#And it's hurting but not killing. You won't be like them

[littlelovelunette]

Hii! If you don't mind could you do gymrat!sevika x pilates princess!reader? So sevika has been curious about pilates and reader decided taking her to pilates class, because i've seen my friend who often to the gym tried pilates for the first time are trembling. i can't imagine this jacked, 6ft tall butch who can lift more than 180 pounds struggling for the first time, thank you darl <333

Trying It Won't Kill You

Gymrat!Sevika x Pilates Princess!Reader

"Oh, come on, Sevika!" You laughed heartily, leading your muscly wife out of the gym. "Pilates isn't as easy as it seems!"

"Oh yeah? It's just some stretching and holding stuff, I'll be fine." Sevika said with a grumble, arms crossed and everything.

Oh, Sevika wished it was just some stretching stuff. If she wasn't sore already, she sure was when the instructor told the class to do some slow bicycle crutches. She regretted every bit of telling you that Pilates seemed easy but she wasn't about to back out now.

Seeing the way you were effortlessly complying with everg rep, Sevika grunted and tried her best to not give up and lay across the mat hopelessly. It wasn't as if she was the only one struggling but she was usually the only one not struggling so this was new to her.

"Enjoying the stretch?" You asked with a smug grin from beside her.

Sevika didn't answer, she couldn't. If she did, her voice would probably break. With her abs locking up and breaths shortening, she wanted to give up badly. But her pride and ego held her still where she was. Sweat beaded at her temple, her eyes twitching as she forced them open instead of squeezing them shut due to the struggle.

"Engage your core," the instructor said in a calm, breezy voice. Her voice floating about the room, "Don't rush it."

Her words weren't targeted towards anyone but Sevika felt mildly attacked by the 'don't rush it.' She gritted her teeth, breaths coming in short and ragged. You giggled, a toothy grin spreading across your face as you watched her struggle.

"I am engaging my core, you floaty demon," Sevika muttered under breath, muscles trembling to keep up but she forced them to.

"Oh, dear."

You laughed, almost losing your own balance as you continued your routine. It wasnt easy for you too, but you were used to it having done it for weeks now.

Sevika gawked at you as if you'd grown two heads but in reality she was just innocently wondering how you were so calm about the routine which in her words were "destructive to human body".

"You're doing great, honey," you said, giving her a pat on the thigh. "Just 12 more per side."

Sevika gave you a glare that could cut, before huffing and continuing. The Teaser Holds hurt more than that, Sevika struggled the most with those. You must've thought someone as muscular and built as Sevika wouldn't struggle with something so... Easy. Well, it was easy for you because you were used to the routine but the latter wasn't.

If anything, she was dying. Her body trembled as she tried to hold a V-position, legs shivering from the effort she gave into the act. Her abs squeezed and contracted as she strained but she lasted perhaps a few seconds only before her legs landed on the mat with a thud.

"I bench more than this hurts." Sevika complained.

You only giggled to infuriate her further as you continued your routine. By the time the class ended, Sevika stayed flat on her mat, limbs spread like she’d been defeated in battle. Her tank top clung to her skin, soaked. Her face was flushed. Her pride? Just slightly cracked.

You leaned down beside her, propping yourself on one elbow. "Still think it’s easy?"

She tilted her head toward you, grinning through her exhaustion. "I think you’re evil,” she said. "But you look real damn cute doing it."

You smirked. "C’mon, tough girl. I'll get you some protein and maybe… an ice pack for that sore ego."

Sevika grunted, dragging herself upright. "I’m only coming back if we get to fight the instructor next time."

[litomilo]

miss you

billie eilish x reader ⭐

context: just listen to miss you by conan gray!

warnings: angst but happy ending ig, use of y/n, not proof read, im pretty sure i didn't use any pronoun other than "you" to refer to the reader idk

a/n: i wrote this thinking about one of my college classes, one of my teachers said that hate is not the opposite of love, but rather the closest feeling to it that can be found and damn she's so right 💔

You thought you weren't made for love. You weren't made to love or be loved, and maybe you didn't even deserve it. After a few relations and situationships you started thinking that you were a difficult person to deal with. You didn't want to bother whoever ended up falling in love with you — since that was what always happened. So you just pushed them away.

You constantly thought about the strange monotony that love began to reveal in your life. Always the same, but in the end, only one thing changed: if you wasn't hurt, you were the one who hurt someone, consequently hurting yourself as well.

Hurt by unrequited love, by harsh words, maybe by abandonment, or even by the melancholy caused by remembering important memories and unfulfilled promises... Or hurt by guilt, regret, remorse, anguish and so many other feelings caused by having hurt someone, even if it was necessary or what you thought was the best thing to do.

When you meet Billie you felt it all again. You felt happy, special, loved, but then all the possible good things you felt got blurred and momentarily forgotten 'cause of the paranoid.

I'm so hard to deal with, she won't stay.

That's what you always told yourself. But if you leave first it won't hurt that much, right?

After ghosting her for about three days you had several lost calls in your call logs and texts in all the apps possible.

"y/n?"

"did i do something? why don't you answer?"

"look idk what happened but i'm sorry"

"talk to me pls"

You gave her a week, maybe two, to give up and stop texting you. That's what always happens, One day they always disappear and you move on with your life.

You were surprised, what always happened didn't happen. She insisted, kept texting you almost daily for a whole month, sometimes she even knocked on your door, you never answered. She slipped two or three letters through your door.

"hi, it's me, billie, again.

i know you don't want to see me anymore, but i wanna know why, can we PLEASE talk about it? i can't bear the thought of possible have hurt you, that's killing me.

i'm so sorry, please let's talk, just to sort things out, i promise you'll never see me again if that's what you really wants.

i love you so much, i'm missing you, y/n/n."

Fuck.

You couldn't move on. She wouldn't let you do that, or maybe you just loved her too much to let go. That's exactly why you didn't block her at all and spent nights conflicted about calling her, but you didn't want to face reality.

In that one month that passed you couldn't talk to anyone else, you wanted to prove to yourself that you had overcome it, you didn't need her, but how do you do that when no one captivates you or calls your attention, not even for a simple hookup.

"I don't know why... why don't she just fucking give up?" you ask your best friend, in tears, through the phone. they keep quiet for a few seconds, then sigh.

"Maybe it's because she loves you?" they say as if it was already obvious, and it actually was "I think it's pretty clear at this point that she's not like the others, and you still keep pushing her away... You're not only hurting yourself, you're hurting her too, y'know?" you don't say anything, just sob and sniff, then they continue "Call her, you should talk and try to explain yourself, y/n, i keep telling you that pushing people away just 'cause you're starting to get attached is not nice and, as your best friend, i need to tell you that this time you've really messed up".

You didn't want to give in, you were too proud for that, but in one of those nights you just senseless called her, and she picked up.

"Y/n??" you hear her soft voice on the other side of the line, she sounds so worried, she was so worried "Hey, love, are you there?" and that was all it takes for you to break down.

"Come over, please" that's all you could say between sobs.

"Fine, i'm on my way, okay?" you just nod, even tho she couldn't see it.

She stayed on the line all the way, trying to calm you down until she parked in front of your house. You hang up the call and gone to the front foor as soon as you heard her car. When she was about to knock on the door, you opened it, immediately hugging her.

You hear a soft gasp leave her lips, but she hugs you back, her hands finding your hair, stroking it soothingly while guiding you inside and closing the door with her foot.

"I'm sorry" you whisper with your face buried in her hoodie "I shouldn't have pushed you away, but I was so scared"

"Scared? Of what?" she asks confused, her right hand holding your chin gently to make you look up at her.

"Of loving you and I thought you were going to end up leaving me so I just left first" you say feeling her thumb wipe the tears away from your face.

"I would never leave you, i love you, y/n" Billie said kissing your forehead and sitting you on the couch with her "have you pushing me away broke my heart".

"I never meant to, I just... I didn't knew how to cope with everything I was feeling, I thought that pushing you away would be the best but I spent all these past weeks only wanting you" you say resting your head on her shoulder "I'm so sorry, I miss you" she looks at you, her heart clenching at the sigh of your teary eyes.

"Shh, it's fine... It's okay" she whispers pulling you closer against her chest "y'know i missed you too".

[onaperduamedee]

I won't be engaging with the Wheel of Time show anymore. 

I needed to put in writing my feelings regarding the Wheel of Time episode 308 before going damnatio memoriae on this show.

The Wheel of Time just brutally killed Siuan Sanche, a black gay character who does not die at that point in the books, to provide gay angst for her white partner, who isn't her current lover in the books, before her arc actually starts.

Others have explained far better than me why this is profoundly tone-deaf, especially at the end of a season that started with the death of a black gay character for the sake of another white man's pain and continued with the deaths of other black characters. Repeating why this sucks won't change the mind of those who don't see the pattern: there will always be an intra- or extradiegetic explanation to justify the writers' choice. 

Beside the brutality and resonance of her death, this indicates changes in future plotlines that I also cannot follow: it affects Egwene's arc a great deal, it will have an impact on Nynaeve's arc and it completely rewrites what makes Moiraine's character so compelling to me. By saying that Siuan's arc post-coup isn't that interesting they tell us that a story centered on a character who lost everything but still found ways to fight for the light is not worth telling. 

What I hear is that Rand's arc, Egwene's, Mat's and certainly Moiraine's will be profoundly different from what they could have been. At this point and with the evidence they've shown I don't trust them anymore to deal seriously with the question of mental health for these characters.

That decision signals that the themes and characters that were dear to me have been declared not worthy of screentime. 

For that only I would have lost interest in the show, which isn't the end of the world as there are plenty of shows that don't hold my interest. The real stinger for me is that Rafe Judkins went on queer media like podcasts and magazines to profess his love for the relationship and still made that decision.

These characters weren't together during the main storyline which means the writers purposely made them the love of each other's life in order for Siuan's death (also not in the books there) to hurt more. It was planned from the start. 

This feels unnecessarily cruel and in complete contradiction with the kind of storytelling that I enjoy and stand for. I liked Wheel of Time because it was the Wheel of Time and not GoT. To an extent I feel like a fool for falling into the trap set by promotion: the show had never any intention of delivering the content they themselves were promoting. 

I remember a time when we had one glimpse of a kiss as the trailer for s2 came out and the Siuaraine fandom was so beautifully creative and hopeful. At the time, we were still thinking that we wouldn't get any Siuan and Moiraine this season. We didn't think they were important enough, as a couple, as individuals since Siuan's presence was not a guarantee. And we got that glimpse of happiness. The days, weeks following were some of the most joyful moments I experienced in fandom. I will always cherish the theorizing, the art, the gifs produced in that timeframe. 

It was also a time when some parts of the fandom were also goading us that they weren't main characters and we should enjoy them before they got killed. These fans had been doing that for a long time. 

But the show had our backs, right? They told us, right?

It seems we were right to think as we did after s1 that Siuan's story was never worthy of being told: Rafe confirmed that from the start the character was not meant to live. 

Now, if you only see Siuan as an extension of Moiraine then of course perhaps cutting her off here is logical. But if you see Siuan as she is in the books, the woman who lost everything and survived out of spite alone, the mentor to Egwene who was the perfect mirror to the Moiraine and Rand mentorship, the deft politician stripped of status who artfully manœuvred the Hall when she was less than dirt to them, the strongest woman that Egwene has met, then what the show did to Siuan's character is purely assassination before her story even started.  And that's not even touching on how much they changed her character to fit her into this tragic dead lesbian love story.

It was never about the relationship. It was about telling Siuan's story, of which Moiraine was only a small part. Now we will never get Siuan's story about resilience and surviving out of sheer spite. We might get a tearful reunion in another life at the end of the story, after Moiraine also died, because the most exquisite a lesbian can be to a storyteller is dead. 

I often find that insurmountable an obstacle. Others don't even notice it. 

At the end of the day, yes, the heart of the cutting is only a question of prioritizing certain characters over others for writing space. For fans the red line in such a cutting was Loial's death, for others it was Agelmar. 

Adaptational choices. 

But they carry weight; they tip down the scales one way or the other, and the result is not something I'm comfortable supporting or merely enjoying anymore. 

So I won't be engaging with the show: I won't talk about it on socials, promote it and share content about it. I've found that it's the healthiest way to break up from a show that jumped the shark for me.

Siuan and her arc post-coup were incredibly important to me, and the manner in which that story was rejected broke something irreparably in my trust in the show. I won't enjoy it anymore like I used to.

If we chatted together on bsky, discord or Tumblr about the show, I'll be more than happy to continue there, but I cannot in good conscience show open support for the choices the show is making.

I will miss and cherish this community forever because they are a creative and extraordinary bunch, but then such is the life of fandom, especially of queer media. 

I don't wish the show any cancellation. I still believe the cast and crew are doing something special and I hope they can continue to delight those for whom the magic still makes sparks, but that will be without me. 

It isn't the show for me anymore. I don't plan on trashing the show on social media (the fury is reserved to dms and blogging) and in return I ask this one thing of the fandom: not to mock or belittle the reactions like mine or others'. If it annoys or angers you, mute or block the fans and curate your own space. 

The universe is fictional, the feelings of being used and betrayed are very real.

[superchalantprincesskuchu]

YES I AM A FEMINIST.

maybe because I support humanity and human rights.

The oppressors will never find it pleasant for feminism to grow. They will never let it grow and they will never seed that in their kind.

Being a feminist is the closest thing you can do to being normal. Having equality is something that everyone deserves. When the things are not equal, the oppressors decision is the thing that is the most relevant. Equality, rules, order, and law can only be discussed when both parties are in an equality.

The one who benefits from misogyny can never let go of it. He will seed it in his son and everyone he sees, every other male he sees, every other female he sees. Pity creatures need their kind to survive. They haven't seen a bad day. Feminists have seen things. They have seen people and how they are treated. They have seen victims and they have seen the ones who are oppressed. They have seen stuff with their own eyes. We all try to heal the scars we from toxic men. We all walk past them and we are under the society that was shaped by them.

I am a proud feminist. Neutrality in this scenario will only help the oppressors. It has always done it and I cannot see them rule over or own women. I am a proud feminist because I have a mother and a sister. I would like to see my wife be happy and free. I would like her to breathe in peace for once. I would like the people i know to look at the sky and see freedom. I would like them to break free from the patriarchs that have authority which is more like ownership. I would like them to be independent, to not kill their dreams to cook three meals a day and be abused their entire life one way or another.

I oppose objectification of women. I oppose their dehumanisation. I HATE the incels who call women objects meant to be used. I won't even attend one's funeral.

Women never asked for an 11min space trip. They asked for their rights.

Women asked equality. Women asked to be themselves. If it hurts your masculinity you literally need to cross check your coward ass.

YES I AM A FEMINIST. AND THAT MAKES ME A NORMAL PERSON MAKES ME FACE MYSELF IN THE MIRROR.

maybe if you’re not a feminist then you’re just a misogynist and like… I don’t think there’s any “in between”. because feminism is not hating men. feminism is not thinking men deserve less than women. feminism is not rooting for manipulative females. feminism is not thinking abusive women should not face any consequences if their victims are men. feminism is not girlboss. feminism is not women superior. feminism is the belief that men and women are equal, so if you’re not a feminist then I think it’s safe to assume you think women deserve less than men, and that sounds misogynistic to me idk

[theexaltedbride]

Possessive White Rabbit X Human Reader. (GN).

Your relationship with Rabbit is an unconventional one. But he puts forth a real effort to be a good partner for you. He takes time to leave you messages, asks you about your day, tried to remember the things you like, and never misses a chance to hold your hand or sneak a quick kiss to your cheek.

But sometimes it feels as if Rabbit is almost paying too much attention. As if he watches you at all times, even when he's not around. Other times, you could swear you saw him in the distance, watching you, when you knew he was supposed to be on Makai doing his work.

-Rabbit gives you space, but he always likes to know where you are at any given moment. If you miss a call he will keep calling or texting until you respond. A few times he's even switched to burner phones to see if you were ignoring him on purpose. If you don't contact him within half an hour he will start making plans to go and check on you. If an hour passes and you don't respond he will start moving towards you. He's surprised you many times by how quickly he can get to you when he needs to check on you.

-Rabbit is looking into how to disguise himself as human. Just so he can watch over you when he's not busy with his work. It's a dangerous world out there. What better 'guardian angel' could his precious human ask for, than a real demon?

-He'd probably get a mimic demon to follow you, but he doesn't trust them enough with your safety.

-Rabbit is much more tech savy than you realized, perhaps even more than you. He's purchased (or probably stolen) things which you have been looking up online and considered actually buying but didn't have the money for. You're starting to suspect he knows what calls you are making on your cellphone and to whom.

-Rabbit would likely want you to stay with him on Makai, but its far too dangerous. So he's started working on a more permanent hideout on Earth where he can conduct his business while also keeping you safe near him in comfort and forever under his watchful eye or of those loyal to him. The refugee Makaians would even help, because Rabbit is always in such a better mood (and less intense) whenever you're around.

-If Rabbit succeeds in building his new safehouse and bringing you there, the upper floors will become a plush prison for you, where Rabbit lives with you and does much of his work. If his obsession grows, he may give explicit orders to Makaians who live under his protection to never let you leave it without an escort or without him by your side.

-An Ex of yours who kept trying to reach out to you about getting back together has suddenly found themselves busy with their car going missing, and Rabbit came back with a lot more cash than usual.

-Your boss had an accident after you complained to Rabbit once. He says he had nothing to do with it. Can you really be sure?

-You know for sure a local gang was killed by Rabbit because they were far too close to where you live. Rabbit probably considers it 'protecting his territory', but you were never evne threatened by them

- You never have to fear Rabbit raising a hand to hurt you. He won't. The worst he will do is pull you around by your arm or lock you in a room for a little while.

"Why would I ever hurt you? You're mine. I don't break things that belong to me. I break what belongs to other people."

====

Couple's Music.

-"You're Mine." Disturbed.

-"An Unhealthy Obsession" - Blake Robinson

[i-just-wanna-write-fanfic]

HIIIII!!! CAN I REQUEST A YANDERE PETE SCENARIO WITH A GN DARLING?!?!??!!! Thank you!! I wanna see how'd he treat his darling once abducted, how would he kidnap them and such.

Sure! i decided to do this a bit more a drabble, so I hope that's alright! Also I just realized you didn't request for the reader to be goth but there were so many requests asking for it so my brain it all mixed up.. It's not a huge thing but it is there qwq

YAN!PETE DINUNZIO X GN!READER

I've been getting a lot of Pete requests and I'd say I'm pissed but I really don't mind. I'm quite okay with Pete, even positive towards him. CW: Mentions of s/h as a kink/outlet for anger.. + typed out accent

⋆☆⋆｡𖦹°🦇°𖦹｡⋆☆⋆ You don't recall the last day, and your head hurts. So does your chest, and your throat stings a bit. You rub your eyes, and look around. The room you're in looks like the horror movie section in Blockbusters threw up everywhere. You try to stand up, but you begin coughing, and notice a weight on your ankle- a chain on your ankle connecting to a leg on the bed you're laid on. Somehow, you're still in your old clothes, and you can see in a nearby mirror the only bit of your makeup that's been ruined is near you mouth; black lipstick smeared across your chin- as if whoever brought you here did everything in their power to keep it that way.

⋆☆⋆｡𖦹°🦇°𖦹｡⋆☆⋆ After sometime, while smoothing out your complicated outfit, a boy enters, "You're finally awake.. jeez, I was worried I'd killed ya or threw ya into a coma! Hah! Though, I'm sure I still coulda worked with that." You look up at him. His hair is cut short, his black shirt sporting a skull logo, underneath a bright blue jacket. It's Pete, that boy who spoke to you yesterday, though you can't bring yourself to recall what it was about. He sits down next to you, poking your forehead, "What are ya, mute? Did I give you brain damage, or something? I coulda sworn you'd be fine." "I'm not a toy." "And? I know that!" You pushed his hand away, and sighed, "Then stop acting like I am one." "I'm not!" After you roll your eyes, he huffs and stands, "Fine! Be that way. I'm gonna grab a snack, you want anything?"

⋆☆⋆｡𖦹°🦇°𖦹｡⋆☆⋆ For being kidnapped, it wasn't as bad of an experience as you thought. All he really wanted to do was bother you and watch cheap horror films with you. But when you asked to go home, he gave you a weird look. "You're chained up" "Yeah.. and you're going to let me go, right?" "... Maybe I did give you brain damage.." You paused. "YOU'RE NOT GONNA LET ME GO!?" "No. Duh. I won't do as you say just cuss yer hot, babe." He scoffed and slapped your back like you were old buds. You barely knew him, he just kidnapped you, and he's acting like you've known one another for years.

⋆☆⋆｡𖦹°🦇°𖦹｡⋆☆⋆ How long has it been? A few days? You could only tell from when he'd come back and talk about school or the club. It's driving you mad. You've only been able to do your makeup everyday because he likes watching you do it, and likes seeing you 'all dolled up', as he'd say when he'd return with your old clothes, how he'd got them you have no idea. As time goes on he gets more and more angry, more violent, as if the day he's spent without you has driven him to the brink of insanity. Everytime you see him in a short-sleeve shirt there's more and more scars. Some in shapes or letters or just lines, or the ones on his wrist spelling out your name. Some days he tries to get you to do the same, but at least he's not begging or forcing you to- for now. He won't stop talking when he's with you, the amount of pictures of you on his wall growing each day- but it feels like every minute. You don't recall the last day, and your head hurts. So does your chest, and your throat stings a bit. You rub your eyes, and look around. It feels like a nightmare, and your mom's about to wake you up for school.

[lokisprettygirl]

Light into the Darkness (Bill Skarsgard! Eric Draven x Female Reader) (Horror Romance) (18+) (70s AU)

Read Chapter 2 here

Chapter 3

Summary : You wrestle with your decision throughout the day, knowing you'd have no choice but to give in to him.

Warning: 18+, Reader is depressed, blood kink, smut, reader has plethora of insecurities, she's passively suicidal, she's in her thirties (for some of you that's a warning I guess), when I say alternate universe i mean it

Next morning you woke up to the sound of the rain pattering outside the window, you hadn't seen sun in a week now and that just added to the eeriness you had in your life.

While drying your hair the thought of the entity pretending to be Jonah infiltrated your mind, what would you do if he comes again and Eric won't be here to save you? What if something else comes in his place that's worse or more terrifying than Jonah?

If Eric wanted to hurt you he'd have done it right? He had the power, he could do whatever he wanted and there wasn't much you could do about it. You still felt wary of his intentions though.

It just seemed too hasty of a decision to make, you didn't know a thing about him except for the fact that he was a blood sucking vampire. But tonight was the last night and you had to give him the answer he so desperately seeked from you.

You didn't even have the luxury of distracting yourself with work today, it was Sunday. Mr Rogers kept the store closed.

Before Eric's arrival you used to spend your sundays just sleeping, sometimes you'd put on a movie to kill time or read, but the other times you just slept, the life in your dreams were always much more exciting than your actual one, sleep was an escape, but you couldn't even sleep today, you felt too restless to stay still in one position.

You wandered in your own apartment like a ghost, three nights ago you were begging for your life to change and that change certainly arrived in the form of a seductive vampire.

You didn't know whether he'd be a blessing or a curse and that's what bothered you to the core.

Standing in front of the window you pressed your palms to the sill, the rain drops cold against the glass, you jolted backwards as if you could almost see his reflection in it for a moment.

But maybe it was just in your head.

He was definitely in your head.

You weren't a child, you were a woman, old enough to realise he was pulling you in deeper with seduction. You had dreamt of him again last night, he was in your bed, you were between his legs, his mouth latched onto your wrist as he sucked your blood while you sucked his cock with such fervent passion as if you were starving.

He did this on purpose, you knew when you were being seduced, not that it happened often. But Eric didn’t flirt like the men in your past did when you were younger, there were no cheap lines, no clumsy hands. He invaded. He was clogging your thoughts and dreams, filling them up with filth so you'd be tempted to explore those vivid images, to fruition them to reality, he was teasing you, torturing you with knowledge of what you could have if you'd just let him inside you in every possible way.

You opened the window before turning away, a cold breeze running through your hair, the smell of rain intoxicated you, your heart was pounding constantly, not just from fear, but from something darker, deeper. A deliciously unbearable ache, not just between your legs but your whole existence.

You clenched your fists to ground yourself, to remind your body who it belonged to. He was just a dream, a mirage, you tried to convince yourself that he can't possess you. But you knew better, he didn’t need to touch you to possess you, he didn't need to consume your blood, he was already everywhere. And he knew exactly what he was doing.

You didn’t want to admit how much you craved it. Not just the sex. Not just the blood. The intimacy. The way he looked at you like you were worth crossing realms for. Like your pain, your loneliness, your want was sacred to him.

He was offering so many things you never had and always wanted but you knew it would come with a sacrifice. Even though he didn't say it clearly, he used deception in his silken words, wanting to keep you hooked without giving much of himself.

“You'll never see me again. Back to your good old life”

His words stood out like a needle in a haystack, you couldn't really see them but the damage would make you curl and scream in pain if you dare step on it. Your life wasn't good, of course not, it was boring, meaningless and lonely but it was also mundane, and with mundanity came safety.

But safety wasn't passion.

Your loneliness wasn't the answer to what you truly craved and you craved attachment, you craved romance.

You craved him.

Night befell on you quicker than your expectations. You followed your usual routine, you ate dinner in the silence of your apartment, then you took a bath, a glass of wine perched at the edge of the tub. You needed it tonight.

Stepping out of the bathroom, wrapped around in a towel you looked at your reflection in the mirror. The woman that stared back seemed different to you, your skin was flushed, you looked haunted even though he had promised he'd not do that, you seemed possessed, touched by something otherworldly. Touched by him.

You slipped into a silk nightgown, your fingers fumbling slightly round the knot. Then you lit up two big candles and placed them on the nightstand next to each side of the bed before turning off the lights.

Each movement felt like a ritual, a soft submission to inevitability. You had told yourself you’d make the decision tonight, but you already knew, didn’t you?

You wanted him to come.

You wanted him here.

You were inviting him in.

Taking a deep breath you sat down on the bed, your heart continuing to hammer, it hadn't stopped and so had not the rain out there.

As you closed your eyes and whispered his name, his scent filled your surroundings, you could feel it, his presence near you.

A gasp escaped your lips as his fingers curled into your hair, strands rolling around his long digits but you didn't dare open your eyes.

“Missed me..did you?” He whispered as he placed his knee next to your thigh before leaning into you.

“What makes you say that?” You answered, albeit a bit boldly, surprised by the sharpness in your tone. He smiled but he was determined to melt you into a puddle of want and desire before he leaves tonight.

“You turned off the lights, lit up candles for me, wore silk and you are presenting yourself to me like an offering, inviting me in”

Your breath hitched at his words, his voice rough and sharp in your ears but still carrying the edge of seduction he always had.

His other hand trailed down, briefly tracing the curve of your breasts before he pressed his palm flat on your heart.

“So loud in there.. is it not?”

You finally opened your eyes and looked at him, he was so tall and imposing, candlelight dancing on his face, his long overcoat was missing today, just the shirt with the few buttons undone, curls of small chest hair peeking out from the fabric. You wanted so badly to press your lips on his skin.

“It's fear” you mumbled, making him snicker in satisfaction.

“Or desire. I can make it quiet..not just in here but here” his thumb traced over your temple as he spoke. He could feel it, your hesitation sang loudly, piercing his ear.

“You can have anyone..why me?” You asked him, perhaps a part of you wanted to be praised, to be complimented.

“Why not you? It was you who awakened me. You're beautiful, do you not see it?”

“I am plain and simple” your lips trembled as you spoke. Adam's words were in your head. “If you were human once then you must see that.. a man that looks like you would never pick someone like me”

His jaw clenched at your words, a fury in his eyes awakened, how dare you demean yourself this way?

“I have been human, that is why I understand how foolish mortal boys are. Don't reduce yourself to their opinions of you” He spoke, tenderness grazing his words, you stood up from the edge of the bed, wanting to feel even closer to him if possible.

“Beauty isn't just skin deep, little flame. Sometimes it's a beautiful soul wrapped in silk and trembling flesh, made to feel unwanted by imbeciles because they simply cannot bear how strongly you burn, how deeply you feel, and I hunger for that, all of that” He whispered against your mouth, making your breath shudder.

“The hunger you have awakened in me cannot be replicated, I arose from a long unyielding sleep for you. I could consume every last drop of you and would still thirst for more” he spoke with such reverence it terrified you, he wasn't talking about your blood, he meant everything you had to offer to him.

“You're saying all the right things and that scares me” you spoke softly, he tilted his head, his eyes narrowing with a predatory intensity.

“Good. Fear is part of it. It’s what makes the desire burn hotter” His hand brushed against your arm, his touch as cold as the air surrounding you, yet it sent a shiver down your spine

His words were dangerously sweet at times, and honest, pulling you deeper every second. You wanted to believe him. You wanted to trust that he saw you differently, that he cared, that what he offered wasn’t just a lie wrapped in seductive promises. But deep down, you knew there was a price to everything, there always was.

“What happens after you take me?” you asked, the question slipping out before you could stop the words “What happens when I’ve given you everything?”

You asked, his expression darkened, and for a moment, you saw something almost regretful flash across his face. Then it was gone, replaced by that insufferable, hypnotic calm. He reached up to cup your cheek gently, his thumb brushing over your skin.

“Once I’ve taken everything from you, little flame... there will be no going back. Not for you, nor for me” His gaze flickered to your lips, and you could feel the tension crackling between you like the lightning outside.

“I won’t ever be the same,” you whispered, the realization dawning on you.

“And that’s the price you pay for me” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear “Or you let me go. But what’s waiting for you in the world outside this room? More of the same emptiness? More loneliness? You can stay safe, untouched by all of this, untouched by me. And you’ll be nothing but a ghost of yourself, wandering through your own life, never knowing what it feels like to live” His words were like poison, destroying every will and resistance you might still carry in your bones.

“You make it sound as if I'd never have happiness if I don't pick you” you stated boldly.

“You might. But would you be full? Would you be satisfied by it? Would it be enough? Your soul is not for the ordinary and fleeting sort of love. You were meant to be consumed, rebuild, and then consumed, over and over again”

Your heartbeat sped even more if it was possible, his words were curated to enchant you, to make you believe in him.

“And what happens after you're done taking whatever you need from me? Would you destroy and discard me then? Look for another?”

He looked at you for a long time as you questioned him, the primal part of him offended by the mere insinuation.

“I could never be done. Do you think I rose from the dead and crossed the realms just to use you and discard you the way your mortal lovers did?”

He grabbed your jaw between his long slender fingers as he spoke, there was a fury in his eyes but it wasn't for you, it was for those who made you feel so disposable.

“I do not love little flame, I bond. I will latch myself to the entirety of you, I'll make you bleed and suffer and writhe in pleasure for me. I take but I also give in equal amounts. Your devotion to me would be transactional, you won't be the means to an end, you are the end”

His words brought the tears you had been holding in for a while. Your hands wrapped around his cheeks before you raised yourself up and pressed your lips on his.

You could tell he wasn't expecting it but lord knew you had been wanting to feel this the moment you saw him first, his arms wrapped around your waist as his lips moved against yours.

The spark that ignited was nothing like what you had experienced before, sure you had been kissed before but now you knew what he meant when he said he wanted to consume you, it wasn't literal..

Every part of your existence wanted to run to him, to submit, to let him take whatever he wanted even though your mind screamed for caution.

As he finally pulled away his fingers latched around your scalp, pulling at the root of your hair, his eyes darkened at the sight and sound of your blood pumping under those veins.

“I need more” you spoke, the words slipping out before you could stop them, you were begging already and he hadn't even started yet.

“I need to hear the words..say that you want me, that you need to be mine” he spoke with certainty. You looked him in the eyes before you uttered those words, a part of you wanted to hold on but another jumped into the hole he had dug so carefully for you. The allure of him was too strong, too sensuous for you to resist.

“I need to be yours.. claim me, consume me Eric”

A moan escaped from the deepest corner of his chest as he heard the words.

“I knew you'd give in little flame, the desperation spoke louder than your words” you gasped as his finger slipped into your mouth, his words burning a new wave of shame inside you, he sounded boastful and dominating and you wanted to submit, have him make you revel in your humiliation without any consequences or shame.

He brought your wrist up to his lips, you opened your eyes to look at him, the look on his face was of an animal that has been starving, his pupils dilated, your breath hitched as you felt him grazing his fangs over your skin.

“Tonight I'll take a drop, enough to bond me with you, enough to tether me to your world, enough to make you mine”

You looked at him confused as he said that.

“Tomorrow. I will claim you entirely”

“Why not tonight?” He smiled as you said that, possession flickering in his gaze, he had you right where he wanted you, desperate and aching to be filled with his essence, his venom, his cock.

“I adore your yearning for me, little flame. But yearning isn't enough. Devotion is. I need you to be prepared, eager. Tomorrow night you'll serve yourself to me with no hesitation”

His fangs grazed harshly over the skin, it wasn't a bite, just a sharp slice like the tip of a knife, as your blood dribbled down he licked it clean. His eyes rolling back in his head at the sweet intoxicating taste. Years, he had waited years for this. He had been quiet, patient, waited for someone to bring him back to this world.

He stepped back from you for a moment and you despised it, you needed him to close.

“I don't understand-” you mumbled hesitantly, you were willing to give yourself to him tonight. Why didn't he want to take it?

“Tomorrow night, I want you to keep the room ready for me as per my liking” he said, voice suddenly cold and authoritative but possessive at the same time “I want the bed clean, use a sheet that has never been slept on, made of satin and pure white. When I finally feed I need to see your blood stain the sheet, making it as impure as I'd be making you”

Your breath caught at his words, not just from fear, not entirely. It was the certainty in his voice that undid you. He spoke like a god demanding a sacrifice, but you weren’t frightened of being the offering. You were frightened by how much you wanted to be.

You swallowed hard, nodding, unsure whether you were trembling from the depth of his need for you or your own desire to fully become his.

“I want you dressed in white” he continued, the thundering outside assisted him. “Pure silk or lace, you get to choose”

“I don't have it-” you said but he cut you off, his fingers curled around the back of your neck.

“You will look for it, you will find it” he said with conviction, eyes flickering with amusement at your panic. You nearly moaned at his words.

“Bathe yourself before you dress up, i need you clean but no perfume, i need your scent unmasked” he added “Your hair loose. Your mouth painted in red, the shade of blood, pliant and ready for use. No distractions. No hesitations. You already belong to me. Do you understand?” he asked, his jaw clenching and unclenching with his own pent up desires.

“Yes, Eric.” you nodded breathlessly.

White sheets, white dress, red lips. He wanted you to serve yourself on a platter for his consumption.

“Say it again”

“Yes I'll do everything you asked” you whispered, surprising even yourself with the submission in your tone. His eyes darkened, glowing faintly with hunger.

“Light candles the way you did tonight, as well as Jasmine incense sticks. Pose yourself in the centre of the bed before my arrival” he murmured, stepping close again, so close you could feel the cold hum of his presence against your feverish skin. “On your knees, with your head bowed like a bride, waiting for your ruination and salvation. You should be ready to give me everything, willing to let me enter your body, your heart, your head. Can you do that for me, little flame?” he asked.

“I can.” You nodded again, barely managing to say.

He wanted to desecrate you, destroy the woman you had been and build the one in his image, reshape you like a wax doll as per his will, give you a new sense of purpose, a meaning, you'd belong to him from now on. And you will let him, you had no choice anymore.

“Good girl..so submissive and I haven't even begun yet” he chuckled in a condescending manner, the sight of you shivering due to his words, his touch , his presence, it pleased him beyond belief.

“Sleep now. You'd need your strength” he said as he let go of you, your knees buckled as you no longer had his support.

“You're leaving?” you asked, desperation etched in your words.

“For tonight. But you'll never be alone again I promise. You're mine now” he whispered as he leaned down to kiss your forehead.

“You may touch yourself when I'm gone but I forbid you from finding release in my absence. You'll never have one again if I'm not the one offering it” you gasped as he said that, opening your mouth to protest but no words came out. “I need you to burn for me little flame, you be good and i will reward you”

Then he was gone.

Not a sound, not a footstep. Just absence. The room felt hollow without him, but your body still hummed with the echo of him.

You sat on the edge of the bed in the flickering candlelight, heart thundering beneath your ribs, skin flushed and yearning. You’d crossed a threshold you couldn’t uncross.

And tomorrow, you’d give him everything.

Even your soul, if he asked for it.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Taglist @mariaenchanted @malenoradgn @muchwita @loushaw131460 @wiseyouthinfluencer

@a-differentbrandof-beans

[cousinsam]

this has way more notes than I thought it would get

thanks to everybody who has mentioned other influencers who survived homeschooling btw

I want to say to everyone who has left notes about how the isolation is torture. I'm so sorry you went through the same or similar things. I'm so sorry that our country just lets parents do whatever they want to their kids with so few or no consequences. I want to say the biggest sorry to the people who experienced worse than isolation bc of homeschooling. I had disgusting things happen to me bc my parents chose to homeschool, and they weren't even the ones that did the worst to me alone with only my family in that house. with only my family. not a single person outside it did anything terrible to me. and they got away with it scot free. you're not alone. I went through it, too. I'm so sorry your education was thrown to the wayside. I'm so sorry you suffered. I'm so sorry your family hurt you. I'm so sorry if your family members did disgusting things to you, too, and I'm sorry if they got away with it, too. you are not alone.

homeschooling is a smoke screen for 9.9/10 out of ten families. not the individual kids that survive, their entire families. and i mean survive. i mean the kids that didn't kill themselves bc of the torture. it is a smoke screen for neglect at best and vicious abuse for the most part. it is an excuse to brainwash and torture children 9.9/10 times out of 10. and it's completely legal. most states won't even lift a finger to ask if the kids being homeschooled know what 2 + 2 means. i know this for a fact bc i lived in a state that had regulation and I intentionally failed my end of year tests one year and the only thing that happened was my mother got pissed. the state looked at my tests proving I had learned absolutely nothing over the past year and did shit about it. my parents faced zero consequences for any of the things that happened to me under their roof and faced even less consequences for my education being proven to be inadequate. I don't even think the state scolded my mother that year my tests came out showing I was far behind my age group. the test i failed on purpose, too.

that means all the kids that failed their end of year "did you learn anything" tests, in the maybe 3 states that require them out of 50, bc they genuinely didn't know the answers were ignored, too.

homeschooling has nothing to do with education. it is a smoke screen. and if you're being homeschooled right now and you think it's what's best for you, then I'm sorry you have been so utterly abandoned by the rest of the world. I'm sorry that the world doesn't care enough to pay attention to kids like us. I'm so sorry you're suffering through this and I'm so much more sorry if you think your parents have the best for you in mind. because they don't. they think of you as nothing more than dolls to craft into their own image, and I'm sure someone older and wiser trying to help by pointing that out will only sound like an asshole to you, and I'm so sorry that there's a chance you'll never realize what horrible things were done to you when your parents locked you in your own house. I wish I could save you. I wish I could tell you that you never should have been trapped that way and you'd understand that you really were put in prison for having committed the crime of being a child. and I'm so much more sorry if you're suffering worse than educational neglect like I did and have no way to escape bc nobody has bothered to look twice at homeschooling families.

it doesn't matter that 0.1/10 homeschooling parents are doing it bc it actually is the best for their kid, bc those parents give a shit in the first place. those parents are the vast minority. the 9.9/10 set of parents that homeschool their kids do it to control them, not bc they love them. and there is nothing in the US to stop them from teaching their kids that 2 + 2 = 5 if they want to. not even the states that have the barest afterthought on their laws about homeschooling care if you actually teach your children anything. and none of them care if you use all that time shut behind closed doors to berate or beat your kids or do worse to them. and I'm sorry that that's the case. and most especially, I'm sorry if you don't realize yet that you survived abuse or are actively being abused.

you are not alone.

i cannot stress enough how special youtuber funkyfrogbait is to me. do you know what it's like to be homeschooled? if you weren't homeschooled, you can't know. it's not even the substandard education, not even the complete lack of it in most families, it's the isolation. it's day by day seeing no one but siblings and parents. being stuck with nowhere to go and seeing no one. there was a time in like 5th grade where I didn't even leave my home property (playing outside is not leaving the house) for a y e a r. an entire year, seeing the same four people, staying in the same house with the same yard, going nowhere. it's like being in prison, and you're forced to perform and labor against your will and with no or insulting payment, only you don't get to see a wide variety of prison guards and inmates.

I'm not kidding. 12 whole months, I went nowhere. I was stuck. by the time I finished high school, I was barely socialized. and I was lucky, I got to be dual enrolled at a community College, where like 99% of my world assumptions were disproved by other adult students who had been socialized completely doing completely normal things. I have done incredibly embarrassing things as a young adult that haunt me to this day bc I didn't know better.

homeschooling works in certain situations. like when a child is disabled and traditional schools can't accommodate. or if a child is bullied badly. those are a good reason to homeschool. it's not a popular reason to homeschool. most people are homeschooled bc their parents were extreme right wing nut bags, people who preferred tyranny and facism over any other parenting style. it's done to hide abuse. to enforce extreme religion.

I know other people who were homeschooled, but funkyfrogbait is the only influencer I've heard of that was homeschooled. they know what I've been through. they meet my needs for shutting down stupidity and child abuse (yeah homeschooling is a kind of abuse depending on the parent). you just don't get it unless you were homeschooled. you have an idea of it, but i doubt you understand. it's nice to have someone with a large following to represent what I went through. maybe more of you will start to understand.

[haveyouseenthisskeleton]

Narcoleptic S/O who goes to hug someone and ends up just slumping against them instead. Whose used to this already and was ready to move them to a comfy spot? Who panics no matter how often this happens and just drops s/o?

Undertale Sans - Sans blinks as you slump against him, laughs at you... And then immediately has a narcolepsy crisis as well and slumps on the couch lol. You're kinda causing the other one narcolepsy at this point and Papyrus often has to come and save you because you won't stop falling asleep after seeing the other fall asleep lol.

Undertale Papyrus - He's already used to it with his brother. He had a few fails trying to adjust to your warnings when you quite literally dropped dead at his feet, but now he's good at noticing when it's happening and running to the rescue. He sometimes plays on hardcore mode, trying to prevent both you and his brother from falling over lol.

Underswap Sans - Blue still thinks you make funny faces when you randomly fall asleep, so he sometimes kind of forgets he's supposed to catch you before you hit the floor. He'll catch you if he's in the mood, otherwise, you're going to wake up with Blue laughing like a hyena and a headache, sorry.

Underswap Papyrus - It makes him freak out every single time, and when Honey freaks out too much, he passes out. Most of the time, you wake up finding Honey actually saved you from a bad fall... But then pretty much hit his head on the ground hard right after lol.

Underfell Sans - It's not his fault. His survival instincts are so high that when he sees a huge beast falling on him, he immediately steps away to avoid getting crushed. He always realizes too late what's going on and only watch in a shocked silence as you dropped at his feet. He still pretends really hard like he caught you so you don't get mad at him.

Underfell Papyrus - He became an expert at picking you bride style whenever he sees you fall over. He feels like your knight in shiny armor and it's really good for his ego actually. One consequence to that is that he's going to be upset if someone else saves you, and that you're going to have a lot of people asking you if he tried to kill you because it looks like he's carrying a corpse every time.

Horrortale Sans - Oak patiently tries to put you back on your legs a few times, and once he manages to keep you still, he simply holds you up until you wake up. If you take too long, he's going to try to whimper, just enough to be annoying so it motivates you to wake up quicker.

Horrortale Papyrus - He can't physically carry you so he's using blue magic to make you levitate next to him until you wake up. It's fine when it's just you two on the farm, it's a little more complicated to explain in public spaces. You woke up once to Willow desperately trying to explain to a priest that no, you are not the antichrist or possessed by a demon, even though you're talking in your sleep and flying.

Swapfell Sans - He became an expert at throwing pillows right under your face so you don't hit your head too hard on the floor. He can catch you exceptionally when he's in a good mood, but most of the time, he doesn't bother and simply throw the pillow lol. He's comfy on the couch; he doesn't want to move. When you're taking too long to wake up, he sometimes pokes you with a stick to be sure you're not dead. Once you randomly sit up when he did that and he let go of the most dreaded holy scream you have ever heard him do. He's still not entirely sure you're not a zombie.

Swapfell Papyrus - You want him to do what now? Most of the time, Rus watches you fall with a completely deadpan face, shrugs, and then goes back to whatever he's doing. He can also take a picture if he thinks your position is funny, but that's pretty much it. He has an entire collection.

Fellswap Gold Sans - He grabs you by the collar, a bit like you grab a cat, and drags you against a wall or on the couch so you don't hurt yourself stupidly. Most of the time, he washes his hands for three entire minutes after that, but you don't need to know it. He hates touching human skin.

Fellswap Gold Papyrus - Coffee can't help but scream every time and shakes you like a coconut until you wake up, screaming your name. You can explain to him a million times you're not dying, that won't stop him from screaming you're having a heart attack, and to make quite literally everyone around you freak out completely. Wine is bored of this, and you woke up once to him saying to throw you in the trash so that everyone can be done with it. That bastard is not even sorry, but, uh, yeah, he also knows you won't dare to say something to him.

[stitch-away]

ཐི༏ཋྀ󠀮 prologue - meeting joel ཐི༏ཋྀ󠀮

pairing: joel miller x reader (gender unspecified)

summary: you find a man, alone, far beyond the walls of the boston qz. you think he might be infected but quickly you realise this man is feral.

tags: feral joel miller, violence (animal death), blood, ptsd, amnesia (not mentioned yet), grunty joel bc he can't speak

word count: 1.3k

series: feral joel miller

a/n: this just a little prologue before fully entering the meat, per se, of feral joel. the reader's gender is not mentioned and probably won't be for the early chapters at least. i plan on this becoming enemies to lovers, so once it gets more explicit etc it will probably become male reader. but for now it's gn!

life in the quarantine zones are rough. you work hard, back breaking labour that leaves you with scraps for food and barely anything to call your own. you're constantly under the thumb of fedra, never feeling like you can truly get a break or feel free. 

so at the first chance to slip out of there, you were gone. you knew you'd be back in the evening, you have no desire to spend the night amongst infected. but for now, you were free to scavenge for resources or just simply take a break from life in the qz. 

following a makeshift trail, you head towards a forest, a few miles from the qz boundary. it’s a bit of a walk but it’s not too far and the increasing silence the further away from the qz you get is well worth it. as you approach the forest, you can it’s dense and stretches beyond your eyeline. at the edge of it, you can see the magnificent greenery and wildlife that’s sparse from the qz. 

the forest casts a soft shadow over you, shielding you from the afternoon sun as you trek through the uneven terrain. it’s almost silent out here except for the soft whistle of the wind and the scuttle of wild animals. there’s a sense of peace and serenity the fills you, something you never get in the qz. you find some berries and a couple of tools that people have dropped over the years, but the sense you peace you get is the most valuable find.

as you get further in, you start to hear the sounds of animals. pulling your gun off your shoulder, you step softly towards the noise. you see the soft brown coat of a deer come into view and immediately move the gun into position. looking down the scope, you take aim at the deer's head. 

before you're finger can pull back on the trigger, you hear twigs snap under foot and the deer is covered by a blur. lowering your weapon you see what looks to be a man, clothes tattered and dirty and hair unkempt, with the deer now limp at his feet. he’s hunched low, almost on the ground, knife in hand that's dripping blood. for a second you think he might be infected. you've only seen runners move that fast before.

you pull your gun back up, preparing to shoot. there’s no way you’re dying to some runner on your first day of freedom. but as you stand there, weapon draw and finger on the trigger, you notice that the figure hasn’t bothered to look at you. runners can see and attack on sight, so he’s clearly not one of them. fuck– maybe it’s a stalker, trying to lull you into a false sense of security before it attacks. if it is a stalker, you know you shouldn’t waste your time with killing it.

you step closer to it and it immediately snaps it’s head round to face you. it’s teeth are bared and it’s brow is furrowed as it snarls at you back off. being closer to it now, it doesn't seem to be infected. it is in fact a man, but he doesn't really seem to exactly be in a state of humanity. 

"hey," you say, slinging the gun back over your shoulder and putting your hands up, "i ain’t gonna hurt you. i just want the deer." you gesture with your head towards the dead deer. 

the man grabs hold of the deer, hunching over it protectively as he growls at you. it's strange, almost frightening, to see a man in such a feral state. 

“what the fuck are you?” you mutter, tilting your head to the side as take tentative steps forwards. you stop a few feet away from him, not wanting to spook him or risk getting attacked. 

the man has dark brown, greying, hair that’s unkempt and looks like it’s been hacked at with a knife as a form grooming. he has a beard, equally as unkempt and greying. his clothes are tattered and dirty, practically caked in dirt and blood, and his boots are worn down and fraying. he has a deep scar on the bridge of his nose that looks years old.

you can see the knife gripped tight in his hand, ready to attack you at the first sign of a threat. 

“i just want some of the deer– i’m hungry,” you say, keeping your hands away from your gun so he can see them, “can you understand me?” the man glares at you for a second before nodding. he can understand. that’s a start.

“okay,” you breathe, “i’m not here to hurt you or anything. could you cut me some of it?” the man grunts, still on edge as he turns to the deer. he stabs the knife into the stomach of the deer, pushes it in deep and wrenches the knife back, cutting through the centre of the deer, break it’s spine. hands soaked in blood, the man grabs the front half of the deer and chucks it at your feet. you jump back to avoid to the splatters of blood the deer leaves. it’s a bit of a mess but it’s something.

“thank you,” you nod, picking up the deer by it’s antlers. the man doesn’t react, simply taking the deer’s hind leg in his mouth and shuffling back, maintaining eye contact the whole time. it’s clear the man wants you gone but your curiosity is getting the better of you.

“do you have a name?” you ask. the man tenses, stopping his movements and growling at you. “you can’t speak, can you?”

you should’ve taken his first growl as a sign to leave, because now he’s lept to his feet, striding to you. you could tell he was big before but now he’s in front of you, broad shoulders and snarling face above you, you can see he’s massive. he’s hard lines and straining muscle. he could surely kill you with his bare hands. 

the man growls, a horrific loud sound that hurts your ears as spit flies in your face. you squeeze your eyes shut, trembling as you feel his hot breath hitting your nose. as you reopen your eyes, you see him, face inches away from yours, contorted into a horrific scowl. he doesn’t want you here. 

“sorry,” you mutter, stepping back, “i– i’ll leave.” clutching the deer antlers tighter, you walk away from the man, who’s still standing there hunched and muscles coiled if you present a further threat. as you walk away, pulling the heavy weight of the deer, you can’t help but feel a sense of curiosity stewing inside you. despite how terrifying the man was as he growled at you and how obvious it is that he does not want to be disturbed, you can’t help but be drawn in by this strange, practically feral, man. 

you sit down at the edge of the forest, cutting up the deer into small pieces you can take back into the qz. as the blood mars your hands, you can’t but think of the man. he needs new clothes and boots. they’re far too torn and dirty for him not risk getting an infection if he gets an injury. why are you even thinking like this? the man is basically a feral animal and clearly hates you. but behind his threatening scowl, you swear you saw something more than a beast, something akin to a broken man, lost to a pain not even his mind wants to acknowledge. you know it’s dangerous but that flicker in his eyes is going to bring you back, back to him. whether he likes it or not.

[spiderfangirl22]

Don’t Say That’s It’s Over I’d Kill To Be Closer: V (Yandere Tom Ludlow x Reader x Yandere John Wick)

Warnings: Yandere, Killing, Black Mail

The tension in the Continental suite was thick enough to cut with a knife. John watched Tom, his eyes like chips of flint, a silent promise of pain etched in their depths. He still hadn’t told Winston about Tom’s involvement, the kidnapping, the lies. 

The information was a loaded gun, ready to be fired if Tom dared to step out of line.

"There is another way," Y/N had pleaded, and against his better judgement, he’d listened. He’d seen the desperation in her eyes, the genuine desire to avoid bloodshed.

And…he had to admit, something else resonated within him. A possessive instinct, a need to protect her, to keep her close, a feeling he thought long buried with Helen.

Later that night, after Y/N had fallen asleep, exhausted and emotionally drained, John cornered Tom in the dimly lit living room.

"We need to talk," John said, his voice a low growl.

Tom paled, sweat beading on his forehead. He knew what this was about. He knew he was living on borrowed time.

"Winston can never know about your part in this," John continued, his words like shards of ice. "He finds out you took his daughter, there won’t be a grave deep enough to hide you."

Tom nodded frantically. "I understand. Thank you…for not telling him."

"Gratitude is cheap," John said, stepping closer, invading Tom’s personal space. "You owe me something far more valuable than a thank you."

Tom swallowed hard. "What do you want?"

John paused, his gaze fixed on Tom, calculating, predatory.

He glanced at the closed bedroom door, the image of Y/N sleeping peacefully behind it searing into his mind.

He wanted her. He wanted her innocence, her kindness, her…everything. But he also saw the raw, desperate love in Tom’s eyes, a love that mirrored his own burgeoning obsession.

"We share her," John finally said, the words a barely audible rasp.

Tom recoiled as if struck. "Share her? What are you talking about?"

"You heard me," John said, his voice hardening. "You’re not the only one who cares for her, Ludlow. I won't let you hurt her, and so you will share her with me.

You can protect her and I can teach her. We both know what the world around us demands of those who cant protect themselves."

"This is insane!" Tom sputtered, his voice rising in panic. "She’s not an object to be shared!"

John grabbed Tom by the collar, pulling him close. "She’s precious, Tom, and you're as blind as you are stupid. Don't you realize how dangerous this world is? She needs you to protect her, and she needs you to teach her, and she needs me."

John tightened his grip, his knuckles white. "And don't forget, I could easily tell Winston your involvement the minute he asks. It will be an honor to watch you die."

Tom stared back, his eyes wide with fear and resignation. He knew that John meant every word. He was trapped, caught between a ruthless assassin and a powerful crime lord.

"Fine," Tom croaked, his voice defeated. "We share her. But if you ever hurt her…"

"I won't," John said, releasing Tom. "Neither will you. We're all she has."

The next morning, they prepared to meet Winston. Y/N was nervous, her hands clammy as she adjusted her dress. John watched her, his expression unreadable, while Tom hovered anxiously nearby.

They arrived at Winston's private residence, a luxurious townhouse a few blocks from the Continental. John led the way, his hand resting lightly on the small of Y/N's back, a subtle gesture of possessiveness that Tom couldn't miss.

Winston greeted them warmly, his eyes filled with relief as he embraced his daughter. "Y/N, my darling girl! I'm so glad you're safe."

Y/N hugged him tightly, tears welling up in her eyes. "I'm okay, Papa. Thanks to John and Tom."

Winston turned to Tom, extending his hand. "Thank you, Officer Ludlow. You have my gratitude."

Tom shook Winston's hand, his face pale and drawn. He knew he was being scrutinized, his every move analyzed. And what made it worse was that the stupid fucking assassin, the vain of his entire existence, knows the truth and black-mailed him to share his Y/N his light with this monstrous assasin.

"Please, come in," Winston said, leading them into the living room. "Let's have a drink and talk."

As they settled into the comfortable surroundings, John noticed a small, black and green eyed kitten curled up on the hearth.

"Ah, that's Shadow," Winston said, noticing John's gaze. "Y/N has told me she found him abandoned a few weeks ago. She's quite taken with him."

Tom and John wick both knew the truth. Tom had gotten y/n , shadow to make her happy since kidnapping her and killing her friend. And if Y/N had told her father Tom had gotten shadow for her it would only raise more suspicion.

Y/N smiled, picking up Shadow and cradling her in her arms. "She’s such a sweetie."

As Y/N cooed over the kitten, John and Tom exchanged a furtive glance. 

The uneasy truce between John and Tom hung in the air like a loaded weapon.

They agreed to share Y/N, a decision born from possessiveness and a desperate need to protect her, but unspoken beneath the surface was the constant threat of betrayal, of one overstepping the boundaries they’d so tentatively established.

The agreement, however, extended beyond merely “sharing” her; it included eliminating any potential threats to her affections.

That agreement was tested sooner than either of them expected.

Weeks turned into months, and Y/N, still blissfully unaware of the dark pact forged in her name, started to find herself inexplicably drawn to John.

He was a man of few words, but his presence was a comforting, solid weight in her life. She admired his quiet strength, the way he seemed to anticipate her needs before she even voiced them.

And, she couldn't deny, she found the ruggedness of his slightly longer facial hair incredibly attractive. It softened his lethal edges, making him seem…more human. Slightly more handsome than Tom, she admitted to herself with a blush.

Tom noticed the shift in her affections. The way her eyes lingered on John a fraction of a second longer than necessary, the subtle smiles she reserved for his quiet observations

A cold dread coiled in his stomach. He was losing her, and the thought was unbearable.

The first incident was subtle. A barista at a coffee shop, a young, eager man with a charming smile, had lingered a little too long when handing Y/N her latte. He’d even drawn a small heart in the foam. Y/N, oblivious, had simply thanked him and moved on.

But unfortunately John and Tom had seen it.

The barista was found dead the next day, an apparent mugging gone wrong. The police report mentioned no witnesses, no leads. Just another statistic in the city’s endless cycle of violence.

Y/N never made the connection. She simply mourned the loss of a friendly face, a small tragedy in a world already full of them.

The incidents escalated. A colleague at Y/N’s work, a man who’d dared to ask her out for drinks, mysteriously transferred to another department.

A neighbor who’d offered to help her carry groceries vanished without a trace. Each time, the reasons were different, the methods varied, but the result was the same: anyone who showed even the slightest romantic interest in Y/N disappeared.

John and Tom operated with a ruthless efficiency, a silent understanding between them. 

They were two sides of the same coin, driven by the same obsessive desire. John, the seasoned assassin, provided the skill and precision, while Tom, with his connections within the police force, ensured that no investigations ever went too far.

Y/N, meanwhile, was falling deeper under John’s spell. She found herself seeking his company, drawn to the quiet intensity that simmered beneath his stoic exterior.

She started cooking his favorite meals, leaving little notes for him to find, subconsciously trying to bridge the gap between them.

One evening, as they sat in comfortable silence in her apartment, Y/N decided to be bold.

“John,” she said softly, breaking the quiet. “Can I ask you something?”

He looked up from his book, his eyes meeting hers with an unnerving intensity. “Of course.”

“Why are you so…protective of me?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “I know I was kidnapped, but it feels like you’re always watching out for me, even when there’s no danger.”

John paused, his gaze unwavering. He couldn’t tell her the truth, not yet. He couldn’t reveal the darkness that lurked beneath his surface.

“You’re important to me, Y/N,” he said finally, his voice low and husky. “I care about your safety.”

It wasn’t the answer she wanted, but it was enough for now. She reached out and took his hand, her fingers interlacing with his.

“Thank you,” she said, her eyes filled with warmth. “That means a lot to me.”

Tom watched them from across the room, his fists clenched at his sides. He hated this, hated the way she looked at John, the way she touched him.

He wanted to rip them apart, to keep her all to himself. But he knew he couldn’t. He was trapped, bound by the agreement he’d made with the devil.

Later that night, after Y/N had gone to bed, Tom confronted John.

“You’re getting too close to her,” he hissed, his voice laced with venom. “You’re starting to make her suspicious.”

John remained impassive, his eyes cold and unyielding. “I am protecting her. As we agreed.”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it,” Tom retorted. “You’re trying to steal her from me.”

John chuckled, a low, menacing sound. “She’s not property, Tom. She’s a person. And she’s free to choose who she wants to be with.”

“And you’re manipulating her into choosing you!” Tom accused, his voice rising in anger.

John stepped closer, his face inches from Tom’s. “Be careful, Ludlow. Remember our agreement. I can just as easily take her from you permanently.”

Tom paled, the threat hanging heavy in the air. He knew John was capable of anything, that he wouldn’t hesitate to eliminate him if he became a liability.

He swallowed hard, forcing himself to calm down. “Just…be careful,” he pleaded, his voice barely audible. “Don’t ruin this for us.”

John simply stared at him, his expression unreadable. He turned and walked away, leaving Tom alone with his jealousy and despair.

The tension continued to build, a silent war raging beneath the surface of their shared obsession.

Y/N, oblivious to the danger that surrounded her, continued to fall deeper in love with John, drawn to his strength and his quiet protectiveness.

She didn’t know that her affection was fueling a deadly game, a game where the stakes were life and death.

One day, Y/N decided to surprise John. She knew he had a fondness for rare whiskey, so she went to a specialty liquor store in search of a bottle he might appreciate.

While browsing the shelves, she caught the eye of another customer, a handsome, charismatic man with a charming smile. He struck up a conversation, complimenting her taste in spirits and offering to share his own knowledge of rare whiskeys.

Y/N, flattered by the attention, found herself enjoying the conversation. He was intelligent, engaging, and genuinely interested in her opinions. She even laughed at one of his jokes, a light, carefree sound that she hadn't realized she'd been missing.

Unbeknownst to her, John was watching from across the street. He’d followed her, a habit he'd developed out of a need to ensure her safety, but now it was something else, something more sinister.

He saw the man’s smile, the way he leaned in close, the spark of connection in Y/N’s eyes.

A cold fury washed over him. He felt the possessive rage rise within him, a primal urge to protect what was his.

He knew what he had to do.

Tom, meanwhile, was at the police precinct, sifting through files and dealing with the usual bureaucratic nonsense. He received a text from John, a single word that sent a chill down his spine: “Liquor store.”

He knew what that meant. Another threat, another loose end to tie up. He sighed, a weary resignation settling over him.

He was trapped in this darkness, a prisoner of his own obsession. He could never escape, never be free.

He made a call, pulling a few strings, setting the wheels in motion.

By the time Y/N left the liquor store, the handsome stranger would be gone. Disappeared without a trace, another victim of their twisted love.

Y/N, however, was beginning to sense that something wasn't right. She couldn't put her finger on it, but there was a growing unease within her. She felt like she was being watched, like she was living in a bubble, protected from a danger she couldn't comprehend.

She was right, of course. She was surrounded by darkness, a darkness that threatened to consume her. And the two men who claimed to love her were the ones holding her captive. The question was, how long could they keep up the charade? And what would happen when she finally discovered the truth?

[panpanghost]

Nameless au part 16:

_"Kid! You're alive! I thought we were too late." Erlang finally arrived to the rescue.

_"Yeh, I'm fine. This is like- the third time I had to fight him." MK answered calmly.

_"You'd think you'd be better at it by now." Erlang said sarcasticaly noticing the kid's injuries.

_"I know!" Mk admitted. Even though he fought Monkey King before this time was completely different, it's like he doesn't recognise him. It's like he sees him as an enemy.

_"Care to fill me in on the situation?" Erlang asked as he was dodging Wukong who immediately turned his attention to him.

_"You were right, the crown has Monkey King and he's trying to take the scroll back." Mk flew with Erlang, trying to keep a distance between them and the king.

_"You found it? Good job kid!" Erlang sounded proud, "Get it to the monk. I'll take care of Wukong." MK didn't leave, he was clearly thinking about this, "GO! I know you're worried but you'll only slow me down."

MK understood Erlang's words, he'll only be in the way of an all out fight, he must leave. But the voice inside his head is telling him to stay or the general will die- before he could finish that thought, an ominous energy got his attention. It was terrifying.

What was that? It came from where the others are.

MK left immediately to check on everyone, that energy he felt almost made him run away. Whatever it is, he won't let it hurt his family.

____________

A few minutes earlier;

Seeing her son's expression become unnaturally empty, as if he was dead, PIF felt a chill down her spine. She wanted to call for him, to tell him it's ok, she'll be fine, but she couldn't.

Her eyes widened after looking down, something in the back of her head was telling to look its way. What the fuck!? Her stomach twisted and if it weren't for her state, she would've jumped for the kill. The thing, that was only focused on the spell it was casting, stopped and turned its head, it was smiling at her son with the most disturbing smile she had ever seen. It was sickening.

What the hell is it doing to Redson?!

The thing was almost too happy, the smile almost ripped Macaque's cheeks. But what it was feeling wasn't happiness, no, it was something more.

__________

_"Well~ well~ what do we have here?~"

_"What? Who are you? Show yourself!"

Redson looked around but he couldn't see anything, he opened his eyes in an empty voide, only the sound was echoing in what seemed an endless darkness.

_"Now now~ No need to be angry~ I'm here to help you~"

_"Help me? Ha! Like I need your help."

_"Then consider it a favour~"

_"Why would you do me any favours?"

_"Because we're friends of course!~ And friends take care of each other.~"

_"I am NOT your friend."

_"Ouch- That hurts you know~ I thought because we're very alike we'd be close friends.~"

_"Alike? Us? Are you crazy?"

_"That's what they said. They said I was crazy and out of control! A dangerous monster! Those cowards that took MY POWER AND LOCKED ME UP! And you know why?"

_"I guess you're telling me." Redson realised after that reaction that calling him crazy is dangerous, so no more calling the deranged creature crazy.

_"Because they couldn't control me. Those hypocrites never cared about the world, they never cared about anyone but themselves, and when they felt I was getting stronger, they didn't even dare to face me and sent someone else to do their dirty job."

_"Well it's not like you were trying to save the world either."

_"But I was. In a world where only the strongest survived and the so called righteous people turned a blind eye, I was the only one who gave power to the weak. I made the fight fair and their fragile ego couldn't handle it. But why are you defending them? You were one of their victims too. I don't understand why you'd fight me."

_"I am not a victim."

_"You're not? But I think you were. They broke your soul into pieces and took a part of you away. They sealed your rightful power then had the nerve to call you weak, useless, a disappointment. They pushed you to the limit only to laugh at your failure. That was cruel even for me."

_"Shut up."

_"They said it's for your own good. Well what good are they talking about? They just broke your legs before you could even walk. And we both know why."

_"..."

_"They were scared of you, no, they were scared you were gonna take away their places, they couldn't let that happen. And you know what's the worst part? They framed you as the villain and themselves as heroes, then made you believe it."

_"..."

_"But I can see the truth, and the truth is, you weren't a monster, you only needed a little help. They should've helped you, guided you, but they were only a bunch of egotistic maniacs, too scared to do the right thing. It was never your fault Redson, you were just a child."

_"..."

_"I know how you feel. Let me help you. Let's save your mother and make sure no one will ever hurt your family again."

_"H-how?"

_"It's simple really. Believe it or not, now that the seal is broken, you only need to tell your fire to come back to you."

_"I just have to call it?"

_"Yes. You're its master. It only listens to you. You told it to become the dragon girl's so it wouldn't hurt her and it followed the order."

_"I told it to?"

_"Not on purpose. But it can feel you, it knows what you want. You just have to want it and take it."

_"But why didn't it come to me in the first place then?"

_"You tell me. Were you afraid of it? I mean that wouldn't be too far of. They made it seem like some sort of doomsday weapon. So it's ok to feel that way."

_"What if they're right? What if I can't control it?"

_"You already are controlling it! Did the dragon girl burn to nothing? Naaaah, she's fine, what more proof do you need?"

_"T-that was-"

_"Oh you poor kid. Just how badly did they mess you up for you to let your mother die than have your powers back?"

_"H-how do I save my mother?"

_"You know how they said your fire is out of control and would burn the world?"

_"Yes?"

_"Well they lied. Your fire only burns what you want it to burn. You can simply burn the poison inside your mom and close her injuries!"

_"I can?"

_"I would love to teach you everything about your fire but we're running out of time here. Make your decision so I can help!"

_"I just have to call it..." Redson whispered, "What do you want?" He asked.

_"A friend. So be my friend. That's not much to ask, right?"

_"Deal."

_"Then give the order. I'll be right by your side.~"

_____

Redson found himself back where he was, standing under a tree next to his mother. But he didn't focus on her. His attention was entirely pulled to the Mei.

Somehow, he was able to see it. The Samadhi fire, his fire, sleeping inside the dragon, no, it wasn't peacefully sleeping, it was stuck, locked up, unable to move. And just like she could feel him, he could feel it for the first time. She was painfully waiting for him to call her home.

_"COME TO ME!" Redson lifted up his hand for her and just as ordered, it skinned itself out of her host and flew back home.

Mei almost passed out from the pain she felt when the fire left her but the relief she felt after it was gone made it all seem worth it.

It all went quiet, all everyone could hear was their own heartbeat and shaking breath, they were exhausted mentally and physically, but what just happened shook them to the core. All eyes on Redson.

The Samadhi fire is now back inside Redson, and Redson might be under the crown's control. Which means the crown might control the fire. The next few seconds might be their last...

(What do you mean I stopped here because I have no idea where to go next? These are all false accusations!!!

Also I didn't want to write the dialogue between Redson and Thing but I wanted to show just how good it is at twisting what others want to hear. Plus it kinda gave me something to write.)

[anime-fan-05]

Mikey, Kazutora, Izana and Waka's headcanons with a fem reader who gets hurt because she receives a blow meant for them and ends up in hospital

Tokyo Revengers ~Receiving a blow meant for them~

Manga/anime: Tokyo Revengers

Warnings: nothing

(Y/N): your name

(S/O): significant other

Mikey, Kazutora and Izana's headcanons are set in the 2005 timeline, Waka's in that of 2008, when he's in Brahman. Happy reading!

Premise

(S/O) didn't want his girlfriend (Y/N) to attend his gang's fights as a spectator: she would be at risk of getting hurt, and he wouldn't be able to be there to protect her, not to mention the rival gangs would have affiliated her with him, and she would have been in even more danger!

However, that day (Y/N) insisted on coming to watch him so much he had no choice but to agree to bring her with him, so, while fighting, he involuntarily continuously searches for her figure, checking she's still safe and sound.

His action, though, is making him less attentive than usual, which is why he doesn't notice a member of the gang he's fighting approaching him with a knife in his hand, determined to kill him or seriously injure him.

(Y/N) notices them instead and, without thinking twice, she throws herself headlong into the fray, placing herself in front of (S/O) and thus being seriously injured by the knife, which pierces her right side.

S. Manjiro (Mikey)

His eyes will widen, becoming like saucers, and he'll remain still, muttering your name, when you receive the blow

As soon as your legs begin to give way due to the serious wound, though, he'll force his body to move, diving to catch you to prevent you from falling to the ground, desperately screaming your name

For the first time his gang will see him so shocked, angry and desperate: on one hand he'll have an expression of horror mixed with pain on his face, on the other his eyes and his arms and hands will tremble from the deep anger that will pervade him

In fact, he'll be so angry he'll really want to kill, or at least violently beat, who hurts you; he'll also be furious with himself for not having protected you as he had promised himself

He'll stay with you in the hospital and refuse to leave you (Draken will have to drag him out by force to make sure he eats and gets at least a few hours of sleep) and, as soon as you wake up after your operation, he'll promise you he'll never let you get hurt like that again with a face so serious you'll hardly recognize him

H. Kazutora

His reaction will be twofold: either he'll freeze, totally paralyzed, or he'll go completely mad

If the first happens, he'll act that way because his brain will be fully realizing what has happened: he'll be so shocked he'll freeze, fearing he's lost what's most precious to him, namely you

In the event the second happens, there's a huge risk he'll be so angry with the person who hurts you he'll even kill them

In any case, whatever his reaction, there will be a moment when he'll believe you're dead and, after the anger and shock, the tears will come: he'll burst into tears, desperately holding your body close to him, until he notices you're still breathing, and then he'll immediately abandon the fight, rushing you to the hospital

For the entire time you're there, he'll refuse to leave you, and the first thing he'll say to you when you wake up after your operation is completed will be: "Please, please, don't terrify me like that anymore, don't do it again... Don't leave me: I won't survive if you aren't here, I'll go crazy..."

K. Izana

He'll madden, no one can dissuade me from this idea: for him you're his queen, and no one, no one should ever dare to lay hands on you

He'll order his subordinates to capture who hurts you, while he'll rush you to the hospital, telling you not to die in a voice so thin you'll believe you imagined it in your haze due to your wound

He'll remain outside the operating room until he has the assurance you're okay, nervous and worried about your health and angry with who hurts you, with himself for having let you get hurt, with you for having convinced him to let you attend the fight

As soon as he's certain about your health, he'll rush to your attacker, wanting to make him pay dearly for having touched you: his entire gang will be even more terrified of him than they were before and will think twice before having any thoughts about you

Then he'll go to the hospital again when Kakucho, who he'll have ordered to watch over you and to notify him as soon as you wake up, calls him; for the first time you'll see him so vulnerable, as he'll hug you softly and whisper to you to let him get hurt if that would have allowed you to be safe

I. Wakasa (Waka)

It'll be the first time someone sees him so shocked: he'll lose his proverbial stoicism as soon as he sees you fall in front of him; he'll be totally panicked, he'll beg you not to die while holding you close to him ("Princess, please, stay with me, don't close your eyes!")

He'll rush you to the hospital on his motorbike, getting honked at by a lot of cars due to his speed and reckless overtaking

When Senju, Takeomi and Benkei arrive there, they'll find him totally destroyed, almost in tears and with his head in his hands: he'll be desperate, fearing of having lost you, the person he loves more than himself, due to his own fault, out of a stupid fight he let you witness and a stupid mistake that caused you to be hurt instead of him

They'll do everything they can to calm him down and reassure him, but all their attempts will fail, since he won't find peace until he knows your operation has been successful and you'll be fine

As soon as he can, he'll rush to see you, and for the first and also last time you'll hear him begging you to never do something like that again, promising you he'll never let anyone hurt you again, admitting he loves you more than anything

💮 Rules 💮 Masterlist 💮

[randomfoggytiger]

Mourning the Lost anon here again (bet you thought you’d seen the last of me) to humbly request any fics that are canon divergences of all the different near death experiences that Mulder and Scully have experienced. For example, fics like

“What if Mulder had actually shot Scully in Pusher”

“What if Mulder hadn’t realized the trick Linda Bowman pulled and shot Scully in Kitsunegari”

“What if Mulder died in the bank explosion in Monday”

“What if Scully had died in Tithonus”

“What if Mulder and Scully had died in Field Trip”

There’s probably so many other near death experiences that I’m missing but you get the gist. Sorry if this is too big of an ask, I’m just a sucker for angst and grief

Welcome back! I was wondering if you'd drop back in.

It's been... a long time since you sent this ask; but I hope these are sufficient (or at least worth it.)

Also, I included links to previous fic lists at the very bottom-- that way, you can jump from these stories to ones like them, if you want.

Loose chronological order below~

“What if Mulder had actually shot Scully in Pusher”

dksfwm’s Episode: Pusher

“Agent Mulder.” It’s the SWAT lieutenant, he deciphers. His ears start ringing and he doesn’t know what sounds are real. The lieutenant’s lips are moving, and he thinks he can make out “attempt” and “stabilize” and “if you want her to survive”. He feels paralyzed. His chest is heaving so hard that he feels like he’s going to suffocate.

AU-- Mulder shoots Scully.

@ghostbustermelanieking/skuls's Scully Russian Roulette’s with Modell instead of Mulder /in another world - Chapter 8

Mulder’s eyes widen, genuinely speechless. He is wearing a vest, but the muzzle is angled to where it will hit just above, in his neck or his head, and Scully shakes her head again. She feels so stiff, everything in her straining, and she manages a small word, a strained, “No.”

“C'mon, Scully, this should be easy for you,” Modell says casually. “You’ve shot him before, I read it in your files.”

It's Mulder, this time, at the other end of Pusher's gun.

“What if Mulder hadn’t realized the trick Linda Bowman pulled and shot Scully in Kitsunegari”

Chibiness87's Seeing is Believing

He glances down, and the movement is enough to make a shot ring out, and he glances around in shock.

Scully’s body is no longer lying in a pool of blood behind him. She has gone.

No. No. Nononono. Not again.

He can’t have lost her again.

Post Kitsunegari Scully guides Mulder through a panic attack.

@mulderist/Mulderist1013's Fictober Tumblr Prompts 2020 - Chapter 16 (Tumblr)

“Back up! Back away from him!” Scully said and slowly advanced. In the dim light she saw that there was a dark stain on Mulder’s shirt. Linda was unscathed as well, a fresh bloodstain under her nose. Just then Mulder pulled his gun down, aiming it at Scully.

“She’s making me do this.”

AU-- Kitsunegari Linda Bowman controls Mulder.

@starwalker42's (Ao3)

febuwhump day 13: forced to hurt a loved one

All he knows - all he can allow himself to think - is that he will kill Linda Bowman, to make up for the fact she hurt Scully, and then he'll save her. He'll save Scully, somehow, because that's what they do, they're partners and they save each other. 

Bowman talks, she won't stop talking, but he doesn't hear it, not really. He tells her to shut up, but she doesn’t listen. Why won’t she shut up? He aims his weapon at her chest, not thinking about the consequences, only thinking about Scully, dead at his feet… he aims his weapon, and he fires, hoping his aim is off because then she'll die slowly....

AU-- Kitsunegari Mulder doesn't listen to "Linda"; and kills her.

@mctaminy/McTaminy's The Ebbing of This Life-Tide Breath

Skinner reaches down and picks up the gun Mulder was holding, checks the clip, chamber, locks the safety and pockets it. He squats next to his agent, hand on his shoulder. Mulder glances at him, Skinners eyes are compassionate, but his teeth are bared. He’s worried.

“I played her game,” Mulder whispers, numbly, “I played her game and, and I lost.”

“V-tach!” One of the EMT’s say. A machine whines. “AED charged!” Scully stares lifelessly, lids half closed, chest still. Mulder can do nothing but stare, the corners of his mouth moving downward, his heart stopped, his hands and feet numb, stabs of dull pain from his knee. One medic calls, “Clear?” The other responds, “Clear!” and the half lids spasm close, her jaw clenches, then dull blue eyes open halfway again, one lid slower than the other, blood trickles from her mouth, she’s quickly lifted from the cement to a collapsed gurney, one medic straddles her and immediately begins CPR, the bleeding from her shoulder oozing with each chest compression.

AU-- Kitsunegari Skinner keeps Mulder together after the latter almost kills Scully.

Jennifer Maurer's Slow Promises

"It was *you*, Scully. You pointed your gun at me, and then you..."

"I know." I reached out, and Mulder grabbed my hand. "I saw the same thing once, only it was real."

"Tell me you would never do that."

"Come up off the floor, Mulder," I said, as I tugged on his hand and moved over to make room for him. He climbed onto the bed and sat next to me. When I put my arm around him I could feel him shaking, and I rubbed his back to try and soothe him a little.

Post Kitsunegari Mulder and Scully have a heavy conversation.

Rachel Howard's Without Reason

I stick my finger in my mouth and suck hard. The metallic taste in my mouth and nose takes me right back to that warehouse. For maybe the hundredth time today, I see Scully's blank face, a pool of blood fanning out behind her shattered skull.

I slam the file drawer shut, and the whole filing cabinet shudders. I don't need this.

"Need what?"

I didn't even know I'd said it out loud.

Post Kitsunegari Scully is fed up with Mulder "mea culpa"ing.

Ten's (xffics) Disconnection

He was together enough for the doctor at the hospital and Scully to agree about him being released, but Mulder was walking around as if someone had drastically turned his personality down or hit the 'mute' button. When he spoke, it was rarely on his own initiative - it was usually in reply to a comment or question. He had not fidgeted or shifted in his seat once during the meeting to give their report. When Skinner had first ushered them into his office, he handed Mulder back his gun. It had been the first opportunity their AD had to do so. Mulder had looked at it as if their boss was giving him a tissue or a pen, then nodded and put it away.

AU-- Post Kitsunegari Mulder resigns.

@pipistellus/pipistrelle's The Aftermark

He heard the click of Scully's heels on the warehouse floor, but didn't turn until she stopped at his side and rested a hand on his elbow. "The Falls Church PD have everything under control. Come on, let's get out of here."

He motioned with his head back into the interior of the building, where Skinner and the police chief stood over the smear of Linda Bowman's blood on the floor. "What did you tell them?"

"The truth," Scully said simply. "Linda Bowman brought me here in an attempt to get to you. During the standoff, I had a clear shot on her, and I took it."

Post Kitsunegari Mulder thinks his hate almost killed Scully.

@baronessblixen/BaronessBlixen’s "I can't breathe"

It's sheer luck that she finds him in the stairway, huddled in a corner, holding on to an open case file, loose papers circling him.

"Mulder," she says, more to herself than to him, and then she's by his side, on her knees, touching his ice-cold hands. "What happened?"

"Can't- I- can't-ca-," he stutters, horror flashing in his eyes.

Post Kitsunegari Mulder has a panic attack after looking over Linda Bowman's file.

“What if Mulder died in the bank explosion in Monday”

ghostbustermelanieking's mondays on an endless loop (Tumblr)

It all happens too fast to stop it.

The sudden movement must spook Bernard, because he immediately turns back to Scully and pulls the trigger. No hesitation. Scully goes down mid-crouch, hitting the floor with a wet smack, a stunned look on her face.

Mulder cries out without thought, without coherent words.

The many Mondays Mulder and Scully lived (and died) through.

Vickie Moseley’s (Ao3, Gossamer) Monday, Monday

Have I gotten her back only to lose her forever?

"Why, Mr. Skinner?" I ask, not really expecting an answer.

Skinner's and Maggie's perspectives of one bad day.

Donna/donnah’s (Gossamer, mulderscreek) Tuesday

Mulder jerked awake, then sank back down into his pillow. A dream, she was fine, it was only a dream. He found the phone in his hand anyway, dialing the first number on his speed dial.

"Mulder?" Her voice was trembling.

"Scully, are you okay?"

"How did you know?" She might even be crying, that scared him as much as the dream.

Post Monday Mulder and Scully figure out what their dreams mean.

@sigritandtheelves/DarlaBlack’s Here and Now

Mulder was in full projector-mode, rattling on about something called the “black pit” and a haunted train tunnel. He had slides, interviews with locals, even an audio recording of what he swore was EVP of a hundred-years-dead mine-worker. He was in the middle of flashing to a new slide–1950s newspaper clippings–when the thought (no, the memory) came to her—a false remembrance (a truth), a surety that could not ever have been (but it was).

The bank, his soft head in her lap, blood covering her hands as she tried to hold his life force in, tried to will his heart to keep beating. His sweat-prickled brow and unfocused eyes, lost in the shadow of death that was surely consuming him. The wet sound of his labored breathing. If she hadn’t been sitting, she’d have fallen down.

Mulder looked at her across the projector and stopped talking. “What’s that look for? Did I do something wrong?”

AU-- Post Monday Scully remembers Mulder's death in the bank.

“What if Scully had died in Tithonus”

I haven't read any fics with this conclusion (huh, interesting); so, I included a Tithonus-adjactent fic list instead:

Post Tithonus Mother Hen Mulder

“What if Mulder and Scully had died in Field Trip”

(**Note**: As the previous section, so this one.)

@badforthefish/Scarlet's The Festival

He still liked to think of her as his partner even if these days their partnership had a definite parenting slant to it. They hadn't worked together for many years – though he couldn't remember exactly how long. Somewhere along the line, they'd gotten married. They'd moved to the suburbs. He'd taken a desk job as a behavioural analyst. She'd gone to work at the local hospital. He tried to remember something about her job and failed. That was odd. He and Steve from accounting had been discussing their respective spouses' professions not two days ago, he remembered that much. So why couldn't he –

It didn't matter. Everything was fine.

AU-- Field Trip Mulder and Scully have a family... or do they?

BONUS

Time Travel, Time Loops, and Just Wrong Timing 

Many Mondays and “The Creeps”

Fic Moments That “Hit Different” 

[reidhalstead]

She washes forward like the first signs of a tsunami. Where the waters pull away and leave behind wet sand. An act that risks revealing the secrets it had been protecting to be another kind of reckoning — not a cowering force, but a decisive one. Gathering strength to form an uneasy shape, she surges ahead like she cannot wait to strike him down and decimate a city that's already been bled dry of life.

Hurts? Is that what it is? Reid defends that he'd never have said that. He's numbed those parts. Made real an emptiness that unremittingly ravages — it seizes its host, gutting them of sensibilities. And hungrily gorges on those that dare stunt his path. Hollowness is just the same as desolation. It's a hole in the wake of something absent or lost. He's got all he needs; he doesn't need anything but to feed the hunger.

A glassy voice, cracking at the edges, doesn't dissuade him from this show. But it does leave behind broken shards, sharp enough to cut.

There's no reason for doing any of it. Anika got in the way of his path, and now she's finally got some bite back in her. He can't stare too long, behind glazed eyes, sparking with a darkness that swirls in light hues. They dare to redden, with every crashing wave of the tidal that comes, word after word; that fucking voice —

'Fight back. Fight — the fuck back!'

His fists clench around the back of the chair, twisting his head, he feels something in his throat. A jagged thing that feels like he's been up in altitude for too long, and he needs to breathe. He doesn't need to; he hasn't for eight years. But Anika's drilling a mortality into him, that he has to fucking laugh in disbelief about. Humbling the monster, imagine. After she survived in the memories he tried to burn in the flames. When Veilview fell, he threw her in there along with the dozens he didn't learn the names of. He won't fight a ghost. She's a phantom, stumbling on his borrowed life —

'Go on then. Kill me.'

What am I fighting? Reid stands so quickly, the chair is across the room, clattering with the force of his shove. She's preaching at him about the sanctity of life — of Michael Booker. He'd like to meet her, whoever that —

No. No! Not the same — He's not in a dank hole with her —

Anika can't possibly know his ordeal. It's his first assumption that she's in his head, before he festers on the words; she was in a basement for months. He doesn't understand. There's the kicker; he never does. And at least this time around, she'll fucking admit he's never going to know what the fuck she's on about. Booker's got a sailing path in her mind, but she's the only one who gets a map. Worry about yourself, princess. Not Book. But she doesn't have to. She's a lamb, grazing the room that is the motel. He's not shearing her for warmth or slicing her up as cattle.

Don't be a fucking pussy, Halstead. You were a shitty hunter, don't be a disappointing fucking vampire too.

"Shut the fuck up, Booker." It rips out of him as he whirls towards her. A hand flies out towards her and stops so suddenly, right as it would have landed around her throat. It's a voice so similar, but not this one. Before he lingers a clawed hand too long, it's rearing back and digits are flying through dishevelled hair. Teeth bared, as something finally bursts from him, like an explosion with a fuse she'd lit; it's exhausted its length and finally struck detonation. "I don't give a shit about whoever is going to kill him. Just be quiet. You're doing so much talking—" Reid brushes past her to stand nearer the door, a flat hand bracing on the frame. Eyes squeezed shut. It's laughter again, he thinks.

He's pointing his back toward her. And maybe a part of him thinks it's better this way. She exists outside of his scope, then.

We're nothing. You're nothing to me.

He tastes burnt caramel on his tongue, a sense that no longer knows sugar or sweetness. But it's there, a note that carries in the crevasses of a remembrance he'd tossed away.

Reid remembers what he'd said to her, of all of this: This is what you want, isn't it?

An end. An ending. This is an epilogue that never needed to be written.

He can't stop it. But he feels the flood rocking over his foundations. A choked breath that's unlike his own escapes as he slams his fist through the plasterboard. Not anger. Not pain. Not anything. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. This, is just — it's just...

I killed all those people.

Anika Booker is behind me.

Reid's struggled sound is clipped; he scratches stoniness out of his throat, tongue feeling out the points of his teeth. There's sunlight behind this door. And neither of them can cross. Refuses to allow either of them to. He doesn't care. Can't.... won't. But he turns his head a little, to capture the silhouette in his peripheral vision of a woman who has haunted his nightmares, his dreams and all his murderous fantasies. He unfurls a fist from the caved-in wall and braces it back on the rotted wood of the motel door.

It's unreflective of the man — monster, of thirty seconds prior. Tries — for what? There's just stoicism now. Dare he fucking say that with the churning of war taking place inside of him: "I need to understand more than that."

I want you to know how it—

Then he turned away, like the words alone scorched him. Like shame had lodged itself in his spine and forced his gaze away. Was it real, that look on his face? That haunted flicker that almost mirrored his eyes, that night when she— They were two shattered reflections of the same ruin. Equally broken. Equally damned. Drowning in the consequences of what they’d done and what they’d become. That’s who they were when they met. So maybe they hadn’t changed at all.

Maybe they haven't changed at all, from those two hooded figures at the bar, but his touch wasn’t what she remembered. Maybe the man had long since bled out, leaving only the monster. And maybe—maybe she was bitter, because someone told her that loving the man meant loving the monster, too. But Anika was as much of a monster as he was. She had her own rot. Her own shadows. It had taken months, locked in that basement, to recognize how deeply the darkness had clawed into her. How much of it had wormed its way inside and made a home.

Now she couldn’t tell if the man who once showed her kindness deserved mercy. Or if she even had mercy left to give—if it hadn’t been stripped away, buried beneath all that rage and fear.

Too late, wasn’t it? He hated her now. His hands—though no longer on her—still reeked of hatred and fury. He was an animal, unelashed, ready to tear her apart for the pain she caused.

And she’d let him. Because maybe, deep down, she believed it was what she deserved.

Refraining from flinching away, from cowering as some distant, tragic girl inside of her would have her do, the hunter stayed still as death, regardless of the feeling.

"Hurts?" she finished the sentence for him. "Yeah, I know how it fucking hurts." Then she moved forward, tilting her head slightly so she could look at him better. "Is that why you're doing this? Is that what this is, Halstead? You want me to hurt like you do? To bleed from the same fucking places? That's it?" Her voice cracked, raw at the edges, eyes brimming but refusing to fall just yet.

He was back at that damn chair, sat down like he was growing roots, like nothing could move him. Was he even listening to her? Has the frost inside his chest, expanded to other territories? Has it taken his entire body, turned it into an icy wasteland?

Furiously, the heels of her palms dug into her eyes, to keep those burning tears from leaking. She was getting off the bed, moving closer and closer to him, as if that would make him listen. As if that would make him look at her.

"She's going to fucking kill him. You don’t know what the fuck I’m talking about, but I was there. I was in her basement for months—months. I was there, left like fucking bait, just waiting for him to come sniff me out.” Her nails dug into her arm—grounding, punishing. It didn’t even fucking matter. And then she laughed. A broken, splintered sound that tore through the thick silence between them like a goddamn scream. Like all of this—every fucked-up second—was a joke. Because maybe it was. Maybe something bigger than them, something cruel and cosmic, was laughing too—watching the two monsters tear each other apart.

[celeste-the-witch]

Hey, so, I'm not the biggest fan of men either, but you're not approaching things the right way. Being a trans woman isn't "being a man who tries to pretend to be a woman," it's being a woman who just happened to be born a bit different than cis girls. This ideology you're showing in this post is bioessentialist and transphobic. You're being transphobic towards yourself, which isn't a good thing, yknow?

Don't get me wrong here, I get where it comes from. I used to have a lot of pretty negative views on a lot of stuff, I still have some. I say hurtful things about myself all the time because it can be really hard to accept myself when a lot of other people don't, but you're not alone in this. Those "other people" you say transitioning "fixes," are going through the same thing as you. I'm going through the same thing as you.

I know things can be really hard, and it can be really difficult to love yourself as you are, but there really isn't anything wrong with you. You're just as much of a woman as any cis girl, I'm serious. It can be really difficult to deal with all the hate and ignorance in the world, I totally get that, but don't help the people who hate you. Prove to them that what they say is bullshit. Its a constant fight, and it's tough, but you gotta stand up for yourself and tell them who you are (as long as they won't kill you or something, of course. Endagering yourself isn't worth the trouble. Just find other people to talk to if they're that hateful.)

Don't give the transphobes what they want. You're nothing like a cis man. No matter what other people may say, i know for a fact you aren't like that. You're a beautiful woman who's just going through some really tough stuff right now, and you'll be okay. Please, let your therapist in. If your therapist isn't helping, though, then find a better one if you can. I know how some therapists can be.

I'll be here for you if you need me. I care about you, and I want you to find happiness living as yourself.

Sorry if this doesn't help much. I'm not too good at comforting people. Just felt like I needed to try though.

I don't understand why people say pre-transition transfems are any different than any other male.

I am exactly the same as any other male. The only reason I don't go around raping and killing like every other worthless diseased parasite is because my maleness was beaten out of me young enough that I'm too afraid to ever hurt a woman. Even my violent tendencies, ones that all males have and that are the cause of every evil in the world, are directed at males. I fully support androcide because I was raised to have self-awareness, but it is still evil because I am incapable of good.

The only good thing about me is how much I love women. But I understand that I will never be equal to a woman no matter what I do, so my obsession is a logical response to divinity. If an ant were in the presence of a lion, it would be incapable of understanding or even fully perceiving the lion. I cannot empathize with God. I love women but my love isn't really love and I understand that I will never be worth anything and i hate it.

Any male with self-awareness would rather kill itself than exist. Maybe they're scared to hurt women even though their existence itself is a crime deserving of death. Maybe they see that women are worth something and they are not. Maybe they were raised right but understand that androcide can't happen unless they die too. But those who have the option to decide they might as well at least try to be a woman before they shoot themselves between the eyes because they're too cowardly to do the right thing and die.

I will never be a real woman. I accept that. I know that I am nothing but a disgusting freak of nature. But I still pray that I can trick people into thinking my life matters instead of them just seeing a worthless male.

Maybe transitioning fixes other people. Makes them women. Reverses the sin of their births. Good for them. But I am not them. I am exactly the same as any other male. I am worthless.