tighter and tighter around his thick length.

He was muttering incoherently, fingernails digging into the flesh of your hips. He berated you with his body, breaching you again and again while you did nothing but whimpering and whining beneath him. 

Tears left your eyes, soaking into the cushion beneath your face. Each thrust somehow burnt more than the last but you were so close it was almost laughable. 

His grip tightened and his pace increased, his breathing heavy and rampant. He was succumbing to his release, ready to fall over the ledge into the abyss of pleasure. But he wanted you to fall with him. 

“Are you close?” He mumbled, his sentence punctuated with moans.

“Hmm.” you whined as he jabbed against your cervix again. 

“Fuck princess, wanna feel you come.” He angled his hips upwards, slamming into you at another new angle that made you mewl.

“F-f-fuck!” You whined, legs shaking. “F-fuck Spencer!”

“Come for me, pretty girl. Show me how good I make you feel.” He moaned, his own legs barely holding him upright. 

It took two more thrusts before you were coming undone, clamping so tightly around Spencer’s cock that he saw stars. Your arousal was leaking down your thighs as Spencer fucked you through your orgasm before his own washed over him. 

With a loud and feral moan, he exploded. Strings of his come filled you up, his seed buried deep inside of you. He continued to thrust more lazily while he expelled every last drop of himself until he was completely spent. 

He must have carried you to bed that night because the next thing you remembered was waking up the next morning in bed, sore and covered in welts and bruises. 

***

This pattern continued almost every day. He spent his days getting drunk and shooting at trees down by the creek only to return late at night and fuck you, sometimes for hours. Your bruises had bruises, the welts on your ass became so bad you could barely sit down which made horse riding an extremely painful experience. 

Sometimes he was more gentle, making love to you in missionary while he looked you in the eyes and told you how much he loved you. Other times he pinned you to walls and fucked you so hard you couldn’t breathe. 

And every single time after, he dissociated. 

You often found remnants of blood on the linoleum floor in the bathroom or sometimes in the tub. Spencer stopped getting undressed around you, keeping himself covered when you had sex. You didn’t know the extent of the damage he was doing to himself. 

One morning you awoke to find him still asleep which was a rarity. And so you dared to lift the sheet from his sleeping body and inspect the mutilation he’d inflicted upon himself. 

The first thing that struck you was just how much weight he’d lost in such a short time. His position on his back allowed you to see how painfully his hips jutted out, how sunken his stomach was. His collarbones and ribs protruded from beneath his flesh. 

But it was his thighs that caused you to whimper. 

You couldn’t even count the number of cuts littering his skin. They were all in various stages of heeling, some even caked with dried blood you assumed were his most recent works. They painted both legs almost all the way to his knees, his canvas for his self abuse. 

The tears silently fell from your eyes and you dropped the sheet, feeling your stomach lurch violently. You removed yourself from the bed and shut yourself in the bathroom. You ran the shower, got undressed and climbed inside. 

You sobbed beneath the flow of water. You cried for Spencer and what he’d done to himself. You cried for the aches and gripes in your body which Spencer caused you. You cried at your own stupidity at putting yourself in this situation in the first place. 

You should never have stopped to help him. You should have trusted your gut and kept driving. None of this would have happened if you’d just left him on the side of the road. You could have saved yourself the trouble of falling in love with a monster. 

By the time you stopped crying and exited the bathroom, the bed was empty and made with military precision as was Spencer’s way. You dressed as you caught a faint whiff of something from downstairs. It smelt suspiciously like bacon but surely it couldn’t be.

Low and behold you found Spencer in the kitchen, plating up bacon and eggs and toast whilst he hummed to himself. He had his back to you but when he turned around he was smiling brightly.

“Morning princess.” He beamed, setting the plates down on the counter. “I made breakfast.” 

It was like living with Jekyll and Hyde and you weren’t sure which one was more terrifying. You knew you should leave, disappear in the middle of the night and go somewhere he would never find you.

But despite your better judgement, you loved this man. You loved him more than you thought it possible to love someone. So no matter how idiotic it made you for staying, leaving simply wasn’t an option. 

***

One Week Ago

Things had been improving slowly but steadily. Spencer didn’t seem to be drinking as much, or if he was he was getting better at concealing it. He was less angry, although that’s not to say he hadn’t blown up a few times in the past month.

You were walking on eggshells most of the time, trying to appease him, keep him happy so as to avoid another fall out. You had sex almost every day and by this point his dissociations were becoming a normal occurrence and you’d long ago learnt how to quickly deal with them. 

He’d started working again although not as frequently as he was. He lost his job running the ghost tours when he stopped showing up but the Four Deuces still allowed him to pick up shifts here and there as they were short staffed. 

You both had the day off today and Spencer surprised you by taking you for a picnic down at the creek. Copper followed along, playing in the water while the two of you ate the lunch he’d packed. Afterwards he laid you down on the blanket and made love to you.

He was gentle and caring, slow and sensual. He made you come twice while he fucked you leisurely as though he had all the time in the world. And he kept his eyes locked on yours throughout it all. 

He even helped clean you up after, placing delicate kisses in your hair. And then while you were still hazy from your orgasms, he pulled a jewellery box out of hiding. 

“Y/N, I know things have been…not great lately and I’m so, so sorry for that. But I love you more than I ever thought it possible to love someone and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. 

“I know it’s crazy, I know it’s fast. But when we decided to run away together we were kinda promising each other forever anyway right? And I know with you being a fugitive filing a marriage licence won’t exactly be easy, but we can figure it out. 

“Or you know, maybe we can’t get married for real. But at the very least I want you to have this ring as a symbol that I will never, ever leave you. And if you decide to wear it you’re saying the same. I promise I’m going to try and be better for you. I want to be the man you fell in love with. So, uh, will you marry me?”

He flipped open the box to show you a beautiful vintage silver engagement ring. His face conveyed his nerves as he rolled his lip between his teeth awaiting your response.

You blinked at him rapidly, trying to clear the fog from your brain. Were you delusional from your orgasms? Surely this wasn’t happening.

But it was happening. Spencer had a ring, a stunning ring, in his hand and he was asking you to marry him even though you both knew with you being on the run it was impossible. But he wanted your promise. 

Your love for him was so boundless, perhaps it was even reckless to a fault. You should have left the first time he raised his hand to you, should have gone running and never looked back. 

You knew first hand that abusers didn’t just stop. You’d murdered the first man who dared hit you, yet here you were in love with the other. The irony of the situation wasn’t lost on you, its morbid facsimiles to a life you’d lived before were startlingly apparent. 

The last thing you should ever do would be to promise Spencer forever, to agree to wear his ring. But yet it was the only thing in this messed up world that made any semblance of sense to you. 

You’d both experienced your share of trauma, both done things you weren’t proud of in order to survive. You were eerily similar and perhaps the two of you deserved one another. You were coerced together like two opposing puzzle pieces but you’d both adjusted around each other until the fit didn’t seem so manufactured anymore. 

He understood you to your bones, the way you did him. It may be toxic, it may be poisonous to you both to stay together but maybe you could be each other's antidote if you just tried hard enough. 

Relationships were never without their flaws, yours just had a few more than most. But they were nothing you couldn’t work through, right? If you operated as a unit instead of separate parts, played for the same team rather than as oppositions, you could be a force unto yourselves. 

The sad truth of the matter was, neither of you deserved any better than what you offered each other. 

So ultimately there was only one answer. You couldn’t quite vocalise it, instead giving a meek nod of your head. Spencer beamed as he removed the ring from his velvet cradle and slid it onto your finger. 

And thus your fate was sealed. 

***

Two Hours Ago

Suddenly with the kind of startling clarity that smacked you around the face like a tidal wave, all the little puzzle pieces fell into place. 

You’d had the skeleton in front of you but had yet to flesh it out, to see the bigger picture. Or perhaps you had an idea but you weren’t ready to go down that rabbit hole for fear of no return. 

But it was here now in black and white, no more grey areas. The voicemail left on Spencer’s cell phone spelled it out clearly. 

“Doctor Reid this is Marnie calling from Doctor Suez’s office. It looks as though you still have an outstanding prescription to collect and the doctor is a little concerned of what might happen if you fail to refill your paroxetine. This is the third time I’ve tried to call, please do call me back as soon as you can.” 

You hadn’t deliberately been going through his phone. But he’d been hauled up in the stable all day and the device hadn’t stopped ringing. By the fifth call you’d grown curious and found yourself invading his privacy and listening to the voicemail. 

It all made too much sense now and you felt stupid for not seeing it sooner. Spencer had come off of his medication, the medication which barely held him together in the first place. Now he was off of it and all his old symptoms were coming back full throttle combined with what you imagined to be an extensive amount of withdrawals to the medicine. 

He was a danger to himself and to you. There was no telling what a man with his level of trauma could do when he’d stopped relying on the one thing that was helping to keep him tethered. 

You pocketed his phone without meaning to and the ring caught your field of vision. Your stomach clenched tightly like a cramp and you felt a wave of nausea flood your body. How could you promise yourself to someone who couldn’t even look after himself? 

Spencer was a genius, he would know the exact risks of coming off of his medication yet he’d done it anyway. And he’d put you both in jeopardy by doing so. That kind of behaviour was selfish and reckless. 

Would you be able to talk sense into him? Would you be able to make a lunatic see the light? Or were you putting yourself in further danger if you confronted this? 

You loved Spencer and because of that you couldn’t stand back and do nothing. You needed to talk to him, to try and help him understand that needed to be on his meds for the sake of himself and you. You needed to appeal to the rational side of his brain you knew still existed somewhere in the depth of his trauma. 

You had to address this before it continued to get out of hand. You needed to help cloy Spencer back from the brink of insanity before he was lost to his own demons forever.

***

The glass mouth of the bottle was cushioned between his lips, tilting, tilting until every last drop of the smooth amber liquid passed down his throat, burning on its journey down his oesophagus and into his empty stomach. 

Drawing it back away from his lips once it was drained, he clutched the neck in his tetchy fingers, curiously inspecting it for a moment or two. 

And then he raised his hand high above his head, swinging it back down with force until the body of the bottle collided with the side of the cabinet in the back of the stable and smashed into hundreds of little shards.

The fragments mostly flitted to the ground around his feet, some remaining to decorate the wooden surface he’d used to smash it with. There may have even been a piece or two in his palm, there was certainly a little blood. He wiped the claret on his jeans, the alcohol numbing him from any pain that action might have caused. 

This had been another one of his utterly dumb ideas, the kind he had become so well versed in making as of late. But this one was particularly close to the top of the list for stupidity.

The gift had remained untouched, forgotten in a cupboard in the house for six months. Spencer didn’t even remember having the forethought to bring it with him to Tombstone, why didn’t he just throw it out? 

It was only this morning when he’d been looking for places to hide the dozen or so whiskey bottles he’d purchased that he found it. The birthday gift from Luke. 

Taking it out to the stable with one of his bottles of liquid heaven, he’d gotten through half the whiskey before he dared tear into the dogeared paper. 

Staring back at him a simple black frame displaying some kind of collage that looked almost childlike in its construction. Luke wasn’t exactly known for his artistic prowess. 

Scanning his eyes over the collage, despite the whiskey clouding his brain it was clear what he was looking at. It was a montage that told the story of Spencer Reid and Luke Alvez. 

It began in the top left hand corner with a ticket stub from the movie they’d seen on their first date, which Spencer hadn’t realised was a date. 

Luke had asked him to go see some action flick which was so far out of Spencer’s comfort zone. But he enjoyed Luke’s company and agreed to go with him. 

After the movie they went to a bar and Luke slid into the booth next to Spencer which Spencer thought was a little odd. But it got a whole lot stranger when Luke placed his hand on Spencer’s thigh under the table. 

“Uh, Luke? That’s my leg.” Spencer’s eyebrows knitted together. 

“Yeah I know.” Luke’s expression mirrored his. 

“Okay,” Spencer looked even more confused. “Why are you touching my leg?” 

Luke suddenly looked extremely self conscious and he removed his hand and placed it in his own lap. 

“Sorry,” Luke huffed. “I guess it’s been a while since I’ve been on a date. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

“D-date?” Spencer was extremely confused now. 

“Yeah?” Luke was fidgeting uncomfortably. “Oh my god, is this not a date?” 

“It’s the first I’m hearing about it.” Spencer’s mouth fell open. 

“You…you didn���t realise I was asking you on a date?” 

“No!” Spencer shook his head. “You said, and I quote, ‘Hey man, do you wanna go see a movie tonight? Maybe grab some dinner or a drink afterwards.’ How was I supposed to know you meant it as a date?” 

“Movie and dinner? That’s clearly a date!” Luke looked bewildered. 

“I go for dinner and movies with Garcia all the time. And JJ, Emily even.” Spencer was scratching at the back of his head. 

“I…I…ay dios mio.” Luke shook his head. “This is so embarrassing. I am so sorry, I assumed we were on the same page. We should call it a night to save me any further humiliation.”

Luke went to reach in his pocket for his wallet to pay for the drinks but Spencer’s gentle hand on his wrist stilled him.

“Luke,” Spencer smiled a little shakily at him. “I didn’t say I didn’t want it to be a date.”

What had started as Spencer thinking he was seeing a movie with a friend ended with a heavy makeout session in the bar. Just the thought of it made Spencer’s knees wobble a little, the memory of that first kiss taking his breath away like nothing he’d ever felt before. 

The medley in front him contained many other tickets, receipts and photographs from his and Luke’s time spent together. It was all brought together in the middle with a simple quote, penned in Luke’s uniquely identifiable handwriting -

“The world breaks everyone, and afterwards, some are stronger at the broken places.” - Ernest Hemingway.

The alcohol and the memories swarming his brain caused a torrent of emotions. It was a tsunami raging inside of him, a war being fought within. Luke had collected all these little mementos, kept hold of the pieces of their relationship even after all this time. 

He’d meticulously, if not a little messily, compiled this gift for Spencer because in spite of everything Spencer had done, Luke still loved him more than anything. Luke loved Spencer in a way that superseded his trauma, in a way that was bigger than his demons he struggled to fight.

Luke loved Spencer the way Spencer loved you. And that thought alone was enough for Spencer to feel the weight of everything he’d put Luke through. He understood it now, he understood the hurt he’d caused. If you left him, Spencer wouldn’t be able to cope, his life may as well be over. If he lost you he wouldn’t go on. 

That’s what he’d done to Luke. Spencer had admonished him, punished Luke for simply loving him. And in the process he had broken the other man into more pieces than the whiskey bottle was now in at his feet.

“You fucking broke me, Spencer. The way you left, it destroyed me. Nothing in my life has ever hurt as much as having to hear from Prentiss that you’d left without a word. I’ve spent the last two years trying to get over you, trying to move past the pain that you caused. And I have finally met someone who made me forget all about you. I’m not asking you to be happy for me, but you don’t get to be mad either.”

It all made so much agonising sense. And Spencer hated himself more than ever at the realisation of exactly what he’d done to Luke. Staring at the pieces of glass and the framed collage still laying on a blanket of gift wrap, he felt tears clouding his vision. No, not tears…

The edges of his vision were growing hazy in a way he knew all too well. His stomach was tightening, anger and sadness tangling themselves together to create a whirlwind inside of him. It snuck up on him faster than he was used to and before he could even grasp what was happening he was outside of his own self. 

He could only stand by and watch dumbly as the body his mind longer inhabited picked up a large shard of whiskey dampened glass and without hesitation brought the sharp edge to his right leg and scored straight through his jeans. 

Creating a hole in the fabric, the glass splinter was then slicing into the thick flesh of his thigh and he was hissing in morbid pleasure as the blood quickly began to trickle from the open wound. The detached body threw its head back, lips parted and eyes closed as thought in the throes of passion.

Spencer watched the figure who looked suspiciously like himself lean back against the cabinet as the blood continued to pour from his leg. 

An almost devilish grin spread across the face of the man who was, yet was not Spencer Reid. His lips started moving, chanting under his breath. The mind belonging to the body simply stared until the voice started growing louder.

“That’s the devil vacating your body.” 

The voice was unlike anything Spencer had heard from his own mouth. It was a husky southern drawl for which he recognised from a shed in a graveyard from years past while the smell of burning fish guts smouldered around him. 

He spoke again, the body that was and wasn’t Spencer Reid, leaning back heavily against the cabinet coated with glass while blood continued to roll down his leg.

“I didn’t know how to take care of you anymore.” 

The voice was different again, not quite his own but not entirely different. It evoked recollections of a stuffy office, of Morgan and Rossi and the older man who used to look like him but didn’t anymore. 

“I was hoping you'd figure out my riddle. I-I mean, I knew you would. The fun was just how fast you'd do it. All this and brains, too.” 

A higher pitched octave left his lips now, a much more feminine tone to his words. It summoned him to a dark warehouse, brought forth memories of blindfolds and hands that groped upon him in places he wished they wouldn’t.

“Believe me, getting pregnant with your baby was not easy.”

This one was still feminine yet harsher. He was in an interrogation room, bright orange scrubs and a menacing smirk clouding his better judgement. 

“Spencer, the keeper of provisions. You have given selflessly to others and will be rewarded by the highest honour we could bestow. Your blood will be our blood. Your life will fuel ours.” 

Once again the voice of the slumped body became more masculine, hoarse almost. It brought forth images of restraints at his wrists, ankles, waist and head. Hyoid bones dangling before his eyes, swaying in the soft breeze and knocking together like macabre windchimes. 

The man who looked like Spencer Reid was certainly not Spencer Reid anymore. The body bleeding from a self inflicted wound didn’t even seem to know who he was anymore. 

The Spencer who was suspended, watching his own form flit between varying people from his past was aware of what was happening even if the husk of his body didn’t. 

His brain was fracturing, shattering, tearing. His trauma had become uncontainable and it was splitting his mind into shards much like the glass bottle. 

It had become too much, the body and the mind divorcing each other for a final time, causing Spencer to lose sight of who he was. 

He was Tobias Hankel. He was William Reid. He was Diane Turner. He was Cat Adams. He was Benjamin Merva. He was his trauma. 

Whoever he was, it was certainly not Doctor Spencer Reid any longer. Perhaps he never would be again. 

And so the consciousness of Spencer could only watch as the man he recognised as himself became multiple different people right in front of his very eyes. 

The muttering continued, flicking between different voices of the different personas his brain was breaking off into. The glass shard was hanging limply between two fingers, little red beads dripping from it onto the floor. 

When the stable door creaked open, the previously collapsed, zombie form went suddenly rigid, eyes wide yet unseeing. You took a few steps into the barn, taking in the broken glass, his ripped jeans and open cut and the bloody fragment in his hand. 

You also noticed the ways his eyes were unfocused as he looked at you, he was dissociating.

“Spencer?” You spoke quietly, hesitantly getting a little closer and ignoring the pleas of attention from Rusty and Willow.

“No,” he blinked once, other than that he was unmoving.

“What do you mean, no?” Your brow furrowed. “Spencer, you’re dissociating.” 

“No,” he repeated. “No, I’m not Spencer. You have me confused with someone.” 

Your blood ran cold suddenly. You’d seen him in these states before but usually he couldn’t say much of anything to you. 

This time his voice was clear and concise even if his eyes were still glazed over. But the voice wasn’t his, not one you recognised. 

He spoke in a thick, southern accent, eyebrow cocked at you as he took a few steps closer. You swallowed a lump in your throat, wanting to walk away, to run away but you were paralysed in fear. 

“You’re just as pretty as he said you were.” The voice coming out of Spencer’s mouth spoke. “He calls you princess, right?”

“S-Spencer…” you whimpered slightly. 

“My name isn’t Spencer. Spencer’s weak, he can’t can’t handle himself. So I’m here to help him.” He raised his hands to cup your arms, failing to notice the glass still sandwiched between his fingers. 

The shard cut into your bare bicep and you yelped, jumping back from him as it sliced your flesh. 

“Fuck, Spencer!” Your hand came up to hold your wound, blood seeped from between your fingers.

“I told you princess, that’s not my name.” He clucked, dropping the glass to the floor now. 

“W-what’s your name?” You decided to play along. Maybe you could talk him down from this. 

“Me?” He smirked wildly at you. “I’m Raphael.” 

“O-okay, Raphael, do you know how I can get to Spencer?” You tried to remain calm, the blood still seeping into your hand. 

“Don’t you worry about him.” Spencer, who was Raphael, took a step back and picked up the shotgun you hadn’t noticed was leaning against the cabinet. “You know what this is? It’s God's will.” 

You swallowed thickly as he raised the weapon, cocking it in your direction.

“Spenc - Raphael, what are you doing?” You choked out.

“Between you and me, I think Spencer would be better off with you, little lady.” He grinned, looking through the weapons sight right at you. 

“Please, Spencer, you have to listen to me. I know you’re in there.” Your voice quivered. 

“Spencer is gone!” Raphael yelled out of Spencer’s mouth, the sound reverberating around the stable. 

“Please, Spencer, come back. Come back to me.” You begged, tears springing to your eyes. 

“We’re going to play a game!” Spencer, who was not Spencer’s voice, suddenly changed to one much higher pitched, much more flirty than menacing. 

“A g-game?” You sucked in a breath. 

“Spencie and I always played games.” Spencer smiled sinfully, pouting his lips while holding the shotgun steady. 

“You aren’t Raphael?” You blinked back your tears.

“Of course I’m not.” The feminine voice coming from Spencer’s mouth clucked. “I’m Cat. Spencie and I loved playing games together, I even got him arrested as part of one. I think you’d like my games too.” 

“Spencer?” You begged desperately. “Spencer, you have to fight this!”

“He isn’t strong enough, sweetie. He needs us to protect him…he’s always been so weak.” 

For the second part of his sentence his voice changed again. It was deeper but not southern. You couldn’t keep up. But he spoke again, reverting back to the flirty female cadence.

“So as for our little game, the rules are simple. It’s a chase, and only one of us has a gun.” The smile belonging to Cat on Spencer’s face grew. 

Guess again, bitch, you thought as you registered your revolver hidden away in the back of your waistband. 

You hadn’t expected to need it when you came and confronted Spencer but now you were glad you’d had the forethought. 

“That’s it?” You shrugged. “Just a chase?”

“To the death.” Spencer-Cat-Raphael-whoever else he was spoke manically. 

“Spencer?” You tried again, looking deep into his glazed eyes. “Please, Spencer. Listen to me, I need you to-”

“He was the chosen one. Such a shame he couldn’t handle himself. We thought he was special. He was supposed to be our ultimate sacrifice. Perhaps you’ll fit the bill instead.” Yet another voice, male again but softer than ones that came before. 

“Spencer, I know you’re in there.” Your body was trembling, arm throbbing. 

“I’d run if I were you sweetheart.” Spencer, who was talking in another feminine voice different to the first, cocked the shotgun again. “He has a history of getting the women he loves killed.”

You took a breath, looked him dead in the eyes, searching for any small trace that Spencer was still in there somewhere. You saw none. 

He was well and truly gone, lost to multiple other people you could only assume were voices from his past. If you didn’t do as they said, if you didn’t run, one of these people living inside of Spencer was likely to kill you. 

And so that’s what you did. 

You spun quickly on your heels and you ran. You didn’t make it out of the barn before the trigger was pulled and a bullet whizzed past you and into the wall of the stable. 

You screeched at the sound, fear rattling your entire body. But you couldn’t stop. You could never stop. 

And so you ran for your life. 

@kalulakunundrum @katrina0-0 @bakugouswh0r3 @prettyboyandthefangirl @zooni92802 @babyspiderling

[countrymusiclover]

4 - Feeling Relief For Once

Part 5

A Wolf Among Dragons

Tag list ( just ask to be added ) @tallrock35 @kmc1989 @starkleila @noirrose21-blog @lover-of-books-and-tea @immyowndefender @iamavailablesstuff

A few days later Aemond had come and escorted me from my chambers and onto horseback where we rode out to where Vhagar was sleeping.  The horse was pulled to a halt and I gasped in utter shock and awe with some fear mixed in seeing the size that the Dragon before me was.  Aemond dismounted the horse first then held out his hand to help me jump down to the dirt ground beside him. “I - I don't know what to say.  I didn't think she'd be - this large.  Even larger than Caraxes.” 

“Larger than any other dragon in the world.  She's had many different rides.  But she's mine now.  A fair trade, my eye for her.” Aemond declared removing his hand from mine walking up to her as if it was no big deal. 

I tilted my head following him but still keeping some distance between me and the very large dragon. “You lost your eye to gain her?” 

“Yes, now come.  You mustn't act so afraid for a dragon can sense whatever someone is feeling, especially their rider.” Aemond brushed off my question not wanting to talk about what had occurred with his eye and why he wore the eyepatch now.  

I sucked in a sharp breath trying to be calm like he said but clearly he could still see it on my face.  He reached down slowly, reaching down and grasping my hand in his standing by my side for a moment.   Aemond turned to his dragon raising his hand touching her large nose speaking in High Valyrian.  “Gīda vhagar. Sagon gīda. Ziry’s daor nykeā threat. ( Calm Vhagar.  Be Calm.  She’s not a threat.)” 

The dragon blew some air in his face before he turned his body back to me still holding my hand in his.  Together we walked over to the step stool that we had to go up because she was that big of a creature.  I eyed the saddle in front of me feeling nerves still in the pit of my stomach. “Aemond, are you sure this is wise?  I’m led to believe that only people with Targaryen blood can ride a dragon and if they don’t they get killed with flames.” 

“Lehna, don’t worry about Vhagar.  She’s always followed my commands.  She won’t burn you to flames unless I tell her to do so.” He reassured me by placing our intertwined hands on one of the saddle reins.  I threw my leg over the saddle and put my other hand on the other rein before he seated himself behind me taking full control of the reins.  He also had clipped one of the safety straps on me and the other on him so neither of us had the chance of falling off while up in the air. 

Closing my eyes we took off up into the sky where I didn’t open my eyes until I felt Aemond tap me on my forearm that was apparently clutching the safety strap that I had around my waist.  “Gods - this is - unbelievable.” My mouth fell open blinking my eyes, feeling them water at the sight before me.  

The sky was a clear blue and the white clouds were underneath where Vhagar was flying over.  My hair was getting all blown behind me with the same as Aemond’s white hair.  Brushing my hands over his dragon's back Vhagar made a noise but it didn’t sound like a growl to threaten me or anything so she clearly didn’t seem to mind. 

“Do you want to try flying her?” He whispered, catching me off guard when the words came through my ear. 

I turned my head quickly around not caring how far our faces were from each other while complete fear ran through my veins. “Gods, I can’t possibly do such a thing!  It’s no offense to you but I’m barely comfortable riding her as you are.” 

“In time you should try to learn to fly her.  You never know what skill you might need in the future.” Aemond shrugged his shoulders , focusing his gaze over my shoulder he tugged on the reins and we flew back to the Keep grounds.  Once Vhagar landed on the ground Aemond helped me down off her saddle sending me a half smirk on his lips. “Something else you should consider to learn is Valyrian.” 

I tilted my head to the side, dropping my hands down in front of my dress.  My hair was loose except for two pinned pieces back with a gray hair pin. “You’ve suggested I learn quite a few things, my prince.  I feel like I should do the same for you.  What don’t you know in this realm of ours?” 

“I don’t know.  I’ve never known -“ He trailed off, lowering his eye from my gaze. 

“True affection.  Is that it?” Aemond didn’t dare look me in the eye till I touched the side of his face, turning his chin so he’d look directly at me.  “Your family didn’t treat you well.” 

Aemond muttered under his breath something in the Valyrian language. “Yes,  Issa zokla ( my wolf ).” 

“Do you like me doing this or not?” I questioned him moving my right hand upward to touch the side of his face that was the same side that his eye patch was on. 

He leaned into my palm making a small noise that sounded like mmm before he went to bent his head down getting closer to my lips where I imagined he was about to kiss me but someone could be heard coming towards us.  “Lehna-“ 

“My prince. My lady, Daemon Targaryen is summoning you back to the castle.  He demands to see his lady wife immediately.” The knight on a horse declares to us after Aemond quickly separated the close distance that had formed between us. 

I cleared my throat turning my body to face the knight directly rather than the prince.  “Thank you for the information, Ser knight.   Would you please escort me back to the castle, my prince?” 

“Yes, my lady.” Those were the only words that he said to me while the three of us rode back to the castle in complete silence.  

Entering my chambers and shutting the door gently behind me with my back.  Daemon was seated by the fireplace with our town children sleeping on the edge of the bed with toys scattered about on the carpet.  His intense gaze burned directly into my ever so innocent gray eyes. “Where in gods name have you been?” 

“Out.” 

He pressed onward. “Out with who?” 

“No one.” 

He quickly rose from his chair stalking across the room to me like he was an animal who had just found his next prey.  “Don’t lie to me I heard you were running around the keep with the one eyed-prince when you should have been here spending time with our children.” 

“Oh you mean like you have been doing recently.” I taunted him by crossing my arms over my chest. 

My lord husband quickly crossed the room shoving me against the harsh door, grabbing me by the throat where his fingers dug into my skin certainly leaving some bruises.  “You aren’t allowed to speak to me with that tone.  I am your husband and you are my wife.  You are supposed to represent me and my house and not speak to me like that!” 

“Daemon-“ I gasped, clawing at his forearm with my smaller hands. 

Daemon’s fingers tightened even more around my throat getting in my face before he finally released his grasp and I collapsed down onto the stone floor.  “Remember who you are supposed to be loyal to.  And stay away from the one eyed-prince.” 

“You can’t tell me what to do.” I croaked out with my scratchy throat. 

Daemon bent down on a knee grabbing my chin in his thumb and index finger. “What did I just say!” 

“Daddy?” Caraxes woke up from his nap first rubbing his eyes causing Daemon to walk over and gently scooping him up in his arms showing him a much softer side compared to what he had just shown to me.   I pushed myself up leaning my body against the door and hugging my knees to my chest, I sniffed up some tears forgetting that I could be afraid of the man I had been arranged to marry. 

[gaeasun]

Uhhhh Happy Fox day here's the excerpt with him in it from my infinitely long WIP

Cody doesn’t bother to knock first, though Fives isn’t sure if that’s because he’s a Marshall Commander or because he’s Commander Fox’s younger brother. 

“Hello dear kih’vod.” Commander Fox doesn’t bother rising to greet his guests. He reclines in his chair as much as it’s possible to be, fingers endlessly twirling a datapad stylus. “So nice to finally see you, after these harrowing few days.” Cody pinches the bridge of his nose. “Look, Fox, I told you I’m sorry, but the op to kill Palpatine had to be compartmentalized. I know you read the memo about the chips–” “Mm, chips? What kind of chips? I heard the natborns make some real tasty ones out of tuber slices.” “The mind-control chips!” Cody nearly shouts. This is the most riled up Fives has ever seen him. Rex looks pained, like he’s seen it before but doesn’t like it. Jesse’s face is stuck in a shadowed scrunch. 

“Oh, thoooose chips.” Commander Fox pauses his twirling to look at his stylus closely before resuming its infinite journey. “Kot’ika, if you really wanted to know what those chips do, all you had to do was ask.” Cody starts. That sheer shock and surprise is also a new expression. Fives thinks Cody took the whole “the Chancellor is a Seppie traitor and an evil power-ravenous Sith” news more in stride than the marbles the Corrie Commander keeps throwing in his path. “Me’ven*?”

Commander Fox continues smoothly on. “Now, I didn’t know that the wrinkly old plastic bag was a Sith, granted, but I knew he wasn’t some kindly old ba’buir. I knew that something was causing me and the other Commanders to black out and wake up covered in blood, ours and others, chips or otherwise. I knew that, whatever was happening to me and all my men, the Chancellor at absolute best, didn’t care.”

“Sir,” Jesse finally cuts in. “Commander Cody, this is what I needed to tell you. The Corries are treated like dirt here.” “Dirt’s a valuable resource on Coruscant,” Commander Fox corrects. “Being a whole planet-wide city and all that. It’s in limited supply, so it’s protected. I’d love to be treated like dirt.” 

“I’ve been talking to a lot of the Corries. Their idea of normal is… well.” He glances over at Commander Fox. “Disturbing.”

Commander Fox shrugs. “We were born for the Republic, vod.” He looks pointedly at Jesse’s tattoo. “When did you get the idea it was so we could live for it?”

Cody takes a whole five seconds to respond. “Fox- why, why didn’t you tell someone? Tell me? Or at least tell the Jedi?”

“Well, let’s see.” Commander Fox ticks off his fingers. “Tell the Senators- hm. No. You were busy leading an entire Corps, as were our other batchmates. And the Jedi?” He laughs. “You mean the ones who commissioned our production, and then had no problem showing us right to the warzones so we could fight for them and die in droves?” He smacks down his final finger with the stylus. “Vod, whatever options you think we had, we didn’t.” “Wolffe wasn’t a Marshall Commander,” Cody says weakly. “That’s an excuse.”

“Well, then I guess it was because I didn’t feel like it.”